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16YH1YawO7SnkCng | Revelations of Divine Love | Chapter V
“God, of Thy Goodness, give me Thyself;—only in Thee I have all”
IN this same time our Lord shewed me a spiritual[1] sight of His homely loving.
I saw that He is to us everything that is good and comfortable for us: He is our clothing that for love wrappeth us, claspeth us, and all encloseth[2] us for tender love, that He may never leave us; being to us all-thing that is good, as to mine understanding.
Also in this He shewed me a little thing, the quantity of an hazel-nut, in the palm of my hand; and it was as round as a ball. I looked thereupon with eye of my understanding, and thought: What may this be? And it was answered generally thus: it is all that is made. I marvelled how it might last, for methought it might suddenly have fallen to naught for little[ness]. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasteth, and ever shall [last] for that God loveth it. And so All-thing hath the Being by the love of God.
In this Little Thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it, the second is that God loveth it, the third, that God keepeth it. But what is to me verily the Maker, the Keeper, and the Lover,—I cannot tell; for till I am Substantially oned[3] to Him, I may never have full rest nor very bliss: that is to say, till I be so fastened to Him, that there is right nought that is made betwixt my God and me.
It needeth us to have knowing of the littleness of creatures and to hold as nought[4] all-thing that is made, for to love and have God that is unmade. For this is the cause why we be not all in ease of heart and soul: that we seek here rest in those things that are so little, wherein is no rest, and know not our God that is All-mighty, All-wise, All-good. For He is the Very Rest. God willeth to be known, and it pleaseth Him that we rest in Him; for all that is beneath Him sufficeth not us. And this is the cause why that no soul is rested till it is made nought as to all[5] things that are made. When it is willingly made nought, for love, to have Him that is all, then is it able to receive spiritual rest.
Also our Lord God shewed that it is full great pleasance to Him that a helpless soul come to Him simply and plainly and homely. For this is the natural yearnings of the soul, by the touching of the Holy Ghost (as by the understanding that I have in this Shewing): God, of Thy Goodness, give me Thyself: for Thou art enough to me, and I may nothing ask that is less that may be full worship to Thee; and if I ask anything that is less, ever me wanteth,—but only in Thee I have all.
And these words are full lovely to the soul, and full near touch they the will of God and His Goodness. For His Goodness comprehendeth all His creatures and all His blessed works, and overpasseth[6] without end. For He is the endlessness, and He hath made us only to Himself, and restored us by His blessed Passion, and keepeth us in His blessed love; and all this of His Goodness. | 746 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://milnepublishing.geneseo.edu/revelations/chapter/chapter-v/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:32604 | https://milnepublishing.geneseo.edu/revelations/chapter/chapter-v/ |
OsFDMlkJ0CNg4en- | Engineering as a vocation, by Ernest McCullough... | SPECIFICATIONS FOE A GOOD ENGINEER
"A good engineer must be of inflexible integrity, sober, truthful, accurate, resolute, discreet, of cool and sound judgment, must have command of his temper, must have courage to resist and repel attempts at intimidation, a firmness that is proof against solicitation, flattery or improper bias of any kind, must take an interest in his work, must be energetic, quick to decide, prompt to act, must be fair and impartial as a judge on the bench, must have experience in his work and dealing with men, which implies some maturity of years, must have business habits and knowledge of accounts. Men who combine these qualities are not to be picked up every day. Still, they can be found. But they are greatly in demand and when found they are worth their price; rather, they are beyond price and their value cannot be estimated by dollars." — Chief Engineer Sterling's Report to the Mississippi Levee Commissioners.
PREFACE
THE subject matter of this work has been rearranged (with additions) from a number of addresses given before technical schools and associations of engineer assistants. It is published for the information of parents in order that they may act wisely in selecting a career for their sons. Semi-technical periodicals and daily newspapers are bureaus of information consulted frequently by ill-informed parents ; and, perhaps, more than half the students now in technical schools are there because of opinions obtained as valuable advice from such sources.
The reason for the opinions expressed by writers in such publications is hard to ascertain. A careful reading of the back numbers of technical periodicals and transactions of technical societies will prove the statements in this book to be accurate, and the advocates of wholesale technical education have always had these sources from which to obtain information. The reader is to bear in mind that when the average engineer is mentioned it is the average in numbers and not in ability that is meant.
THE OPINIONS OF ENGINEERING EDITORS. . , 181
"THE fact that a competent engineer can make a little money go much further than it would go without his advice and aid is one which the general public is slow to comprehend. The average man congratulates himself upon the dollars he saves by dispensing with an engineer's services, and knows nothing of the dollars lost in exorbitant prices, or work poorly executed." — From an editorial in Engineering News, July 11, 1895.
THE ENGINEEK
THE average person is puzzled over the exact meaning of the word "Engineer" after some acquaintance with the many sorts of men who so style themselves. To engineers the confusion is often humorous, but none the less occasionally mortifying. A fond mother whose son was a student in engineering at one of the leading technical schools was asked by a friend how she could contemplate having her son work in greasy clothes around an engine, "like a common laborer." The same mother was asked by another friend if she did not think it a great waste of money to educate her boy at such an expensive school "to be only a common surveyor after all."
2 ENGINEERING AS A VOCATION
Aaron Smith was a colored man unable to read and write. His duty was to run the steam launch that carried James Smith, C. E., the principal assistant of the Chief Engineer up and down the river where he had charge of important improvements costing several millions of dollars. What's in a name ?
For years professional engineers have tried to designate men like Aaron Smith as " launch tenders," men who operate stationary engines as " engine runners," and men who operate locomotives as " engine drivers." Such terms are used in some countries, but are being gradually supplanted by the word " engineer" with a qualifying word before it.
In the United States the locomotive engineer is styling himself a "traveling engineer," although that term should be applied exclusively to men employed by railways to travel and instruct locomotive engineers. By this time the public knows that a " stationary engineer" operates engines in power houses and on contractors' plants. A "hoisting engineer" runs a hoisting engine. A man in charge of an entire power plant is known as an "operating engineer." This does not always fully explain, for the operating engineer who takes a contract to look after a number of large plants in important factories or large office buildings, may be a graduate mechanical or electrical engineer, while the "operating engineer" in a sawmill may
At present an " electrical engineer" may be a man who designs, or sells, or installs electrical machinery, or he may be a man in temporary charge of a five horse-power motor. Some bell hangers are called electrical engineers and so advertise themselves. In Great Britain an " engineer" may be one of the greatest men in the empire or he may be merely an employetin an engineering works, or, as we term them in the United States, machine shops or factories.
With all the confusion the public, through the medium of the press is coming to a better realization of the engineer and his work so that the professional engineer is taking rank among educated people, with the lawyer, the surgeon, the physician and the clergyman. With this better conception of the professional side of the calling there has also crept in the idea that it is a remarkably well-paid business, embracing the romance and adventure of the soldier's life with that of Aladdin, who merely rubbed an old lamp when he needed money.
The engineer only incidentally is tied to an engine, either as designer, builder or operator. A search of the dictionary for roots yields the following definitions :
person of genius or ingenuity.
In the Latin-English dictionary we find : IngSnlosus-a-um. (ingenium) Naturally clever, talented, acute, able, ingenious.
Students of engineering history accept the foregoing definitions as satisfactory root forms of the word " Engineer." Thus we find the engineer is "the ingenious man." This broad definition brings all characteristically energetic, able men into the category of engineers. When a man is said to have engineered a deal it is understood he obtained his own way after the exercise of considerable ingenuity. Other words, equally, if not more, effective in conveying the intended meaning might be used, for the English language is very rich. To the writer and other men in the profession there are two definitions which exactly describe the engineer, and these definitions, if properly acknowledged, would break down the artificial lines of separation between the numerous " specialties" of engineering work which are
treated person.
In 1828, Thomas Tredgold, in England, defined civil engineering as "the art of directing the great sources of power in nature for the use and copvenience of man." This definition is incorporated in the constitution of the Institution of Civil Engineers of Great Britain.
In 1885, A. M. Wellington, a prominent American engineer, for many years editor of Engineering News, said in the preface of his classic " Economic Theory of the Location of Railways," that ' ' engineering ... is the art of doing that well with one dollar, which any bungler can do with two after a fashion."
The second definition is really the more broad. Any man who directs the great sources of power in nature for the use and convenience of man is practising engineering. A partly educated man may do this. The fresh— often too fresh— young graduate of an engineering school may do this. The engineer, however, has been so well trained in engineering that he can do a thing well with one dollar which a bungler can do in a bungling manner with the expenditure of two dollars.
ever, who appreciates th6 grim humor of strong, self-tutored men, the spice was, no doubt, intended. From the beginning of civilization men had houses built by builders who came to form a distinct order and were known after a while as architects. These men wrought for the comfort and convenience of mankind. Engineers, however, were military men whose structures were for warlike purposes. Their bridges were not erected for peaceful use and as an embellishment of the landscape were never looked on with favor. Only architects built beautiful bridges, following the plans of the engineers, whose bridges were erected so that armies might attack a province or defend a city. For many centuries engineers were employed to plan campaigns and lay out works to defend or to attack forts and cities. Many great soldiers in the past preferred the title of " Engineer" to that of "General."
Military engineers showed their ingenuity in the invention of engines and implements of war and the use of every means at hand to kill men and destroy the works of their hands. In times of peace, or when the engineer corps of an army was quartered in cities, the engineers were employed to construct water works and drainage works for large districts. This was not done primarily for the purpose of making conditions tolerable for the inhabitants, but to provide water and guard health during a possible siege, for sieges in those old days sometimes lasted for years. The engineer, the mili-
tary engineer, might have been defined as one "who practised the art of directing the great sources of power in nature for the harm and destruction of
Somewhat more than one hundred years ago some Englishmen engaged on construction work intended for the advancement of civilization, such as the building of roads, bridges and canals, and the erection of great buildings, learned that many Italian, French and Spanish architects and bridge builders, the latter work by this time having become a distinct specialty, were in the habit of terming themselves engineers without any qualifying designation and military engineers were making strong objection. These Englishmen concluded that since much ingenuity was required in civil as well as military construction, the term "Civil Engineer" was eminently proper and it was adopted. There being strong opposition to the use of the word engineer by civilians it was necessary to exactly define the civil engineer, the definition of Thomas Tredgold being the result; somewhat insulting to the army as well as to the naval engineer, who, at that time, had no engines to care for, but who built docks, designed ordnance, etc., and assisted the naval architect in the design and construction of war vessels.
To-day the distinction is disappearing. Military engineers have so little employment of the old sort that most of their time is spent in work of a
civil engineering nature, the internal improvements of the country. The army engineers of all armies are selected from the honor graduates of the national military academies. They constitute a body of well-trained men on whom the government may call for any duty. Their pay is the highest of all soldiers and the engineers are the ranking branch of the military service. Naval engineers are highly trained mechanical and electrical engineers. For the construction and maintenance of ship yards, docks, etc., there is a special corps of Civil Engineers of the Navy, Robert B. Peary having been a member of that honorable corps of men who have a relative rank, with uniforms and all the honors pertaining to the rank, but who have no right to the use of the title. For example when Robert E. Peary was a Commander he was borne on the Navy lists as a Commander ; wore the uniform of a Commander ; took rank in a procession or at a reception in accordance with his relative rank ; got the pay of that rank, and yet among naval officers he was Mr. Peary, Civil Engineer, U. S. N. To-day, while retired as an Admiral he has no right to have the word Admiral engraved on his calling card, unless the act retiring him with that rank was so worded as to confer that right. But we digress while discussing the strange customs of the least democratic of all the institutions of the American government.
steam engine was improved to such an extent tliat its rapid development led to the most wonderful changes the world has ever witnessed. The power of men to achieve was multiplied a millionf old and manual labor gave way to mechanical effort, whereby comforts hitherto unknown were brought within the means of everyone. Need was had for men trained in mathematics and the physical sciences and such men were found in the ranks of the engineers, civil, naval and military. The first men to make a specialty of engine design and operation were known as Mechanical Civil Engineers, but for only a short time was the awkward title used, the word civil being dropped so that the Mechanical Engineer became an individual. The first mining men who called themselves engineers were Mining Civil Engineers, but it was a cumbersome title soon abandoned for that of Mining Engineer, or Engineer of Mines. The Electrical Engineer was an electrician when that science first came into prominence and the Electrical Engineer as such did not appear upon the scene until about seventy-five years after the Mechanical Engineer dropped the word civil from his title.
" Farther than runneth the memory of man," every nation had schools for the training of military engineers and the professors were men who wrote many books so that some of the rules of construction followed to-day date back several cen-
turies. The first school, however, to teach the new profession of civil engineering, as such, with the degree of Civil Engineer, was the Eensselaer Polytechnic Institute of Troy, K Y., founded in 1826. It has had a most successful career and is to-day a leading school, courses in mechanical engineering and electrical engineering having been added within the last five years. Engineers have not been particularly impressed with the value of the history of their profession and all the facts are not exactly known, or are not easily accessible. It is believed that the second civil engineering school was established in France a year or two after the establishment of the Eensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, although the famous Ecole des Ponts et Chausses for the training of engineers to care for the French highways, was essentially a civil engineering school, the military school of St. Cyr educating military engineers and artillerymen. Between 1830 and 1840 the University of Glasgow, Scotland, established a course in mathematics and the natural sciences for the theoretical training of young gentlemen apprenticed to civil engineers, and from this school was graduated William John Macquorne Rankine. Rankine practised as a civil engineer for several years and, in 1856, upon the retirement of the great Professor Gordon, succeeded him as professor of civil engineering. Rankine was a phenomenal man who wrote many books covering the entire field of engineering,
establishing it upon a sound basis as a mathematical science. There were many great investigators and writers on engineering subjects in Europe, especially in France and Germany, whose work he made free use of, but by all of these men he was looked up to as a leader and might be said to have been the father of the civil engineer. Before his time the engineer " picked up" his education and received his theoretical and scientific knowledge as best he could while burning the midnight lamp. Kankine made it possible to study engineering with the least loss of time and wasted effort. The fourth school of civil engineering was Union College, now Union University, Schenectady, N". Y.
In Great Britain it was the custom for many years, which custom has not entirely died out, to apprentice boys to some engineer for a definite term of years, paying a fee for the privilege, the amount of the fee being governed by the degree of eminence of the engineer. The boys were supposed to receive practical instruction through helping around the office and out in the field or in the works, becoming engineers through the operation of a gradual " soaking in" process. The schools were so conducted as to give one, two, or three years' instruction for a few months each year in mathematics and science, to enable the "articled" pupil to acquire the theoretical knowledge he actually needed. Since the instruction given at the schools was wholly along theoretical
lines it was not looked upon with much favor, the British being a great people to laud practical ( ?) methods. Some of the old feeling against schools crops out once in a while, but the majority of the British engineering schools to-day are not very different in aims and methods from the schools of other countries.
In continental Europe young engineers received all their theoretical instruction in schools having five- and six-year courses before going into practical work. To-day a certain amount of practical work, or shop training, is insisted upon as a prerequisite to graduation, this work being sandwiched between school years. In the United States the apprentice system was never in favor and the schools in this country from the first endeavored to complete the scholastic training of the students before they went into practice. Engineers were in demand and for a great many years the schools could not turn them out fast enough, so there was lacking the intense thoroughness of the German and Frenchman and the practical training of the Briton. The differences in methods of instruction f ormerly common in the schools of different countries were well illustrated in a remark made by a prominent educator a few years ago to the effect that the British engineer was a technically trained mechanic, the continental European engineer a technically trained scientist and the American engineer a technically trained busi-
ness man. It was said that these differences were plainly shown in South Africa and other frontiers of civilization where the British engineer was an outside superintendent at good pay bossing laborers ; the continental engineers were in the drafting office and computing desk getting much less pay and the American engineer was drawing a large salary as general manager. Actually such a view of the matter was a most unjust slur on the engineers trained in British, German and French schools. In those countries no railway was built or any great public work undertaken until it was deemed a necessity. When decided upon it could not be started until many tedious legal formalities and governmental requirements had been complied with. It was not a gamble, and, therefore, no expense was spared to make it permanent. The young men trained in the schools of such countries naturally were drilled in methods that were hardly adapted to pioneer countries where every railway and other enterprise was a gamble and the item of first cost most important. Americans have never been particularly noted for willing acquiescence in regulations of any sort that interfere with a man doing as he pleases, so, of course, American engineers were the best for newly exploited countries. In old countries the idea of having to rebuild anything is viewed with horror. In the United States, especially the United States of a couple of generations ago, the very cheapest work was
wanted as it was believed the profits would enable the work to be done over in a few years if necessary. The differences, therefore, between the engineers of the different countries were not due wholly to the training received in schools, but were due primarily to environment, heredity, custom and habit.
To-day engineers in all countries read and study papers and books written by men in other countries. Translators are busy everywhere so that each week the up-to-date engineer receives by mail a paper containing an account of everything of value to him in his own and other countries. The schools are gradually getting together and there is very little difference between first-class schools, whether they are in England, Germany, France, Belgium, Sweden, Italy, Austria, Eussia, ffctpa^i, Argentine or in the United States. In all will be found the leading works of the leading instructors in all countries and Rankine's works have been translated into many languages and have formed the basis of hundreds of standard text books.
Considerable criticism of engineering schools is heard. " What is the trouble with our engineering schools ?" is a cry frequently heard, but if there in any trouble it is farther back and the cry should be "What is the trouble of our engineering schools?" The answer being "The false ideals and the lack of consistency and coordination in the
public schools.'9 It is not fair to expect the engineering schools of the United States to take that illy-digested product, the average grammar or high school graduate, with his smattering of many things, including plain sewing, and expect to get as perfect a product in the way of an educated man as the German schools turn out. Much of the criticism, however, of our engineering schools is a survival of the days when few engineers were school bred and a college education was not common. No employer cared to have in his employ a man better educated than himself, for they were autocratic, were the successful men of the days of our fathers and grandfathers. The old practical (so-called) engineer was preferred whenever an engineer was employed. A strong stream of engineering graduates has been poured out over the world within the past thirty years and numbers of them have deserted technical (professional technical) engineering to go into contracting and manufacturing. Their success has been so marked that the heads of the largest manufacturing establishments and the heads of the most progressive contracting companies are men who received engineering educations. If their training had not been as practical as it is possible to make school training, they would not have succeeded. Some men ask that the school courses be made more practical and yet are unable to explain just what they mean. Some are merely echoing an old com-
plaint and some graduates are crying from disappointment, when, perhaps, the school was not responsible. Accidents of birth have much to do with lack of success in life. No school can supply a man with common sense and intelligence if these very desirable qualities were omitted in his makeup, but education can do much to enable one to make good use of all the intelligence he may have. The modern engineer must have a college training or something that is equivalent. The equivalent is very, very hard to obtain. Teaching is a distinct profession and the practising engineer cannot always obtain the viewpoint of the teaching engineer. The curricula of the numerous engineering schools bear a very close resemblance to each other, yet many men have taken positions as professors with the idea of revolutionizing matters. Many of these men have had the privilege of organizing new schools in old colleges and universities and have had, some of them, the opportunity to start out on new lines in entirely new institutions unhampered by traditions. With the free hand given them and the splendid opportunity offered for reform it is significant that the courses in such schools gradually bear a very strong resemblance to those in older schools. All heads of engineering schools pay great attention to old graduates and the average engineering school of to-day, with all its reputed shortcomings is really
will dispute it.
There is really nothing serious the matter with our engineering schools that will not be corrected in time. The Society for the Promotion of Engineering Education is doing good work and many eminent practising engineers belong to this society, which invites helpful criticism. If anything is a fault with the training given in the schools it is that many schools have paid entirely too much attention to outside criticism and the students are narrowly trained specialists, who have been cheated in their unfortunate attempt to get a proper education. However, this does not belong in the chapter which is supposed merely to define the engineer. In a later chapter the subject of the scholastic training of the engineer will be discussed. This present chapter has defined the engineer in the words of two eminent engineers. A third definition is by some unknown and reads : "An engineer is a compound of common sense and mathematics. If he has not enough mathematics his lot in life will be hard. If he has not enough common sense God pity him."
THE WORK OF THE ENGINEER
THE old-time civil engineer, before lie was known by that title, built roads and bridges and helped architects erect great buildings. During the middle ages when the wonderful cathedrals and monumental bridges of Europe were built, the greatest architects were engineers and often preferred to be called engineers. Some were able military engineers and conducted many campaigns and great sieges of history. Leonardi da Vinci was an architect, an engineer, a painter and sculptor; of commanding rank in each calling. The knowledge of the world was not so great in those days, but that one man could know practically all that was necessary in many callings.
For a long period architecture was a sleeping art for nothing new was developed and the architects grew proud and drew away from the engineers and courted the society of artists. Architects were delighted when their art was called " frozen music," little recking that things are generally dead when frozen. For centuries architects did nothing but measure and copy and try to develop schools without placing proper emphasis
ing pleasingly." To build pleasingly the material must be recognized. The long spans of Grecian architraves were possible with the strong stone used by the Greeks and imitations in the weaker limestones and sandstones of other countries were but imitations after all, beautiful as some were. The greatest buildings were erected and architecture made advances only when the engineer and architect worked together or were one and the same person. With the invention of the steelframed building, the introduction of reinforced concrete and structural tile, all due to the engineer, architecture has been reborn and the moderns, in America, at least, are developing styles which will some day eventuate in something as good as the Greek pillar and lintel, the arch of the Etruscans and Romans and the pillared vaults of the Goths. Since the " engineer has joined hands with the unwilling architect there is no limit to the possibilities of realizing dreams and embodying them in lasting materials.
The old-time civil engineer also improved rivers and harbors and constructed canals. This ends the list of his achievements. He, of course, had to know how to make surveys so he could lay out his work and make estimates of cost and prepare plans. It is well known that the science of geometry arose from the necessity for recovering land lines and boundaries buried in the mud at the times of the annual rises of the Mle. The
geometers (earth measurers), land surveyors or engineers, call them what you please, were always employed to set out work and no doubt from very early times surveying was a large part of the work of practical builders, architects and contractors, later of engineers. The old-time civil engineer had to be a draftsman also, for drafting is a universal language understood alike by the trained engineer, the architect and the building mechanic. The surveyor had also to be a draftsman in order to make maps of his surveys. To be a good surveyor and draftsman implied a good knowledge of mathematics. The student in a modern American high school receives more instruction in mathematics than the best engineer of two hundred years ago. The old-time engineer then was a man of ingenuity and common sense with little mathematics. The engineer of to-day must have fully as much ingenuity and common sense as the engineer of olden time, together with much more mathematics.
Hero of Alexandria is styled the first engineer of recorded history. He invented a fountain and a steam engine, besides many other things of service to mankind, although his steam engine remained a toy and the principle has only lately been applied in the turbine engine, which is regarded by many as the coming engine. His writings consisted of fourteen books treating on the whole of practical surveying and construction work as they were
understood in those early days, but all the books did not survive the numerous wars and raids of the intervening years. A book in the days of the ancients was generally about as full as a thin pamphlet or a chapter in a modern book. The author of fourteen books hardly wrote as much as the author of a ten-chapter treatise on the design of a plate girder to-day. Be this as it may, Hero is reputed to be the author of fourteen books which for some centuries were a veritable cyclopedia of engineering and of these books we have only his surveying in full, with parts of three or four other books. His treatise on surveying contains many of the problems taught to-day and his methods of solution are unchanged, except as changes have been made by the introduction of algebra and trigonometry, two subjects of which the ancients knew nothing. Hero was not regarded highly by his brother mathematicians in Alexandria because he believed in " practical, applied" mathematics and wrote books for the purpose of educating the common herd. He profaned a most noble science when he disclosed the grave secrets of the mathematicians and made a science of what was a philosophy. It is said that to-day the first toast at the annual banquet of a certain mathematical society is " Here's to pure mathematics. Cursed be he who attempts to find use for it."
and strain was empiric up to a very late date. In 1678, Robert Hooke published his famous law of stress and deformation in materials, namely, "As the extension, so is the resistance," which he claimed to have discovered eighteen years previously and kept secret for the purpose of obtaining some patents. It is still termed Hooke 's Law, but is now known to be true only within the elastic limit of any material. Prom that date until 1857, when Saint- Venant gave a complete analysis of the strength and elasticity of beams, engineers followed many strange hypotheses, which they dignified by styling them theories, and tried to preserve many individual secrets. Self-tutored mechanics to-day bring forth startling ideas, startling at least to modern engineers, because so many of them read reprints of books written fifty and sixty years ago. The self-tutored man should never buy a book without examining the copyright page for the date. [If the copyright was obtained prior to 1895 he should not purchase the bookj
When the first man wanted to cross a river without swimming and found a fallen tree spanning from bank to bank, the first bridge existed. It may have been many centuries before the human race developed to a point where it was possible to fell trees and build bridges. The bridges as late as Roman times were built of horizontal beams and girders resting on piles, with no attempt at intelligent trussing. That is, of course, wooden
bridges were so built, for stone and brick arch bridges are very ancient. In the course of time it was discovered that the triangle was the ideal form of framework and the truss was developed. Bridge building became the work of a craft, like the building of cathedrals, and men went all over Europe erecting bridges, yet no real principles underlay their work, which consisted in a/cut-andtryj method of design. The art of building truss bridges developed through correction of errors of judgment, but methods for computing the strength of suspension bridges were known fairly well about 1780. When railways commenced to supplant navigable canals and bridges were required to carry something more than light wagons many strange patents were obtained for trusses combining the principles of the truss, the arch and the chain.
In the summer of 1846 a Yankee school teacher, Squire Whipple, sat on the bank of a stream fishing and idly watching some carpenters repairing a wooden highway bridge close by. The school teacher learned that the foreman was a noted bridge builder, so he stopped fishing to converse with him. It was with considerable surprise that he learned there was no certain method then known for calculating stresses in bridge trusses. Upon his return home Whipple made a model of the bridge with small pieces of wood, joined at the angles with pins, having strings for counterbraces.
By rolling balls in grooves along the top chord he discovered how the frame work deflected and thus learned how to design a bridge to carry a predetermined load. He wrote a " Practical Treatise on Bridge Building," which was printed in Utica, 1ST. Y., in 1847. In 1851, Haupt, in America, and Bow, in England, produced books on bridge design, the forerunners of a literature which justifies one in saying with the old Hebrew "Of the making of books there is no end."
Tramways were first built in England about two hundred and fifty years ago for the purpose of transporting coal from collieries to the sea. They were first made of two lines of flat stones to afford a track for the wagons. Civil engineers, or rather surveyors, were employed to secure proper curves and grades. Longitudinal timbers enabled heavier loads to be drawn and when iron rails were placed on the timbers, thus further reducing resistance and wear and permitting still heavier loads to be drawn, the tramways became railways. The first rails were channeled, or grooved, and it was~a stroke of real genius when some man used a plain rail and put the flange on the wheel. It effected great economy and was very simple, but then the really great things in this world are very simple in their inception. In 1821 the Stockton and Darlington Railway was incorporated in England, this road being operated by steam locomotives in 1825.
boom in railway building and the demand for civil engineers was so great that for many years it was almost impossible to find enough to go around. At the same time the need for skilled designers of engines and machinery led the mechanical engineers to form a distinct body as distinguished from civil engineers. The old distinction between civil and military engineers was lost forever and to-day we have engineers. The old qualifying terms remain but the lines, for a time so distinct, are each day becoming fainter. The real distinction now exists as between engineers who design and build stable structures and those who design, build and sell engines and machines.
By common consent the man who is to-day known as a civil engineer is one who deals with statics, and the man who is known as a mechanical engineer is one who deals with kinetics, the electrical engineer being a cross between a physicist and a mechanical engineer, having a marked strain of conceit common to youth ; the electrical engineer being comparatively an infant, but very husky. Mechanics is that part of the science of dynamics which treats of the laws governing the interaction between forces and solid matter. Statics is a branch of mechanics treating of the action of forces upon bodies at rest, or in a state of static equilibrium ; that is, of balanced forces. Kinetics is a branch of mechanics treating of the action of unbalanced forces and the movement of solid
bodies. Statics, therefore, applies to bridges and all stationary frames, as well as embankments, retaining walls, river and canal improvements, etc. Kinetics deals with engines and machines.
In hydraulics the engineer has been employed from time immemorial. At first his employment on harbor work was in the government service, connected with the navy, but later he was employed as a civil engineer to design and build harbors for vessels of commerce. Centuries of dock and wharf building developed rules and styles which have not been much changed by the advance in scientific instruction of engineers in the past century. Navigable canals were for a time the great training schools for engineers, but they are everywhere giving way to railways, except where interested agitation keeps alive public interest in old-fashioned things. A few canals are kept up at enormous expense to satisfy artificially created public demands, supposedly to act as a deterrant upon railway rates. Sentiment, however, rather than common sense business principles, keeps the small navigable canal in existence. The present day hydraulic engineer finds his chief employment in the design, construction and operation of water works for towns and cities ; canals, reservoirs and dams for irrigation; canals and ditches for land drainage; the improvement and regulation of rivers.
was Sextus Julius Frontinus, water commissioner in Rome during the reigns of Nerva and Trajan. He possessed a shrewd knowledge of the flow of fluids, but hardly more than that which any observing man may pick up by working around a water works system to-day. In 1628 Castelli published a small pamphlet on the flow of fluids, followed in 1643 by a pamphlet giving more important discoveries. In 1828 Fourneyron invented the turbine and from that time to this important discoveries on the flow of water have been announced at intervals. The past twenty-five years have seen the knowledge respecting the flow of water placed on nearly as satisfactory a basis as a knowledge of the stresses in structures, although for fifty years prior enough was known to enable engineers to carry out great hydraulic works with reasonable certainty and economy.
Hydraulic engineers were formerly employed in large numbers on the design and construction of power plants operated by water wheels. After the introduction of the steam engine the water wheel declined in importance and many mills replaced their hydraulic plant with steam plants. To-day the hydraulic engineer is again in demand to design and erect water power installations in which the wheel picks up the power from falling water and carries it to huge electric generators, to be converted into electricity which is easily transmitted for long distances. The term
classes of engineers :
Hydraulic civil engineers are skilled in the survey, planning, designing and construction of canals, dams and power houses ; also in the design, construction and operation of water works for municipalities, irrigation and drainage projects.
Hydraulic mechanical engineers are skilled in the design and construction of all kinds of hydraulic machinery, including hydraulic presses, water wheels, turbines, etc.
plants.
The sanitary engineer is an important man to-day and his value to the community is increasing. He may be employed to design and construct systems for the sewering of municipalities and the purification of sewage, and he may be employed to design and construct water works systems and plants to purify water. The tendency, however, is marked to limit the sanitary engineer to the design and construction of plants to purify sewage and domestic water supplies.
The municipal engineer is charged with the planning and construction of water works, sewerage systems and street improvements within the corporate limits of municipalities. For the purification of sewage or water he calls in the consulting sanitary engineer and for the bringing of the
water to the city limits he calls in the hydraulic civil engineer. If large pumping stations are required he employs the hydraulic mechanical engineer. For the ordinary work required in the average town and city the local municipal engineer is usually competent, if his training has been broad and of the approved kind. One defect in many cities is the employment of imperfectly trained men of limited experience because they work for low pay. The position of the average town and city engineer is not enviable, for his office is the prey of politics.
On a railway the civil engineer surveys the routes, makes estimates of cost and constructs the lines. He designs all buildings and terminal yards and on many roads designs all the bridges, while on other roads he merely prepares specifications for the design of bridges and supervises their erection. Maintenance-of-way engineers have charge of the upkeep of the railway, look after repairs and in general have charge of all renewals and reconstruction. The engineering department is almost wholly connected with the surveying and construction of new lines, the maintenance-of-way department being separate. Some old railways have no chief engineer, the maintenance-of-way department doing all the civil engineering work, for these roads make no important extensions. The mechanical engineer on a railway has charge of the purchase and repair of rolling stock and all
machinery; and machines required in the repair of machinery. The mechanical engineer also prepares specifications for such equipment as the railway may have made to order or purchases under contract.
Bridge engineering is practically a distinct profession, for many companies are engaged exclusively in the design and erection of bridges for railways and highways.
Structural engineering is also a distinct profession for few important buildings are erected to-day without steel or reinforced concrete framework and floor systems.
Numbers of men trained as engineers go into surveying work, but not so many that it is right to say "A civil engineer is nothing but a surveyor," as so many illy-informed or mendacious mechanical and electrical engineers remark to parents who make inquiries with reference to selecting careers for their sons. Some surveyors work for the government and are employed in making accurate surveys for the purpose of marking national boundaries, determining the size and shape of the earth, topographical surveys as a basis for the development of sections of a country, etc. Some engineers go into private practice and specialize on surveys for determining land lines, settling property disputes, setting grades for ditches, for drainage or irrigation, etc. Others work all their lives for railways and other corporations, running instru-
ments, making maps and doing work of a similar nature in the development work upon which all such corporations are engaged. This latter class does not receive steady employment, the unfortunate wanderers never knowing how long a job will last and not receiving very high pay.
The United States Government is doing a great deal of work in connection with irrigation development and within a very few years the drainage question has assumed wonderful importance. A number of young graduates enter government employ each year in the irrigation and drainage departments. Numbers of companies are engaged in private irrigation and land drainage enterprises, but the employment is uncertain and the pay poor.
The demand for improved highways has led to the formation of an important department. The Bureau of Road Inquiry conducts investigations and gives free information on the subject, besides, giving young engineering graduates special training in highway work, in order to prepare them to enter the employ of states in which highway improvement is a live issue. The pay for the rank and file is low, but state highway commissioners generally receive high salaries, which means a mingling of politics and efficiency, generally to the impairment of the latter.
Members of the Engineer Corps of the United States Army are educated at West Point, the man standing at the head of the graduating class being
sent for a post-graduate course to an advanced engineering school. Civil engineers in the United States Navy, in charge of navy yards, etc., are selected after severe competitive examinations from graduates of good civil engineering schools. Naval engineers and naval architects are graduates of Annapolis who stand at, or near, the head of the graduating class and are then sent to special schools for more instruction.
The greatest opportunities for engineering graduates to-day lie in the field of contracting and general construction work and the best training for this employment is to be had in the civil engineering and mining engineering courses.
Each is divided into numerous specialties, but the young man who takes a specialty in one of the above branches makes a mistake, unless he is preparing himself to fit into a certain position already provided.
Every engineer ends by specializing to a greater or less extent. This is unavoidable in the conduct of the work of the world, but the fundamentals are
the same in all branches and for every specialty in each branch. For the average graduate several years must elapse before a permanent line of work is entered upon. Frequently this is not along the line of the specialty selected while at school. It is an axiom with experienced engineers that the specialty selects the man by a process of chance, rather than the man the specialty.
^Knowing this it seems the height of absurdity for schools, as many do, to require a student upon the completion of his freshman year to make a selection for the following three years' work from a bewildering list of specialties, when he has not really made up his mind as to why he chose the hard engineering course instead of the easy courses in which memory, rather than reasoning ability, enables one to secure high marks and make the honorary fraternities.
The writer does not decry any desire on the part of ambitious young men to pursue some special subject after adequate preparation, provided this is done in the same way that a man collects stamps, becomes a high-grade amateur photographer, or pursues any other hobby. A specialty, after adequate preparation, selected in such manner is a splendid thing and if the student finally makes it pay well he is to be congratulated. A specialty selected after a supposedly due consideration of the question, " Which specialty do you think pays best?" is frequently, in fact, gen-
earn money.
The following clipping from The Chicago Tribune shows the point of view of practically all newspaper writers on the subject of the profession of the engineer. This was taken from a page containing advertisements of schools, some technical schools being represented, but, of course, this fact cannot be supposed to have influenced the writer of the article clipped :
FUTURE DEMANDS TRAINED ENGINEERS
The field for the labors of the engineer — constructive or electrical — are practically unlimited. The student graduating from the accredited technical school is assured of good positions months before he graduates. Indeed, it is a true embarrassment of riches when, as is repeated yearly with the graduating classes of every technical school, the youthful engineer has to choose between several enticing and profitable offers of employment before he has ceased to breathe schoolroom air.
Only one among the multiplied advantages of engineering as a profession compared with the older professions of medicine and the law, is that the young engineer is entirely and comfortably self-supporting from the beginning — earning a good salary from the start. The technical school trained engineer holds the world in his hand. Employers are waiting for him. Opportunities for ultimately becoming independent or his own employer, are legion.
the business world for stenographers, clerks, bookkeepers, and all classes of employes at entering pay. When the supply is large many employers have no hesitancy in dismissing older employes to make room for the younger men. This active demand will continue just as long as the supply is continuous of fresh young men, who work at low pay "to gain experience," hence the demand is largely artificial and fostered by the readiness with which it is supplied. A large employer of engineering graduates told the writer that 90 per cent, of his work was of such a nature that it could be acceptably done by young men, with little or no experience, provided with a good technical education. Consequently he did not pay very high salaries, wages he termed it, for there was a constant supply of just the sort of men he wanted, and at the first signs of dissatisfaction with pay he let men go. This fact is known by many engineers to satisfactorily explain the standing advertisements of large companies for draftsmen and designers.
another page of The Chicago Tribune:
SITUATION WANTED— Massachusetts Institute of Technology civil engineering graduate, 1911, age 26, having had several years' business experience as a bookkeeper and timekeeper for a contracting firm, desires a position where he can make use of his training and experience; salary no object. Address N 206, Tribune.
Four, five or six years technical school.
The standard course in technical schools has been four years in length, but within the past ten years many American colleges and universities have established five- and six-year courses. Some have done this in order to give the students more purely cultural studies and some have added to the courses many things that seem to be essential nowadays to the education of the engineer along professional lines.
In all colleges and universities offering a selection of courses for different degrees the engineering courses are avoided by lazy students and "the engineers" are looked upon as being the hardest worked students; their courses the most difficult. If a man cannot undertake such a training as is above outlined he had better go into a business where the training is not so severe and expensive, for an engineering education costs from two thousand dollars up to any amount the student
may be able to secure from his parents or guardians. By giving up the idea of studying engineering the man not perfectly adapted to the work will help the profession by enabling thousands of illy-paid, highly educated men to get better pay and steadier employment, besides giving them more zest in the doing of their work.
While the regular method above outlined is the very best, there exist splendid opportunities for the men who missed their chance earlier in life. For such men good courses of instruction are given by some reputable correspondence schools, evening classes in the Y. M. C. A., evening classes, in high-grade technical schools, and in a few private schools giving individual instruction. Young fellows who can afford the time to go to college and study engineering in the proper manner have no place in these schools intended solely for men who missed early chances and now want instruction in special subjects. The man who works by day and studies in odd moments cannot possibly cover properly the broad and comprehensive schedule of studies provided by specialists in engineeringteaching for young fellows whose sole object, when under their instruction, is to prepare for their life work.
The man studying under the severe handicaps incident to earning a living is apt to be hypercritical and has neither the patience, nor the time, to take up any study from which he sees no hope
of immediate financial return. Night schools, therefore, arrange courses of study to meet the needs of these strictly utilitarian pupils. The young man going to a regular resident engineering school makes a mistake in taking up a specialty. The man who later in life endeavors to study the things he feels he sorely needs, is of necessity the most narrow of specialists. Occasionally men take up one subject after another in special schools, gradually getting the equivalent of a fairly complete engineering education. The percentage, however, is small and the result of the widely advertised special courses in engineering subjects has been to crowd the ranks with partly trained men who keep down pay and lower the dignity of the calling. It is sometimes a serious question whether it is wise to give the few who are worthy a chance, when in the giving of it so many are injured.
There is a third way by which a man may obtain a fair engineering education, and that is by self -tutoring. The self -tutored man is one who endeavors to educate himself from books, without the assistance of teachers or correspondence schools. All honor to the man who succeeds in this stupendous undertaking which many start upon and few accomplish. It was the way in which 90 per cent, of the engineers were educated more than fifty years ago and a large percentage of engineers now living, who are past middle age,
were self -tutored. That many achieved great success was due rather to the fact that the country needed them and they were instinctive engineers, than that they were ' ' practically educated. ' ' With the advent of the well-trained college graduate the self -tutored men are not so highly thought of as was once the case. Prior to the civil war there was considerable activity in railway building, and the engineering schools of the country were so few that it was hard to hold the graduates of West Point and Annapolis in the service of the army and navy, their education being so good along the lines of applied science. General McClellan, a graduate of West Point was chief engineer and manager of a railway when the war broke out. After the war ended the whole country, especially the west, experienced such a boom and there was so much railway building that the schools were again unable to supply enough engineers, so boys with the most elementary training were placed at drafting boards and bright young fellows were given a few lessons in handling surveying instruments, the result being that the country in dull times was crowded with "engineers," many of whom were hardly more than automatons, doing all the routine work connected with railway surveying and building in a mechanical manner. One panic period lasting three or four years sufficed to enable the engineering schools, enormously increased in numbers from the half dozen existing in the late 60 's,
exists.
Much of the work done in engineering offices is of a nature which does not demand the full training required by an engineer. Much of this work is drafting of a kind that merely requires a fair knowledge of standard methods of construction and the man who has worked around an office long enough "to soak it in," manages to eke out a fair living and is employed pretty constantly at pay which is about that of an average clerk. There are others who do nothing but make tracings, and obviously they do not require any more education than is given in grammar schools. Their pay is not high. Others are employed as blue printers, filing clerks, statisticians, timekeepers, rodmen, chainmen, etc. Nearly all enter upon the work with the idea of "learning it practically," the result being an imitation of the old-time British engineer, a technically trained mechanic. It is only an imitation, for in the case of the British boy a high premium was paid for the privilege of getting him into an office and some pains were taken to see that he managed to get the rudiments of an engineering education for the credit of the office, if for no other reason. The present-day boys and young men in American offices are not taken in as pupils. They are employed to do certain definite work that calls for no particular education and is
work of a union laborer.
It is this class of assistants that supports the correspondence schools, the evening classes, the private " practical" schools. A pitifully small number do amount to something after a while and from the very nature of engineering work a large percentage of engineers to the end of time will be men who have not received an education in resident technical schools. Some men prove by statistics based on records of men applying for membership in the national engineering societies, that very few men engaged in engineering work to-day are selftutored. Their deductions are false, for, in the first place, the successful self -tutored men have to be urged to apply for membership in such societies, having a feeling that a prejudice exists against engineers who are non-graduates. In the second place a man has only to canvass the offices of engineers and make inquiries to discover that a large percentage of the engineers and their assistants to be found to-day are non-graduates. Many are high school graduates and many have had only one or two years in resident schools, while a great many have simply grown up in the business, starting in as office boys. The writer made a canvass of one hundred engineering offices and sixty architects' offices and the drafting offices
Manufacturing plants 18 82
In engineers' offices the permanent positions are few and when an engineer has to increase his force he must have men already trained. This accounts for the high percentage of graduates in the offices of engineers in private practice. With architects the conditions of employment for draftsmen are better than with engineers in private practice. In manufacturing establishments there are many permanent positions for low-grade draftsmen. If this canvass had been made in the works and offices of the great electrical companies the percentages would probably have been ninety-five graduates to five non-graduates, but conditions of pay not improved. In manufacturing lines much of the work has been standardized and the drafting consists in tracing and making slight alterations in existing drawings to adapt them to other uses. There is very little high-class designing, empirical methods developed by many years of practice in a particular specialty being used. In electricity there is greater need of well-trained men than in mechanical work, for electrical practice has not vet been fully standardized.
The majority of men, however, who are trying to secure an engineering education by night study will never succeed, for their trouble is temperamental. They went into practical work instead of going to a technical school, because they imagined four years was too long a time to spend in study and thought there was some royal road to learning. Some, in fact many, believed there was no necessity for all the studies the technical student must take. The desire to begin earning money led them to neglect the preliminary school training. Later in life they take up night study, but the impatient spirit still stirs within them and prevents rapid or great progress. Such men are generally pretentious to a degree and are a positive detriment to the profession.
Superior preparation.
The superior intelligence must be proven and it takes many years generally for a young chap to prove he has ordinary intelligence. The possession of greater energy must be proven and this takes years of hustle in competition with seasoned veterans in the battle for existence. Adequate preparation along lines which a century of experi-
ence in training engineers has shown to be good, is the finest backing that intelligence and energy can have. It is a mistake to permit a young fellow to go into a profession like engineering without the best technical training it is possible to secure. Sometimes the man who has a good training can make a small amount of energy and a mediocre brain carry him through life splendidly.
In the first place he should be an excellent draftsman. Drafting is a universal language by means of which the designer conveys instructions to the workman. The graduate is employed for the first few years after graduation in minor positions in which drafting is his principal occupation. If he is not a good draftsman he seldom has an opportunity to get a foothold in his chosen work.
The engineer is lost without a sound knowledge of mathematics. The amount used in routine work is not great and there is a class of "rule of thumb" and "pocket-book" engineers, which decries the great stress laid upon a sound knowledge of mathematics by the men who head the engineering schools. It is a puzzling thing that the actual amount of mathematics required in daily work is so small, yet the men who have received the broadest training in mathematics are the most reliable, and, in late life, are the most successful engineers.
detail work and it is the young fellow, generally, who is intrusted with most of the research work requiring a knowledge of mathematics; work of a nature to seriously tax the patience of an older man. With the passing of years the work of the engineer becomes more executive and his knowledge of mathematics less sure. The fact that few eminent engineers can pass a satisfactory examination in elementary mathematics and would flunk badly in the higher branches is no argument against the value of a thorough training in mathematics. It may be that the reason the men achieve marked success who acquire an understanding knowledge of mathematics is that they are instinctive engineers and so took the mathematical instruction intelligently as a necessary part of the preparation for their life work.
Mathematics enable a man to investigate scientifically many things which might otherwise wait years for experimental proof. The rapid growth in the use of reinforced concrete as a structural material is an evidence of this. The invention of reinforced concrete was not due to an engineer. A gardener used wire nettingembedded in concrete in the construction of some large jars and an engineer saw the possibilities in such material. He possessed a sound knowledge of mathematics and mechanics and developed some theoretical formulas to explain the action of the internal stresses and to arrive at the correct
amount of steel required to reinforce concrete. Other engineers and mathematicians also worked at the problem and a number of hypotheses were worked out, differing slightly in detail, but practically all giving nearly like results. In Europe the material Had a wider use than in the United States, which is naturally a backward country in taking up new ideas, and in which besides, certain patents gave a monopoly to a few concerns. When the patents expired the material came into common use and so many uneducated and half -educated men went into the business with empirical and rule of thumb methods of design that many accidents happened. A number of experiments were made from which simple formulas were derived, and it was discovered that the formulas and methods of the mathematicians of Europe were to all intents and purposes safe and their reasoning in the main correct. The presence of thousands of half-educated, self-styled engineers in this country was responsible for many disasters, the public having great confidence in the " practical" man and being fearful of the "theoretical" man. The writer has observed this strange sentiment for many years and has discovered that to be a practical man it is merely necessary for a man to style himself "practical" and rail at men who have spent good money to acquire an education. The public makes no investigation into the qualifications of the self-styled
"practical" man, taking his word that he is practical and that the trained man is a fool, and " theoretical." Because the word theoretical is used in an awesome manner it is thought to mean something dreadful. Barnum once made a statement that the people like to be humbugged.
Theory is a plain statement of a law that has been proven. Hypothesis is an idea advanced as a theory. The man who takes a thorough engineering course studies the theories underlying his work and thereby obtains a practical understanding of it. In engineering schools a large part of the instruction consists in a study of the work done by engineers and contractors in many parts of the world and during all the centuries. When a young fellow who has conscientiously pursued his engineering studies graduates, it does not take him long to acquire a first-hand practical knowledge of his work and to this he adds a knowledge of what other men have done. It is plain to see, therefore, that the theoretically trained man is the practical man.
The man who has no school training in the underlying theory of his work and merely learns by seeing, without doing much, if any, reading, or without doing any reading under proper guidance, has only his own experience to guide him. He is practical to the extent that he has " picked up knowledge" by doing. Sometimes an idea strikes him and he produces an hypothesis, dignifies it by the term of " theory" and starts on a wild goose chase, frequently finding men of means to advance money to push his wild ideas. The man who follows true theory is the practical man, for he follows what others before him proved to be true. The man who works by hypothesis will distort facts to attempt to prove himself right and is really the theoretical man in the sense that the average individual understands the meaning of theory. The " theoretical" man is not the educated man and the " practical" man is not the uneducated man.
Anything which will enable a man to think soundly and act with intelligence has a place in the curriculum of an engineering school. Mathematics is, therefore, entitled to first place when it is taught as a tool and not as an end.
In school a grade of 70 will carry a boy through and 90 gives him extremely creditable standing. In business a grade of 100, or perfect, is necessary to hold a position. Intelligence, plus a grade of 100, is absolutely necessary for advancement. The wellknown " Gentleman's grade of C," of the old-time classical course is an inferior grade in the engineering course. A careful study of the biographies of successful engineers, appearing frequently in technical papers, will show that a surprisingly large number won prizes and had excellent stand-
ing in many, if not all, of their studies while in school. Their careful, conscientious work at school enabled them to secure satisfactory positions upon graduation. When men were laid off in dull seasons these well-trained workers were retained.^ They were not all " greasy grinds," in spite of their~7 high standing, for many won enviable records on the athletic field. The engineering student must not forget that his training is for service and if he does not acquire industrious habits in school he will hardly change in character and acquire them later in life. The standards of schools exist-
training.
Many young chaps fail in offices not only because they are poor draftsmen, but because their training in mechanics has not been thorough. The training in mathematics is for the purpose of enabling mechanics to be properly studied and the two are essential. A common complaint against engineering graduates is that they are often able to chase "the elusive x through the mazes of a cubic equation" and yet cannot perform an ordinary problem in arithmetic. The time in school has been spent on the study of principles and laws with insufficient time for an application of the principles. The writer does not wonder at this very much, however, as he is well acquainted with a number of instructors in mathematics. Their
interest does not lie in teaching, but in the study of this, their favorite science. Each student is put through a course of instruction without any idea on the part of the instructor that he is to regard it as a tool, but merely because it is a part of the prescribed course of instruction. There are a few professors and instructors who rail bitterly at life because they must teach to earn a living. They think college is a fine place were it not for the students and their idea of happiness is to sit and study all day and night. The head of the institution may require certain text books to be used, but an examination of the books will reveal the word "omit" written on every page where practical examples are given, and at the beginning of every chapter filled with applications of the theory taught. It is not an uncommon thing to find a 300page text book used and only a part of it given to the students when there are plenty of abridged works on the market which the teacher could use, supplementing the book with personal instruction were he not too lazy. Instead of using large books and giving a "skim" course, it would be better to give a short course from a small book and give it thoroughly. The writer believes that tutorial methods should be used to some extent in engineering schools, so that the instructors in mathematics, graphics and mechanics could be changed every semester and thus the teachers of mathematics would learn to know what their students require.
If an instructor in mathematics were required to teach his poorly instructed class the following semester in mechanics he would improve as a teacher of mathematics. This lack of coordination is marked in small colleges where there is an engineering course newly established and the professor of engineering must rely upon the other older established departments to train his students in the fundamentals. It is also a fault in some large schools.
Physics, of which mechanics is a branch, is a most important subject and chemistry is becoming daily of more importance as a part of the knowledge an engineer must possess. The engineer deals with materials and a proper study cannot be made of materials without thorough grounding in physics and chemistry.
Every engineer must know how to lay out work and make surveys through strange countries. This requires a knowledge of surveying and exploratory surveying presupposes a knowledge of astronomy, which is, therefore, a part of the curriculum of all engineering schools. Sometimes it is taught as astronomy and sometimes it is a part of the course in surveying, enough of astronomy being given to determine latitude, longitude and time.
A knowledge of geology is necessary to enable the engineer to extract metals and ores from the earth, form his excavations and embankments
stable foundations.
All engineering studies such as the design of structures, the flow of water, sanitation, etc., are based upon mathematics, physics and chemistry, and the mathematical, physical and chemical sciences. Thoroughly grounded in these the student can study by himself, if need be, the higher subjects comprised in practical work.
The men who have the most to do with the framing of courses of study for engineering schools are safe guides for the young men who seek information as to electives. The individual professors are wretched advisers, for each professor is a slave to his own course and magnifies its importance. For instance, nothing more useless to an intending engineer can be imagined as an elective than the offered graduate courses in higher mathematics ; the prescribed courses are amply sufficient. If the head of the mathematical department, however, is consulted he will generally advise mathematics. The professor of chemistry will sing the praises of advanced chemistry when the principal reason for the study of chemistry by an engineer is the acquisition of information. The professor of mechanics will advise technical mechanics and then more technical mechanics. These men all mean well, but they have deliberately chosen to withdraw themselves from the outside world and immure themselves in walls to deal forever with
immature minds and teach narrow special subjects. They are not qualified to advise the young man who is going out into the world to guard a home against the attack of the wolf. Neither can the professor of bridge design, of structural design, of sanitary engineering, of hydraulic engineering be counted a safe adviser, for each will unduly magnify his specialty. The entire course is arranged to give each of the subjects a proper representation and if there is any time left for electives the young man should take them in the humanities, literature, political economy, sociology, etc.
The engineer changes the very face of nature. He makes millions of blades of grass grow where none grew before. He builds railroads which people the deserts. He erects factories and equips them. Thousands of people are employed through him and his employment. History, sociology, economics and philanthropy are studies with which he should be familiar. He deals with materials and for four years his studies are arranged to give him a proper knowledge of materials. His largest dealings are with men and until a very late period nothing was taught him about mankind.
The study of English is most important. Engineers must make reports on the feasibility of projects involving the expenditure of vast sums. The men who have the money to invest are usually of a class that cannot tolerate poor English and who
also like to have men in their employ who can act, speak and write like gentlemen. The ability to write a readable report is a valuable asset. It is becoming necessary nowadays for engineers to study the laws of business and the law of contract so that litigation may be avoided. The average lawyer is sadly lacking in the ability to write intelligible English and in earlier days when every engineer assumed it to be part of the work of a lawyer to prepare all legal papers, there was much litigation over contracts. To-day few contracts and specifications are seen by lawyers and the ability to properly express his meaning, together with the marked lessening of litigation over construction work, has strengthened the engineer with his employers. The work of the engineer often takes him to foreign lands. There are also numerous international conventions. In every country there are many technical societies holding frequent meetings to describe and discuss work in progress and publishing bulletins containing reports of these meetings and discussions. Science has no national boundaries and all men of science, pure and applied, are brothers. The modern engineer, therefore, should possess a reading knowledge, at least, of French and German, while a knowledge of Italian and Spanish will wonderfully increase his power for research.
branches is so marked, that it is not uncommon to see graduated civil engineers employed on work considered the proper employment for mechanical or electrical engineers, while the latter are often put on work of a strictly civil engineering character. The mining engineer receives such a diversified training that he is to be found everywhere doing all kinds of work.
In every school where various branches of engineering are taught it is usual to have the courses identical for the freshman and the first half of the sophomore year. In the second half of the sophomore year there is a slight difference and a final separation in the junior year. However, a number of studies are the same even in the third and fourth years, but the hours are different, some branches taking a three-hour course while others take only one or two hours.
Each school varies the standard curriculum slightly according to local influences. The majority of graduates find employment near the school and the curriculum naturally reflects to some extent the industry of most importance in that section of the country. Some of the older schools have a large number of the alumnae employed in a certain line of work, and as the alumnae are always loyal to their alma mater and give her graduates the preference when assistants are required, it is natural that the school will lay stress on the line of work in which the greatest number of graduates find
employment. Here is a slight hint as to the selection of a school. A very old school with an honorable name is a splendid place-finder for graduates likely to do it credit. The newer schools find it somewhat more difficult to place graduates. A disadvantage often found in old schools is intense conservatism and an overabundant supply of " inbred" instructors. Frequently a new school is good because all the teaching staff has been selected for proved ability and a desire to start a new school thoroughly abreast of the times, unhampered by traditions. This is excellent if the departments of mathematics, physics and chemistry in the older part of the institution will arrange courses of value to engineers and not consider the " culture" requirements of budding theologues, lawyers and physicians as sufficient for technical men.
The man who tries to start a school to satisfy critics in the ranks of practical engineers is foredoomed to failure. The wisest men recognize that no school can turn out engineers, but that all schools should turn out young fellows trained to be good engineering assistants and having enough education to be ready for advancement when it comes. The chief criticism against the schools is that the boys are not well enough drilled in practice, lack of time preventing more than the instilling of principles. It is a serious criticism, but unjust, for all men are not endowed with the brains
to be good engineers. All the young chaps who study engineering are not entitled to be termed "ingenious," for many are one degree removed from extreme simplicity. Because of the very large number of engineering school graduates there is quite a respectable sprinkling of those who lack ordinary intelligence in practical affairs; enough of them to bring undeserved reproach upon the schools.
The best reply possible to some severe critics is to remind them that they are themselves graduates of the schools they criticise. Many of them who met with trials after graduation may have been mistaken in taking up engineering and stuck to the work simply because they did not like to feel their time had been wasted, and, as the years rolled by, they gradually developed into engineers. The training, after all, was their salvation. This, of course, is merely a personal opinion formed after studying some men who would like to try their hands at revising engineering curricula. They are the sort of men who come always unprepared to class and want the notes of the lesson in advance to study instead of the longer text. Men who only learn to study after many bitter experiences, their early experiences having led them to rely always upon a teacher. Faults in schools do exist and the writer will touch upon a few on other pages, but these faults are being remedied each year as teachers come together and as more of the
high-class professors combine teaching and the practice of engineering. The courses of study have been so well tried out in the years gone by, and the number of men successfully educated at the schools is such a large per cent, of the whole that inferior instructors and assistant professors cannot do much harm when there is a real man at the head of the department. It is only when the head of the department is weak that the school suffers— this being true of any business.
Typical courses of engineering may be represented by the following, taken from the annual catalogue of the University of Illinois, Urbana, 111. The figures following the subject indicate the number of recitation hours per week, each hour of recitation being assumed to require two hours of preparation. The university receives aid from the United States Government so a certain amount of military instruction is given. All engineering schools do not have military instruction.
Total semester hours 17
Every senior student must prepare a thesis to defend Ms right to receive a degree in engineering. Modern thesis work generally is of a research nature. The time given above to thesis work represents the time given by the instructional staff in assisting the students in this work. The seminary item refers to the time devoted by the dean of the school in leading topical discussions on articles appearing in technical papers, thus making the boys ready against the time when they will leave school and must thereafter depend upon themselves in hunting up authorities, etc. If a technical school does nothing more than guide a student in the selection of and inspire a discriminating taste for good technical literature it accomplishes much, as was recently said by the editor of Engineering News.
A course in mining engineering has been established at the University of Illinois within the past two years and reflects the principal mining industry, coal, of the state. The following fairly typical mining course is that of the Montana State School of Mines, Butte, Mont. :
Total 30 30
The attention of the reader is directed to the number of hours per week at the school of mining engineering as compared with the hours per week at the University of Illinois. Thirty hours is a pretty heavy course to carry, yet it is done in many schools and the students seem to be none the worse for it. Their work is no more arduous than that of youths of the same age employed in offices and shops and around mines. Assuming seventeen hours per week, each hour supposed to involve two hours of preparation and we have a total of fifty-one hours per week spent on studies. Assuming that four of the seventeen hours were laboratory work, which counts one-half, the student has then actually put in about fifty-nine hours per week on his work. This is an average of practically ten hours per day for six days. In the mining course above described the laboratory;
periods may be deducted, that is, only the time placed in the schedule may be counted. It will be seen then that there is not a great difference. The work, however, at all mining schools is much heavier than the work at other schools. There is one item, however, to be fully considered in all statements regarding work at all colleges and universities. Very few students actually spend two hours in preparation for one hour of lecture or recitation. The children in the grammar schools put in five hours per day for five days and many of them spend two hours per day in home work, thus getting in thirty-five hours per week. Very few men who have gone through the average schools have considered themselves hard worked, except while in school, saying in later years that they could easily have carried more work if compelled to do so. Eighteen hours class and six hours laboratory, a total of twenty-one catalogue hours, is not too much to ask of engineering students, and if this were done and a longer course given, a more general education would make them better men and increase their opportunity to earn a living after leaving school.
The fact that students are required at many institutions to select a specialty at the end of their Freshman year, before they have a realizing sense of what the profession is, has been referred to. This happens for several reasons. In the first place there is a certain amount of advertising done
by all schools to attract students and when one school advertises a certain special course all the other schools near by feel compelled to follow suit or fall in the estimation of the public.
The newspapers are greatly to blame for getting parents of growing boys excited. A large city constructs a vast water works system and the project attracts the attention of special newspaper and magazine writers who play the thing for all it is worth. Little wonder when some of these men receive $50 per page. In the descriptions a great deal of attention is paid to the picturesque side of the engineer's work and the few engineers who receive large salaries are paraded before the public until the fathers and mothers begin to believe that their sons must study hydraulic engineering. The schools hunting for students scent the popular demand and immediately thereafter it is announced that courses in the highly paid specialty of hydraulic engineering are to be started. The work of the United States Bureau of Eoad Inquiry compelled the starting of many special courses in highway engineering. A great piece of sanitary work like the Chicago drainage canal or the Washington filtration plant calls for special courses in sanitary engineering. The wonderful interest in concrete work during the past ten years, due to the advertising of the cement manufacturers, has stimulated interest in concrete engineering and thousands of boys are specializing in reinforced
concrete design. Always the same idea to get into line on some kind of work that is exciting public interest with the idea that bigger pay may be had. Few of the young fellows who take up a specialty are really imbued with a love for engineering work, but are going into it with the mistaken idea that it pays well, provided a fellow can select the most popular line.
In the larger schools, owing to the sizes of the classes it is impossible for any teacher to teach more than one subject, so the schools are full of specialists, each clamoring to be the head of a department and this, added to the will-o'-the-wisp search of parents for remunerative vocations for their offspring hurts the profession. The writer, in common with the majority of engineers who have had a fairly broad experience, believes the designations of Civil, Mechanical, Electrical and Mining Engineer should disappear in the curriculum of the schools and there should be given one general engineering course, with special courses which the graduates may take later. This general course could be so arranged as to afford considerable choice of subjects in the last year, thus enabling a student to specialize along certain lines only after he has completed the fundamentals of all engineering work, and has had sufficient vacation experience to enable him to choose intelligently among a lot of offered courses those which he feels sure will be of the greatest value to him immedi-
ately upon graduation. The schools might also drop the three months' vacation and adopt the plan of the Michigan College of Mines, Houghton, Mich., and the University of Chicago, in which the year is divided into four twelve-week terms. The student may take three terms each year and complete the course in four years, or, by taking four terms each year complete the course in three calendar years. A proper engineering course, however, cannot be completed in four school years, or three calendar years if the greatest good is to result to the student.
As will be referred to further on the managers of large corporations and special interests are also largely responsible for the numerous specialties in engineering schools. The profession is now so well stocked with embryo engineers that the schools can well afford to cease adopting methods for attracting students and devote more time to turning out the very best possible product. The slogan of the advanced woman is "Not more children, but better children," and the schools having more than caught up with the legitimate demand for engineers can afford to say "Not more engineering graduates, but the best possible quality of graduates." How the state universities will be able to do this the writer will not attempt to answer, but the privately endowed institutions can well afford to do it. By a reduction in the size of the classes they will require smaller quarters and less equip-
ment and can afford to employ a smaller number of instructors, who should receive larger pay. Owing to the very large number of students and the resulting large number of underpaid instructors the best trained engineers are not always to be found among the graduates of the larger institutions with their well-equipped laboratories and shops. Many kings among engineers have been turned out of schools not sufficiently equipped according to modern standards, but with the log on which Mark Hopkins sat and the faithful old teacher whose heart is in his work sitting at one end, ready to prove that after all a sound training in the fundamentals of engineering science goes a long way when the material to work upon is of proper caliber. A good workman can do fine work with a very lean equipment of tools when his material is good. The best workman with the finest tools, however, does only a botch job with poor material. More care should be exercised in the admission of students and the publicity managers should be cautioned to be careful in advertising the engineering courses.
In European schools there seems to be no rule about the granting of degrees. The custom seems to be to give a diploma to a graduate, who then styles himself "Dipl. Eng.," and after he has acquired some standing and presents a thesis to show he possesses capacity to do original work, he is granted the degree of Doctor of Engineering,
In America the degree awarded depends to some extent, in fact, largely, upon the attitude of the advertising department of the school. A false estimate is placed upon the salary attracting value of a degree by the boys who attend engineering schools and by their parents. Students are attracted to a school by the advertisement that upon graduation they will receive the degree of C.E. (Civil Engineer) ; M.E. (Mechanical Engineer) ; E.E. (Electrical Engineer), or E.M. (Engineer of Mines). The school, therefore, that is anxious to attract students is apt to give the professional degree upon graduation. The absurdity of this, however, is gradually filtering into the heads of the advertising managers of the best schools and the professional degree is being shelved by some and has been abandoned by others.
No school can graduate an engineer. The engineer must have experience added to the school training. The school can only give an education in the fundamentals of engineering science. Engineering is not wholly an exact science, but is mainly an art depending upon scientific methods for its existence and growth. The school gives only the scientific groundwork and hence should confer degrees only in science. The engineer supplements this scientific training with practical experience so that, by and by, the scientist sent out by the school
A few good schools still give the professional degree instead of a bachelor degree upon completion of the four-year course. The majority, however, of the better schools now grant the degree of Bachelor of Science. A student taking one or two years additional work in residence receives upon completion of this work the professional degree, but few except those who intend to become teachers take any graduate work. An attempt was made a year or two ago to have the schools abandon the professional degree altogether, for the letters C.E., M.B., etc., are merely abbreviations of the words Civil Engineer, Mechanical Engineer, etc., and, as such, are assumed by a great many men without college training, who are practising engineering. There are no laws to prevent them from doing so if they wish, so the professional degree is now not only an absurdity, but it is also meaningless. The men who have received it by doing extra work prize it, but wish there was some protection afforded the rightful owners.
Instead of the professional degree it is proposed to substitute the degree of Master of Science as a second degree, for graduate work. For a third degree the degree of Doctor of Science in Engineering is proposed for additional work of a research nature to engineering teachers and the degree of Doctor of Engineering for research work
for men who are practising engineering and have taken this additional work in residence. This degree of Doctor of Engineering to be also an honorary degree to be conferred on engineers eminent in their profession who have been in active practice not less than twenty-five years. Degrees are academic affairs and the younger engineers are just as well off with a diploma or almost any kind of a certificate setting forth the extent of the engineering education received. Older men prize degrees as an attest of standing. With teachers the degree is purely a matter of business and engineering should have degrees like any other university subject.
A great many men seek degrees and prize them so the way the matter often works out was called to the attention of the writer some time ago. A young chap who was a " shark" at mathematics and all the purely theoretical subjects and purely scientific subjects in his course, graduated from a high-class engineering school and tried to work as an engineer. To explain things that happened it is well to say that among many of his classmates he was known as " Kitty," the name being intended to designate something real nice and dainty. He was a positive failure as a practising engineer. He lacked tact. He lacked real horse-sense. He made people feel as if he might be soiled if touched or might cry if spoken to rudely. He lacked accuracy in most of the common-place work he was given
and was a hair splitter of the most exasperating kind. He was also greatly given to argument and had a poor sense of proportion, as applied to comparisons of school-bred and practically trained men. As an instance of how abjectly he failed to satisfy his employers he worked in five offices in a period of seven months in a busy year when men were in demand. He got a job finally as timekeeper on a construction job and held it one week after making a number of mistakes and showing plainly that he did not fit in with the rough work. The rush and hurry bothered him also, for he was, by nature and cultivation, made for the schoolroom and the library. In fact, he should really have studied for the ministry. He was a good-looking chap and had a kind heart, so that the men imposed on him with hard-luck stories everywhere he worked. Finally he landed a job as a tracer and general helper in a railway office, which job he held until the following fall, when he went back to school to take advanced work and obtain the degree of C.E. His experience of fifteen months in "practical" work enabled him to get a billet as instructor upon graduation. His short experience proved that he had not the makings of an engineer in him, or perhaps that what he might have had originally had been educated out of him. Although his college dubbed him "Civil Engineer" and the diploma hanging in his bedroom attests the fact, he is not one and never will be one in the sense that an
engineer is generally meant. To do the man justice it is fair to say that he is a shining success as a teacher. Rankine, however, the greatest professor of engineering, was a practising engineer for years and resigned as chief engineer of a railway to become a professor.
Prom the school which graduated " Kitty" another man of the same age graduated a year or two earlier. He made friends on every piece of work on which he was employed. In the office and in the field he seemed to be equally at home. When he was laid off it was because the job had ended and all his past employers praise him highly, except one, who was a pretentious man of small parts on whose pet hobbies the better educated young man, pardonably bumptious because of his youth, stepped rather hard a few times. After several years of successful work he applied to his Alma Mater for the professional degree. It had so happened that opportunity had, as yet, thrown no important work his way, his positions having all been minor ones as assistant. He made good, however, and is a graduate of whom a school should feel well satisfied. He will do big things some day when the opportunity comes, for it is in him. His request for the professional degree was not granted " because his ability to do original work is not proven and the work he has so far been engaged upon has been in minor positions carrying little responsibility." The reasons for declining to give
him the coveted degree may be good, but he was further informed that if he put in one year of residence work he could obtain it. It is plain to anyone that the man who is now sporting the degree of " Civil Engineer" is really a Master of Science and such should have been the degree given to him. If he did not feel the incongruity of the matter the second young man, the real engineer, would not fee! so bitterly over it. He does not object in the least to the school placing a high value on the professional degree, but he feels queer when he meets " Kitty" and knows that the school calls him an engineer while practical men under whom he tried to work call him things not so complimentary.
The graduate of a technical school should be able to think and reason mathematically. He should not think in mathematics, which is something different ; the man who does the latter being better fitted to become a physicist, or a teacher of mathematics. No student should become absorbed in the tools, for, if he does, he will forget their proper use. Too many graduates come out with very vague ideas of their life work and this is due to the fact that even the best school cannot make an engineer of the unfit. It is a reminder of the old proverb about the silk purse and the sow's ear.
Many practical men, unaware of the difficulties under which a teacher must labor, condemn wholesale the American schools and praise the schools of Europe, especially of Germany. No one doubts the
very high standing of the German schools, but the difference is in the lower grades rather than in the higher schools, the technical high school in Germany corresponding to our technical schools here. Many eminent Germans have said the American engineering schools are as good as any in the world, as engineering schools, but that as schools devoted to research and research methods they are inferior to the schools of Europe. The American public school system is based on the idea that each male pupil has an equal chance to occupy the Presidential chair and that each girl has an equal chance to become the wife of the President. This idea is carried out to some extent in the engineering schools, where the endeavor seems to be to train boys to fill positions as chief engineers. Restlessness, envy and discontent are marked American traits and these, in part, account for the success of so many foreign engineers who come to the United States and succeed, even with the handicap of having to learn a new language. Few teachers in American engineering schools tell the truth to their pupils about conditions as they actually exist. Nothing is said about the ninety-nine privates in the company, to use a military simile, but the captain is a hero. The captain himself, however, is only a minor officer and it is the colonel over twelve captains and the generals over three or nine colonels, who are held up as examples for the emulation of the boy. The majority of the schools
do not aim to fit the boys to fill the positions in the ranks and fill them acceptably, so that finally the private may become a corporal, the corporal a sergeant, the sergeant by hard effort becomes a lieutenant and then having placed his feet on the lower round of the ladder of promotion, his future is secure. The majority of the graduates look upon themselves as cadets in training for a commission which is theirs by right of scholastic training, upon graduation.
The boys may be taught to do the work that belongs to the minor positions, but they are taught no respect for the work, it being regarded as something disagreeable which all young fellows must do for awhile, but which should not be done for a long time, nor be considered as anything more than a bit of perfunctory training. The German studies for the power that education gives him. The American boy studies to enable him to earn big money and escape drudgery. This is shown by the rush toward specialties reflecting big work being done in the vicinity of the homes of the students. The German does not grumble at the prospect of six years of severe training, during which time he imbibes a love for the work, while the constant cry of Americans is that vocational courses in portions of engineering work be cut down to two years.
I thought that this school will turn out any men who will be nothing better than draftsmen and detail men all their lives, I would feel ashamed and deem the school a failure." It is unfortunate remarks such as this that cause many men to fail, "For who hath despised the day of small things." The German idea of education is different from the American, so that boys going to the technical high schools are better trained in the minor things than the average American boy is trained. At the higher schools there is also a difference due to the fact that the "private docent" in Germany, the "tutor" in Great Britain, have no prototype in American schools. The student here is wholly at the mercy of the lazy or incompetent instructor for his drill in mathematics and the studies lying at the foundation of the training for his future life work, seldom coming in contact with the highgrade professor until in the two final years he has good stiff courses to take with him, predicated upon perfect preparation. If he flunks he must go to a private tutor and pay him $1 per hour for cram work. In the foreign schools he can desert the regular instructor when he has taken his measure and go to the outsider, the "privat docent," who is, however, a recognized institution and not wholly an outsider. The higher teachers are often recruited from the ranks of the "privat docents," or "tutors," who have demonstrated their fitness. It is no uncommon thing in a
fessor.
The writer has no wish to be ranked with the men who are wholesale in their condemnation of American schools of engineering. He has no wish to be ranked with the men who condemn at all, but he is not blind to some grave defects which are easily remedied and which exist because few teachers are . able to realize that their former students have grown to be men, and actually have a better knowledge of conditions than the teachers themselves. Few men whose opinions are worth anything care to see much of a change from standard curricula.
Engineering teachers have organizations, as before mentioned, in which many prominent practitioners hold membership. In many schools the alumnae are represented on the governingboards and these men endeavor to correct defects they observed while students. There are many teachers who are not graybearded book worms, but who are live, energetic men who made a success of practical work and later took up teaching from choice. Many of them are of high rank as consulting engineers, and in conventions of engineers are listened to with respect and are placed at the heads of good committees. " Common sense and mathematics" are a good combination.
of the teacher is limited and fixed in amount, a deadening influence on most men, it is gratifying to meet so many high-minded, energetic teachers whose fondness for their work leads them to stay with it when everyone who meets them knows they are able to compete with the best men on the outside. The writer never visits an engineering school without experiencing the charm that holds men in the walls and believes that in many ways the rewards of the profession are greater for the high-minded, high-grade teacher than for the leading practising engineer. All success cannot be measured in financial terms. One amusing thought, however, is that all engineering teachers class themselves with the best of the active practitioners and thus count themselves very much underpaid, this having considerable to do with their lack of results.
The principal defect in engineering schools is the " inbreeding" caused by a too rapid growth of the engineering department and lack of sufficient funds to procure proper instructors. Many instructors are of the " God-to-be-pitied" class, so that a home is necessary for them. The pay in the grade of instructor is so low that a man who is well adapted to go out into the world and win a living in competition with other men in the same line of work will not consider it. The result is that numbers of young men graduate from a school in the spring and in the fall enter the same school
as instructors, their knowledge limited to what is taught within the walls of that institution, and, like all small men, become vainglorious and prideful within a few years so that progress for them is impossible. The boys who pass under their hands are in a pitiful plight. In mathematics and physics especially, these men are bad, for after conducting one class through the text book the teacher can rest his brain and become just as lazy as he likes, and that is often very lazy indeed when a man's brain begins to atrophy, so that many professors actually get the idea strongly fixed in their heads that "once a teacher, always a teacher," regardless of whether their work is productive of real results. On this point the reader is referred to an editorial entitled "About Dismissing Professors," in the Popular Science Monthly for March, 1911.
Many instructors did try practical work for a short time after graduation, as will be remembered was the case with "Kitty," but returned to the school, like a cat to a comfortable home, when opportunity offered. Teaching is a distinct calling and many do make excellent teachers finally, but the present hap-hazard way of holding on to teachers without requiring definite results from their work is not seemly when taken in connection with such a practical profession as that of engineering. Teachers should be better paid and should be retained, as other workers are, only
when they prove their ability. Many teachers resent very strongly the idea that their work should be measured by results. The college to a teacher is a home, and sometimes a graduate, smarting under insult, injustice and incompetency, has to wait twenty years before he can get on the governing board of his Alma Mater and attend personaly to the discharge of a teacher he knows to be unfit.
Practical men frequently state that in no line of work can a man make a living with less real effort and smaller results than as a member of a teaching force in a college, engineering schools not excepted. The same trouble is found in public offices and in the offices of all large corporations where there are enough good, earnest, hard workers to enable a lot of lazy incompetents to hold down jobs without detection. The pay of a professor lags about ten years behind the average of the pay of engineers in active practice. At the start there is scarcely any difference, but the teaching engineer has an advantage in that he holds practically a life position, where he may, if he wishes, work with all the enthusiasm and energy of the clock-watching clerk. The pay of a good professor never rises above the average the first-class, successful engineer may figure confidently on securing after fifteen years' work. A good professor however, often makes a great deal of money as a consulting engineer, his work
A vast improvement might be made in many schools by making it a rule to require all instructors to be graduates of other schools, with not less than two years' practical experience after graduation. The instructors should not be employed upon one study, but should be required to be prepared to teach at least four subjects, one subject each semester, thus compelling them to grow. It is deadening for a man to teach graphics all his life, or to carry advanced algebra year after year, or to teach any subject in which the advance to-day is small, if there is any advance. Too much specialization is the trouble with the schools, not alone in the courses taught, but in the teachers.
In American schools there is a class of teachers known as "flunkers," who seem to think that about 25 per cent, is the minimum number to " flunk" at examination. What would be thought of a workman in a factory if 25 per cent, of his product day after day were condemned? How many days would he last ? A teacher who regularly flunks a high number of his students is a misfit, for a real teacher will soon remedy the trouble, if there be any other trouble than laziness on his part. Sometimes it appears to an outsider that instead of the teachers who handle the students during the first two years being the most poorly paid, the case should be reversed and the pro-
fessors in the foundation studies should receive the highest pay and take charge of the students from the day they enter college. The graduate requires his mathematics during the last two years of school and during the three years immediately following graduation. The higher engineering problems, for which he is most carefully trained by the highest paid men in school, are things he cannot hope to approach for many years after graduation, for the outside world deems considerable experience is first necessary. When ready finally to take up such problems there should be no difficulty in reading up and studying the matter, for on such projects one is seldom unduly hurried. It is really in the fundamentals, th.e tools of his work, he should be best trained.
Require not less than two years' practical experience before appointing a man an instructor and also require recommendations from his employers, to insure getting an intelligent man. Do not select as an instructor a graduate of the institution. No man should be appointed an assistant professor until he has been an instructor at least five years, and in the case of an assistant professor there is no objection to taking a graduate of the institution, providing he has had not less than two years' practical work, and has taught in another engineering school not less than five years. This will do away with " inbreeding" and should keep men alive.
To ascertain just how well the teachers are doing their work permit the graduates to help improve conditions. The fifth year after graduation, thus allowing time for the clearing away of youthful bitterness and animosity, each graduate should be sent a blank to be carefully filled in, in which he is to reply categorically to a list of inquiries respecting the members of the teaching force at the school while he was there. This report to be confidential between the man who makes it and the President of the institution. The graduates can thus have full opportunity to help their Alma Mater and show-up the weak points of the teaching staff, and if the head of the institution is fit for his position he will know what to do, and how to do it. In studying such reports he is not dealing with immature graduates, but with men who are experiencing the hard knocks of life, after having supposedly been prepared for their life work at the school whose instructors they are invited to criticise.
The essential difference between engineering instruction in Germany and America is that the attempt is made in Germany to give a complete scientific course and train men in the application of science to industry. They graduate technicians there. Even with the amount of practical work now required, the graduate is a technically-trained scientist, who understands that his education is for power, and that it alone does not entitle him
to high pay, but that it does open wide for him the door of opportunity. The American ideal has been lower and too much the result of listening too closely to criticism. In fact, the principal faults in the American schools are due to the endeavor of the teachers to give the students what a century of training has shown to be about right, and, at the same time, try to satisfy the selfishness of men who want well-trained, narrow specialists without bearing any of the expense of training them.
When specialties are discussed it is well to remember that it is difficult to train a man thoroughly in a minor subject without causing him to lose the sense of proportion he must maintain, if he is ever to be more than a part of a machine. Whether all the boys are fit to be engineers or not, they represent a select lot of humanity when they finally finish the grind and get their diplomas. A large percentage of them should amount to something later in life. That more do not meet with considerable success is due to the wilful blindness of the deans, who act as employment agents for large corporations, in their anxiety to advertise to the world that "this school, owing to its excellent methods of instruction, cannot supply the demand for graduates." It requires the use of the short, ugly word to properly characterize these statements in many cases.
and works with well-educated men, because the average young educated man has been advised by his instructors to work for low pay during the first years after college "to gain experience." Thus these chaps give rather more for the money than men not so well trained. When a man has been selected for a place because he has exhibited superior qualifications he naturally expects a regular increase in salary, year after year, even if small. When, as so often happens, he finds he has been put into a position where there is no hope of advancement and little hope for better pay he becomes discontented. The discontented ones' are marked for discharge and when the next annual crop of graduates is harvested, a spellbinder from the corporation goes to the school and leads the entire class to the slaughter house, the dean rubbing his hands gleefully and taking never a thought in after years for the poor, misguided victims, who might have been spared if he had carefully investigated in advance the positions offered and had acted like a father to his boys. The process is just one little remove more cruel than the merciless processes of nature, as set forth in the works of Dr. Darwin. Out of it a few men do succeed, but the waste of effort is needless and the waste of money represented by the sacrifices of the parents of the slaughtered boys is criminal.
are so plainly adapted to the calling, that the problem of the often insufficient preparation is most important. Dr. W. G. Kaymond, Dean of the Engineering Schools, Iowa State University, Iowa City, Iowa, has adopted a method which is similar to what is known as " Seminary" in European schools. The student, unable to keep up with the class, is taken from the class and taught topically, practically individually, until his sense of perception is dilated, when he goes back into the class, and it has been the experience that such men are leaders in class work for the remainder of the course. This is "unit" instruction, and, as the engineer works on the "unit" system in after life, it is good that some of his instruction, especially if he be backward or deficient, should be on this system. Professor Schneider of the University of Cincinnati has been very successful in establishing combined courses, wherein the students and instructors alternate between the school and manufacturing establishments, the length of the courses being six years instead of four, in order to enable the student to sandwich in the practical work without losing what he requires of theory. These combined courses are now becoming standard in other schools, the "Seminary" method of Dr. Raymond requiring more work on the part of the teacher and also requiring, on an average, a better grade of teacher in the minor subjects. The engineering course of the future will be not less
cussion.
The engineering course of the future will not all be given in the engineering schools. Since fully 90 per cent, of the men employed in engineering work do not require the complete education the engineer should have, much of the work of preparing the large majority can be done in the high schools. Two years can readily be added to the courses in the high schools, so that boys wanting to go into technical work may be specially trained. In the additional two years can be given all the algebra, trigonometry and analytical geometry now given in the technical school. The high school, in the additional two years should also give descriptive geometry and drawing, the drawing course being so arranged that finished draftsmen, not designers, may be turned out fit to do the ordinary work in the offices of engineers, architects and manufacturers, such work as the younger men are given. The high school can also give as much chemistry and physics as the average engineering school now gives. The use of surveying instruments and the elements of land surveying can also be taught in the high school. The shop work of the average engineering school, which is generally an advertising feature of ridiculously little practical use, can be given in the high school. This additional work on the part
of the high school will answer the wide-spread demand for short-term vocational courses and relieve engineering schools of much elementary work. The engineering schools can then maintain their courses at four years, demanding as entrance requirements all the above work in the high school. The first three years of the engineering school will then be a general technical training, with plenty of culture studies, the students specializing in the final year only, and not specializing narrowly.
HOME STUDY COURSES
IN an earlier chapter the writer has said something about men who take up engineering studies in order to improve their standing and provide for advancement. He has no sympathy with the man who can afford the time and expense to attend a resident school and yet deliberately neglects such an opportunity in order to learn the business " practically," whatever that may mean. For the man who is really fit to be an engineer and who is unable to do anything more than study alone he has the utmost sympathy. For many years the writer has conducted classes in evening schools, where the service, rather than the small salary, is considered to be compensation, and he is now a member of the educational committee in the Y.M.C.A. Institute, so that he thinks he has a pretty fair understanding of the men who imagine they would like to " learn more to earn more." There are enough mature earnest men to justify him in giving up a chapter to guidance in home study, but he is frank to say that an enormous number of men are filled with desire and not with ambition, the difference not being plain to many.
The advantage of being able to attend a night school is that one has the help of a teacher, a great boon to men taking up the different studies connected with engineering. In some " practical" schools the instruction is individual and the schools are open all the year. They exist to supply a demand for education from men who wish to quickly increase their earning ability and many of them labor under the disadvantage that the teachers do not guide the students in a course of study. The students dictate to the teachers as to what they want and if the teacher thinks differently some other school gets them. A few of these schools are excellent, but the majority are run solely to make money and for the good of the profession should be suppressed.
Many high-class institutions now have evening courses, but as the income of the school is not dependent upon the money received from the students, the cost generally being far higher than the amount charged for tuition, each student is expected to enter a class and receive class instruction. The courses extend over practically as many months as the courses in the day school, but this in years means more than double, for the evening classes continue for only about six months in each year and for two or three evenings in each week. Mght-class students generally want something in a hurry and the course that only occupies their time for half the year, and is arranged to cover
from three to six years looks apalling. Another drawback is the class method, due to the necessity for keeping down instructional cost, so that when the student misses an evening once in a while, he becomes discouraged.
The Association Institute in Chicago has adopted an excellent method in which courses in the night school are arranged so that each may be fully completed in a season. Instead of compelling a student to start in at the rudiments of all engineering science, he is taken as far as his previous training will permit in the subject he has chosen, endeavors being made to have him later take more of the fundamentals and finally pursue intermediate and advanced courses covering the same ground. This may be radical and a copy of the methods of the schools run for profit, but the aim of the school is to help the student and the small fees charged indicate sufficiently that there is no financial profit in the enterprise.
Correspondence schools are a great improvement over night schools, on account of the all-year study, but they do not furnish a flesh and blood teacher in the room with the student. The man who takes a correspondence course in a reputable school has well-prepared lessons regularly mailed to him and his progress depends wholly upon himself. If he requires help he has only to write to receive it. The courses, however, are stiff and a
remain to finish.
Before the days of evening and correspondence schools many men studied alone, poring over books, in the course of many years acquiring enough knowledge of the essentials of engineering science to get along well. It is a solitary way and not to be preferred to the well-organized methods by class or through correspondence. Many, however, prefer to study alone, and to the end of time there will be those who would rather buy a book and be self -tutored in spite of the easier and better ways. For the men who insist upon being selftutored the following courses are offered, the writer vouching that he knows a number who have achieved considerable success by home study.
The main difficulty in studying alone lies in knowing just what books to buy, many expensive trials being made. Few men know how to advise a young fellow in the purchase of books for self study, and, as a rule, most men will advise books away above the comprehension of the inquirer, because of his insufficient grounding in the rudiments. The self -tutored man finds plenty of books dealing with the particular specialty in which he is interested, but runs afoul of the mathematics plentifully besprinkled over the pages.
The first thing required is that the student be expert in common fractions, decimal fractions, ratio and proportion. The best way to study these
subjects is to resurrect the old school arithmetic and go through the sections dealing with the foregoing subjects. The higher branches of mathematics will be of no practical benefit and cannot be properly studied by a student not fairly expert in ordinary arithmetical operations. At the present writing there is no good book on the market written for the instruction of self -tutored men in arithmetic. There are some excellent British books for the purpose, but the American student finds them exceedingly hard to use because of the absurd monetary system and system of weights and measures used in all the examples for practice. The examples themselves would be most excellent practice were it not for the fact that the American student feels he is wasting his time dealing with subjects for which he will never have practical use.
During the present year (1911) a new book has appeared entitled " Mathematics for the Practical Man," by George Howe, M.E. ($1.25), which explains in simple language the fundamentals of Algebra, Geometry, Trigonometry, Logarithms, Coordinate Geometry and the Calculus. This, it is seen, must be preceded by Arithmetic. The author gives numerous examples to be worked and his manner is extremely lucid. No better book can be taken up by the self -tutored man who wishes to study mathematics.
views of another man are helpful, the teacher being able often to make clear things not plain from a study of the text book. This is rather an old book, containing no examples to be worked out, the writer confining himself solely to the philosophy of mathematics. Study Howe thoroughly, working out all the examples, and use Higgs for reference and collateral reading. When Howe is completed, study those subjects in Higgs which Howe does not treat so fully.
At this point the courses separate. Students studying civil engineering or architecture should follow with " Elementary Practical Mathematics," by M. T. Ormsby ($2.25).
Students in mechanical engineering should study " Practical Calculations for Engineers," by Larard and Grolding ($2.00), following with "A Primer of the Calculus," by E. Sherman Gould (50 cents).
Students in electrical engineering should study "An Introduction to Practical Mathematics," by R M. Saxelby (60 cents), and then take, by the same author, "A Course in Practical Mathematics" ($2.25).
The student should now be able to read intelligently and enjoy any mathematical book published. An interesting book for reference and home study
after one has completed the first two books mentioned, is " Practical Mathematics," by Knott & Mackay ($2.00). The section on Strength of Materials should be studied first and then that on Trigonometry. The other subjects may be studied as the student's interest in the matter dictates.
After completing the books above mentioned it often happens that a man wishes to learn more about mathematics, and an excellent book to buy in such case is " Higher Mathematics for Students of Chemistry and Physics," by J. W. Mellor ($5.00), a book intended for self instruction. In studying mathematics no real power is gained by reading until the principles are understood. To thoroughly understand the subject means many hours of monotonous drill on problems.
It is always assumed that the self -tutored man is employed in some capacity in the office of an engineer or architect, or in the office or shops of some manufacturing concern. If he is engaged in mercantile pursuits he should not try to get into engineering work by home study or even by means of the correspondence school. He will meet in his books a great many statements which will be fully intelligible only to men in the business. The writer makes a special plea to every man to stick" to his trade or calling.
Strength of Materials, Merriman ($1.00). There is a larger book by the same author having the same title, but the small one is best adapted for self -tutored men.
The student having completed the above list and having presumably studied each book thoroughly, is in a position where he is free to select for himself. No technical book should bother him because of the mathematical expressions or references to certain statements in mechanics.
Drawing is a most important subject, and the most complete book for the self-tutored man is "Mahan's Industrial Drawing," new edition by French ($3.50).
The man wishing to study surveying should be in the employ of a surveyor, or of a civil engineer doing considerable surveying, and study:
Hodgman deals with the laws governing the recovering of lost corners and boundaries, a very important part of a surveyor's work. The surveyor, however, should not limit himself to one or two books, but should have in his library the books of Johnson and of Gillespie. Major Eees of the Corps of Engineers of the United States Army has written a remarkably good book on Topographical Surveying and Gribbles' " Preliminary Survey" ($3.00) is full of methods of considerable value and interest.
The student of mining engineering will require all the preceding mathematics, physics, chemistry, drawing and surveying before taking up :
Mining, Mineralogical and Geological Law, by Shamel ($5.00), following with any of the books already mentioned, which he believes might be helpful to him.
It is, of course, understood that no attempt has been made here to give a list even approximately complete of the best books on any particular subject. The only thing the writer has endeavored to do has been to assist the reader in selecting good first books.
For the encouragement of men who missed earlier opportunities and are determined to supplement the deficiencies in their earlier education, the two diagrams here presented are interesting studies.
The first is a copy of a diagram frequently used by modern contractors for the purpose of rating their foremen, and is taken from a job of which the writer had charge. The horizontal lines rep-
resent percentages and the vertical lines represent days. On the first day the cost of the product, assumed here to be a yard of concrete, is taken as a maximum, for the men are green and the foreman not acquainted with his crew, it being the first day of the work. Therefore at 100 per cent, the start is made for cost of product. The crew was small and the cost of the foreman was 20 per
cent, of the total expense for labor. It will be noticed that actual costs are not given, everything being represented in percentages. The second day the crew was increased in size and the percentage cost of foreman was consequently reduced and there was a considerable reduction in cost of product. With each succeeding day there is a reduction in percentage cost of foreman, with a corresponding increase in percentage cost of laborers, the cost of the product falling. Finally, as the men become well trained and accustomed to the work and the foreman also gains in experience, the cost reaches a minimum and becomes fairly constant. An ideal diagram would show all the lines smooth.
This diagram is made each day from the reports of the timekeeper and cost clerk and plotted for the information of the supertintendent ; and the foremen themselves. The percentage cost of the foreman is expected to be fairly smooth after getting started, but the cost of the product varies, owing to accidents, or to a neglect by the foreman of his work. When the superintendent reads the diagram each day and finds the cost of the product rising, he can find the cause and quickly stop the waste. By means of such diagrams all modern manufacturing business is kept track of, contracting being merely migratory manufacturing.
gent that little guidance is required, the cost of foremen becomes very low. All workmen are not intelligent and the most intelligent are not always the most industrious. Intelligent directors of work are, therefore, required, and they are, of course, the specially trained men. Such diagrams show that education and training pay. In order to direct the vast numbers of poorly-trained men there must be numbers of better-trained men, and, as technical education becomes more common and the general intelligence of ordinary laborers rises, the educated men must be far better educated than the average if they are to receive better than the average pay.
The second diagram is taken from the Transactions of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, Vol. XXV, 1904. This diagram was prepared under the direction of Mr. James M. Dodge, to illustrate his Presidential Address before that society in December, 1903. Mr. Dodge assumed that all boys have a potential value of $3000 at the age of 16 years. He considers four groups of men working in the mechanic arts— the unskilled labor group, the shop-trained or apprentice group, the trade-school group and the technical school group.
Data is lacking as to the progress of the unskilled labor group from the age of 16 to the age of 22, when the average weekly wage is $10.20. This continues to be fairly level for a few years and then,
potential value of $3000 at the age of 16 when, he enters the works in good health and with good habits. Assuming the working year to consist of fifty weeks, he receives $3 per week, which amounts
to 5 per cent, interest on his potential value. His accumulated experience increases Ms potential value, until at the age of 24 it reaches $15,800 and he draws interest, in the form of wages, to the amount of $15.80 per week. This is practically his maximum, and is practically 50 per cent, more than that of the unskilled laborer. The writer objects to the word " unskilled" when applied to ordinary laborers, for the word does not fit. His experience has shown Mm that many of these men are wonderfully skilled in the work with which they are intrusted and, therefore, wishes to make a plea to substitute the word " untrained," for the other more objectionable word.
Mr. Dodge stated experience showed that 5 per cent, of the apprentice group, acquiring the machinist trade, rise above the line made by Ms average man ; 35 per cent, follow the line closely ; during the period of training about 20 per cent, leave of their own accord, and, as near as can be ascertained, go to other shops and continue in the line originally selected ; 40 per cent., however, are found unworthy or incompetent, and are dismissed, probably never rising to the $15.80 line. On this point he remarks :
"AppenticesMp of to-day in many establishments does not make the man, broadly speaking, a mechanic— in a majority of cases he is a specialist or tool hand, and not comparable with the old mechanic, who was a worker in metals, had some
practical knowledge of steam and prime movers, could chip, file, work on lathe, planer, drill press or as an assembler, and was competent to meet the varied and unusual conditions found in general construction and repair work."
The young man fortunate enough to secure three years' training at a good trade-school enters a machine shop at the age of 19 and can command $12 per week, equal to the apprentice at 21 years of age. His three years in school, during which time he was earning nothing, have proven equal to five years practical shop training, but in reality the difference is greater, due to his broader training in theory and general processes. A study of the line of this group shows the advantage to be permanent, the line of average earning being about 50 per cent, above that of the apprentice. The dotted extension of this line shows a possible increase in value, while, of course, a few exceptional men may go far higher. It is for these three groups that the numerous correspondence, night and vocational schools exist, and for them that the home study courses have been planned.
The young man who prepares himself for entrance into a high-grade technical school at the age of 18 is presumed to have a potential value of $4000 at that age, although he is in the non-earning class until he graduates at the age of 22, when his four years' course in the technical school ends. His entering pay in the works puts
him six months behind the apprentice and two and one-half years behind the trade-school graduate. In six months the technical school graduate overtakes the apprentice, at which time both are earning $14.00 per week. The technical school graduate reaches the $15.80 line nearly one year before the regular apprentice. In three years' time the technical graduate overtakes the tradeschool graduate. The line then becomes more curved until, at the age of 32, just ten years after graduation, the technical school graduate has a potential value of $43,000 and receives the 5 per cent, interest on this valuation in the form of a weekly salary of $43.00, at which age the pay of the trade-school graduate may be assumed to be about $25 per week. The curve on the diagram ends here, but the writer has plotted it to a probable maximum of $45.00 per week fifteen years after graduation, with a prospective drop after the age of 45. The compensation of the average graduate in mechanical engineering is thus seen to be at a practical maximum fifteen years after graduation of about $2250 per year. This does not seem large, but it is well known that some exceptional men, or men who had exceptional opportunities, earn far more. This, likewise, applies only to salaried men.
HOW TO HUNT AND HOLD A JOB
THE average engineer is known as a "job chaser." Not only in vacation time must the engineering student hunt jobs, but periodically after graduation the same experience must be gone through. The majority of engineers work on salary, the terms of employment are uncertain and in slack times thousands of men are turned adrift.
Mr. Onward Bates, President of the American Society of Civil Engineers in 1907, took occasion in his presidential address to classify the active members of the society with a view to studying the subject of engineering employment. He assumed that as the percentage ran in the society so it would run throughout the ranks of the profession, although the American Society of Civil Engineers represents probably less than one-fourth the total number in the country, and these the more successful.
The men marked " Unclassified" were those who gave merely an address for the annual register, but failed to give the nature of their employment. A few may have been retired and the majority, no doubt, belong to the numerous class that is seldom blessed with a job lasting a whole year, although their pay may be good.
By " Consulting Engineers" is meant men in private practice, and Mr. Bates assumed that more than three-fourths of all engineers are dependent upon salaries and less than one-fourth receive fees as compensation for work. Mr. Bates assumed that what was true of members would be equally true of associate members and juniors, but the writer believes, as careful study of these two grades would show, the percentage of men dependent upon salaries to be nearer 90 per cent, for the entire membership, for we do not know how many of those engaged in manufacturing, contracting, etc., were on salary or in business for themselves.
A member in this society must be not less than 30. years of age, qualified to design as well as superintend construction, in active practice not less than ten years, of which at least five years must have been in responsible charge of work. Members, therefore, may be assumed as being fairly well settled.
An associate member must be not less than 25 years of age and engaged in active engineering work for not less than six years, of which one year
has been in responsible charge of work. An associate member is, therefore, one who is being made into an engineer, and, generally, is not yet settled.
A junior must be not less than 18 years of age and have had two years' practical experience, or be a graduate of an engineering school. His connection with the society ceases when he becomes 32 years of age, unless sooner transferred to a higher grade.
There are other grades of membership in the society, but the three above noted constitute the bulk of the membership, and counting them as constituting the entire membership, the percentages are as follows :
Practically none of the juniors and but few of the associate members are in private practice, or in business for themselves, so, from the standpoint of the man who is seeking employment upon engineering work, it may be assumed that nine out of ten of his competitors are in like case with him, transient employes.
The young engineer is exceedingly hurt by the fact that his education seems to be so lightly regarded as a qualification entitling him to high pay and that his degree is laughed at. He resents being set as a foreman, timekeeper or setter of line
and grade stakes over illiterate men who get better pay. Many young men complain, and too large a number become chronic kickers. A few write letters to the technical papers, which letters are discussed until the editors close the discussion for the time being as leading nowhere. The discussion ranges from grave to gay, and many seasoned veterans take a heartless pleasure in poking fun at the "fresh graduate." These discussions recur at fairly regular intervals of about five years and elicit nothing new. They come around about as regularly as the discussion of standard moot subjects in engineering circles, and, indeed, this problem of the earnest young man, with his first glimpse at actual conditions, may be said to now constitute one of the "moot" subjects, which the regular reader of engineering periodicals must expect to have called to his attention half a dozen times in his professional life.
The fact is that the education does not entitle the young chap to high pay. It simply gives him an opportunity to secure employment, and places him in a better position than the man who is not so well educated. It gives him broader opportunities to secure employment than the self -tutored man, who is, of necessity, a specialist and, therexure, limited in his powers to move about. Many young fellows learn a great deal in offices about certain kinds of work in which their employers are specialists, but when times get dull and they are
laid off, their chances for employment are very slim as compared with the college graduate. The diploma, therefore, is merely a card of introduction, the education a permit to remain in an office and give proof of ability.
Some young men secure permanent positions early, and advance slowly and steadily until they become the highest officers in a corporation, for corporation employment is most common as an engineering probability. The majority, however, roam for many years from one piece of work to another before settling in one place, and it is strange how few become expert at selling their services. Most of them seek a new place with a decided feeling of resentment, and often become sarcastic when discussing prospective employment.
To hunt a job is an art and some seasoned men have it pat. Much, of course, depends upon the employers, but long practice makes a man perfect in reading character and approaching prospective employers, some of whom ask for letters of recommendation, while others profess ability to "size a man up." It is well to secure as many letters of recommendation as possible so they will be ready when asked for.
An engineer makes many changes and should ask for a letter every time he is laid off. 7^ ° employer may profess a willingness to answer all inquiries from prospective employers, but this profession of willingness on his part should not pre-
vent the applicant from getting the letter. When a past employe changes positions frequently, the old employer sometimes experiences annoyance when called upon frequently and finally ceases to respond, especially when some years may have elapsed. Men also die, and after that event the experience had under them is of no value as an asset, there being nothing to support the claims of the applicant. Some engineers, when politely put off when requesting a letter, have had a friend write to inquire about them, this friend turning over the letter of recommendation when received, to be traced so that blue prints may be made of it for future use.
One engineer, with whom the writer is very well acquainted, had a humiliating experience, which shows how valuable it is to have documentary evidence when required. He was seeking a position on a certain kind of work, and, in conversation with the prospective employer it was found that they had many mutual acquaintances, among them an engineer in a distant part of the country, under whom this engineer had once worked, and whom he regarded as a very good friend. Without his knowledge this engineer was written to and asked about the applicant, the reply being that he did not know anyone of that name. The prospective employer sent for the applicant, and, without a word of comment, laid the letter before him.
The engineer read the letter over slowly, and then from his pocket drew a letter seventeen years old, in the same handwriting, on the same letterhead and signed by the same man, in which he testified to having known him for the past five years and praised him very highly. The business man compared the two letters carefully and had a good laugh. He had them photographed side by side and sent the photograph to the engineer in the distant city, the return mail bringing a letter of most abject apology. Seventeen years was a long time for the memory of the successful man, but the man who had never had a chance to rest his feet, but was a perpetual " job chaser," suffered keenly at the thought of an old friend so completely forgetting him. To make the story complete, he got the job he was seeking and it lasted a full year. Many employers advertise as follows for men :
SUPEBINTENDENT — A construction company taking general contracts for reinforced concrete building work, desires the services of a first-class superintendent. Must be familiar with all branches of work entering into the construction of factory, warehouse, office and public buildings. State age, married or single, salary expected and when open for engagement. Work to be in the Metropolitan district. Address "G. 26,"' Engineering News, New York. 26-2t
WANTED — At once, by cement company doing its own designing and construction, a competent all-round draftsman, fully able to check and handle wide variety of work unaided. Experience in reinforced concrete, mill buildings and machinery a necessity. Permanent and good place for man who knows his business. In answering, state salary expected and experience. Address "B.A. 26," Engineering News, New York. 26-2t
WANTED — Concrete engineer, technical graduate, of five years ' experience, to design and estimate reinforced concrete structures; state age, training, experience and salary acceptable for immediate employment. Address "H. 1," Engineering News, New York. l-3t
It will be noticed that each applicant is to state the salary for which he will work, and he must give his experience, which, of course, means sending on copies of letters of reference. Firms advertising in this way never reply to the letters of unsuccessful applicants, seemingly taking a cruel delight in keeping them in suspense, for even the most seasoned "job chaser" is somewhat of an optimist and hangs on for a long time in the hope that his letter will bring him success. A postal card notification that he was unsuccessful is a decently courteous act which would cost little. The applicant never knows to whom he sends his application, and, as the appointment is made solely from the written record, the man who will work for the least money is generally chosen. Letters are never returned, and many inexperienced young men have lost valuable letters which they foolishly sent to prospective employers. The writer, many years ago, commenced making tracings on cloth of his letters of reference and sending blue prints of them when applying for a position. The prospective employer thus saw a facsimile of the letter, and if he did not return it, only the cost of the blue print was involved.
the point. A badly written, misspelled letter is no recommendation, and all letters should read as if written by a man who knows what he wants and how to ask for it. The writer always knew how to spell, for he was a pupil in grammar schools before plain sewing and such fads were introduced, the recreation for good students being a spelling bee, and the punishment for bad ones being the memorizing of many pages of hard words with their definitions. Thanks to his fondness for reading, he was never at a loss to express his meaning when he wrote a letter, so two of the gravest faults of young graduates namely, poor spelling and ungrammatical letters, he was spared. He was, however, a most abominable penman, about as bad as the majority of young chaps who do not intend to become bookkeepers, and so take no pains with their writing. On his first job after leaving school he received a letter from the president of the company expressing pleasure with the letters he had written the company, but ending up with the request that he use a typewriter thereafter or cease from writing to firms with which the company did business, as his handwriting was so poor that it looked as if the company employed a cheap man. It was true they were having their work done cheaply, but the writer flattered himself that it was not a cheap man who was doing it. The rebuke was kindly meant and was received in the proper spirit, a copy book purchased and a severe
course of training begun, until a fairly legible hand was the result, for which he has never ceased to feel grateful to his old boss.
A personal application for a position should not end with a visit. Leave a card containing name and address and a statement as to kind of work wanted, together with references. This card should be the regulation 3- by 5-inch card index size, and all information should be lettered *on it by the applicant, as a means of showing a sample of his work. This involves considerable labor, of course, but it pays, for such a card is filed for reference, while smaller cards will be thrown away almost as soon as the applicant closes the door on leaving the office. A hektograph, the size to print such cards, does not cost much, and is a good investment. A few days after calling make a written application and follow it a month or so later with another. Few applications are kept more than thirty days, for a man is supposed to have obtained a position within that time.
The subject matter of this chapter is inspired by the desire of the writer to assist young men to sell their services in the best way. He had many years' experiences as a "job chaser," and also as an employer of assistants, so can give instruction on this most important subject as a result of experience on both sides of the desk.
be hunted for, remember the traveling salesman who must make his rounds regularly to keep customers of his house in line. The engineering graduate " hunting a job" is a salesman engaged in selling his services. If too conceited in appearance, or, if too meek and modest and shrinking he will not be employed. His proper attitude should be one of perfect confidence, unmarred by self consciousness; he should also be neat and have an appearance of frankness and businesslike alertness. Some day the weary round may cease and the "job chaser" settle down to steady employment, all the better for the hard training. The period of "job chasing" depends considerably upon the date of graduation, for the graduates in dull years may be wanderers for twenty years or more, perhaps for life. The lucky ones, who graduate in flush times, may not go through a period of "job chasing" of more than two or three years' duration, many securing positions immediately upon graduation, which are in the line of promotion, and may finally end in great importance and high standing.
To hold a position a man must be competent to do the work and do it quietly and intelligently. Industry is a great blessing, and the industrious man has much to be thankful for in the possession of such a great blessing as the habit of industry. The diligent, earnest man will be certain to succeed if he loves his work, can keep out of debt and
does not acquire bad habits. The world greatly needs men who can do detail work and do it well, year after year, not bothering about the place above, but ready to take it when vacant, concerning themselves only with the work in hand. A great fault with many men is that they are not steady, nor of a contented disposition, this being responsible for the promotion of the steady men, who step into the places left vacant by the restless ones. Restlessness and the kicking habit have made tramps of many promising men. Nothing except laziness, combined with drunkenness, will so certainly kill a man's chances for success as the acquirement of the insidious kicking habit.
Some students like surveying and do not like drafting. Surveying and field work can be done only at certain times of the year, and this work is not particularly well paid. Drafting now offers fairly steady employment, and while it does not pay well in the lower grades, it pays better than field work after a time, and the chances for promotion are better in the office than in the field. The man who is good, both inside and outside, is the best, and the inside man has the best opportunities for meeting the responsible heads of the company for which he is working.
No better advice can be given to the ambitious young man than to tell him to be as good a draftsman as it is possible to be. Forget the job higher up and aim to fill properly the job in hand. Bead
and Study all the time, and try to associate with men who can teach something. Avoid the kickers, to be found in every organization, as the plague. By acquiring a knowledge of the business one is always ready for promotion. Do not study with a view to getting the job next higher, but study because of a love for the work. The writer has had to turn away many fine young fellows because they were not well drilled in the details of the small work a young fellow is generally put at after graduation. Perhaps, if given an opportunity, these boys might have been found competent to be chief engineers, although that is extremely doubtful, but they will get no opportunity to show their worth in such high positions until they demonstrate successfully their ability to fill minor positions carrying little responsibility. "He who would be served must first learn to serve."
The following from the commencement address, June 1, 1910, at the School of Mines and Metallurgy, Eolla, Mo., by Dr. Charles Sumner Howe, President of Case School of Applied Science, Cleveland, O., should be taken to heart by every engineering student:
The successful engineering graduate will subscribe for the leading technical magazines in his line of work, and he will not only subscribe for them — he will read them, in order that he may keep posted in regard to what men in his profession are doing, not only from the engineering standpoint, but from the manufacturing standpoint as well. Too many technical graduates never take a technical journal.
They say they do not need it for the work they are doing, which is probably true, and if they continue in that frame of mind, the probability is they will never need to take the journals, because they will not rise to positions of high enough responsibility to make it necessary. The successful man — the man who is willing to do all that is in him to do — must know what other men are doing, and he must put his knowledge to use in the work which he does from day to day.
In hunting and holding jobs the graduate must remember that in the United States more than 200 schools of college grade give engineering courses, and the annual crop of graduates five years ago was estimated at practically 4000. There are many night schools and private institutions giving short courses and partial courses. There are several good correspondence schools and a number of inferior ones. The surplus graduates of schools in every country in the world come to the United States, for it is imagined that in a comparatively new country there should be good chances for engineers to succeed. That so many do succeed while so many American graduates fail, is a sad commentary on the American.
Much suffering and trouble would be avoided if more of the graduates would look upon their course as one in applied science and not a vocational subject, as the modern idea of education in opposition to the ancient as expressed in the now useless classical course. This being true, it is not necessary for them to try and
practise engineering. Those who find the conditions of employment in engineering work unsatisfactory can go into any other business for which they feel adapted, knowing that their college course has been a very practical and useful one. Such men will really be technically educated business men, and in later years should be valuable members of boards of directors and officers in large corporations. If their engineering education does nothing more than lead them not to interfere with the work done by engineers in the employ of their companies, it will serve them and the stockholders well.
The graduate should lose no time in becoming a member in one or several of the leading technical societies. This gives him standing immediately, and while the societies do very little in the way of assisting members to find employment, fix rates of pay, or establish codes of ethics, they are great forces for the advancement of the profession. In fact, the present solidarity of the profession is due entirely to the numerous societies in existence which provide reference libraries and places for meeting and for the discussion of technical subjects, foster acquaintanceship between men in one line of work and issue periodicals devoted to the improvement of the work of engineers.
seemingly classifies all engineers as mechanical.
The American Institute of Electrical Engineers has a very large membership and is rapidly growing. The grade of member calls for very high attainments and the associate member grade is a large per cent, of the total.
engineering work.
All the foregoing societies have headquarters in New York City. Many members are members in several or all of the national societies, as well as holding membership in local city and state societies.
The Western Society of Engineers has the same requirements for membership as the American Society of Civil Engineers, and has, also, a student grade, so that boys in technical schools may join, receive the proceedings, and, finally, when they graduate, go into the society as juniors, feeling, from the day they enter school, that the older men in the profession are interested in them. This society has headquarters in Chicago, with a membership pretty evenly divided among all the branches and specialties of the profession. The large reference library in the Monadnock Block, in the heart of the business district, is a center
it their headquarters while in Chicago.
In nearly every state there is an engineering society holding an annual meeting for the presentation and discussion of papers, which are later printed. In the larger cities there are local societies and clubs, some of the national societies having local chapters as well.
In the opinion of the writer, before another generation, there will be but one national society in the United States, namely, the American Society of Engineers, divided into sections about as follows :
Electrical Engineering,
and such other sections as may have enough specialists to warrant the organization. This is the plan on which the Western Society of Engineers is conducted and it works very well. By combining all the societies in this manner the engineering profession will be compact and can work well as a unit. The largest society of engineers in the world is the German Society of Engineers, having numerous special sections. The present arrangement in the United States and Great Britain, resembles unpleasantly the division of medical men into schools.
There is a strong influence abroad in the ranks of the profession, markedly so among the younger and foreign-born engineers, tending toward organization and the fixing of wage scales, although the majority of engineers feel that anything savoring of trades unionism tends to lower the standing of the profession. An increasingly large element is seeking some protection through legal regulations to determine the status of surveyors and engineers, a few states now having license laws. Legal regulation of land surveying is a necessity for mathematical requirements are very simple; a knowledge of law and practice being most essential.
It is hard to admit, but it is true, that the men who pay the poorest wages, or salaries, to young men are the engineers with big reputations, whose charges for their own services are exceedingly high. The reason is that young men flock to their offices, seeking to shine in the reflected glory, many even offering to work for nothing for a year or two in order to say they had this experience ; like Paul sitting at the feet of Gamaliel. The writer feels that license laws will not help the general public to distinguish between good and poor engineers, however beneficial they may be in the case of land surveyors. They will help the 20 per cent, in private practice, but will be of no assistance to the 80 per cent, in the ranks of engineers who work on salary, nor the more than 95
engineer grade.
The present tendency is to give better pay to men of experience who have proven their ability, and maintain the pay of men in the lower grades at a low level, this being caused by the enormous number of graduates and their disposition to work for low pay "to gain experience." Protected by law against competition with incompetent men, it will be comparatively easy after a while to use this same law to hold men down and keep them longer in subordinate positions. Membership in a national society is a better recommendation than a certificate from a politically appointed state license board.
THE drawbacks to any vocation are best understood by the men engaged in it. The half -serious joke of the lawyer is that no man is fitted to take up the study of law until he has acquired a taste for sawdust without butter as a steady diet. The physician has adopted that joke as one peculiarly fitting to his calling, and in the funny columns of a college paper the writer saw the joke recently credited to the president of a well-known engineering school. Thus the story which was credited first to Lord Eldon, in 1780, may really have been original with a barrister in the time of Nero, just as the story of Stonewall Jackson's brigadier, who built a bridge before the engineers "got their picter of it did," is told by Julius Caesar about his quartermaster and engineer.
Competition is keen in every line of endeavor. It has always been keen and will always be keen. To those who long for the good old times it does no harm to say that the best authorities on economics and sociology say it requires fifty thousand acres of land to support one hunting savage. People in a state of savagery are continually on the verge of starvation and grumble at every new birth in the tribe because of the increase in com-
petition. The males being hunters, therefore producers, the birth of females is deplored. Perhaps this is too far to go back for the good old times.
Before the era of the manufacture of power, barely one hundred and fifty years ago, the lot of the educated man without private means was pitiable. All manufacturing was done by hand, and nearly every man was a handy man. Wheat at five shillings a bushel and wages one shilling a day, less than one hundred years ago makes present-day grumblers at high prices seem like queer people. The high cost of living has been a never failing topic of conversation since the beginning of speech. In those good old days, one hundred and fifty years ago, the college-educated man, who had worked his way through college, and failed to secure an appointment to teach or preach, was lost. He was trained with gentlemen and with cultivated tastes for the fine things of life without means to gratify them, it is small wonder that he started the discussion "Does a college education pay?" Business was not done then on the scale it is done to-day and openings as clerks and accountants were few. The improvement and and development of the steam engine, which meant the actual manufacture of power on a scale hitherto undreamed of by the owners of water wheels, put the educated man to the front. Education became a fetich, and to-day is so essential as to be commonplace.
Fifty thousand acres required to support one savage and to-day some countries support a population of five hundred people to the square mile, almost one to every acre. ^ It is the engineer who has made this possible. He designs and makes machines which manufacture power. He builds railways, which annihilate distance and make all men neighbors, so that the gospel is being carried to all the lands and war will soon be a rarity. { He puts wires everywhere so that "We are as close to you as your telephone" has become an advertising slogan. He tunnels hills, bridges rivers, paves streets, brings pure water into houses and takes away the waste matters so that health is preserved, drains swamps and irrigates the dry hills and plains, carries workmen to their work and back to their homes in rapid transit cars, so that the actual working time has been cut down fully 25 per cent., and the average earnings have been increased, yet the cry is heard that the good old times were best when there was less competition. The good old times when the most wealthy lived in draughty houses, and comfortable chairs looked like sentry boxes, when people died on the average ten years younger than the average to-day; men and women were old at 50, and decrepit at 60, whereas to-day men of 60 look as if in their prime. The kings in the good old days had no better food than the average man of to-day, and baths were
all who could afford them.
This long preamble is to soften the statement that the average engineer is a kicker and is sorry he took up the business. Competition is keen. The writer, after an experience of twenty-five years in the work, sympathises keenly with the average engineer and wishes conditions were better. Yet his eldest son will shortly graduate as a civil engineer. Not because engineering is necessarily a lucrative profession, but because the education is the modern education, one for service. The young man may practise as an engineer and he may not, but whatever happens to him he will have received the best education it is possible to give a boy at the present time, in the sciences that broaden a man. There is something also in the old belief that a boy has much better chances for success if he follows the business of his father than if he starts off in a new field for himself, where the experience gathered by those who preceded him is not available for his guidance.
A large number of young men enter engineering schools every year firmly convinced that engineering is a highly paid profession. If such were not their honest and firm belief they would go at something else, for they do not enter the profession with the spirit that prostrates a sculptor at the feet of a statue, or which leads the lover to cast a rose at the feet of the mistress of his heart. Going
into the work with the expectation of great gain and without the true spirit which makes a workman fondle and polish and ornament the creation of his hands, it is small wonder that so many engineering graduates speak bitterly of their calling. They like to recall the words of Satan in the Book of Job, "And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou?" And Satan answered the Lord and said, "From going to and fro in the earth and from walking up and down in it," the modern engineer being called "A poor devil," because his career upon earth so closely resembles the occupation of Satan.
Thousands of young fellows whose fathers are doing well at a trade go to college to study engineering and be the gentlemen in their father's trade, for a mechanical engineer is only a scientifically educated mechanician,, the civil engineer a scientifically educated master builder, the electrical engineer only a scientifically educated electrical artisan. If these boys, with their superior education, would buckle down to work with their hands beside their fathers, or in their fathers' employ, there would be a big increase in the number of multi-millionaires in this and other countries. As a rule, the education gives the young men an idea that honest toil soils hands, whereas a few years of dirty hands directed by trained brains means, generally, a great many years later in life,
manicure.
This feeling against soiled hands is causing a great many disturbances in different parts -of the country, if it is true that men can turn in their graves. Numbers of men have left fortunes to endow trade schools, and, the money getting into the hands of the wrong men, the result has been either the establishment of a manual training school, which, up to date, has not proven its value, or the establishment of preparatory schools for engineering colleges. The ideas of the founders were not followed, for the men who administered the estates knew little about the class the patron wished to benefit, and the ambitious "man, whom they selected as head of the school, felt it beneath his dignity to be the head of a mere trade school. A proposed new institution has been described to the writer as "A superior grade of trade school," and the writer, thereupon, ventured to bet that an engineering course will be established when the funds are available, only to be met with a surprised "Why not?" Half the engineering schools in the country could be eliminated, or turned into low-grade trade schools with immense benefit to the country.
Too many graduates are turned out of engineering schools who are absolutely unfit temperamentally for the work. Their awakening is rude. The chances for success in engineering are
about as good as in any other learned profession, perhaps slightly better. None of the learned professions offer much chance to secure more than a comfortable competence at best. It is the mistaken idea that engineering is a combination of learned profession and remunerative business that crowds the ranks with the unfit, makes conditions of employment irksome and keeps down pay.
The chances for continuous employment are very slim. Many engineers never acquire a competency ; the periods of non-employment often last long enough to get a man in debt. Once in debt his case is almost hopeless. He works for a salary when he works at all, and there is small opportunity to recoup losses, for the salaries are just large enough to live on. This recurrence of idle periods when the treasury is empty is the cause of most of the poverty and distress in the world. In this the educated man has no advantage over the laboring man. He is, in fact, worse off than the laborer, for he cannot descend to the doing of manual work without losing caste and being looked upon by his relatives as a failure. Men hold on, year after year, at first because to try to secure other work would be deemed a tacit confession of failure, and this would be damning, as in the popular mind engineering is the best paid business in the world ; finally, the disheartened man is compelled to hang to the one thing he understands best, because he reaches an age when a man
finds it practically impossible to make a start without capital in some other line of work. If he were a merchant, whose sole business is to buy and sell, it would make little difference what he should finally buy and sell, but to leave a profession means to go into some line of work entirely foreign to all previous experience, and the throwing away of all the experience thus far gained.
After a number of years prospective employers begin to turn a man down because he has worked in too many places. It is a source of keen humiliation to many high-minded men that they have changed often and have not suceeded in getting a permanent footing, but they are in this predicament through no fault of their own. The engineering graduate, who is turned loose in the world during a period of business depression, such as is experienced in the United States at intervals of about ten years, seldom, if ever, gets solidly on his feet. He is a wanderer from job to job to the end of the chapter, be he the most capable man in the world and a worshipper of his calling. He further experiences poignant suffering in seeing class after class of young men graduate years later than he and step into good positions just because they happened to graduate in years when men were in demand and young fellows start at almost any pay they can get. This cruel condition is understood by some employers, but the majority
who changes positions often.
Reference has been made to the artificial demand, which leads to many newspaper stories being written about the great demand for engineers and the short supply. There is another hateful thing which also causes a great deal of suffering, and is most unjust, namely, the fact that many head draftsmen and superintendents own stock in employment agencies which charge a fee for securing men positions. The writer has known of instances where forty draftsmen have been laid off for lack of work to keep them busy and of a hurry call being sent to an employment agency for men in less than a week. This happens so frequently that it is a strange thing that the directors do not look into the matter and investigate such wholesale changes. When a draftsman enters the office of an engineer and asks for work, saying that he had been just laid off by a certain company, and the engineer knows that company is at that very moment looking for draftsmen, it takes him but a few moments to decide that the applicant before him must have been below the standard or he would have been retained. These agencies charge 10 per cent, of the first month's salary for a position lasting less than six months ; 25 per cent, of the first month's salary for a position paying less than $75 per month and lasting
more than six months; 40 per cent, of the first month's salary for a position paying more than $75 and less than $175, and lasting more than six months; 60 per cent, of the first month's salary for a position paying more than $175 and lasting more than six months.
The charge is not made that much of the seemingly unbusinesslike reduction in forces is made because some one is interested in a nearby employment agency. The statement is merely made that this might be a reasonable explanation since one man told the writer that he lost a position when the manager of his company found out he got a 10 per cent, commission on all business he sent to a certain agency, besides owning $500 worth of stock in the agency, on which his dividends were about 8 per cent, per annum. The writer had frequent dealings with a certain agency some years ago, and this agency he always believed, and still believes, did everything in a square way. Nevertheless, he declined to purchase any of the stock when it was offered him, because he did not like the idea of making money out of his unfortunate brothers in the profession.
There are reputable agencies, and it is fortunate there are, for otherwise many men would have an exceedingly hard time getting in touch with vacancies they are capable of filling. This question of finding employment for men is one that
should be taken up by all the engineering societies. An employment bureau could be established in every large city, supported by members of the different societies, for the sole purpose of securing transient employment for members. A small fee, say of 5 per cent, of the first month's salary could be charged until the actual cost of operating the agency is discovered, when the charges can be made to cover the actual cost only. In this way all the societies can secure new members and will be doing a needed work. If this work is properly done there will be heard less of the present agitation for license laws and the formation of organizations with trades union ideas and sentiments.
Some assistants in the office of Messrs. D. H. Burnham & Co., in Chicago, organized a few years ago the American Technical Association, which has nicely furnished offices in that city. This is a voluntary association of engineer assistants and draftsmen, organized as a mutual benefit association to keep the members employed. The dues are small and no fee is charged for securing a position. All that is asked of a man after he goes to work is that he keep up his dues so other men will be helped. The membership is growing rapidly and such an organization deserves to be encouraged. The way to help it is to send to the secretary when assistants are wanted, and finally the society will be able to keep a secre-
tary constantly employed on salary to do this altruistic work. Every large city should have a branch of this association, unless the large societies will unbend from their dignified position and take cognizance of the member who is never able to get a footing on the shifting sands.
Occasionally a man who has been on the rack for years does get a position where he apparently has a chance to make good. The first thing that happens is very often the starting up of what is commonly termed "the anvil chorus," by men longer in the employ of the company, who feel aggrieved at a newcomer being put over them and at a larger salary. With the objectors the question of competency is second to that of long service. The newcomer, interloper, according to the older employes, is generally a man of very broad experience, and has an intimate knowledge of systematic methods employed in many establishments. Generally he has worked out methods of his own for doing work expeditiously and economically. All attempts on his part to introduce innovations are opposed, not always openly, until he either resigns, or finally settles into the grooves and travels with the rest of the crowd, much to the disgust of the management, for his selection was due to a desire to have new life put into the work. His resignation is then either asked for, or his position from that time becomes a purely political one, held by finesse and not
gauged by material results. Few corporations know how much the fetich of system and red tape is costing them, but as young men go in at the bottom and gradually grow into conservative ways, it is seldom that an older man has an opportunity to break in and become permanently attached to a payroll, for he is a disturbing element. The pay of the middle-aged engineer is good when he is working, if he demands good pay and can show results. He works on the unit system, the system that implies good organization with a minimum of machinery that wears and induces lost motion.
It happens often to old experienced engineers that a firm will employ them on contract for a year and put them in sole charge of the construction or designing department, with instructions to systematize it and effect as much saving as possible. Their long and varied training having made them good organizers they go to work joyfully and finally get matters in such shape that they have an opportunity to take it easy. The organization is put in such good order that it runs like well-made and well-lubricated machinery. The reward of the engineer is to be "laid off" when the contract time is up, the young chap, who acted as principal assistant during the change, getting the position thus left vacant at half, or sometimes less than half the salary. The irony of the whole deal is often revealed when it is discovered that the young fellow knew months before that the change would
be made, and was told to prepare himself to take charge of the work, but say nothing to the older man about it. This is not uncommon.
When dull times come in all engineering establishments, the highest salaried men are laid off first, a recent graduate being advanced to the title at half the pay. His turn comes with the next panic period in business, for the schools are busy turning out graduates "to supply, if possible, the demand that exists for the graduates of this wellknow institution,'7 to quote from certain printed matter. Were such changes not made there would be no promotion possible for young men. Even in the army and navy, where the officers have life jobs, it is necessary to have retiring boards working, in order that there will be a movement toward the top strong enough to prevent discouraged men from leaving the service. The retired officers, however, go on half pay, while the thrown-off engineer has to hustle for a job, with the stigma of dismissal attached to him.
Many companies manufacturing engineering specialties will secure an experienced man of wide acquaintance to push their goods on commission. Thinking that here, at last, is an opportunity to quit salaried work and get into business for himself, the man pushes the goods hard, sometimes almost verging on the unprofessional in using the meetings of his society for places to introduce discussions that will bring out the name of his com-
pany, and finally opens the market. The sales then mount up in volume and he handles most of the business from an office by correspondence. It is then that the company begins to grumble about the amount of his commissions, and when the year ends he is displaced by a young engineering graduate working on a salary.
Engineers in private practice find that the character of their work changes from year to year. First there is a railway boom in their vicinity and they are railway specialists; then new towns are developed and they are highway specialists. When the section settles up more they are in demand for the purpose of building water works systems. Then follows sewerage and finally water purification and sewage purification. To-day most of the engineers in private practice are busy on the valuation of public utilities. No engineer in private practice can tell in January just what his principal work will be during the coming twelve months. Since this is the case with men able to support an establishment, and with the means, one would suppose, to keep to one line of work, how much more apt is the wanderer working always on salary, to change the nature of his employment with nearly every new job. When one considers this seriously, the teaching of narrow specialties in schools is seen to be absurd, except in schools situated near centers where the specially trained men can be absorbed as fast as produced.
It is not always, in fact it is seldom, the specially trained young man who gets the high pay, but the man of broad experience, who has acquired the ability to absorb quickly the essentials, which will enable him to perform properly the duties pertaining to the position in which he finds himself.
One engineer in seeking a position showed excellent references from many employers, all men of high standing. The gentleman to whom he was applying for employment said:
"I think your letters are all right and the parties to whom you referred me have answered promptly and favorably, but all the same I think there must be a screw loose somewhere. It seems to me a man of the ability with which you are credited should be settled. In fact, the letters are too good. You have never held a job more than eight or ten months, and I want a steady man. We have decided to get a young man, who will work for less pay and who is up in the very latest methods, and who has not been out long enough to have acquired the tramp habit that so many of you older men seem to have acquired."
"Well, then," said the engineer. "Has it not struck you that every one of my past employers was in your case ? I have made an enviable reputation in this particular line of work and can save you money even at the salary you say is high. I have been always employed as a specialist. A man hires me and lets me go when the work is done. He is my friend from that time on and always willing to recommend me. You need have no fear about lack of steadiness on my part, because my jobs are short time jobs. I am ready at any time to accept a good paying, permanent position. You employ a lawyer because of his experience, but his having worked for many people is a recommendation, not a drawback. The difference between the engineer and the lawyer is that the engineer works on a salary for one man at a time, and the lawyer works for fees for many people at one time. You can, if you wish, employ some engineer who is in private practice to do your work on a fee and keep a resident engineer on the job, but you find it comes cheaper to employ a man on a salary. You should consider that the more experience a man has had the more money he should be able to save you. The physician and the lawyer stay in one place and work for small fees, but the engineer, having to give his whole time on salary to
his employer, must work in many places and never lias a home. He is continually making new acquaintances and being forgotten by the old."
The manufacturer saw the point and the engineer was employed, carrying the work through to a successful end and adding another good name to his list of references. He is not a perfectly happy and contented man, however, for he long ago passed the age limit for permanent positions and must continue to the end of the chapter a "job chaser."
Private practitioners have been referred to a number of times. Men employing engineers demand a showing of experience, so that a man cannot go into private practice as a consulting engineer until he has had considerable experience. Some young fellows at school announce their intention of opening offices as consulting engineers after graduation. Some try it for awhile, but they soon see the comedy side of it and the offices are closed; generally closed automatically by the exhaustion of the pocketbook. When a man goes into private practice too early in life his work is apt to be small in character, so that he gains no really valuable experience in the doing of it. By dint of hanging on he may finally secure enough small work to eke out a living, but the pay is small and the work of a petty character. Most of it is surveying. When the man of middle age and ripe experience goes into private practice
as a consulting engineer he has a wide acquaintance with many who can send friends to him, and it is not very difficult to get a start. To start, however, requires an office in a good location, with an assistant or two, and the expenditure of considerable money in promotion work. In a city like Chicago it requires a capital of at least ten thousand dollars, and an experience of not less than fifteen or twenty years, while in New York the cost will be double. The beginner may be very lucky in the first year and secure some clients of a good kind so that he will be fairly on his feet with the expenditure of less than two thousand dollars, but such happenings are like many strange things that Fate deals out to men ; they go by the generic term of "Chance." There are losses in all lines of business, and the private practitioner in engineering is no exception to the general run of business men. That many fail in private practice is due to lack of capital, the item which causes so many failures in all business lines. There would be more successful men in private practice if the expenses of conducting the business and legitimate promotion work were not so heavy. The young attorney can go into private practice immediately upon graduation and do well, for he needs only to consult books to give opinions, and is seldom away from his office more than a few hours at a time. The young physician may open an office immediately after graduation and grad-
ually work up a pretty fair practice, his clients knowing always what his office hours are, and generally preferring a young man, for they consider him to be well up in the latest methods in surgery and medicine.
The engineer, on the contrary, cannot hope to succeed in private practice until he has managed to secure a broad experience and he must have his affairs so arranged that evidences of his experience can be produced upon demand to satisfy prospective clients. This then postpones his entrance into private work until near, or past middle age. His work is also of such a nature that it takes him, or his assistants, away from his office, and often from the city in which his office is located, for months at a time. He must, therefore, possess enough capital to be in a position to employ men on salary to go out and do the detail work and small work which cheaper men than himself can do, in order that he may be available for consultation and advice when needed by his clients. Until the engineer has enough capital to run his business in this manner he is no better than the wandering " job chaser," plus the expense of office rent, advertising and general promotion. A great many engineers open offices in a small way, going out and securing work and bringing it back to the office to attend to personally. Such men seldom get important work and life is always a struggle. The engineer in private practice must be a business man
and learn to employ competent assistants on work they can do as well as he, his part being to secure the work, guide it when it has reached the point where his judgement is worth many dollars to his client and act in emergencies. The consulting engineer satisfies the definition of Wellington— he can do well with one dollar what any bungler can do after a fashion with the expenditure of two dollars. The young man with insufficient experience is more or less of a bungler and the " practical" man is generally a bungler.
There is no rule to govern pay. The engineer has his fixed charges and it is the client who determines for himself just how much he can afford to spend on engineering services in order to save money. Occasionally, in fact, frequently, the client makes a mistake in employing a cheaper man than he should. Some consulting engineers charge, earn and receive fees of five hundred dollars per day. The number of men in the United States in so enviable a position may probably be counted on the fingers of a man possessing the normal equipment of fingers. Needless to say they do not receive such pay every day in the year, nor for many days in any year. The bulk of their income comes from work they undertake on percentage, the same as an architect. They serve a class of clients that makes it necessary to employ a large staff and rent offices in expensive buildings
from one to five thousand dollars per week.
The general charge for consulting engineers is one hundred dollars per day, with expenses added when the employment takes them away from their home city. A great many good men can be obtained for fifty dollars per day. Men who have worked up a fairly good practice on medium and small work and who are seldom engaged by the more wealthy employers, charge twenty-five dollars per day. The average engineer in private practice starts out with a charge of about fifteen dollars per day for strictly consultation work and ten dollars per day for ordinary work. In places of less than 25,000 inhabitants the usual rate is about eight dollars per day, while, surveyors seldom charge more than five dollars per day for their work. The day of an engineer away from his office is not eight hours, but is generally counted from an hour before the sun rises until as far into the night as is necessary to get his notes in shape. A number of years ago the writer was located in a small western town and his charges were as follows : Important work of a strictly consultation nature, twenty-five dollars per day for less than one week, plus expenses, and when work lasted more than a week the charge was twentyfive dollars for the first three days, twenty dollars for the next three days and fifteen dollars for the remainder of the time. Few jobs of this kind
lasted more than three days, the sliding scale being an inducement to get longer employment, an artifice that often succeeded. For general work, such as surveying, drafting and taking charge of construction, ten dollars per day and expenses for less than twenty days' work ; for more than twenty days' work, ten dollars per day for the first ten days and nine dollars per day for the second ten days, after which the charge was eight dollars per day for the following thirty days, dropping to six dollars per day and remaining at that level until the completion of the work. There were two reasons for this sliding scale, the first and most important being that it acted to make jobs last longer ; the second being that the high-class work is generally the first part of every job. After the plans are made the work is of such a routine nature that the average employer is tempted to dismiss a highly paid man and employ a cheaper one to look after the execution of the contract. This is where the average employer makes a mistake, and few can be made to see it that way, but they are willing to employ as a superintendent, the man who planned the work rather than put on a stranger, provided the difference in pay is not great. The work in that section was of such a nature that no engineer could employ assistants to do his work, all employers insisting upon the personal attention of the engineer, so there was small opportunity to do much more work than
a man could do in the twenty-four hours, so mercifully allotted to a day. Sunday was a fine day in which to catch up. From the first of November to the following April the engineer had plenty of time to improve his mind, provided he was able to purchase books and papers.
When men in large cities ask less than twentyfive dollars per day and expenses for their services, it is understood they have severe competition ; how severe it is impossible to tell. When the average engineer loses a salaried job and is looking for another he often takes up consultation work and hawks his services from office to office of men who employ consulting engineers. Taking up such work as a temporary expedient only and needing it to keep alive, he works for fees ranging from three to six dollars per day. When a negro preacher, who received an annual salary of fifty dollars, was told that it was mighty poor pay, he replied that he gave in return mighty poor preach. The laborer is worthy of his hire and the cheap man is generally dear at any price. When a man knows he is working for less than his services are really worth, and feels that his employer realizes it, he works always with a discontented feeling and gives just as little as possible.
The enormous growth in number and size of corporations conducting vast industrial enterprises has absorbed thousands of technically educated men annually, but the age limit for
employment has been lowered. The semi-socialistic policy of pensioning employes after they reach a certain age, or have completed a definite number of years of employment, compels employers to adopt a rule fixing an age limit for new employes. This rule also works to assist consulting engineers, who are employed on transient work requiring broader experience than any of the men in the engineering department of the corporation possess, but this is incidental. The fixing of a maximum entering age limit insures getting the maximum number of years of employment out of a man before retiring him. Fifty years ago the average age of college graduates was about twenty-one, while to-day few boys graduate from high school under the age of nineteen. The average age of engineering school graduates is about twentythree, and the deadline in securing permanent salaried employment is between thirty and thirtyfive. A corporation pensioning employes after thirty years' continuous service does not like to have men on the payroll long after they are sixty. If the young technical graduate, therefore, does not succeed in landing a permanent salaried job before the age of thirty-five he is doomed to roam the earth.
Men who specialize most closely at school are the poorest paid, as a rule. They so thoroughly prepare themselves in the specialty that they are narrow and, perforce, compelled to look for posi-
tions in which this knowledge is necessary. Manufacturers and corporations take advantage of this. When more assistants are required in certain departments the information is conveyed in some way to a nearby technical school, or an intimation is given to the omnipresent newspaper reporter or special writer that there is a lack of trained men for such work and that a job will be given to every young man who specializes in this particular subject. When the news gets out there is great interest manifested in it by the seniors, who have electives, and in the spring, the Dean, in a flowery speech, which is sent broadcast over the country by the Associated Press, announces that the entire graduating class was supplied with positions before graduation, and was, with difficulty, held in school until the last day.
Dissatisfaction with the prospects for advancement is soon manifested, and one by one the boys drop out, or are discharged for kicking and grumbling, finally leaving only a few, who, being relieved of close competition, do have some opportunity to advance. Frequently the men who are left and go to the top, are not the best of the lot, but they deserve what measure of success they achieve because they stick. The restless ambition, or desires, of the American boy and his quickness to resent exploitation gives the well-trained foreigner his opportunity. Coming from a crowded country where pay is low, the pay the
American considers absurdly low is to him, handicapped by the necessity for learning a new language very good and he stays year after year, proving himself steady and reliable. He has bred in him a feeling of content when his bread and butter are secure. His many years of scholastic training have given him a liking for the quiet studiousness of the laboratory, the computing room and drafting office, which the American boy, with his fewer years of less intense schooling, interspersed with practical outdoor life and indulgence in field athletics finds irksome. The foreigner is, therefore, preferred in many places for the reason that he fits in very nicely as a welladjusted part of a machine. He is not obnoxious in seeking advancement, but is always ready for it when it comes. Many foreigners now head important enterprises in America because they stuck to a job when they had a chance. There are no rules to set before young men except to tell them that if they land in a place where the work is congenial, they should stay with it and provide for the future by living within their income. More men become well to do by saving than by earning high pay. The men who succeed best in the world are generally those who are content to wait for the pleasures of life after they have made arrangements to provide a surplus out of which the pleasures will be paid for. There are many solid pleasures in life other than the wearing of
and riding in automobiles.
Many professors advise their pupils to shift considerably the first few years after graduation in order to gain experience. Men who give such advice to-day have not kept up with the world, and do not know their advice is thirty years late in the United States, and is about one hundred years late as compared with the rest of the world. The law of supply and demand is pretty effectually settling this question of shifting around, and the world never looked with favor on the " rolling stone." Thirty years ago there was a dearth of engineers in the United States, and as much of the work requires a modicum of training, numbers of halfeducated men entered the profession and some achieved considerable success. To-day there exists considerable difficulty in properly absorbing the surplus graduates of technical schools at home, in addition to "die Auswanderer" from the foreign school.
Getting down to salaries, there is no set rule. The employer fixes rates of pay and the engineer is free to take it or leave it, this being the reverse of the rule for compensating consulting engineers of standing. Much depends on the employer and much depends on the employe. In one building, in different offices, will be found men doing exactly similar work for different employers at widely differing rates of pay. The writer knows one man
who receives $3000 per year from his employers who fear every day that some one may make him a better offer. Across the street another man of the same age, and fully as good education and experience, is doing the same kind of work for a larger company and with fewer assistants, for $1800 per year. The men employing the higher paid engineer are satisfied with him and propose to keep him. They know they are paying what is generally considered to be much more than the market rate for the work he does, but they are satisfied and so it is nobody's business but theirs. The responsibilities of an engineer are so great that it would be an easy matter for an incompetent man, or a green man, to cause a loss on one piece of work which would amount to several times his annual salary. This man, therefore, holds on because he has made good, although envious acquaintances say he is a "bluffer," The lower paid man says that he holds one because he has observed that $150 per month is close to the dead line and that when dull times come engineers who receive more than that are not certain of their positions. He prefers a life job at $150 per month than the uncertainties that accompany better pay. He is no sport, but he has a nice little family and is buying a home on the installment plan.
of maintenance-of-way departments, together with the establishment of repair departments, and the fact that railways generally design all their own bridges and buildings and do less work by contract than was formerly common, has led to the permanent employment of many men, although the pay is not very high in the lower ranks and promotion is not rapid. For transient employment the pay is about as shown in the following table, it being an average arranged from a study of the pay tables of about ten roads :
The company furnishes tents and feeds the men in addition to the above pay; the men furnishing their own blankets. On construction work the pay is about ten dollars per month more, but the men pay their own board out of this, taking their meals in the contractors' camps or in nearby farm houses, the construction parties, as a rule, being small and moving around so much that the keeping up of a cook outfit would be too expensive. There being always a surplus of unemployed men, it is possible to equip and send out a full party within twenty-four hours from almost any fair sized city. These rates of pay also obtain on survey parties for irrigation and drainage work, although on such work the chief of party will receive higher pay. The chief of a railway party is not likely to be the chief engineer of the railway, whereas the chief engineer of an irrigation or drainage district generally goes into the field in charge of the survey work.
For the work mentioned the pay goes with the job, regardless of the experience of the man, provided his experience has been sufficient to insure him getting the work. Personal acquaintance has much to do with securing positions on such parties, high officials generally having relatives or friends to take care of. The writer has taken out parties when every man, except the cook and his helper, was competent to hold any position on the party, and some had been in charge of parties at some
time. He has also gone out with parties composed almost wholly of high school boys, " official sons," and college graduates, with little or no experience. His part was done when he dutifully took them out and the favor of the officials to their friends was done when the boys were given positions. That nearly all were sent back inside of a week as incompetent, simply meant a little more expense to the corporation and was expected ; for the chief is held rigidly accountable for mistakes and is also expected to cover a certain amount of territory each day, so only a few green men can be retained if work is to be pushed. Summer survey parties are fine for college students seeking to gain experience and earn money while having a vacation in the open air. Some railway companies in the older settled states have a ridiculously low wage scale for such work, depending upon the work being done in vacation months by students seeking experience.
Opportunity is half of life. A study of the two accompanying diagrams illustrates this most forcibly. Figure 3 presents a very nice curve of average income received by graduates of an institution situated near the most highly developed portion of the United States, tech-
nieally and commercially; many of the graduates, no doubt, having gone into a business owned or controlled by relatives and many having, for some years, been in private practice in financial centers. The shaded areas give the highest and lowest incomes reported, the heavy line being the average of the averages for each year. The average income does not represent the income of men known as engineers, in the common accept-
Graduates.
ance of the term, but represents the incomes of men who graduated in engineering courses. Similar curves can be drawn for classical schools of equal standing in this section of the country, the course of study having little to do with the curve. Figure 4 is the result of a study of a western school of practically as high standing. The farmer boys of the middle west make splendid engineers, but their start in life is in a developing country, where the work is of a pioneering nature, and
pioneer work is always illy paid. The line representing the average income is almost straight, but up to the eighth year after graduation the two schools seem to be on an equality, thus showing that the young man is employed in minor positions carrying little responsibility. The greater fluctuations in income show that the Iowa graduates stuck more to technical engineering work than did the Massachusetts graduates, and the low average
would also indicate this. In the first diagram the average annual income at the end of twenty years is $9000, whereas in the second diagram it is about $3800. These two diagrams cover the period since the civil war, when, for about fifteen years, the country was developing so rapidly that engineering schools had difficulty in furnishing enough graduates. Similar diagrams thirty years from now will probably show a slight rise in the average income of graduates from western schools, with a
uates from eastern schools.
These diagrams are presented just as the average newspaper or magazine would present them. The reports from which they are taken go into considerable detail and would hardly be interesting to the reader of this little book. To read the full discussion confirms one in the opinion that, as a rule, showings of averages are misleading without an accompanying full discussion. The report from the western school seems to the writer, whose experience has been almost wholly between Chicago and the Pacific coast, to represent conditions more accurately, so far as the technical engineer is concerned, than the report from the eastern school. Both reports are on selected bodies of men and do not, by any means, represent the entire body of the profession, for a great many men practising engineering and calling themselves engineers, are non-graduates. Instead of the lines of average income representing actual averages, they represent to the majority of graduates, the amounts they should be entitled to receive in the years given. That is, the pay shown as an annual average, represents what should be twelve times the monthly pay an experienced engineer hopes to receive when employed. It is really awkward to have to explain that the average line on Figure 4 is here referred to, the average line on Figure 3 being a dream after the fifteenth year is passed.
The average engineer, chasing from job to job, may work awhile for over $200 per month, and, after a period of idleness, take a place at a little over $100 per month. A good draftsman can generally secure fairly steady employment, although the pay, as a rule, is not high, for so much of the work can be done by partially educated boys and men. One designer can keep many draftsmen busy and on some classes of work one computer can keep two or three head draftsmen with their assistants fully occupied.
Engineers are a product of civilization, and, therefore, get along best in populous centers. They are closely dependent upon capitalists for employment and when capital is not active the engineer rests. Three generations ago Horace Greeley gave his famous advice to young men to go west. To-day a great many engineering students announce that upon graduation they will go to the growing western states where engineers are in demand.
The writer spent two-thirds of his professional life in states west of the Eocky Mountains, and has found the East better, so far as chances for continuous employment are concerned, and far better when the question of pay is considered. Every western state has a state university and many have an agricultural school and school of mechanic arts as well, largely supported by United States funds under the provisions of the Morrill
Act. All these schools have engineering courses arranged to meet local needs. They graduate more men than are required to fill vacancies, so that every eastern man who goes in adds to the congestion and increases the severity of the competition. The writer has been in over fifty places east of the Mississippi Valley, having populations of more than 3000, in which there were no signs to be found of engineers or surveyors or architects, and it took diligent inquiry in some of them to discover that men were living there, or close by, who could be engaged to do some surveying. It is a perfectly safe statement to make that in every hamlet containing more than 1000 inhabitants in the far western states a good surveyor can be found, and in the average place of more than 3000 inhabitants, there will be an average of about one and one-half engineers and architects to every 1000 of population. In one place of 1700 population the writer knew two graduated civil engineers, one of whom paid office rent and the other had a room at home fixed up as an office ; two non-graduate civil engineers; two land "butchers"; one graduated mining engineer; three non-graduate mining "experts"; two architects, one of whom also took building contracts. Such a condition of affairs is not at all uncommon in the mountain states of the West.
becoming wealthy, or even moderately successful in the practice of his profession. He will find in those countries nearly all of the inhabitants to be fairly ingenious men in many ways, of small means, and they do not call upon the engineer to do much outside of surveying. They use " practical" men to do work the engineer is employed to do in the more densely populated sections, where all men must of necessity be specialists. On the frontier the book-taught, school-bred man is not classed with " practical" men, who are supposed to be horny-handed sons of toil. The work in sparsely settled parts of the world is of a petty nature when financed by the local inhabitants and can just as well be done by less well prepared men than the graduates of a good school. That is, it is done well enough to satisfy the men who pay the bills, for the amounts spent are small, and fine economics are of the " stingy" sort, real economic saving being unknown.
When large work is undertaken on the frontier it is financed from the large cities and the engineer in charge is sent out from the home city of the corporation. He is generally fully supplied with assistants, most of them being sons of men having influence with the directors, many being relatives of officers in the corporation. The local engineer in the frontier town is looked upon with curiosity by these men from the great city where wealth is stored and has small chance for employment. The chief engineer makes this local man his principal assistant to practically take entire charge, the chief making a good reputation out of the ability of his assistant. This is something that happens in lines of work other than engineering.
It is a pretty good plan when an engineer finishes an engagement out on the edge of civilization to return to the financial center before his money is gone, instead of going into private practice in a new country, only to be finally starved out. On a salary a man can live anywhere, and, under proper conditions, a man should elect to live where he most enjoys life. If conditions are not right then he should live where a living is most readily obtained.
The true engineer is a man of action, resourceful, ingenious, executive; the sort of man who would succeed whatever line of work he took up. The work of computing quantities, calculatingstrains and stresses, drawing lines upon paper, is only clerical work after all. It is of a higher order than ordinary clerical work, such as requires practice rather than education, but it is, nevertheless, clerical. If a young engineer is not settled in some permanent position within ten years after leaving school, he should cast around for some other line of employment, brave his relatives, who
never can be brought to understand conditions, and make a new start. Successful men always win success by passing over the heads of those who fail.
The question is often asked, " Which branch of engineering pays best?" So far as financial rewards go there is little choice. In all branches there are successful as well as unsuccessful men. If the intending student has no ideas upon the subject himself, and his parents have no connections whereby they can advance him in any special branch, he should not go into engineering. The choice may pretty safely be left to the boy if he is bent upon being an engineer. Something more than casual advice should influence one in the selection of a career.
Steady employment of engineers is to be expected the closer they keep to manufacturing lines. For this reason mechanical engineering and electrical engineering are considered good. The starting pay, however, is small and promotion is very slow. In this connection a study of the charts of average income is good, for the fluctuating income and low average is in a section of the country with little manufacturing.
The steady job with a future pays, as a rule, poorly at the start. The transient job is always comparatively well paid. Within the past few years, however, there have been indications that the maximum for mechanical and electrical engi-
neers has been reached and the curves of average income are flatter. The boom period has pretty nearly ended, and the period of slow, steady growth, proportionate to population, has set in. Machines are being rapidly standardized, which calls for less skill on the part of the office employes. Salaries may be slightly larger in the high positions, but they will stay at the present level or slightly decrease in the lower grades, which, with the increasing cost of living, means an actual reduction in incomes as now reported. Future graduates in mechanical and electrical engineering must expect to work for many years at low salaries, competing with boys trained in the shops, who study mechanical drafting in the evenings.
The exploitation of electrical engineering students by large corporations has been shameless. It has been a common practice to send men to a school with offers of positions for the entire graduating class. The entering salaries range from $40 to $60 per month, and each man is given the impression that the company looks upon him as a possible second Edison. Promotion in the main is slow, and the writer knows a number of young fellows now getting only $90 and $100 per month after five years' work. They would have done as well with a $50 course in bookkeeping and stenography at a business college. They may, of course, be exceptions, but electrical engineering graduates have told many "hard luck" stories to
the writer, which had much to do with his deciding that, after all, the civil engineering course was the best for his son, with some additional work in the electrical engineering department at school.
The electrical business is controlled by a few large corporations and to one of these a young fellow must tie himself. The chances for a future are not particularly good, so far as ultimate pay is concerned, but a living wage is almost always certain for those who care for a life-long job on a salary about equal to that of the average clerk, who did not spend $2000, nor one-tenth part of that amount, on his education. It has been remarked before that some iruen do succeed who can hang on, and the successful men are not always those who would have been picked as probable successful ones, when at school. Often mediocrity wins where intelligence of a high order fails, because of the ambition that goes with intelligence.
When mining engineers get fairly started their pay is good, but in the course of time every mine is worked out and a new job is sought. In the mining business changes in the directorate and management occur more frequently than in any other business, for the average investor does not look upon mining as a business, but regards it as much of a gamble. If profits do not come up to expectation there are insurgent owners of stock who rise and take control, discharging competent men, and very often putting charlatans in their places. The dis-
charged men always labor under the disadvantage of having to explain why they were discharged from a mine that was not closed down, but is still operating. Few mining engineers can expect a life-long job with one company under the best of circumstances, and they get in the habit of calling a three- or four-year job " permanent." This overturning of management and discharge of men is not peculiar to mining, but is common in all lines of business, the average director being no more competent to manage a business than is the average politician to run a city. Many business enterprises would fail were it not for faithful, hard-working, often browbeaten employes ; men with the special training their employers lack.
The general education of the civil engineer is perhaps the best fitted to prepare a man for engineering work, for it is the most broad of all the branches, except mining, and even that is now being divided into specialties. The present civil engineer could be improved by adding another year to be put in on mechanical and electrical subjects. Upon leaving school the well-trained civil engineering graduate is competent to enter the office of any engineer in any line of work and be a competent assistant. If he was well trained he should be a fair mechanical and architectural draftsman, and have a pretty good knowledge of prime movers. This added to his knowledge of the mathematical, physical and chemical sciences, the properties of
materials, ability to design structures, etc., gives him far better fighting chances than his more narrowly trained brother students, who specialized on smaller subjects.
The business of contracting has been fairly revolutionized by technical graduates, this being a field of endeavor in which the engineer is fitted to shine. Not many years ago the contractor was not looked upon as a business man, but as pretty much of a speculator. To-day contracting is a legitimate business. When a manufacturer can determine his costs properly he is in a position to conduct his business at a profit. The system and method introduced into the business of contracting within late years by engineers, have converted it into a manufacturing business, carrying no more risk than that of any other manufacturing business. There are a few old style contractors in existence, but their number is growing less, and many, even of the most conservative, employ engineers, thus putting to shame the few men who still claim that the school instruction is not " practical" enough. The training in exact analysis which every engineering student receives, is just what is needed in every line of business, and has been justified by the experience of contracting since engineers took it up.
The civil engineer has good opportunities to start in at the bottom of the ladder in mechanical and electrical engineering work, and advances very
rapidly up the ladder in general contracting work. He has also good preliminary training for working as an architect, provided he possesses artistic talent. It is gratifying to see the numbers of young civil engineers who enter the employ of .architects to do the structural designing and act as outside superintendents of construction. The putting in of deep foundations is a specialty in itself and, of course, no one is so well adapted to this class of work as the young man trained as a civil or mining engineer. The old-time civil engineer, who was almost wholly a surveyor, has disappeared and the present day surveyor is that and nothing else, for a man who has taken a full engineering course seldom cares to settle down to the practice of "land butchering" in a small country town.
The education of a civil engineer is an excellent preparation for general business, for nearly all men are concerned more or less with construction enterprises in these days. This training is superior to the study of Latin and Greek, no matter what line of work a man goes into. A business man having two sons whom he intends taking into business with him, but prefers that they have a college training first, can hardly do better than have one study law and the other civil engineering, before going into his office to learn the business, with a view to partnership later.
working, are generally pretty fair as salaries go for young men. It is a shock to them, however, when they learn that salaries do not necessarily increase with age and experience, but are governed very largely by responsibility, hence ' ' salaries go with the job." The curves of average income in the two diagrams elsewhere presented, show an increase as the years go by, which is due to the fact that this is governed largely by the men who have permanent high-paid positions, and by those who are in business for themselves, as well, also, by the fact that, all things being equal, the older men are generally trusted with greater responsibility. The bottom edges of the shaded areas must not be overlooked, for averages are very deceitful. The maximum and minimum salaries at the end of the twenty-year periods may be given by a much smaller per cent, of the total number of men ; that is, the averages for the first few years may have been obtained from a very large number and the higher averages from a small number, which, in reality, was a small per cent, of the number still living.
That salaries and the pay of men who have to seek employment may be low has no effect on men in private practice, and those whose varied experience leads them to be selected to conduct important work. These men get pay commensurate with their experience and ability. The average pay of lawyers, surgeons and physicians is less than $600
per year, yet it is well known that there are men in each of these callings whose incomes are much larger than the salary of the President of the United States. The average man, after all, has little to do with the income of the more fortunate man. Each man receives what his services are believed to be worth, and every properly equipped man starts with an equal chance.
If he wishes to succeed, the young man must bear in mind the old saying, ' ' Seest thou a man diligent in his business ? He shall stand before kings. He shall not stand before mean men." The greatest measure of success comes to the man who makes the fullest use of his opportunities. We may float upon the stream of life, but to some extent we have the ordering of our ways. Patience, ability, industry, strict economy, rigid honestyr good habits, avoidance of inferior and weak associates, these all bring their own reward. Given a number of men, each with enough ability to do the routine work of his calling, success becomes a matter of the man and his opportunity rather than matters of exceptional ability or genius. Opportunity is one half, and the man is the other half. It is much a question of temperament, rather than ability, provided one has ordinary ability and sound training as a basis.
There is more to life than meat, clothes and money. For the man who is imbued with the right spirit of the engineer and loves his profession
there is a serene satisfaction in doing his work well and holding his head high. The world is out of joint in many places, and the engineering profession is not alone in offering salt drink to its devotees. No calling is free from drawbacks, and engineering especially is no occupation for the man whose sole motive in selecting it is the belief that pay is always high, advancement certain, and great wealth the sure end.
Life is like a swiftly flowing stream, carrying upon its surface many floating objects. Some keep near the center and move on serenely with no disturbance of any sort, clear to the ocean in which the river ends. Others float near the edge, unable to get near the middle, and these occasionally strand, lying on the sand bars until a rise in the stream carries them to another shallow where they again rest. Still others are caught in some eddy and float round and round in restless circles until they become waterlogged and sink, unless, in the meantime, a rise in the stream, or some other disturbance takes them again into the main current. In the spring many millions of blossoms appear upon the fruit trees, but we cannot predict the fruit crop from the blossoms. Many infants are born, but few reach maturity. It is a law of life that not all men reach the fullest success, to this extent proving that all men are not born free and equal, although the politicians do so declare. Real success lies wholly in a feeling of
work well done in the line of endeavor for which a man is best qualified and which commands all that is best in him to stand forth.
Surely the man who " directs the great sources of power in nature for the use and convenience of man/' should find a comfort in such work that will compensate for many moments of bitterness when on tours of apparently endless "job chasing. ' ' To make the ways straight in the wilderness, to carry food to the people of all nations, to make fruits and grains and flowers flourish in erstwhile desert spots, to be the means of spreading intelligence broadcast, to build highways which draw nations together and thus end wars and misunderstandings, to increase the power of the world to the end that one man is as five hundred of the men of olden times— surely this is a great work.
Of the truly successful engineer no better memorial can be had than the following from the poem by Edward Everett Hale, entitled "The Unnamed Saints";
What was his name? I do not know his name. I only know he heard God's voice and came; Brought all he loved across the sea, To live and work for God and me, Felled the ungracious oak,
With plenty filled the haggard mountain-side, And, when his work was done, without memorial died. No blaring trumpet sounded out his fame; He lived, he died. I do not know his name.
The cheerful play
Of love and hope and courage comes ; These are his monuments, and these alone — There is no form of bronze and no memorial stone.
SOME time elapses between the delivery of the manuscript of a book to the printers and the time of publication. Much as an author regrets this fact, in the present instance it has been a boon, for the insertion of two editorials from leading engineering papers has been rendered possible. The writer realizes that the ideas he has given of the profession of engineering are so totally at variance with the ideas of the newspaper-reading public, that this corroborative testimony is required, for the editorials closely reflect all that has been said in the preceding pages.
It will, perhaps, do no harm to say that Chapter VI was written four years ago, at the request of an editor, who wanted an article on the subject : " Will It Pay to Study Engineering?" He promptly declined the article when received, writing as follows: "You certainly must be mistaken or your experience has been unusual. This is the first time I have ever read such statements regarding the engineering profession, which is universally
considered, I might say is known, to be very remunerative." No arguments could move him, and one of his corps of special writers prepared the sort of article he wanted, which appeared on the front page of an educational edition, in the latter part of the summer, filled with advertisements of schools, a goodly number of technical schools being listed. The writer later submitted the article to a newspaper syndicate, four newspapers and three magazines, finally being compelled to write this book, in which it is the final chapter, in order to have it printed. In the light of this information the editorials are doubly interesting.
THIS is the period at which the up-to-date purveyor of education is beginning to realize the results of the publicity campaign of the last season. The traditional college president has always until now been a bald-headed and bespectacled minister of the gospel, clad in shiny broadcloth and dividing his time between homilies to his assembled flock of students and instructing them in Paley's Evidences. But we have changed all that and to-day the personage chosen to head an educational institution is very likely to be a polished and smooth-spoken man of affairs, smartly dressed and ready to meet all sorts and conditions of men
with the persuasive affability that leads to legacies. His chief function is administrative, and he is become, in fact, the manager of a species of educational department store, keenly anxious to advertise his wares and judging the success of his campaign by the number of customers who attend his bargain sales of learning. The change may be, on the whole, for the worse or better, but the thing w^hich here concerns us is the nature of the advertising campaign which is carried on and the veracity of the claims made for the goods advertised. There is no educational pure food law which compels nostrums to be labeled with their percentage composition, so that when a skilfully worded advertisement proclaims the virtues of mechanical engineering syrup, or electrical engineering cough mixture, the would-be customer knows as little of its real virtue as the man who reads the certificate of a centenarian to somebody's stomach bitters knows how far those bitters vary from ordinary whisky or whether the centenarian ever lived.
To be quite serious, the situation in technical education calls for comment, for the publicity methods adopted by some institutions, from the humble but profitable correspondence schools to the university with 4000 or 5000 students, are often open to somewhat severe criticism, chiefly because the respective courses advertised are proclaimed as nostrums, a few doses of which must inevitably
lead to distinguished success, measured in dollars. Unfortunately, of course, those who take the medicine do not always or often reach the expected result, and learn too late that the published certificates of excellence are slightly misleading. It is the purpose of this comment to present some of the hard facts regarding the courses of treatment commonly prescribed.
As regards the engineering professions, nothing is further from the fact than the common delusion that they are especially promising and lucrative. They are honorable callings, very alluring to those whose tastes run in technical lines, and guaranteeing a decent livelihood which may rise to distinguished success if supplemented by extraordinary ability, rare good fortune or an exceptionally powerful pull, these three additional factors being here rated in increasing order of practical importance. Many statistics have been published in the last few years regarding the earning capacity of technical school graduates at various periods after graduation. They sound well, but in point of fact they are no more encouraging than what could be derived from similar statistics gathered from the graduates of non-technical institutions of similar grade, or from men of similar ability and opportunities trained only in mercantile pursuits. The group last mentioned would practically be impossible of comparative investigation, for the simple reason that of late years it
has been the fashion for young men of good ability and from well-to-do families to acquire a collegiate education of one kind or another.
There are certainly no large prizes to be drawn in the ordinary course of events from the engineering lottery, and investigation of the affairs of any large company would show that the big salaries do not fall to the lot of the engineering force, however competent. Now and then they may be drawn by men who have received technical training, but in virtue of circumstances quite apart from that training. If one were to judge education by pecuniary results, as shown by statistics, it is altogether probable that the supreme place would be taken by Harvard or Yale, not in virtue of any special excellence of the education there to
be obtained, but from the simple fact that both these institutions have drawn in large numbers students whose antecedents have foreordained them to pecuniary success. A few men in any given class who inherit the great business interests which mean large apparent earnings raise the average to a point that bears no relation to the value of the course of educational training they may have followed.
As an example of the fallacy of statistics one may profitably examine the claims made in the last few years for the so-called business courses of the post-graduate variety. The nominal result indicates great rewards for the diligent student, but a
little examination of the situation makes it perfectly evident that few or no young men have time or money to devote to post-graduate courses in finance, unless they have already within reach openings for which this additional training is merely a convenient preparation. Many men of large affairs proclaim bitterly and justifiably of the lack of trained men for positions of high responsibility, but save in very rare instances these positions do not go to young men whose sole recommendation is education and ability. The collegeeducated man who quickly lands in an important position generally does so because he has been trained with reference to putting him in that particular position.
The " business course" is not wholly a hollow sham, for it imparts information of which, with opportunity, great use may be made, but the opportunity is generally the cause rather than the result of the training. Mental discipline in engineering or otherwise is, in and of itself, a good thing, and on the average the well-trained man stands a much better chance of making good when opportunity offers than the untrained man. In so far, institutions of learning do not either fail of their purpose or claim virtues that are not theirs, but the young man who is drawn to them by the publicity campaigns inaugurated of late years should enter without roseate illusions, and with full realization that the most he can hope for is the discipline and
THERE may be some among our readers who, on reading the above title, will question whether engineers need do anything to improve their position. There are plenty of platitudes in print describing the grandeur of the engineer's work, the heavy responsibilities he carries, his advantage over other men in being able to make his work an imperishable monument to his ability. We think, however, most engineers who are daily confronted with the bread-and-butter problem will agree that the present position of the engineering profession leaves very much to be desired.
It is generally agreed, we take it, that at least nine out of ten members of the profession are receiving less for their work than what can be considered a fair compensation, when the degree of responsibility, the uncertain tenure of the employment, the long period of training and experience required to attain a high position in the profession, and the income earned by successful men in other lines of work are all taken into account.
are amassing a competence or wealth— are very largely the men who have given up the professional practice of engineering and taken up some line of business. It is often said that engineering is a poor business. There is, however, plenty of good and profitable business in connection with engineering work.
Certainly, this situation is not one to be approved. It will be admitted, of course, that the professional man in any line of work, if we except the modern surgeon and the corporation lawyer, does not expect to gain a fortune, as fortunes are rated nowadays, in purely professional work ; but at least he ought to gain a comfortable living and a chance to save a competence for his family and his old age.
It need not be said that engineers are mercenary in folding that the work of their profession ought to be better paid. It is well understood that the public to-day pays scant honor to success, unless that success can be translated into terms of dollars and cents. The engineer wants a larger income not alone because of the income or because of what it will yield for himself and his family, but because he realizes that his position in the community in which he lives and the respect that he and his fellow-members of the profession can command is greatly reduced if he is compelled through meager salary or inadequate fees to live on a scale far below that of his neighbors. And what applies to the man in the higher ranks of the profession
applies also to the younger men— to the rank and file, clear down to the beginners. We find men doing work requiring expensive education, a high degree of skill and, more than all else, a high grade of honor and trustworthiness. We find men meeting all these requirements and yet receiving compensation which is too often below that of the skilled workman who is a member of a union.
We shall not attempt to discuss in detail the causes which have led the engineering profession into this situation further than to say that they are traceable in general to the reaction in higher education against the old time training which led nowhere and to the widespread desire among wellto-do parents to fit their sons for the work of a profession rather than for a business career. Whatever the causes, they are beyond the power of the engineer to remove.
The fact must be faced that the profession is overcrowded at the present time and will continue to be overcrowded for a long time to come. This means that the supply of engineers is in excess of the demand and that by the process of competition, wages, salaries and fees inevitably tend toward a minimum below which the supply is reduced by men taking up some other line of work.
It has been seriously proposed by some engineers to follow the example of the trade union and attempt to limit competition and fix a standard scale of wages for draftsmen, instrument men, etc.
It is extremely doubtful whether such a plan could possibly be made operative and whether, in the event that it could, it would be, on the whole, a benefit to the profession. Inevitably, by such a procedure the profession would forfeit something of the public esteem which it now enjoys. Further than this, it must be admitted that to a certain extent competition is beneficial to the profession. If we can have competition that will enable the best and ablest men to rise to the top, competition that will displace the third-rate and fourthrate men, because men of greater ability can be found to fill their places, we might then see an actual benefit to the engineering profession from competition.
In order to view this question in an intelligent and constructive way, we must view it from the side of the public as well as from the side of the engineer. The public complains that the work of the engineer too often is poorly done. There are too many mistakes; there is too much extravagance. The men dealing with large affairs claim that, while there are plenty of engineers who can do this or that or the other special task, they do not know how to find engineers whom they know to be trustworthy to deal with the largest problems and not make mistakes. It is recognized that such engineers when they can be found are literally worth their weight in gold. In high positions of executive responsibility, the engineering man-
It is not often realized, we believe, how difficult is the task of the man who wishes to employ a competent engineer, and how much more difficult the task is than it was twenty-five years ago ! Not because there are fewer competent engineers, by any means ; but because engineering work covers a far wider range, and the profession has grown so large that engineers themselves are often at a loss to find the right man for a special task. It must be said, too, that the public does not fully comprehend the great difference between different grades of competency in engineering. The public is too much inclined to put all engineers into two classes— the good and the bad. It does not realize that there are all grades between the extremes.
An excellent illustration of the attitude of the public toward this question is furnished by the legislation which has been proposed requiring all engineers to pass an examination before an official board and receive a license in order to have the privilege of practising their profession. Talk with almost any layman on such proposed legislation and he will express the opinion offhand that it would be a good thing to have some such law so that the public would be protected from incompetent engineers. He has no appreciation of the flimsiness of any such barrier as a protection to the public.
We have so fully discussed this particular question in recent months that we do not need to consider it further here, except to point out that, from the standpoint of the public, there is real need that it should be assisted in the selection of competent engineers. It will be admitted, perhaps, that the banker or the capitalist engaged in large enterprises knows fairly well how to gauge the ability of the engineers he is accustomed to employ, but that is only one limited aspect of the case. Take the engineers engaged in municipal work: How does the average city council know how to pick out the right engineer when it wants to build a bridge or system of water-works or engage in a large scheme for road improvement1? How shall governors and mayors and public boards know how to select the right engineers for the works they have in charge ? Nor is this question limited to public works. The great bulk of the members of the profession engaged in mechanical engineering are in the employ of manufacturing concerns. How shall the superintendent pick out the right man for a chief draftsman ? How shall the president find the man he needs for a superintendent 9 How shall the board of directors get the right man for the executive head of their concern? Upon such selections as these the financial success of many a concern will directly depend. But in how many cases is a certain man selected for an office
When one stops to think of it, is there any commodity of commerce of such great value which is bought and sold by such crude and imperfect methods as is high-class professional and executive ability ? There are recognized exchanges for buying and selling cotton and grain and metals and stocks. There are even exchanges for buying and selling the ordinary grades of labor ; but when it comes to the highest class of professional service, on which so much depends, the buying and selling is done in a manner which leaves everything to be desired.
Let us take an actual example: Here is a mechanical engineer who has been for nearly half his lifetime in one position, having responsible charge of a certain class of work. He has attended strictly to business, but his work has been technical rather than executive and he has made no wide circle of acquaintances. Some business change occurs. Perhaps the controlling interest in the company changes hands. The works may be closed, or operated under a different system. The new owners have no use for his services. After twenty years of steady work he is thrown out of a position and he has little more idea how to find another one than if he were newly landed on earth after a journey from Mars. Further, and what is one of the most unfortunate features of the whole
4 situation, a man cannot offer his own services for sale without immediately depreciating their market value by 50 per cent, at least. We may say this ought not be so, but we must recognize the existent fact. The mere statement that a man is out of a job and is asking for another always counts against him.
Take another illustration and a very common one : A man is engaged in a steady position, but at work which he knows to be much below his capacity to perform and at a salary much less than he feels he would be worth in a more responsible position. How is such a man to find the opening that will place him where he wants to be ? In some cases, it is true, a man is fortunate enough to have employers or superiors who place the obligations of brotherly kindness above mere mercenary considerations and who are willing that a man should make an effort to better himself without imperiling his present position; but this is far from being always the case.
It may be said, in reply, that there are certain engineering employment agencies carried on by private enterprise which make a business of registering engineers who are open to offers of positions and who, with more or less industry, canvass possible employers. It may be admitted that these concerns do, after a fashion, serve as exchanges whereby the buyer and seller of certain classes of engineering work are brought together and en-
abled to do business. But many a man is loath to place his honor and his professional reputation in the custody of such organizations. Further, these concerns deal only with positions in which salaried men are involved. No solution to this problem can be considered complete which does not deal with the employment of engineers for public work, etc.
We wonder if many engineers have not at some time or other in their lives felt the need of some organization of high standing which could offer their services in the market without in any way lowering their own self-respect or lessening their market value. We do not believe any organization carried on as a private enterprise can meet this need, no matter how well managed or by whom conducted.
At various times in the history of Engineering News, the project has been canvassed of organizing in connection with this journal of some such high-class exchange for professional services as is here proposed; but it is our belief that this is not a field in which private enterprises alone can do the best work. It is our belief that this work should be undertaken by the organized engineering societies of the country, and that it is the most important responsibilty which now lies before them.
It is true that in a small way a number of engineering societies have already undertaken something in the way of an employment exchange.
The American Society of Mechanical Engineers, for example, has for many years published at frequent intervals a bulletin containing a list of its members who are open to offers of new positions, together with a list of employers desiring engineers. In numerous other societies the secretary's office has become more or less of a meeting ground for the members out of work and those looking for engineers.
The criticism we would make upon such work is that, while it is good as far as it goes, it falls far short of what ought to be done to put the buying and selling of high-grade engineering services on a dignified and proper basis. Instead of being a mere trifling side issue, it should be fully organized and important department of every engineering society, and it should be conducted on a business basis.
Let us explain a little more fully what we have in mind: Suppose in the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, for example, there were a complete register including every member of the Society open to offers of a position, or to engineering work of any sort, in a consulting or other capacity, and stating concerning each man all the information that an employer or a client would desire to know. Such a list should, of course, be carefully classified. All the different grades of work would be included so that the society could satisfy applications either from the directors of
a manufacturing concern in search of the right man for an executive head, or, at the other extreme, from concerns having openings for student members just graduating from college.
It is recognized, of course, that, before any concern selects an important executive officer, personal interviews will be had and thorough investigation of the man's past record will be made. The Society employment exchange would not recommend one man or another, but it would place in the hands of a concern in search of a vice-president, a superintendent, or a chief draftsman the names of three men or eight men or twenty men who would be eligible candidates for the position. It would show for each of these candidates what their entire experience and professional record had been. It would give the names of the men best qualified from personal acquaintance to speak as to the ability and character of each candidate suggested.
We believe that this service, if conducted as it might be conducted, would render greater benefits to the engineering profession and to the public which employs engineers than any other work in which the engineering societies of the United States have ever engaged. Of course, there would be difficulties in the conduct of any such organization. There are difficulties in accomplishing any useful and important task. There would be room, of course, for favoritism to creep in and for the
Society to be made a tool to advance the interests of a certain few who were on the inside, with respect particularly to the recommendation of men for the highest positions.
It does not seem to us, however, that this is a strong argument against the undertaking of any such work. When the essential principle of professional work is honorable adherence to fair and impartial standards, we cannot believe that it is impossible for the organizations representing the engineering societies of the United States to carry out such an important trust in an honorable and impartial manner. If any of the societies are not now organized so that they are truly representative of the membership at large and so that the governing body can be trusted with large responsibilities by the membership, then reorganization is needed in any event.
Of course the argument will be brought forward that there would be dissatisfaction with a Society on the part of certain of its members who would fail to get positions and who might even have their present positions jeopardized, because it would be found possible to provide better men in their places. But failure to benefit such men is no reason why a Society should not do what it can to benefit its abler members. The fact must be faced that, with all the care taken in the selection of men for membership in the national societies, there is included in the membership of all of them
a certain proportion of men of low grade. Of course, a Society cannot, in justice to its reputation, assist to place such men in positions where they are likely to bring discredit upon the profession. Nor would it be likely to under the plan we have suggested above, under which those desiring to employ engineers would be simply given a list of eligibles, with their qualifications, experience and references and the employer would make his own selection.
It is worth while to emphasize the fact even farther that the public needs this service from the engineering organizations as much as, if not more than the profession itself needs it. Millions of public funds to-day are being wastef ully expended because of the failure of the public to place highgrade experts in charge of the technical departments of public work. This is realized by very many intelligent citizens, but the difficulty they experience is in distinguishing the real expert from the man who poses as one.
If the engineering societies would each create an organization and make known their abilty to furnish a list of high-class experts available for any class of engineering work, we believe their services would be in demand by city councils, by mayors, by governors and heads of state departments and even by many departments of the federal government, besides the demand from private business concerns.
Such a work by the societies would supplement and systematize the work which is now being done by many engineers, by the deans of engineering schools, by the heads of important engineering firms. At present when a man wants an engineer for an important piece of work and does not know where to find him, he writes letters to half a dozen people or firms who he conceives might know of such a man. All these people, as a rule, take time from their regular work to answer these queries to the best of their ability, knowing that they themselves may need aid in a similar search at any time. At the same time the engineer who is out of a position, or who is in a position and wants a better one, is writing twenty letters to people he knows who might suggest where what he wants can be obtained.
Such monumental inefficiency in connection with the buying and selling of engineering work is a disgrace to the engineering profession; but the individual engineer is powerless to help himself and can do very little to aid others.
Only through the organizations representative of the engineering profession can a systematic method be established for bringing the competent engineer into touch with the employer who desires first-class professional service and is willing to pay for it.
tribute annually some $300,000 for their support. These societies have the standing and reputation and public prestige to undertake such a work as we have proposed and make it a success. We repeat that it is the most important responsibility which is now before them.
AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS
WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE.
| 56,722 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | engineeringasvoc00mccurich | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0001.json.gz:1263 | https://archive.org/download/engineeringasvoc00mccurich/engineeringasvoc00mccurich_djvu.txt |
ZYqjoB8xsgtDE2Xx | The MLCKRB (Master List Code Key and Rule Book): An English Grammar & Style Handbook | P3: Jargon, Slang, Idiom, or Sexist Language
P3: Jargon, Slang, Idiom, or Sexist Language: Avoid jargon, slang, idiomatic, or sexist language in formal writing. See Writing for Success Section 5.8 pp. 217-220 or the following: https://writingcenter.unc.edu/tips-and-tools/style/
Avoid using jargon – overcomplicated terms and clouds meaning.
He yelped when the arrow struck him in the supraspinatus. – Jargon
He yelped when the arrow struck him in the shoulder muscle. – Clearer
Avoid using slang or informal expressions in scholarly writing. Write as if writing to your boss’s boss rather than as if your writing to friends.
People shouldn’t throw shade on Aaron, because he’s the GOAT. – Too Informal
People should not disrespect Aaron, because he’s admirable. – More Appropriate
Avoid using idiomatic expressions in scholarly writing. Write as if only the most literal meaning will be understood.
Stan doesn’t beat around the bush when it comes to sales. – Potentially confusing
Stan is very direct when it comes to sales. — Clearer
Dave had a heart attack when he got his power bill. – Potentially Confusing
Dave was very unsettled when he got his power bill. — Clearer
Avoid using language that perpetuates a sexist stereotype.
Only a prominent businessman could get that account. – Risks a sexist implication.
Only a prominent businessperson could get that account. – Avoids a sexist implication.
The only person on call was a male nurse behind the desk. – Risks a sexist implication.
The only person on call was a nurse behind the desk. – Avoids a sexist implication. | 331 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://open.maricopa.edu/milkherb/chapter/p3-jargon-slang-idiom-or-sexist-language/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:12021 | https://open.maricopa.edu/milkherb/chapter/p3-jargon-slang-idiom-or-sexist-language/ |
8ikNH_uSYAMWXV5i | 1.17: Telepharmacy- building a connection to close the healthcare gap | 1.17: Telepharmacy- building a connection to close the healthcare gap
At the end of this case, students will be able to:
- Discuss the barriers to quality health care in rural settings
- Describe the types of available telepharmacy services
- Define Medication Therapy Management (MTM) and the requirements as developed by managed care organizations
- Explain the advantages and disadvantages of telepharmacy services
Introduction
The United States is a country in transition. According to the US Census Bureau for 2010, about 60 million Americans, 19% of the population, lived in rural areas. 1 Although rural counties demonstrated a 3% growth in population since the 2000s, according to Pew Research Analysis, today, within each county, there has been about a 52% decline in population due to economic shifts. 2 Rural communities face multiple challenges that result in disparities compared to urban settings. Primarily, access to quality care is limited due to the lack of human and capital resources. Difficulties recruiting and retaining quality health care professionals (particularly for areas competing with urban settings) 3 and reduced funding and payer reimbursement for providers create barriers to consistent care. Patients in rural communities are also more likely to be older, less affluent and underinsured, 4,5 with higher rates of chronic conditions and adverse health outcomes compared to those in urban settings. 6
Although the current supply of pharmacists in the United States is mostly meeting demand, 7 many of these pharmacists are not practicing in rural areas. The RUPRI Center for Rural Health Policy Analysis found that between 2003 and 2018, more than 1,200 independently owned pharmacies closed in rural communities. 8 Of this, 589 rural communities that had one pharmacy in 2003 had zero by March 2018. 8 With rural areas experiencing a shortage of other health care practitioners as well, the closing of pharmacies in these areas could also mean the loss of the only healthcare practitioner who may have been providing services to the community and filling a critical void. Telepharmacy, or the provision of services by pharmacists to patients or their caregivers using technology, 9 has become an increasingly popular strategy to fill such these voids while expanding both the role of and career opportunities for pharmacists. Telepharmacy provides a cost-effective means for pharmacists to provide routine and highly specialized clinical services in remote areas where the need may be greatest. In addition to remote order entry, order verification, and medication dispensing, telepharmacy services performed by pharmacists can include drug reviews and monitoring, assessment of patients and clinical outcomes, patient counseling, medication therapy management, sterile and non-sterile compounding verification, drug information, and clinical consultations with other health care practitioners. 10
The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) encourages innovative healthcare models and recognizes the value of integrating pharmacists to coordinate the Triple AIM Initiatives to improve patients’ care experience, improve population health, and reduce per capita healthcare costs. One of the ways Managed Care Organizations (MCOs) employ cost-saving and innovative practices is by providing telepharmacy services to their members. 11
CMS adopted the Pharmacy Quality Alliance (PQA) MTM Completion Rate as a performance metric by which program sponsors will be evaluated. This requires sponsors offering Part D plans to establish MTM programs provided by pharmacists or other qualified providers to their members with the goal of optimizing therapeutic outcomes and reducing the risk of adverse events. Pharmacists at MCOs, PBMs, retail pharmacies, or MTM centers can utilize pharmacy and medical claims to identify eligible members to provide telephonic MTM services. The MTM programs target Part D enrollees with multiple chronic diseases, who are taking multiple Part D drugs, and who are likely to incur annual costs for these Part D drugs that exceed predetermined level; however, these services may be expanded to members who do not meet the eligibility criteria. Each sponsor has the ability to set the minimum number of chronic conditions as well as the minimum number of covered Part D drugs the member must have filled to be eligible for the MTM program. At the minimum, sponsors must offer interventions for members and prescribers utilizing an annual comprehensive medication review (CMR) and quarterly targeted medication reviews (TMRs). 12
Case
You are a pharmacist scheduled for a CMR using the telepharmacy service with a patient on your quarterly report.
CC: “I need my medication reviewed because I received this letter from my insurance.”
Patient: GM is a 75-year-old Caucasian female of Scandinavian descent who lives independently in a rural town in upstate New York. She is wheelchair-bound and uses mail order for all of her prescriptions. She prides herself on her home cooking and enjoys baking “Amish” style pies with lard. GM would like to be more active but since GM became wheelchair bound, she does not believe that she can exercise and spends most of her free time knitting in front of the television or reading magazines that she receives in the mail. She is interested in sitting down with someone to learn more about why she is taking so many medications as well as healthy lifestyle changes but is unable to get transportation to the local pharmacy and does not have internet access.
HPI: GM has LASARA insurance and is eligible for a CMR by a pharmacist because she is currently taking more than eight medications to manage her chronic diseases. GM appears on the LASARA MTM pharmacist’s quarterly report indicating to complete a CMR.
PMH: Osteoporosis; diabetes; HTN; vitamin D deficiency
FH:
- Father: T2DM and hyperlipidemia, died of heart attack at 83 years
- Mother: osteoporosis and hypertension, died of old age at 93 years
SH:
- Smokes cigarettes (one PPD)
- Drinks socially (1 glass of wine)
- Loves Mountain Mist (2 liters/day)
- Little to no physical activity
Medications:
- Miacalcin Instill 1 spray in one nostril once daily
- Calcium Citrate 250 mg and vitamin D 200 units twice daily
- Metformin 500 mg twice daily
- Lisinopril 10 mg daily
- HCTZ 25 mg once daily
- Lantus 25 units at bedtime
- Novolin R sliding scale three times a day before meals
- Senna S one tablet daily
- Miralax daily
- Diazepam 5 mg 1 tablet daily as needed for anxiety
- Ambien 5 mg daily as needed for insomnia
- Norco 5/325 mg every 6 hours as needed for pain
Vaccinations: Up to date
Labs: None available at this time
SDH: Patient resides in government-subsidized senior housing in rural upstate New York. She retired from her job as a Processing Technician at a multinational information technology company. She completed her Associates Degree in Computer Science from SUNY Broome. Her income consists of her pension and social security checks. Her family has relocated and may visit 1-2 times a year.
Case Questions
- What healthcare challenges do patients encounter in the rural setting?
- How might a patient be identified for telepharmacy services in managed care?
- In addition to a CMR, what additional services could be provided by a telepharmacist to GM?
- What may be perceived advantages and disadvantages of telepharmacy?
Author Commentary
With an increasing number of rural communities becoming pharmacy deserts, telepharmacy is an innovative pharmacy practice option that has the potential to both introduce and expand routine and clinical pharmacy services, while ensuring care in our rural populations is not lost. Telepharmacy not only benefits the rural patients who will be able to receive the high-quality services, but it also benefits rural hospitals, both small and large, by giving them access to 24-hour pharmacy coverage and helping them to expand its services. With renewed or continued access to pharmacy services, telepharmacy could also minimize or eliminate variables at the health care system level that contribute to health disparities, such as the availability of healthcare practitioners and the geographic location of services.
Patient Approaches and Opportunities
It is important to recognize that telepharmacy is becoming one of the preferred strategies to expand pharmacy services to rural communities. As telepharmacy continues to evolve, we will see additional models developed and improved, while the role of the pharmacist is also further defined. Today, the pharmacist is responsible for supporting the patient and encouraging the use of the technology-based telepharmacy services. Rural patients may have limited access and experience with computers, cell-phones, webcams, and other software used to host clinical services. Thus, patients may be apprehensive to the service and engaging an unknown pharmacist through the use of technology. It is critical to the pharmacist-patient relationship that time is dedicated to discussing any potential discomfort and/or concerns about the telepharmacy service before addressing the goals of the interaction. As pharmacists, insurance companies, PBMs, and other providers decide to expand their services to include a telepharmacy component, an environmental scan and/or needs assessment is critical to the success of the initiative.
Related chapters of interest:
- Plant now, harvest later: services for rural underserved patients
- More than just diet and exercise: social determinants of health and well-being
- Communicating health information: hidden barriers and practical approaches
- Only a mirage: searching for healthy options in a food desert
- Let your pharmacist be your guide: navigating barriers to pharmaceutical access
- The great undoing: a journey from systemic racism to social determinants of health
External resources:
- Poudel A, Nissen LM. Telepharmacy: a pharmacist’s perspective on the clinical benefits and challenges. Integrated Pharm Res Pract 2016;5:75-82.
- Peterson CD, Anderson HC. The North Dakota Telepharmacy Project: restoring and retaining pharmacy services in rural communities. J Pharm Technol 2004;20:28-39.
- The North Dakota Telepharmacy Project: https://www.ndsu.edu/telepharmacy/
- Erickson AK, Yap D. On the line: telepharmacy technology expands hospital pharmacists’ reach. Pharmacy Today 2016;22(4):4-5.
- Federal Office of Rural Health Policy: https://www.hrsa.gov/rural-health/index.html
- Rural Healthy People 2020: https://srhrc.tamhsc.edu/rhp2020/index.html
- National Rural Health Association Policy Documents: https://www.ruralhealthweb.org/advocate/policy-documents
- 2018 Medicare Part D Medication Therapy Management (MTM) Programs Fact Sheet: https://www.cms.gov/Medicare/Prescription-Drug-Coverage/PrescriptionDrugCovContra/Downloads/CY2018-MTM-Fact-Sheet.pdf
References
- Rural America-Story Map Series. https://gis-portal.data.census.gov/arcgis/apps/MapSeries/index.html?appid=7a41374f6b03456e9d138cb014711e01 . Accessed November 1, 2018.
- Parker K, Hororwitz JM, et al. “Demographic and Economic Trends in Urban, Suburban and Rural Communities.” What Unites and Divides Urban, Suburban, and Rural Communities, Pew Research Center’s Social & Demographic Trends Project, 22 May 2018, http://www.pewsocialtrends.org/2018/05/22/demographic-and-economic-trends-in-urban-suburban-and-rural-communities/ . Accessed November 1, 2018.
- Health Care Workforce Distribution and Shortage Issues in Rural America. National Rural Health Association. https://www.ruralhealthweb.org/getattachment/Advocate/Policy-Documents/HealthCareWorkforceDistributionandShortageJanuary2012.pdf.aspx?lang=en-US . Accessed November 1, 2018.
- Cohen SA, Cook SK, Sando TA, et al. What aspects of rural life contribute to rural-urban health disparities in older adults? Evidence from a national survey. J Rural Health . 2018;34(3):293-303.
- The Future of Rural Health. National Rural Health Association. February 2013. https://www.ruralhealthweb.org/getattachment/Advocate/Policy-Documents/FutureofRuralHealthFeb-2013.pdf.aspx?lang=en-US . Accessed November 1, 2018.
- Sriram U, Morgan EH, Graham ML, et al. Support and sabotage: a qualitative study of social influences on health behaviors among rural adults. J Rural Health . 2018;34(3), 88-97.
- Pharmacy Manpower. Pharmacist Demand Indicator. National Pharmacist Demand, Quarter 3, 2018. Accessed November 3, 2018.
- Rupri Center for Rural Health Policy Analysis. Update: Independently Owned Pharmacy Closures in Rural American, 2003-2018. https://cph.uiowa.edu/rupri/publications/policybriefs/2018/2018%20Pharmacy%20Closures.pdf . Accessed November 3, 2018.
- National Association of Boards of Pharmacy. Model State Pharmacy Act and Model Rules of the National Association of Boards of Pharmacy. https://nabp.pharmacy/publications-reports/resource-documents/model-pharmacy-act-rules/ . Accessed November 3, 2018.
- Alexander E, Butler CD, Darr A, Jenkins MT, Long RD, Shipman CJ, et al. ASHP Statement on Telepharmacy. Am J Health Syst Pharm . 2017;74(9):e236-e241.
- Institute for Healthcare Improvement Website. http://www.ihi.org/Topics/TripleAim/Pages/default.aspx . Accessed November 5, 2018.
- 2018 Medicare Part D Medication Therapy Management (MTM) Programs. Center for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS). https://www.cms.gov/Medicare/Prescription-Drug-Coverage/PrescriptionDrugCovContra/Downloads/CY2018-MTM-Fact-Sheet.pdf . Accessed November 5, 2018.
- Healthcare Access in Rural Communities Introduction. Rural Health Information Hub. www.ruralhealthinfo.org/topics/healthcare-access#population-health . Accessed November 5, 2018.
- Telehealth. Rural Health Information Hub. https://www.ruralhealthinfo.org/topics/telehealth . Accessed November 5, 2018.
- Littauer SL, Dixon DL, Mishra VK, Sisson EM, Salgado TM. Pharmacists providing care in the outpatient setting through telemedicine models: a narrative review. Pharm Pract (Granada) . 2017;15(4):1134. | 2,580 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Pharmacology_and_Neuroscience/Public_Health_in_Pharmacy_Practice_2e_-_A_Casebook_(Covvey_Arya_and_Mager)/01%3A_Chapters/1.17%3A_Telepharmacy-_building_a_connection_to_close_the_healthcare_gap | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:49032 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Pharmacology_and_Neuroscience/Public_Health_in_Pharmacy_Practice_2e_-_A_Casebook_(Covvey_Arya_and_Mager)/01%3A_Chapters/1.17%3A_Telepharmacy-_building_a_connection_to_close_the_healthcare_gap |
wbnx5fdbApjcGKOf | The Reminiscences of an Astronomer | E-text prepared by Ferdinand van Aartsen
THE REMINISCENCES OF AN ASTRONOMER
by
SIMON NEWCOMB
1903
PREFACE
The earlier chapters of this collection are so much in the nature
of an autobiography that the author has long shrunk from the idea of
allowing them to see the light during his lifetime. His repugnance
has been overcome by very warm expressions on the subject uttered
by valued friends to whom they were shown, and by a desire that
some at least who knew him in youth should be able to read what he
has written.
The author trusts that neither critic nor reader will object
because he has, in some cases, strayed outside the limits of his
purely personal experience, in order to give a more complete view
of a situation, or to bring out matters that might be of historic
interest. If some of the chapters are scrappy, it is because he
has tried to collect those experiences which have afforded him most
food for thought, have been most influential in shaping his views,
or are recalled with most pleasure.
CONTENTS
THE WORLD OF COLD AND DARKNESS
Ancestry.--Squire Thomas Prince.--Parentage.--Early Education.--
Books read.
II
DR. FOSHAY
A Long Journey on Foot.--A Wonderful Doctor.--The Botanic System of
Medicine.--Phrenology.--A Launch into the World.--A Disillusion.--
Life in Maryland.--Acquaintance with Professor Henry.--Removal
to Cambridge.
THE WORLD OF SWEETNESS AND LIGHT
The American Astronomical Ephemeris.--The Men who made it.--
Harvard in the Middle of the Century.--A Librarian of the Time.--
Professor Peirce.--Dr. Gould, the "Astronomical Journal," and the
Dudley Observatory.--W. P. G. Bartlett.--John D. Runkle and the
"Mathematical Monthly."--A Mathematical Politician.--A Trip to
Manitoba and a Voyage up the Saskatchewan.--A Wonderful Star.
IV
LIFE AND WORK AT AN OBSERVATORY
A Professor, United States Navy.--The Naval Observatory in 1861.--
Captain Gilliss and his Plans.--Admiral Davis.--A New Instrument
and a New Departure.--Astronomical Activity.--The Question of
Observatory Administration.--Visit from the Emperor of Brazil.--
Admiral John Rodgers.--Efforts to improve the Work of the
Observatory.
V
GREAT TELESCOPES AND THEIR WORK
Curious Origin of the Great Washington Telescope.--Congress
is induced to act.--A Case of Astronomical Fallibility.--
The Discovery of the Satellites of Mars.--The Great Telescope
of the Pulkova Observatory.--Alvan Clark and his Sons.--A Sad
Astronomical Accident.
VI
THE TRANSITS OF VENUS
Old Transits of Venus.--An Astronomical Expedition in the 18th
Century.--Father Hell and his Observations.--A Suspected Forger
vindicated.--The American Commission on the Transit of Venus.--
The Photographic Method to be applied.--Garfield and the
Appropriation Committee.--Weather Uncertainties.--Voyage to
the Cape of Good Hope.--The Transit of 1882.--Our Failure to
publish our Observations.
VII
THE LICK OBSERVATORY
James Lick and his Ideas.--Mr. D. O. Mills.--Plans for the Lick
Observatory.--Edward E. Barnard.--Professor Holden.--Wonderful
Success of the Observatory.
VIII
THE AUTHOR'S SCIENTIFIC WORK
The Orbits of the Asteroids.--The Problems of Mathematical
Astronomy.--The Motion of the Moon and its Perplexing
Inequalities.--A Visit to the Paris Observatory to search for
Forgotten Observations.--Wonderful Success in finding Them.--
The Paris Commune.--The History of the Moon's Motion carried back
a Century.--The Harvard Observatory.--The "Nautical Almanac" Office
and its Work.--Mr. George W. Hill and his Work.--A Wonderful
Algebraist.--The Meridian Conference of 1884, and the Question
of Universal Time.--Tables of the Planets completed.--
The Astronomical Constants.--Work unfinished.
IX
SCIENTIFIC WASHINGTON
Professor Henry and the Smithsonian Institution.--
Alumni Associations.--The Scientific Club.--General Sherman.--
Mr. Hugh McCulloch.--A Forgotten Scientist.--The National Academy of
Sciences.--The Geological Survey of the Territories.--The Government
Forestry System.--Professor O. C. Marsh.--Scientific Humbugs.--
Life on the Plains.
X
SCIENTIFIC ENGLAND
My First Trip to Europe.--Mr. Thomas Hughes.--Mr. John Stuart Mill.
--Mr. Gladstone and the Royal Society Dinner.--Other Eminent
Englishmen.--Professors Cayley and Adams.--Professor Airy and
the Greenwich Observatory.--A Visit to Edinburgh.
XI
MEN AND THINGS IN EUROPE
A Voyage to Gibraltar with Professor Tyndall.--The Great Fortress.
--"Whispering Boanerges."--A Winter Voyage in the Mediterranean.--
Malta and Messina.--Advantage of not understanding a Language.--
German Astronomers.--The Pulkova Observatory.--A Meeting which
might have been Embarrassing.--From Germany to Paris at the Close
of the War.--Experiences at Paris during the Commune.--The Greatest
Astronomer of France.--The Paris Observatory.
XII
THE OLD AND THE NEW WASHINGTON
Washington during the Civil War.--Secretary Stanton.--
The Raid of General Early.--A Presidential Levee in 1864.--
The Fall of Richmond.--The Assassination of President Lincoln.--
Negro Traits and Education.--Senator Sumner.--An Ambitious Academy.
--President Garfield and his Assassination.--Cooling the White House
during his Illness.--The Shepherd Régime in Washington.
XIII
MISCELLANEA
The Great Star-Catalogue Case.--Professor Peters and the
Almagest of Ptolemy.--Scientific Cranks.--The Degrees of the
French Universities.--A Virginia Country School.--Political Economy
and Education.--Exact Science in America before the Johns Hopkins
University.--Professor Ely and Economics.--Spiritualism and
Psychic Research.--The Georgia Magnetic Girl.
THE REMINISCENCES OF AN ASTRONOMER
THE WORLD OF COLD AND DARKNESS
I date my birth into the world of sweetness and light on one
frosty morning in January, 1857, when I took my seat between two
well-known mathematicians, before a blazing fire in the office
of the "Nautical Almanac" at Cambridge, Mass. I had come on from
Washington, armed with letters from Professor Henry and Mr. Hilgard,
to seek a trial as an astronomical computer. The men beside me
were Professor Joseph Winlock, the superintendent, and Mr. John
D. Runkle, the senior assistant in the office. I talked of my
unsuccessful attempt to master the "Mécanique Céleste" of Laplace
without other preparation than that afforded by the most meagre
text-books of elementary mathematics of that period. Runkle spoke
of the translator as "the Captain." So familiar a designation of
the great Bowditch--LL. D. and a member of the Royal Societies of
London, Edinburgh, and Dublin--quite shocked me.
I was then in my twenty-second year, but it was the first time I
had ever seen any one who was familiar with the "Mécanique Céleste."
I looked with awe upon the assistants who filed in and out as upon men
who had all the mysteries of gravitation and the celestial motions at
their fingers' ends. I should not have been surprised to learn that
even the Hibernian who fed the fire had imbibed so much of the spirit
of the place as to admire the genius of Laplace and Lagrange. My own
rank was scarcely up to that of a tyro; but I was a few weeks later
employed on trial as computer at a salary of thirty dollars a month.
How could an incident so simple and an employment so humble be
in itself an epoch in one's life--an entrance into a new world?
To answer this question some account of my early life is necessary.
The interest now taken in questions of heredity and in the study of
the growing mind of the child may excuse a word about my ancestry
and early training.
Though born in Nova Scotia, I am of almost pure New England descent.
The first Simon Newcomb, from whom I am of the sixth generation, was
born in Massachusetts or Maine about 1666, and died at Lebanon, Conn.,
in 1745. His descendants had a fancy for naming their eldest sons
after him, and but for the chance of my father being a younger son,
I should have been the sixth Simon in unbroken lineal descent. [1]
Among my paternal ancestors none, so far as I know, with the exception
of Elder Brewster, were what we should now call educated men. Nor did
any other of them acquire great wealth, hold a high official position,
or do anything to make his name live in history. On my mother's side
are found New England clergymen and an English nonconformist preacher,
named Prince, who is said to have studied at Oxford towards the end
of the seventeenth century, but did not take a degree. I do not
know of any college graduate in the list.
Until I was four years old I lived in the house of my paternal
grandfather, about two miles from the pretty little village of
Wallace, at the mouth of the river of that name. He was, I believe,
a stonecutter by trade and owner of a quarry which has since become
important; but tradition credits him with unusual learning and with
having at some time taught school.
My maternal grandfather was "Squire" Thomas Prince, a native of Maine,
who had moved to Moncton, N. B., early in his life, and lived there
the rest of his days. He was an upright magistrate, a Puritan in
principle, and a pillar of the Baptist Church, highly respected
throughout the province. He came from a long-lived family, and one
so prolific that it is said most of the Princes of New England are
descended from it. I have heard a story of him which may illustrate
the freedom of the time in matters of legal proceedings before a
magistrate's court. At that time a party in a suit could not be a
witness. In the terse language of the common people, "no man could
swear money into his own pocket." The plaintiff in the case advised
the magistrate in advance that he had no legal proof of the debt,
but that defendant freely acknowledged it in private conversation.
"Well," said the magistrate, "bring him in here and get him to talk
about it while I am absent."
The time came.
"If you had n't sued me I would have paid you," said the defendant.
On the moment the magistrate stepped from behind a door with the
remark,--
"I think you will pay him now, whether or no."
My father was the most rational and the most dispassionate of men.
The conduct of his life was guided by a philosophy based on Combe's
"Constitution of Man," and I used to feel that the law of the
land was a potent instrument in shaping his paternal affections.
His method of seeking a wife was so far unique that it may not be
devoid of interest, even at this date. From careful study he had
learned that the age at which a man should marry was twenty-five.
A healthy and well-endowed offspring should be one of the main
objects in view in entering the marriage state, and this required
a mentally gifted wife. She must be of different temperament from
his own and an economical housekeeper. So when he found the age of
twenty-five approaching, he began to look about. There was no one in
Wallace who satisfied the requirements. He therefore set out afoot
to discover his ideal. In those days and regions the professional
tramp and mendicant were unknown, and every farmhouse dispensed its
hospitality with an Arcadian simplicity little known in our times.
Wherever he stopped overnight he made a critical investigation of
the housekeeping, perhaps rising before the family for this purpose.
He searched in vain until his road carried him out of the province.
One young woman spoiled any possible chance she might have had by a
lack of economy in the making of bread. She was asked what she did
with an unnecessarily large remnant of dough which she left sticking
to the sides of the pan. She replied that she fed it to the horses.
Her case received no further consideration.
The search had extended nearly a hundred miles when, early one
evening, he reached what was then the small village of Moncton.
He was attracted by the strains of music from a church, went into
it, and found a religious meeting in progress. His eye was at once
arrested by the face and head of a young woman playing on a melodeon,
who was leading the singing. He sat in such a position that he could
carefully scan her face and movements. As he continued this study
the conviction grew upon him that here was the object of his search.
That such should have occurred before there was any opportunity to
inspect the doughpan may lead the reader to conclusions of his own.
He inquired her name--Emily Prince. He cultivated her acquaintance,
paid his addresses, and was accepted. He was fond of astronomy, and
during the months of his engagement one of his favorite occupations
was to take her out of an evening and show her the constellations.
It is even said that, among the daydreams in which they indulged, one
was that their firstborn might be an astronomer. Probably this was
only a passing fancy, as I heard nothing of it during my childhood.
The marriage was in all respects a happy one, so far as congeniality
of nature and mutual regard could go. Although the wife died at the
early age of thirty-seven, the husband never ceased to cherish her
memory, and, so far as I am aware, never again thought of marrying.
My mother was the most profoundly and sincerely religious woman
with whom I was ever intimately acquainted, and my father always
entertained and expressed the highest admiration for her mental
gifts, to which he attributed whatever talents his children might
have possessed. The unfitness of her environment to her constitution
is the saddest memory of my childhood. More I do not trust myself
to say to the public, nor will the reader expect more of me.
My father followed, during most of his life, the precarious occupation
of a country school teacher. It was then, as it still is in many
thinly settled parts of the country, an almost nomadic profession,
a teacher seldom remaining more than one or two years in the same
place. Thus it happened that, during the first fifteen years of
my life, movings were frequent. My father tried his fortune in a
number of places, both in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island.
Our lot was made harder by the fact that his ideas of education
did not coincide with those prevalent in the communities where
he taught. He was a disciple and admirer of William Cobbett, and
though he did not run so far counter to the ideas of his patrons as
to teach Cobbett's grammar at school, he always recommended it to
me as the one by which alone I could learn to write good English.
The learning of anything, especially of arithmetic and grammar, by
the glib repetition of rules was a system that he held in contempt.
With the public, ability to recite the rules of such subjects as
those went farther than any actual demonstration of the power to
cipher correctly or write grammatically.
So far as the economic condition of society and the general mode of
living and thinking were concerned, I might claim to have lived in
the time of the American Revolution. A railway was something read
or heard about with wonder; a steamer had never ploughed the waters
of Wallace Bay. Nearly everything necessary for the daily life of
the people had to be made on the spot, and even at home. The work
of the men and boys was "from sun to sun,"--I might almost say from
daylight to darkness,--as they tilled the ground, mended the fences,
or cut lumber, wood, and stone for export to more favored climes.
The spinning wheel and the loom were almost a necessary part of the
furniture of any well-ordered house; the exceptions were among people
rich enough to buy their own clothes, or so poor and miserable that
they had to wear the cast-off rags of their more fortunate neighbors.
The women and girls sheared the sheep, carded the wool, spun the
yarn, wove the homespun cloth, and made the clothes. In the haying
season they amused themselves by joining in the raking of hay, in
which they had to be particularly active if rain was threatened;
but any man would have lost caste who allowed wife or daughter to
engage in heavy work outside the house.
The contrast between the social conditions and those which surround
even the poorest classes at the present day have had a profound
influence upon my views of economic subjects. The conception which
the masses of the present time have of how their ancestors lived in
the early years of the century are so vague and shadowy as not to
influence their conduct at the present time.
What we now call school training, the pursuit of fixed studies
at stated hours under the constant guidance of a teacher, I could
scarcely be said to have enjoyed. For the most part, when I attended
my father's school at all, I came and went with entire freedom,
and this for causes which, as we shall see, he had reasons for
deeming good.
It would seem that I was rather precocious. I was taught the alphabet
by my aunts before I was four years old, and I was reading the Bible
in class and beginning geography when I was six.
One curious feature of my reading I do not remember to have seen
noticed in the case of children. The printed words, for the most
part, brought no well-defined images to my mind; none at least that
were retained in their connection. I remember one instance of this.
We were at Bedeque, Prince Edward Island. During the absence of my
father, the school was kept for a time by Mr. Bacon. The class in
reading had that chapter in the New Testament in which the treason
of Judas is described. It was then examined on the subject. To the
question what Judas did, no one could return an answer until it
came my turn. I had a vague impression of some one hanging himself,
and so I said quite at random that he hanged himself. It was with
a qualm of conscience that I went to the head of the class.
Arithmetic was commenced at the age of five, my father drawing me
to school day by day on a little sled during the winter. Just what
progress I made at that time I do not recall. Long years afterward,
my father, at my request, wrote me a letter describing my early
education, extracts from which I shall ask permission to reproduce,
instead of attempting to treat the matter myself. The letter,
covering twelve closely written foolscap pages, was probably dashed
off at a sitting without supposing any eye but my own would ever
see it:--
June 8th, '58.
I will now proceed to write, according to your request,
about your early life.
While in your fifth year, your mother spoke several times
of the propriety of teaching you the first rudiments of
book-learning; but I insisted that you should not be taught
the first letter until you became five. [2] I think, though,
that at about four, or four and a half I taught you to count,
as far, perhaps, as 100.
When a little over four and a half, one evening, as I came
home from school, you ran to me, and asked, "Father, is not
4 and 4 and 4 and 4, 16?" "Yes, how did you find it out?"
You showed me the counterpane which was napped. The spot
of four rows each way was the one you had counted up.
After this, for a week or two, you spent a considerable
number of hours every day, making calculations in addition
and multiplication. The rows of naps being crossed and
complexed in various ways, your greatest delight was to
clear them out, find how many small ones were equal to one
large one, and such like. After a space of two or three
weeks we became afraid you would calculate yourself "out
of your head," and laid away the counterpane.
Winter came, and passed along, and your birthday came;
on that day, having a light hand-sled prepared, I fixed
you on it, and away we went a mile and a half to school.
According to my belief in educational matters "that the
slate should be put into the child's hands as soon as the
book is," you of course had your slate, and commenced making
figures and letters the first day.
In all cases, after you had read and spelled a lesson, and
made some figures, and worked a sum, suppose one hour's
study, I sent you out, telling you to run about and play
a "good spell." To the best of my judgment you studied,
during the five months that this school lasted, nearly four
hours a day, two being at figures.
During the year that I taught at Bedeque, you studied
about five hours a day in school; and I used to exercise
you about an hour a day besides, either morning or evening.
This would make six hours per day, nearly or quite two and
a half hours of that time at numbers either at your slate
or mentally. When my school ended here, you were six and a
half years of age, and pretty well through the arithmetic.
You had studied, I think, all the rules preceding including
the cube root. . . .
I had frequently heard, during my boyhood, of a supposed mental
breakdown about this period, and had asked my father for a description
of it in the letter from which I am quoting. On this subject the
letter continues:--
You had lost all relish for reading, study, play, or talk.
Sat most of the day flat on the floor or hearth. When sent
of an errand, you would half the time forget what you went
for. I have seen you come back from Cale Schurman's crying,
[3] and after asking you several times you would make out to
answer, you had not been all the way over because you forgot
what you went for. You would frequently jump up from the
corner, and ask some peculiar question. I remember three
you asked me.
1st. Father, does form mean shape? Yes. Has everything
some shape? Yes. Can it be possible for anything to be
made that would not have any shape? I answered no; and then
showed you several things, explaining that they all had some
shape or form. You now brightened up like a lawyer who had
led on a witness with easy questions to a certain point,
and who had cautiously reserved a thunderbolt question, to
floor the witness at a proper time; proceeded with, "Well,
then, how could the world be without form when God made it?"
3d. Does Cale Schurman's big ram know that he has such big
crooked horns on him? Does he know it himself, I mean?
Does he know himself that he has such horns on him?
You were taken down suddenly I think about two or three days
from the first symptoms until you were fairly in the corner.
Your rise was also rapid, I think about a week (or perhaps
two weeks) from your first at recovery, until you seemed
to show nothing unusual. From the time you were taken down
until you commenced recovery was about a month.
We returned to Prince Edward Island, and after a few weeks I
began to examine you in figures, and found you had forgotten
nearly all you had ever learned.
While at New London I got an old work on Astronomy; you
were wonderfully taken with it, and read it with avidity.
While here you read considerable in "Goldsmith's History
of England." We lived two years in New London; I think
you attended school nearly one year there. I usually asked
you questions on the road going to school, in the morning,
upon the history you had read, or something you had studied
the day previous. While there, you made a dozen or two of
the folks raise a terrible laugh. I one evening lectured
on astronomy at home; the house was pretty well filled, I
suppose about twenty were present. You were not quite ten
years old and small at that. Almost as soon as I was done
you said: "Father, I think you were wrong in one thing."
Such a roar of laughter almost shook the house.
You were an uncommon child for _truth_. I never knew you
to deviate from it in one single instance, either in infancy
or youth.
From your infancy you showed great physical courage in going
along the woods or in places in the dark among cattle,
and I am surprised at what you say about your fears of a
stove-pipe and trees.
Perhaps I should have said "mental" instead of physical
courage, for in one respect you were uncommonly deficient
in that sort of courage necessary to perform bodily labor.
Until nine or ten years of age you made a most pitiful
attempt at any sort of bodily or rather "handy" work.
An extraordinary peculiarity in you was never to leap past
a word you could not make out. I certainly never gave
you any particular instructions about this, or the fact
itself would not at the time have appeared so strange to me.
I will name one case. After a return to Wallace (you were
eleven) I, one day, on going from home for an hour or so,
gave you a borrowed newspaper, telling you there was a fine
piece; to read it, and tell me its contents when I returned.
On my return you were near the house chopping wood. "Well,
Simon, did you read the piece?" "No, sir." "Why not?"
"I came to a word I did not know." This word was just
about four lines from the commencement.
At thirteen you read Phrenology. I now often impressed upon
you the necessity of bodily labor; that you might attain
a strong and healthy physical system, so as to be able to
stand long hours of study when you came to manhood, for it
was evident to me that you would not labor with the hands
for a business. On this account, as much as on account of
poverty, I hired you out for a large portion of the three
years that we lived at Clements.
At fifteen you studied Euclid, and were enraptured with it.
It is a little singular that all this time you never showed
any self-esteem; or spoke of getting into employment at some
future day, among the learned. The pleasure of intellectual
exercise in demonstrating or analyzing a geometrical problem,
or solving an algebraic equation, seemed to be your only
object. No Junior, Seignour or Sophomore class, with annual
honors, was ever, I suppose, presented to your mind.
Your almost intuitive knowledge of geography, navigation,
and nautical matters in general caused me to think most
ardently of writing to the Admiral at Halifax, to know if
he would give you a place among the midshipmen of the navy;
but my hope of seeing you a leading lawyer, and finally
a judge on the bench, together with the possibility that
your mother would not consent, and the possibility that
you would not wish to go, deterred me: although I think I
commenced a letter.
Among the books which profoundly influenced my mode of life and
thought during the period embraced in the foregoing extracts were
Fowler's "Phrenology" and Combe's "Constitution of Man." It may
appear strange to the reader if a system so completely exploded as
that of phrenology should have any value as a mental discipline.
Its real value consisted, not in what it taught about the position
of the "organs," but in presenting a study of human nature which,
if not scientific in form, was truly so in spirit. I acquired the
habit of looking on the characters and capabilities of men as the
result of their organism. A hot and impulsive temper was checked
by the reflection that it was beneath the dignity of human nature
to allow a rush of blood to the organs of "combativeness" and
"destructiveness" to upset one's mental equilibrium.
That I have gotten along in life almost without making (so far as I am
aware) a personal enemy may be attributed to this early discipline,
which led me into the habit of dealing with antagonism and personal
opposition as I would deal with any physical opposition--evade it,
avoid it, or overcome it. It goes without saying, however, that no
discipline of this sort will avail to keep the passions of a youth
always in check, and my own were no exception. When about fifteen I
once made a great scandal by taking out my knife in prayer meeting
and assaulting a young man who, while I was kneeling down during
the prayer, stood above me and squeezed my neck. He escaped with a
couple of severe though not serious cuts in his hand. He announced
his intention of thrashing me when we should meet again; so for
several days thereafter I tried, so far as possible, in going afield
to keep a pitchfork within reach, determined that if he tried the job
and I failed to kill him, it would be because I was unable to do so.
Fortunately for both of us he never made the attempt.
I read Combe's "Constitution of Man" when between ten and twelve
years of age. Though based on the ideas of phrenology and not,
I believe, of high repute as a system of philosophy, it was as good
a moral tonic as I can imagine to be placed in the hands of a youth,
however fallacious may have been its general doctrines. So far as I
can recall, it taught that all individual and social ills were due
to men's disregard of the laws of Nature, which were classified as
physical and moral. Obey the laws of health and we and our posterity
will all reach the age of one hundred years. Obey the moral law and
social evils will disappear. Its reading was accompanied by some
qualms of conscience, arising from the non-accordance of many of its
tenets with those of the "Catechism" and the "New England Primer."
The combination of the two, however, led to the optimistic feeling
that all wrongs would be righted, every act of injustice punished,
and truth and righteousness eventually triumph through the regular
processes of Nature and Society. I have been led to abandon this
doctrine only by much experience, some of which will be found in
the following pages.
In the direction of mathematical and physical science and reading
generally, I may add something to what I have quoted from my
father. My grandfather Simon had a small collection of books in
the family. Among those purely literary were several volumes of "The
Spectator" and "Roderick Random." Of the former I read a good deal.
The latter was a story which a boy who had scarcely read any other
would naturally follow with interest. Two circumstances connected
with the reading, one negative and the other positive, I recall.
Looking into the book after attaining years of maturity, I found it
to contain many incidents of a character that would not be admitted
into a modern work. Yet I read it through without ever noticing
or retaining any impression of the indelicate side of the story.
The other impression was a feeling of horror that a man fighting a
duel and finding himself, as he supposed, mortally wounded by his
opponent, should occupy his mind with avenging his own death instead
of making his peace with Heaven.
Three mathematical books were in the collection, Hammond's Algebra,
Simpson's Euclid, and Moore's Navigator, the latter the predecessor
of Bowditch. The first was a miserable book, and I think its methods,
which were crude in the extreme, though not incorrect, were rather
more harmful than beneficial. The queer diagrams in Euclid had in
my early years so little attraction for me that my curiosity never
led me to examine its text. I at length did so in consequence of a
passage in the algebra which referred to the 47th proposition of the
First Book. It occurred to me to look into the book and see what
this was. It was the first conception of mathematical proof that
I had ever met with. I saw that the demonstration referred to a
previous proposition, went back to that, and so on to the beginning.
A new world of thought seemed to be opened. That principles so
profound should be reached by methods so simple was astonishing.
I was so enraptured that I explained to my brother Thomas while
walking out of doors one day how the Pythagorean proposition, as it
is now called, could be proved from first principles, drawing the
necessary diagrams with a pencil on a piece of wood. I thought that
even cattle might understand geometry could they only be communicated
with and made to pay attention to it.
Some one at school had a copy of Mrs. Marcet's "Conversations on
Natural Philosophy." With this book I was equally enraptured.
Meagre and even erroneous though it was, it presented in a pleasing
manner the first principles of physical science. I used to steal into
the schoolhouse after hours to read a copy of the book, which belonged
to one of the scholars, and literally devoured it in a few evenings.
My first undertaking in the way of scientific experiment was in
the field of economics and psychology. When about fourteen I spent
the winter in the house of an old farmer named Jefferson. He and
his wife were a very kindly couple and took much interest in me.
He was fond of his pipe, as most old farmers are. I questioned
whether anything else would not do just as well as tobacco to smoke,
and whether he was not wasting his money by buying that article
when a cheap substitute could be found. So one day I took his pipe,
removed the remains of the tobacco ashes, and stuffed the pipe with
tea leaves that had been steeped, and which in color and general
appearance looked much like tobacco. I took care to be around when
he should again smoke. He lit the pipe as usual and smoked it with,
seemingly, as much satisfaction as ever, only essaying the remark,
"This tobacco tastes like tea." My conscience pricked me, but I
could say nothing.
My father bought a copy of Lardner's "Popular Lectures on Science
and Art." In this I first read of electricity. I recall an incident
growing out of it. In Lardner's description of a Leyden jar, water
is the only internal conductor. The wonders of the newly invented
telegraph were then explained to the people in out of the way places
by traveling lecturers. One of these came to Clements, where we then
lived, with a lot of apparatus, amongst which was what I recognized
as a Leyden jar. It was coated with tin-foil on the outside, but I
did not see the inner coating, or anything which could serve as the
necessary conductor. So with great diffidence I asked the lecturer
while he was arranging his things, if he was not going to put water
into the jar.
"No, my lad," was his reply, "I put lightning into it."
I wondered how the "lightning" was going to be conveyed to the
interior surface of the glass without any conductor, such as water,
but was too much abashed to ask the question.
Moore's "Navigator" taught not only a very crude sort of trigonometry,
but a good deal about the warship of his time. To a boy living on
the seacoast, who naturally thought a ship of war one of the greatest
works of man, the book was of much interest.
Notwithstanding the intellectual pleasure which I have described,
my boyhood was on the whole one of sadness. Occasionally my
love of books brought a word of commendation from some visitor,
perhaps a Methodist minister, who patted me on the head with a word
of praise. Otherwise it caused only exclamations of wonder which
were distasteful.
"You would n't believe what larnin' that boy has got. He has more
larnin' than all the people around here put together," I heard
one farmer say to another, looking at me, in my own view of the
case, as if I were some monster misshapen in the womb. Instead of
feeling that my bookish taste was something to be valued, I looked
upon myself as a _lusus naturæ_ whom Nature had cruelly formed to
suffer from an abnormal constitution, and lamented that somehow I
never could be like other boys.
The maladroitness described by my father, of which I was fully
conscious, added to the feeling of my unfitness for the world around
me. The skill required on a farm was above my reach, where efficiency
in driving oxen was one of the most valued of accomplishments.
I keenly felt my inability to acquire even respectable mediocrity in
this branch of the agricultural profession. It was mortifying to
watch the dexterous motions of the whip and listen to the torrent
of imperatives with which a young farmer would set a team of these
stolid animals in motion after they had failed to respond to my
gentle requests, though conveyed in the best of ox language.
I had indeed gradually formed, from reading, a vague conception
of a different kind of world,--a world of light,--where dwelt men
who wrote books and people who knew the men who wrote books,--where
lived boys who went to college and devoted themselves to learning,
instead of driving oxen. I longed much to get into this world, but
no possibility of doing so presented itself. I had no idea that it
would be imbued with sympathy for a boy outside of it who wanted to
learn. True, I had once read in some story, perhaps fictitious, how
a nobleman had found a boy reading Newton's "Principia," and not only
expressed his pleased surprise at the performance, but actually got
the boy educated. But there was no nobleman in sight of the backwoods
of Nova Scotia. I read in the autobiography of Franklin how he had
made his way in life. But he was surrounded with opportunities from
which I was cut off. It does seem a little singular that, well known
as my tastes were to those around me, we never met a soul to say,
"That boy ought to be educated." So far as I know, my father's
idea of making me a lawyer met with nothing but ridicule from the
neighbors. Did not a lawyer have to know Latin and have money to
pursue his studies? In my own daydreams I was a farmer driving his
own team; in my mother's a preacher, though she had regretfully to
admit that I might never be good enough for this profession.
[1] The actual sixth was my late excellent and esteemed cousin,
Judge Simon Bolivar Newcomb, of New Mexico.
[2] He had evidently forgotten the home instruction from my aunts,
received more than a year previous to the date he mentions.
[3] The grandfather of President Schurman of Cornell University.
I retain a dreamy impression of two half-grown or nearly grown boys,
perhaps between fourteen and eighteen years of age, one of whom
became, I believe, the father of the president.
II
DOCTOR FOSHAY
In the summer of 1851, when I had passed the age of sixteen, we
lived in a little school district a mile or two from the town of
Yarmouth, N. S. Late in the summer we had a visit from a maternal
uncle and aunt. As I had not seen Moncton since I was six years old,
and as I wanted very much to visit my grandfather Prince once more,
it was arranged that I should accompany them on their return home.
An additional reason for this was that my mother's health had quite
failed; there was no prospect of my doing anything where I was, and it
was hoped that something might turn up at Moncton. There was but one
difficulty; the visitors had driven to St. John in their own little
carriage, which would hold only two people; so they could not take
me back. I must therefore find my own way from St. John to Moncton.
We crossed the Bay of Fundy in a little sailing vessel. Among the
passengers was an English ship captain who had just been wrecked
off the coast of Newfoundland, and had the saved remnant of his crew
with him. On the morning of our departure the weather was stormy,
so that our vessel did not put to sea--a precaution for which the
captain passenger expressed great contempt. He did not understand
how a vessel should delay going to see on account of a little storm.
The walk of one hundred miles from St. John to Moncton was for me,
at that time, a much less formidable undertaking than it would appear
in our times and latitude. A thirty-mile tramp was a bagatelle,
and houses of entertainment--farmhouses where a traveler could rest
or eat for a few pennies--were scattered along the road. But there
was one great difficulty at the start. My instructions had been to
follow the telegraph wires. I soon found that the line of telegraph
came into the town from one direction, passed through it, and then
left, not in the opposite direction, but perhaps at right angles
to it. In which direction was the line to be followed? It was
difficult to make known what I wanted. "Why, my boy, you can't
walk to Moncton," was one answer. In a shop the clerks thought I
wanted to ride on the telegraph, and, with much chuckling, directed
me to the telegraph office where the man in charge would send me on.
I tried in one direction which I thought could not be right, then
I started off in the opposite one; but it soon became evident that
that branch led up the river to Frederickton. So I had to retrace
my steps and take the original line, which proved to be the right one.
The very first night I found that my grandfather's name was one to
conjure with. I passed it with a hearty old farmer who, on learning
who I was, entertained me with tales of Mr. Prince. The quality
which most impressed the host was his enormous physical strength.
He was rather below the usual stature and, as I remember him, very
slightly built. Yet he could shoulder a barrel of flour and lift
a hogshead of molasses on its end, feats of strength which only the
most powerful men in the region were equal to.
On reaching my destination, I was not many days in learning that my
grandfather was a believer in the maxims of "Poor Richard's Almanac,"
and disapproved of the aimless way in which I had been bred. He began
to suggest the desirableness of my learning to do something to make
a living. I thought of certain mechanical tastes which had moved
me in former years to whittle and to make a reel on which to wind
yarn, and to mend things generally. So I replied that I thought
the trade of a carpenter was the one I could most easily learn.
He approved of the idea, and expressed the intention of finding a
carpenter who would want my services; but before he did so, I was
started in a new and entirely different direction.
On her last visit to her birthplace, my mother brought back glowing
reports of a wonderful physician who lived near Moncton and effected
cures of the sick who had been given up by other doctors. I need
hardly remark that physicians of wonderful proficiency--Diomeds of
the medical profession, before whose shafts all forms of disease
had to fall--were then very generally supposed to be realities.
The point which specially commended Dr. Foshay to us was that he
practiced the botanic system of medicine, which threw mineral and all
other poisons out of the materia medica and depended upon the healing
powers of plants alone. People had seen so much of the evil effects
of calomel, this being the favorite alternative of the profession,
that they were quite ready to accept the new system. Among the
remarkable cures which had given Dr. Foshay his great reputation was
one of a young man with dyspepsia. He was reduced to a shadow, and
the regular doctors had given him up as incurable. The new doctor
took him to his home. The patient was addicted to two practices,
both of which had been condemned by his former medical advisers.
One was that of eating fat pork, which he would do at any hour of
the day or night. The new doctor allowed him to eat all he wanted.
Another was getting up in the night and practicing an ablution of
the stomach by a method too heroic to be described in anything but
a medical treatise. [1] He was now allowed to practice it to his
heart's content. The outcome of the whole proceeding was that he
was well in a few months, and, when I saw him, was as lusty a youth
as one could desire to meet.
Before Mr. Prince could see a carpenter, he was taken ill. I was
intensely interested to learn that his physician was the great doctor
I had heard of, who lived in the village of Salisbury, fifteen miles
on the road to St. John.
One of my aunts had an impression that the doctor wanted a pupil or
assistant of some kind, and suggested that a possible opening might
here be offered me. She promised to present me to the doctor on
his next visit, after she had broached the subject to him.
The time for which I waited impatiently at length arrived.
Never before had I met so charming a man. He was decidedly what we
should now call magnetic. There was an intellectual flavor in his
talk which was quite new to me. What fascinated me most of all was
his speaking of the difficulties he encountered in supplying himself
with sufficient "reading matter." He said it as if mental food was
as much a necessity as his daily bread. He was evidently a denizen
of that world of light which I had so long wished to see. He said
that my aunt was quite right in her impression, and our interview
terminated in the following liberal proposition on his part:--
S. N. to live with the doctor, rendering him all the assistance in
his power in preparing medicines, attending to business, and doing
generally whatever might be required of him in the way of help.
The doctor, on his part, to supply S. N.'s bodily needs in food
and clothing, and teach him medical botany and the botanic system
of medicine. The contract to terminate when the other party should
attain the age of twenty-one.
After mentioning the teaching clause, he corrected himself a moment,
and added: "At least all I know about it."
All he knows about it! What more could heart desire or brain hold?
The brilliancy of the offer was dimmed by only a single consideration;
I had never felt the slightest taste for studying medicine or caring
for the sick. That my attainments in the line could ever equal
those of my preceptor seemed a result too hopeless to expect. But,
after all, something must be done, and this was better than being
a carpenter.
Before entering upon the new arrangement, a ratification was required
on both sides. The doctor had to make the necessary household
arrangements, and secure the consent of his wife. I had to ask the
approval of my father, which I did by letter. Like General Grant
and many great men, he was a man of exceptional sagacity in matters
outside the range of his daily concerns. He threw much cold water on
the scheme, but consented to my accepting the arrangement temporarily,
as there was nothing better to be done.
I awaited the doctor's next visit with glowing anticipation. In due
course of time I stepped with him into his gig for the long drive,
expecting nothing less on the journey than a complete outline of the
botanic system of medicine and a programme of my future studies.
But scarcely had we started when a chilling process commenced.
The man erstwhile so effusive was silent, cold, impassive,--a marble
statue of his former self. I scarcely got three sentences out of
him during the journey, and these were of the most commonplace kind.
Could it be the same man?
There was something almost frightful in being alongside a man who knew
so much. When we reached our destination the horse had to be put away
in the stable. I jumped up to the haymow to throw down the provender.
It was a very peculiar feeling to do so under the eye of a man who,
as he watched me, knew every muscle that I was setting in operation.
A new chill came on when we entered the house and I was presented
to its mistress.
"So you 're the boy that's come to work for the doctor, are you?"
"I have come to study with him, ma'am"' was my interior reply,
but I was too diffident to say it aloud. Naturally the remark
made me very uncomfortable. The doctor did not correct her,
and evidently must have told her something different from what
he told me. Her tone was even more depressing than her words;
it breathed a coldness, not to say harshness, to which I had not
been accustomed in a woman. There was nothing in her appearance
to lessen the unpleasant impression. Small in stature, with florid
complexion, wide cheek bones that gave her face a triangular form,
she had the eye and look of a well-trained vixen.
As if fate were determined to see how rapid my downfall should be
before the close of the day, it continued to pursue me. I was left
alone for a few minutes. A child some four years old entered and
made a very critical inspection of my person. The result was clearly
unfavorable, for she soon asked me to go away. Finding me indisposed
to obey the order, she proceeded to the use of force and tried to
expel me with a few strong pushes. When I had had enough of this,
I stepped aside as she was making a push. She fell to the floor,
then picked herself up and ran off crying, "Mamma." The latter soon
appeared with added ire infused into her countenance.
"What did you hit the child for?"
"I did n't hit her. What should I want to strike a child like
that for?"
"But she says you hit her and knocked her down."
"I did n't, though--she was trying to push me and fell and hurt
herself."
A long piercing look of doubt and incredulity followed.
"Strange, very strange. I never knew that child to tell a lie,
and she says you struck her."
It was a new experience--the first time I had ever known my word to
be questioned.
During the day one thought dominated all others: where are those
treasures of literature which, rich though they are, fail to satisfy
their owner's voracious intellectual appetite? As houses were then
built, the living and sleeping rooms were all on one main floor.
Here they comprised a kitchen, dining room, medicine room, a little
parlor, and two small sleeping rooms, one for the doctor and one
for myself. Before many hours I had managed to see the interior of
every one except the doctor's bedroom, and there was not a sign of a
book unless such common ones as a dictionary or a Bible. What could
it all mean?
Next day the darkness was illuminated, at least temporarily,
by a ray of light. The doctor had been absent most of the day
before on a visit to some distant patient. Now he came to me
and told me he wanted to show me how to make bilious powders.
Several trays of dried herbs had been drying under the kitchen
stove until their leaves were quite brittle. He took these and I
followed him to the narrow stairway, which we slowly ascended, he
going ahead. As I mounted I looked for a solution of the difficulty.
Here upstairs must be where the doctor kept his books. At each step
I peered eagerly ahead until my head was on a level with the floor.
Rafters and a window at the other end had successively come into
view and now the whole interior was visible. Nothing was there but
a loft, at the further end of which was a bed for the housemaid.
The floor was strewn with dried plants. Nothing else was visible.
The disillusion seemed complete. My heart sank within me.
On one side of the stairway at a level with the floor was screwed a
large coffee mill. The doctor spread a sheet of paper out on the
floor on the other side, and laid a line sieve upon it. Then he
showed me how to grind the dry and brittle leaves in the coffee mill,
put them into the sieve, and sift them on the paper. This work
had a scientific and professional look which infused a glimmer of
light into the Cimmerian darkness. The bilious powders were made of
the leaves of four plants familiarly known as spearmint, sunflower,
smartweed, and yarrow. In his practice a heaping teaspoonful of the
pulverized leaves was stirred in a cup of warm water and the grosser
parts were allowed to settle, while the patient took the finer parts
with the infusion. This was one of Dr. Foshay's staple remedies.
Another was a pill of which the principal active ingredient was
aloes. The art of making these pills seemed yet more scientific
than the other, and I was much pleased to find how soon I could
master it. Beside these a number of minor remedies were kept in
the medicine room. Among them were tinctures of lobelia, myrrh,
and capsicum. There was also a pill box containing a substance
which, from its narcotic odor, I correctly inferred to be opium.
This drug being prohibited by the Botanic School I could not but
feel that Dr. Foshay's orthodoxy was painfully open to question.
Determined to fathom the mystery in which the doctor's plans for my
improvement were involved, I announced my readiness to commence the
study of the botanic system. He disappeared in the direction of
his bedroom, and soon returned with--could my eyes believe it?--a
big book. It was one which, at the time of its publication, some
thirty or forty years before, was well known to the profession,--Miner
and Tully on the "Fevers of the Connecticut Valley." He explained
bringing me this book.
"Before beginning the regular study of the botanic system, you must
understand something of the old system. You can do so by reading
this book."
A duller book I never read. There was every sort of detail about
different forms of fever, which needed different treatment; yet
calomel and, I think, opium were its main prescriptions. In due
time I got through it and reported to my preceptor.
"Well, what do you think of the book?"
"It praises calomel and opium too much. But I infer from reading
it that there are so many kinds of fever and other diseases that
an immense amount of study will be required to distinguish and
treat them."
"Oh, you will find that all these minute distinctions are not
necessary when we treat the sick on the botanic system."
"What is the next thing for me? Can I not now go on with the study
of the botanic system?"
"You are not quite ready for it yet. You must first understand
something about phrenology. One great difference between us and
doctors of the old school is that they take no account of difference
of temperament, but treat the lymphatic and bilious in the same way.
But we treat according to the temperament of the patient and must
therefore be expert in distinguishing temperaments."
"But I studied phrenology long ago and think I understand it quite
well."
He was evidently surprised at this statement, but after a little
consideration said it was very necessary to be expert in the subject,
and thought I had better learn it more thoroughly. He returned to
his bedroom and brought a copy of Fowler's "Phrenology," the very
book so familiar to me. I had to go over it again, and did so
very carefully, paying special attention to the study of the four
temperaments,--nervous, bilious, lymphatic, and sanguine.
Before many days I again reported progress. The doctor seemed a
little impatient, but asked me some questions about the position
of the organs and other matters pertaining to the subject, which I
answered promptly and correctly by putting my fingers on them on
my own head. But though satisfied with the answers, it was easy
to see that he was not satisfied with me. He had, on one or two
previous occasions, intimated that I was not wise and prudent in
worldly matters. Now he expressed himself more plainly.
"This world is all a humbug, and the biggest humbug is the best man.
That 's the Yankee doctrine, and that 's the reason the Yankees
get along so well. You have no organ of secretiveness. You have
a window in your breast that every one can look into and see what
you are thinking about. You must shut that window up, like I do.
No one can tell from my talk or looks what I am thinking about."
It may seem incredible to the reader that I marveled much at
the hidden meaning of this allegorical speech, and never for one
moment supposed it to mean: "I, Dr. Foshay, with my botanic system
of medicine, am the biggest humbug in these parts, and if you are
going to succeed with me you must be another." But I had already
recognized the truth of his last sentence. Probably neither of us
had heard of Talleyrand, but from this time I saw that his hearty
laugh and lively talk were those of a manikin.
His demeanor toward me now became one of complete gravity, formality,
and silence. He was always kindly, but never said an unnecessary
word, and avoided all reference to reading or study. The mystery
which enveloped him became deeper month after month. In his presence
I felt a certain awe which prevented my asking any questions as to
his intentions toward me.
It must, of course, be a matter of lifelong regret that two years
so important in one's education should have been passed in such a
way,--still, they were not wholly misspent. From a teacher named
Monroe, [2] who then lived near Salisbury, I borrowed Draper's
Chemistry, little thinking that I would one day count the author among
my friends. A book peddler going his rounds offered a collection of
miscellaneous books at auction. I bought, among others, a Latin and a
Greek grammar, and assiduously commenced their study. With the first
I was as successful as could be expected under the circumstances,
but failed with the Greek, owing to the unfamiliarity of the alphabet,
which seemed to be an obstacle to memory of the words and forms.
But perhaps the greatest event of my stay was the advent of a
botanic druggist of Boston, who passed through the region with a
large wagonload of medicines and some books. He was a pleasant,
elderly gentleman, and seemed much interested on learning that
I was a student of the botanic system. He had a botanic medical
college in or near Boston, and strongly urged me to go thither as
soon as I could get ready to complete my studies. From him the
doctor, willing to do me a favor, bought some books, among them the
"Eclectic Medical Dispensary," published in Cincinnati. Of this
book the doctor spoke approvingly, as founded on the true system
which he himself practiced, and though I never saw him read it,
he was very ready to accept the knowledge which I derived from it.
The result was quite an enlargement of his materia medica, both in the
direction of native plants and medicines purchased from his druggist.
On one occasion this advance came near having serious consequences.
I had compounded some pills containing a minute quantity of elaterium.
The doctor gave them to a neighboring youth affected with a slight
indisposition in which some such remedy was indicated. The directions
were very explicit,--one pill every hour until the desired effect
was produced.
"Pshaw," said the patient's brother, "there's nothin' but weeds in
them pills, and a dozen of them won't hurt you."
The idea of taking weed pills one at a time seemed too ridiculous,
and so the whole number were swallowed at a dose. The result was,
happily, not fatal, though impressive enough to greatly increase
the respect of the young man's family for our medicines.
The intellectual life was not wholly wanting in the village. A lodge
of a temperance organization, having its headquarters in Maine,
was formed at a neighboring village. It was modeled somewhat after
the fashion of the Sons of Temperance. The presiding officer, with
a high sounding title, was my mother's cousin, Tommy Nixon. He was
the most popular young man of the neighborhood. The rudiments of a
classical education gained at a reputable academy in Sackville had not
detracted from his qualities as a healthy, rollicking young farmer.
The lodge had an imposing ritual of which I well remember one feature.
At stated intervals a password which admitted a member of any
one lodge to a meeting of any other was received from the central
authority--in Maine, I believe. It was never to be pronounced except
to secure admission, and was communicated to the members by being
written on a piece of paper in letters so large that all could read.
After being held up to view for a few moments, the paper was held in
the flame of a candle with these words: "This paper containing our
secret password I commit to the devouring element in token that it no
longer exists save in the minds of the faithful brethren." The fine
sonorous voice of the speaker and his manly front, seen in the lurid
light of the burning paper, made the whole scene very impressive.
There was also a society for the discussion of scientific questions,
of which the founder and leading spirit was a youth named Isaac
Steves, who was beginning the study of medicine. The president
was a "Worthy Archon." Our discussions strayed into the field
of physiological mysteries, and got us into such bad odor with
Mrs. Foshay and, perhaps, other ladies of the community, that the
meetings were abandoned.
A soil like that of the Provinces at this time was fertile in odd
characters including, possibly, here and there, a "heart pregnant
with celestial fire." One case quite out of the common line was
that of two or three brothers employed in a sawmill somewhere up the
river Petticodiac. According to common report they had invented a
new language in order to enable them to talk together without their
companions knowing what they were saying. I knew one of them well
and, after some time, ventured to inquire about this supposed tongue.
He was quite ready to explain it. The words were constructed out
of English by the very simple process of reversing the syllables or
the spelling. Everything was pronounced backward. Those who heard
it, and knew the key, had no difficulty in construing the words;
to those who did not, the words were quite foreign.
The family of the neighborhood in which I was most intimate was that
of a Scotch farmer named Parkin. Father, mother, and children were
very attractive, both socially and intellectually, and in later years
I wondered whether any of them were still living. Fifty years later
I had one of the greatest and most agreeable surprises of my life
in suddenly meeting the little boy of the family in the person of
Dr. George R. Parkin, the well-known promoter of imperial federation
in Australia and the agent in arranging for the Rhodes scholarships
at Oxford which are assigned to America.
My duties were of the most varied character. I composed a little
couplet designating my professions as those of
Physician, apothecary, chemist, and druggist,
Girl about house and boy in the barn.
I cared for the horse, cut wood for the fire, searched field and
forest for medicinal herbs, ordered other medicines from a druggist
[3] in St. John, kept the doctor's accounts, made his pills, and
mixed his powders. This left little time for reading and study,
and such exercises were still farther limited by the necessity of
pursuing them out of sight of the housewife.
As time passed on, the consciousness that I was wasting my growing
years increased. I long cherished a vague hope that the doctor
could and would do something to promote my growth into a physician,
especially by taking me out to see his patients. This was the
recognized method of commencing the study of medicine. But he never
proposed such a course to me, and never told me how he expected me
to become a physician. Every month showed my prospects in a less
hopeful light. I had rushed into my position in blind confidence in
the man, and without any appreciation of the requirements of a medical
practitioner. But these requirements now presented themselves to
my mind with constantly increasing force. Foremost among them was
a knowledge of anatomy, and how could that be acquired except at a
medical school? It was every day more evident that if I continued
in my position I should reach my majority without being trained for
any life but that of a quack.
While in this state of perplexity, an event happened which suggested
a way out. One day the neighborhood was stirred by the news that
Tommy Nixon had run away--left his home without the consent of his
parents, and sailed for the gold fields of Australia. I was struck
by the absence of any word of reprobation for his act. The young men
at least seemed to admire the enterprising spirit he had displayed.
A few weeks after his departure a letter which he wrote from London,
detailing his adventures in the great metropolis, was read in my
presence to a circle of admiring friends with expressions of wonder
and surprise. This little circumstance made it clear to me that
the easiest way out of my difficulty was to out the Gordian knot,
run away from Dr. Foshay, and join my father in New England.
No doubt the uppermost question in the mind of the reader will be:
Why did you wait so long without having a clear understanding with
the doctor? Why not ask him to his face how he expected you to
remain with him when he had failed in his pledges, and demand that
he should either keep them or let you go?
One answer, perhaps the first, must be lack of moral courage to face
him with such a demand. I have already spoken of the mystery which
seemed to enshroud his personality, and of the fascination which,
through it, he seemed to exercise over me. But behind this was
the conviction that he could not do anything for me were he ever so
well disposed. That he was himself uneducated in many essentials of
his profession had gradually become plain enough; but what he knew
or possibly might know remained a mystery. I had heard occasional
allusions, perhaps from Mrs. Foshay rather than from himself, to an
institution supposed to be in Maine, where he had studied medicine,
but its name and exact location were never mentioned. Altogether,
if I told him of my intention, it could not possibly do any good,
and he might be able to prevent my carrying it out, or in some other
way to do much harm. And so I kept silent.
Tuesday, September 13, 1853, was the day on which I fixed for the
execution of my plan. The day previous I was so abstracted as to
excite remarks both from Mrs. Foshay and her girl help, the latter
more than once declaring me crazy when I made some queer blunder.
The fact is I was oppressed by the feeling that the step about to
be taken was the most momentous of my life. I packed a few books
and clothes, including some mementoes of my mother, and took the box
to the stage and post-office in the evening, to be forwarded to an
assumed name in St. John the next afternoon. This box I never saw
again; it was probably stopped by Foshay before being dispatched.
My plan was to start early in the morning, walk as far as I could
during the day, and, in the evening, take the mail stage when it
should overtake me. This course was necessitated by the fact that
the little money that I had in my pocket was insufficient to pay my
way to Boston, even when traveling in the cheapest way.
I thought it only right that the doctor should be made acquainted
with my proceeding and my reason for taking it, so I indited a short
letter, which I tried to reproduce from memory ten years later with
the following result:--
Dear Doctor,--I write this to let you know of the step I am
about to take. When I came to live with you, it was agreed
that you should make a physician of me. This agreement you
have never shown the slightest intention of fulfilling since
the first month I was with you. You have never taken me
to see a patient, you have never given me any instruction
or advice whatever. Beside this, you must know that your
wife treats me in a manner that is no longer bearable.
I therefore consider the agreement annulled from your failure
to fulfill your part of it, and I am going off to make my
own way in the world. When you read this, I shall be far
away, and it is not likely that we shall ever meet again.
If my memory serves me right, the doctor was absent on a visit to
some distant patient on the night in question, and I did not think it
likely that he would return until at least noon on the following day.
By this time my box would have been safely off in the stage, and
I would be far out of reach. To delay his receiving the letter as
much as possible, I did not leave it about the house, but put it in
the window of a shop across the way, which served the neighbors as
a little branch post-office.
But he must have returned sooner than I expected, for, to my great
regret, I never again saw or heard of the box, which contained,
not only the entire outfit for my journey, but all the books of my
childhood which I had, as well as the little mementoes of my mother.
The postmaster who took charge of the goods was a Mr. Pitman.
When I again passed through Salisbury, as I did ten years later,
he had moved away, no one could tell me exactly where.
I was on the road before daybreak, and walked till late at night,
occasionally stopping to bathe my feet in a brook, or to rest for
a few minutes in the shadow of a tree. The possibility of my being
pursued by the doctor was ever present to my mind, and led me to keep
a sharp lookout for coming vehicles. Toward sunset a horse and buggy
appeared, coming over a hill, and very soon the resemblance of vehicle
and driver to the turnout of the doctor became so striking that I
concealed myself in the shrubbery by the wayside until the sound of
the wheels told me he was well past. The probability that my pursuer
was in front of me was an added source of discomfort which led me
to avoid the road and walk in the woods wherever the former was not
visible to some distance ahead. But I neither saw nor heard anything
more of the supposed pursuer, though, from what I afterward learned,
there can be little doubt that it was actually Foshay himself.
The advent of darkness soon relieved me of the threatened danger,
but added new causes of solicitude. The evening advanced, and the
lights in the windows of the houses were becoming fewer and fewer,
and yet the stage had not appeared. I slackened my pace, and made
many stops, beginning to doubt whether I might not as well give up the
stage and look for an inn. It was, I think, after ten o'clock when
the rattling of wheels announced its approach. It was on a descending
grade, and passed me like a meteor, in the darkness, quite heedless
of my calls and gesticulations. Fortunately a house was in sight
where I was hospitably entertained, and I was very soon sound asleep,
as became one who had walked fifty miles or more since daylight.
Thus ended a day to which I have always looked back as the most
memorable of my life. I felt its importance at the time. As I
walked and walked, the question in my mind was, what am I doing and
whither am I going? Am I doing right or wrong? Am I going forward
to success in life, or to failure and degradation? Vainly, vainly,
I tried to peer into the thick darkness of the future. No definite
idea of what success might mean could find a place in my mind.
I had sometimes indulged in daydreams, but these come not to a mind
occupied as mine on that day. And if they had, and if fancy had
been allowed its wildest flight in portraying a future, it is safe
to say that the figure of an honorary academician of France, seated
in the chair of Newton and Franklin in the palace of the Institute,
would not have been found in the picture.
As years passed away I have formed the habit of looking back upon that
former self as upon another person, the remembrance of whose emotions
has been a solace in adversity and added zest to the enjoyment of
prosperity. If depressed by trial, I think how light would this have
appeared to that boy had a sight of the future been opened up to him.
When, in the halls of learning, I have gone through the ceremonies
which made me a citizen of yet another commonwealth in the world of
letters, my thoughts have gone back to that day; and I have wished
that the inexorable law of Nature could then have been suspended,
if only for one moment, to show the scene that Providence held
in reserve.
Next morning I was on my way betimes, having still more than thirty
miles before me. And the miles seemed much longer than they did the
day before, for my feet were sore and my limbs stiff. Quite welcome,
therefore, was a lift offered by a young farmer, who, driving a
cart, overtook me early in the forenoon. He was very sociable,
and we soon got into an interesting conversation.
I knew that Dr. Foshay hailed from somewhere in this region, where
his father still lived, so I asked my companion whether he knew a
family of that name. He knew them quite well.
"Do you know anything of one of the sons who is a doctor?"
"Yes indeed; I know all about him, but he ain't no doctor. He tried
to set up for one in Salisbury, but the people there must a' found
him out before this, and I don't know where he is now."
"But I thought he studied medicine in Fredericton or Maine or
somewhere on the border."
"Oh, he went off to the States and pretended to study, but he never
did it. I tell you he ain't no more a doctor nor I am. He ain't
smart enough to be a doctor."
I fell into a fit of musing long enough to hear, in my mind's
ear, with startling distinctness, the words of two years before:
"This world is all a humbug, and the biggest humbug is the best man.
. . . You have a window in your breast and you must close that window
before you can succeed in life." Now I grasped their full meaning.
Ten years later I went through the province by rail on my wedding
journey. At Dorchester, the next village beyond Moncton, I was
shown a place where insolvent debtors were kept "on the limits."
"By stopping there," said my informant, "you can see Dr. Foshay."
I suggested the question whether it was worth while to break our
journey for the sake of seeing him. The reply of my informant
deterred me.
"It can hardly be worth while to do so. He will be a painful object
to see,--a bloated sot, drinking himself to death as fast as he can."
The next I heard of him was that he had succeeded.
I reached St. John on the evening that a great celebration of the
commencement of work on the first railway in the province was in
progress. When things are undecided, small matters turn the scale.
The choice of my day for starting out on my adventurous journey was
partly fixed by the desire to reach St. John and see something of
the celebration. Darkness came on when I was yet a mile or two from
the city; then the first rocket I had ever beheld rose before me in
the sky. Two of what seemed like unfortunate incidents at the time
were most fortunate. Subsequent and disappointing experience showed
that had I succeeded in getting the ride I wished in the stage,
the resulting depletion of my purse would have been almost fatal
to my reaching my journey's end. Arriving at the city, I naturally
found all the hotels filled. At length a kindly landlady said that,
although she had no bed to give me, I was quite welcome to lie on a
soft carpeted floor, in the midst of people who could not find any
other sleeping place. No charge was made for this accommodation.
My hope of finding something to do which would enable me to earn
a little money in St. John over and above the cost of a bed and a
daily loaf of bread was disappointed. The efforts of the next week
are so painful to recall that I will not harrow the feelings of the
reader by describing them. Suffice it to say that the adventure was
wound up by an interview at Calais, a town on the Maine border, a
few miles from Eastport, with the captain of a small sailing vessel,
hardly more than a boat. He was bound for Salem. I asked him the
price of a passage.
"How much money have you?" he replied.
I told him; whether it was one or two dollars I do not recall.
"I will take you for that if you will help us on the voyage."
The offer was gladly accepted. The little craft was about as near the
opposite of a clipper ship as one can imagine, never intended to run
in any but fair winds, and even with that her progress was very slow.
There was a constant succession of west winds, and the result was that
we were about three weeks reaching Salem. Here I met my father, who,
after the death of my mother, had come to seek his fortune in the
"States." He had reached the conclusion, on what grounds I do not
know, that the eastern part of Maryland was a most desirable region,
both in the character of its people and in the advantages which it
offered us. The result was that, at the beginning of 1854, I found
myself teacher of a country school at a place called Massey's Cross
Roads in Kent County. After teaching here one year, I got a somewhat
better school at the pleasant little village of Sudlersville, a few
miles away.
Of my abilities as a manager and teacher of youth the reader can
judge. Suffice it to say that, looking back at those two years, I
am deeply impressed with the good nature of the people in tolerating
me at all.
My most pleasant recollection is that of two of my best pupils of
Sudlersville, nearly my own age. One was Arthur E. Sudler, for
whose special benefit some chemical apparatus was obtained from
Philadelphia. He afterwards studied medicine at the University of
Pennsylvania and delighted me by writing that what I had taught him
placed him among the best in his class in chemistry. The other was
B. S. Elliott, who afterward became an engineer or surveyor.
One of my most vivid recollections at Massey's relates to a subject
which by no means forms a part of one's intellectual development,
and yet is at the bottom of all human progress, that of digestion.
The staple food of the inhabitants of a Southern farming region was
much heartier than any to which I had been accustomed. "Pork and
pone" were the staples, the latter being a rather coarse cake with
little or no seasoning, baked from cornmeal. This was varied
by a compound called "shortcake," a mixture of flour and lard,
rapidly baked in a pan, and eaten hot. Though not distasteful,
I thought it as villainous a compound as a civilized man would put
into his stomach.
Quite near my school lived a young bachelor farmer who might be
designated as William Bowler, Esq., though he was better known as
Billy Bowler. He had been educated partly at Delaware College,
Newark, and was therefore an interesting young man to know.
In describing his experiences at the college, he once informed me
that they were all very pleasant except in a single point; that was
the miserably poor food that the students got to eat. He could not,
he declared, get along without good eating. This naturally suggested
that my friend was something of a gourmand. Great, therefore,
was my delight when, a few weeks later, he expressed a desire to
have me board with him. I accepted the offer as soon as possible.
Much to my disappointment, shortcake was on the table at the first
meal and again at the second. It proved to be the principal dish
twice, and I am not sure but three times a day. The other staple
was fried meat. On the whole this was worse than pork and pone,
which, if not toothsome, was at least wholesome. As the days grew
into weeks, I wondered what Delaware College could give its students
to eat. To increase the perplexity, there were plenty of chickens
in the yard and vegetables in the garden. I asked the cook if she
could not boil some vegetables and bring them on the table.
"Mas'er Bowler don't like wegetable."
Then I found that the chickens were being consumed in the kitchen
and asked for one.
"Mas'er Bowler don't like chicken," was the reply, with an added
intimation that the chickens belonged to the denizens of the kitchen.
The mystery was now so dark and deep that I determined to fathom it.
I drew Mr. Bowler into conversation once more about Delaware College,
and asked him what the students had to eat when there.
He had evidently forgotten his former remark and described what
seemed to me a fairly well provided students' table. Now I came
down on him with my crusher.
"You told me once that the table was miserably poor, so that you
could hardly stand it. What fault had you to find with it?"
He reflected a moment, apparently recalling his impression, then
replied: "Oh, they had no shortcake there!"
In 1854 I availed myself of my summer vacation to pay my first
visit to the national capital, little dreaming that it would ever be
my home. I went as far as the gate of the observatory, and looked
wistfully in, but feared to enter, as I did not know what the rules
might be regarding visitors. I speculated upon the possible object
of a queer red sandstone building, which seemed so different from
anything else, and heard for the first time of the Smithsonian
Institution.
On the very beginning of my work at Massey's the improvement in my
position was so remarkable that I felt my rash step of a few months
before fully justified. I wrote in triumph to my favorite aunt,
Rebecca Prince, that leaving Dr. Foshay was the best thing I had
ever done. I was no longer "that boy," but a respectable young man
with a handle to my name.
Just what object I should pursue in life was still doubtful; the
avenues of the preferment I would have liked seemed to be closed
through my not being a college graduate. I had no one to advise me as
to the subjects I should pursue or the books I should study. On such
books as I could get, I passed every spare hour. My father sent me
Cobbett's English Grammar, which I found amusing and interesting,
especially the criticisms upon the grammar found here and there in
royal addresses to Parliament and other state papers. On the whole
I am not sure but that the book justified my father's good opinion,
although I cannot but think that it was rather hypercritical. I had
been taught the rudiments of French in Wallace when quite a child by
a Mr. Oldright, of whose methods and pronunciation my memory gives
me a most favorable impression. I now got Cobbett's French Grammar,
probably a much less commendable book than his English one. I had
never yet fathomed the mysteries of analytic geometry or the calculus,
and so got Davies' books on those subjects. That on the calculus
was perhaps the worst that could be put into the hands of a person
situated as I was. Two volumes of Bezout's Mathematics, in French,
about a century old, were, I think, rather better. Say's Political
Economy was the first book I read on that subject, and it was quite
a delight to see human affairs treated by scientific methods.
I finally reached the conclusion that mathematics was the study I
was best fitted to follow, though I did not clearly see in what way I
should turn the subject to account. I knew that Newton's "Principia"
was a celebrated book, so I got a copy of the English translation.
The path through it was rather thorny, but I at least caught the
spirit here and there. No teacher at the present time would think
of using it as a text-book, yet as a mental discipline, and for
the purpose of enabling one to form a mental image of the subject,
its methods at least are excellent. I got a copy of the "American
Journal of Science," hoping it might enlighten me, but was frightened
by its big words, and found nothing that I could understand.
During the year at Sudlersville I made several efforts which,
though they were insignificant so far as immediate results were
concerned, were in some respects of importance for my future work.
With no knowledge of algebra except what was derived from the meagre
text-books I could pick up,--not having heard even the name of
Abel, or knowing what view of the subject was taken by professional
mathematicians,--I made my first attempt at a scientific article, "A
New Demonstration of the Binomial Theorem." This I sent to Professor
Henry, secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, to see if he deemed
it suitable for publication. He promptly replied in the negative, but
offered to submit it to a professional mathematician for an opinion
of its merits. I gladly accepted this proposal, which was just what
I wanted. In due course a copy of the report was sent me. One part
of the work was praised for its elegance, but a lack of completeness
and rigor was pointed out. It was accompanied by a pleasant note
from Professor Henry remarking that, while not so favorable as I might
have expected, it was sufficiently so to encourage me in persevering.
The other effort to which I refer was of quite a different character.
A copy of the "National Intelligencer," intended for some subscriber
who had left Sudlersville, came to the post-office for several months,
and, there being no claimant, I frequently had an opportunity to
read it. One of its features was frequent letters from volunteer
writers on scientific subjects. Among these was a long letter
from one G. W. Eveleth, the object of which was to refute the
accepted theory of the universe, especially the view of Copernicus.
For aught I knew Mr. Eveleth held as high a position as any one else
in the world of science and letters, so I read his article carefully.
It was evidently wholly fallacious, yet so plausible that I feared
the belief of the world in the doctrine of Copernicus might suffer
a severe shock, and hastened to the rescue by writing a letter over
my own name, pointing out the fallacies. This was published in the
"National Intelligencer"--if my memory serves me right--in 1855.
My full name, printed in large capitals, in a newspaper, at the bottom
of a letter, filled me with a sense of my temerity in appearing so
prominently in print, as if I were intruding into company where I
might not be wanted.
My letter had two most unexpected and gratifying results. One was
a presentation of a copy of Lee's "Tables and Formulæ," which came
to me a few days later through the mail with the compliments of
Colonel Abert. Not long afterward came a letter from Professor
J. Lawrence Smith, afterward a member of the National Academy of
Sciences, transmitting a copy of a pamphlet by him on the theory
that meteorites were masses thrown up from the volcanoes of the moon,
and asking my opinion on the subject.
I had not yet gotten into the world of light. But I felt as one who,
standing outside, could knock against the wall and hear an answering
knock from within.
The beginning of 1856 found me teaching in the family of a planter
named Bryan, residing in Prince George County, Md., some fifteen or
twenty miles from Washington. This opened up new opportunities.
I could ride into Washington whenever I wished, leave my horse
at a livery stable, and see whatever sights the city offered.
The Smithsonian Library was one of the greatest attractions.
Sometime in May, 1856, I got permission from the attendant in charge
to climb into the gallery and see the mathematical books. Here I
was delighted to find the greatest treasure that my imagination had
ever pictured,--a work that I had thought of almost as belonging
to fairyland. And here it was right before my eyes--four enormous
volumes,--"Mécanique Céleste, by the Marquis de Laplace, Peer of
France; translated by Nathaniel Bowditch, LL. D., Member of the
Royal Societies of London, Edinburg, and Dublin." I inquired as to
the possibility of my borrowing the first volume, and was told that
this could be done only by special authority of Professor Henry.
I soon got the necessary authority through Mr. Rhees, the chief
clerk, whose kindness in the matter deeply impressed me, signed a
promise to return it within one month, and carried it in triumph
to my little schoolhouse. I dipped into it here and there, but at
every step was met by formulæ and methods quite beyond the power of
one who knew so little of mathematics. In due time I brought the
book back as promised.
Up to this time I think I had never looked upon a real live
professor; certainly not upon one of eminence in the scientific
world. I wondered whether there was any possibility of my making the
acquaintance of so great a man as Professor Henry. Some time previous
a little incident had occurred which caused me some uneasiness on
the subject. I had started out very early on a visit to Washington,
or possibly I had stayed there all night. At any rate, I reached
the Smithsonian Building quite early, opened the main door, stepped
cautiously into the vestibule, and looked around. Here I was met
by a short, stout, and exceedingly gruff sort of a man, who looked
upon my entrance with evident displeasure. He said scarcely a word,
but motioned me out of the door, and showed me a paper or something
in the entrance which intimated that the Institution would be open
at nine o'clock. It was some three minutes before that hour so I
was an intruder. The man looked so respectable and so commanding
in his appearance that I wondered if he could be Professor Henry,
yet sincerely hoped he was not. I afterward found that he was only
"Old Peake," the janitor. [4] When I found the real Professor Henry
he received me with characteristic urbanity, told me something of
his own studies, and suggested that I might find something to do in
the Coast Survey, but took no further steps at that time.
The question whether I was fitted for any such employment now became
of great interest. The principal question was whether one must know
celestial mechanics in order to secure such a position, so, after
leaving Professor Henry, I made my way to the Coast Survey office, and
was shown to the chief clerk, as the authority for the information.
I modestly asked him whether a knowledge of physical astronomy was
necessary to a position in that office. Instead of frankly telling
me that he did not know what physical astronomy was, he answered in
the affirmative. So I left with the impression that I must master
the "Mécanique Céleste" or some similar treatise before finding any
opening there.
I could not, of course, be satisfied with a single visit to such
a man, and so called several times during the year. One thing
I wondered about was whether he would remember me when he again
saw me. On one occasion I presented him with a plan for improving
the Cavendish method of determining the density of the earth,
which he took very kindly. I subsequently learned that he was much
interested in this problem. On another occasion he gave me a letter
to Mr. J. E. Hilgard, assistant in charge of the Coast Survey office.
My reception by the latter was as delightful as that by Professor
Henry. I found from my first interview with him that the denizens
of the world of light were up to the most sanguine conceptions I
ever could have formed.
At this time, or probably some time before, I bought a copy of the
"American Ephemeris" for 1858, and amused myself by computing on
a slate the occultations visible at San Francisco during the first
few months of the year. At this time I had learned nothing definite
from Mr. Hilgard as to employment in his office. But about December,
1856, I received a note from him stating that he had been talking
about me to Professor Winlock, superintendent of the "Nautical
Almanac," and that I might possibly get employment on that work.
When I saw him again I told him that I had not yet acquired
such a knowledge of physical astronomy as would be necessary for
the calculations in question; but he assured me that this was no
drawback, as formulæ for all the computations would be supplied me.
I was far from satisfied at the prospect of doing nothing more than
making routine calculations with formulæ prepared by others; indeed,
it was almost a disappointment to find that I was considered qualified
for such a place. I could only console myself by the reflection that
the ease of the work would not hinder me from working my way up.
Shortly afterward I understood that it was at least worth while to
present myself at Cambridge, and so started out on a journey thither
about the last day of the year 1856.
At that time even a railroad journey was quite different from what it
is now. The cars were drawn through Baltimore by horses. At Havre
de Grace the train had to stop and the passengers were taken across
the river in a ferryboat to another train. At Philadelphia the city
had to be traversed by transfer coaches. Looking around for this
conveyance, I met a man who said he had it. He shoved me into it
and drove off. I remarked with suspicion that no other coaches were
accompanying us. After a pretty long drive the speed of the horses
gradually began to slacken. At length it came to a complete stop in
front of a large building, and I got out. But it was only a freight
station, locked up and dark throughout. The driver mumbled something
about his fare, then rolled back on his seat, seemingly dead drunk.
The nearest sign of life was at a tavern a block or two away. There I
found that I was only a short distance from the station of departure,
and reached my train barely in time.
Landing in New York at the first glimmer of dawn, near the end of the
line of passengers I was momentarily alarmed to see a man pick up what
seemed to be a leather purse from right between my feet. It was brown
and, so far as I could see, just like my own. I immediately felt
the breast pocket of my coat and found that my own was quite safe.
The man who picked up the purse inquired in the politest tone possible
if it was mine, to which I replied in the negative. He retreated a
short distance and then a bystander came up and chided me in a whisper
for my folly in not claiming the purse. The only reply he got was,
"Oh, I'm up to all your tricks." On a repetition of this assurance
the pair sneaked away.
Arriving at Cambridge, I sought out Professor Winlock and was
informed that no immediate employment was open at his office.
It would be necessary for him to get authority from Washington.
After this was obtained some hope might be held out, so I appeared
in the office from time to time as a visitor, my first visit being
that described in the opening chapter.
[1] I may remark, for the benefit of any medical reader, that it
involved the use of two pails, one full of water, the other empty.
When he got through the ablution, one pail was empty, and the other
full. My authority for the actuality of this remarkable proceeding
was some inmate of the house at the time, and I give credence to
the story because it was not one likely to be invented.
[2] Rev. Alexander H. Monroe, who, I have understood, afterward
lived in Montreal. I have often wished to find a trace of him,
but do not know whether he is still living.
[3] Our druggist was Mr. S. L. Tilley, afterward Sir Leonard Tilley,
the well-known Canadian Minister of Finance.
[4] Peake, notwithstanding his official title, would seem to have
been more than an ordinary janitor, as he was the author of a Guide
to the Smithsonian Institution.
THE WORLD OF SWEETNESS AND LIGHT
The term "Nautical Almanac" is an unfortunate misnomer for what is,
properly speaking, the "Astronomical Ephemeris." It is quite a
large volume, from which the world draws all its knowledge of times
and seasons, the motions of the heavenly bodies, the past and future
positions of the stars and planets, eclipses, and celestial phenomena
generally which admit of prediction. It is the basis on which the
family almanac is to rest. It also contains the special data needed
to enable the astronomer and navigator to determine their position on
land or sea. The first British publication of the sort, prepared by
Maskelyne, Astronomer Royal, a century ago, was intended especially
for the use of navigators; hence the familiar appellation, which I
call unfortunate because it leads to the impression that the work
is simply an enlargement and improvement of the household almanac.
The leading nations publish ephemerides of this sort. The
introductions and explanations are, of course, in the languages of
the respective countries; but the contents of the volume are now so
much alike that the duplication of work involved in preparing them
seems quite unnecessary. Yet national pride and emulation will
probably continue it for some time to come.
The first appropriation for an American ephemeris and nautical
almanac was made by Congress in 1849. Lieutenant Charles Henry
Davis, as a leader and moving spirit in securing the appropriation,
was naturally made the first superintendent of the work. At that time
astronomical science in our country was so far from being reduced to
a system that it seemed necessary to have the work prepared at some
seat of learning. So, instead of founding the office in Washington,
it was established at Cambridge, the seat of Harvard University,
where it could have the benefit of the technical knowledge of experts,
and especially of Professor Benjamin Peirce, who was recognized as
the leading mathematician of America. Here it remained until 1866,
when conditions had so far changed that the office was removed to
Washington, where it has since remained.
To this work I was especially attracted because its preparation seemed
to me to embody the highest intellectual power to which man had ever
attained. The matter used to present itself to my mind somewhat in
this way: Supply any man with the fundamental data of astronomy, the
times at which stars and planets cross the meridian of a place, and
other matters of this kind. He is informed that each of these bodies
whose observations he is to use is attracted by all the others with
a force which varies as the inverse square of their distance apart.
From these data he is to weigh the bodies, predict their motion in
all future time, compute their orbits, determine what changes of form
and position these orbits will undergo through thousands of ages,
and make maps showing exactly over what cities and towns on the
surface of the earth an eclipse of the sun will pass fifty years
hence, or over what regions it did pass thousands of years ago.
A more hopeless problem than this could not be presented to the
ordinary human intellect. There are tens of thousands of men who
could be successful in all the ordinary walks of life, hundreds who
could wield empires, thousands who could gain wealth, for one who
could take up this astronomical problem with any hope of success.
The men who have done it are therefore in intellect the select few
of the human race,--an aristocracy ranking above all others in the
scale of being. The astronomical ephemeris is the last practical
outcome of their productive genius.
On the question whether the world generally reasoned in this way,
I do not remember having any distinct idea. This was certainly
not because I was indifferent to the question, but because it never
strongly presented itself to my mind. From my point of view it would
not have been an important one, because I had already formed the
conviction that one should choose that sphere in life to which he was
most strongly attracted, or for which his faculties best fitted him.
A few months previous to my advent Commander Davis had been
detached from the superintendency and ordered to command the
sloop St. Mary's. He was succeeded by Professor Joseph Winlock,
who afterward succeeded George P. Bond as director of the Harvard
Observatory. Most companionable in the society of his friends,
Winlock was as silent as General Grant with the ordinary run of men.
Withal, he had a way of putting his words into exact official form.
The following anecdote of him used to be current. While he was
attached to the Naval Academy, he was introduced one evening at a
reception to a visiting lady. He looked at the lady for a decorous
length of time, and she looked at him; then they parted without
saying a word. His introducer watched the scene, and asked him,
"Why did you not talk to that lady?"
"I had no statement to make to her," was the reply.
Dr. Gould told me this story was founded on fact, but when, after
Winlock's death, it was put off on me with some alterations, I felt
less sure.
The following I believe to be authentic. It occurred several
years later. Hilgard, in charge of the Coast Survey office,
was struck by the official terseness of the communications he
occasionally received from Winlock, and resolved to be his rival.
They were expecting additions to their families about the same time,
and had doubtless spoken of the subject. When Hilgard's arrived,
he addressed a communication to Winlock in these terms:--
"Mine's a boy. What's yours?"
In due course of time the following letter was received in reply:--
Dear Hilgard:--
_Boy._
Yours, etc., J. Winlock.
When some time afterward I spoke to Winlock on the subject, and
told him what Hilgard's motive was, he replied, "It was not fair
in Hilgard to try and take me unawares in that way. Had I known
what he was driving at, I might have made my letter still shorter."
I did not ask him how he would have done it. It is of interest that
the "boy" afterward became one of the assistant secretaries of the
Smithsonian Institution.
One of the most remarkable features of the history of the "Nautical
Almanac" is the number of its early assistants who have gained
prominence or distinction in the various walks of life. It would
be difficult to find so modest a public work to exceed it in this
respect.
John D. Runkle, who lived till 1902, was, as I have said, the
senior and leading assistant in the office. He afterward became a
professor in the Institute of Technology, and succeeded Rogers as
its president. In 1876 he started the school of manual training,
which has since been one of the great features of the Institute.
He afterward resigned the presidency, but remained its principal
professor of mathematics. He was the editor and founder of the
"Mathematical Monthly," of which I shall presently have more to say.
The most wonderful genius in the office, and the one who would have
been the most interesting subject of study to a psychologist, was
Truman Henry Safford. In early childhood he had excited attention
by his precocity as what is now sometimes called a "lightning
calculator." A committee of the American Academy of Arts and Science
was appointed to examine him. It very justly and wisely reported that
his arithmetical powers were not in themselves equal to those of some
others on record, especially Zerah Colburn, but that they seemed to
be the outcome of a remarkable development of the reasoning power.
When nine years old, he computed almanacs, and some of his work
at this age is still preserved in the Harvard University Library.
He graduated at Harvard in 1854, and was soon afterward taken into
the Nautical Almanac Office, while he also worked from time to time
at the Cambridge observatory. It was found, however, that the power
of continuous work was no greater in him than in others, nor did he
succeed in doing more than others in the course of a year.
The mental process by which certain gifted arithmetical computers
reach almost in an instant the results of the most complicated
calculations is a psychological problem of great interest,
which has never been investigated. No more promising subject for
the investigation could ever have been found than Safford, and I
greatly regret having lost all opportunities to solve the problem.
What was of interest in Safford's case was the connection of this
faculty with other remarkable mental powers of an analogous but
yet different kind. He had a remarkable faculty for acquiring,
using, and reading languages, and would have been an accomplished
linguist had he turned his attention in that direction. He was a
walking bibliography of astronomy, which one had only to consult in
order to learn in a moment what great astronomers of recent times had
written on almost any subject, where their work was published, and on
what shelf of the Harvard Library the book could be found. But the
faculty most closely connected with calculation was a quickness and
apprehension of vision, of which the following is an example:--
About 1876 he visited the Naval Observatory in Washington for the
first time in his life. We wanted a certain catalogue of stars and
went together into the library. The required catalogue was on one
of a tier of shelves containing altogether a hundred, or perhaps
several hundred volumes. "I do not know whether we have the book,"
said I, "but if we have, it is on one of these shelves." I began
to go through the slow process of glancing at the books one by one
until my eyes should strike the right title. He stood back six
or eight feet and took in all the shelves seemingly at one glance,
then stepped forward and said, "Here it is." I might have supposed
this an accident, but that he subsequently did practically the same
thing in my office, selecting in a moment a book we wanted to see,
after throwing a rapid glance over shelves containing perhaps a
hundred volumes.
An example of his apprehension and memory for numbers was narrated
by Mr. Alvan Clark. When the latter had completed one of his great
telescopes for the University of Chicago, Safford had been named
as director, and accompanied the three members of the firm to the
city when they carried the object glass thither. On leaving the
train all four took their seats in a hotel omnibus, Safford near
the door. Then they found that they had forgotten to give their
baggage checks to the expressman; so the other three men passed
their checks to Safford, who added his own and handed all four to
the conductor of the omnibus. When it was time for the baggage to
come to the hotel, there was such a crowd of new arrivals that the
attendants could not find it. The hotel clerk remarked on inquiry,
"If I only knew the numbers of your checks, I would have no difficulty
in tracing your trunks." Safford at once told off the four numbers,
which he had read as he was passing the checks to the conductor.
The great fire practically put an end to the activity of the Chicago
Observatory and forced its director to pursue his work in other
fields. That he failed to attain that commanding position due to his
genius is to be ascribed to a cause prevalent among us during all the
middle part of the century; perhaps that from which most brilliant
intellects fail to reach eminence: lack of the power of continuous
work necessary to bring important researches to a completion.
Another great intellect of the office was Chauncey Wright.
If Wright had systematically applied his powers, he might have
preceded or supplanted Herbert Spencer as the great exponent of the
theory of evolution. He had graduated at Harvard in 1853, and was
a profound student of philosophy from that time forward, though I am
not aware that he was a writer. When in 1858 Sir William Hamilton's
"Lectures on Metaphysics" appeared, he took to them with avidity.
In 1859 appeared Darwin's "Origin of Species," and a series of
meetings was held by the American Academy, the special order of
which was the discussion of this book. Wright and myself, not yet
members, were invited to be present. To judge of the interest it is
only necessary to remark that Agassiz and Gray were the two leading
disputants, the first taking ground against Darwin, the other in his
favor. Wright was a Darwinist from the very beginning, explaining
the theory in private conversation from a master's point of view,
and soon writing upon it in the "North American Review" and in other
publications. Of one of his articles Darwin has been quoted as saying
that it was the best exposition of his theory that had then appeared.
After his untimely death in 1875, Wright's papers were collected and
published under the title of "Philosophical Discussions." [1] Their
style is clear-cut and faultless in logical form, yet requiring such
close attention to every word as to be less attractive to the general
reader of to-day than that of Spencer. In a more leisurely age,
when men wanted to think profoundly as they went along in a book,
and had little to disturb the current of their thoughts, it would
have commanded wide attention among thinking men.
A singular peculiarity which I have sometimes noticed among men of
intelligence is that those who are best informed on the subject
may be most reckless as regards the laws of health. Wright did
all of his office work in two or three months of the year. During
those months he worked at his computations far into the hours of
the morning, stimulating his strength with cigars, and dropping
his work only to take it up when he had had the necessary sleep.
A strong constitution might stand this for a few years, as his did.
But the ultimate result hardly needs to be told.
Besides the volume I have mentioned, Wright's letters were collected
and printed after his death by the subscription of his friends.
In these his philosophic views are from time to time brought out
in a light, easy way, much more charming than the style of his
elaborate discussions. It was in one of his letters that I first
found the apothegm, "Men are born either Platonists or Aristotelians,"
a happy drawing of the line which separates the hard-headed scientific
thinker of to-day from the thinkers of all other classes.
William Ferrell, a much older man than myself, entered the office
about the same time as I did. He published papers on the motions
of fluids on the earth's surface in the "Mathematical Monthly,"
and became one of the great authorities on dynamic meteorology,
including the mathematical theory of winds and tides. He was, I
believe, the first to publish a correct theory of the retardation
produced in the rotation of the earth by the action of the tides,
and the consequent slow lengthening of the day.
James Edward Oliver might have been one of the great mathematicians of
his time had he not been absolutely wanting in the power of continuous
work. It was scarcely possible to get even his year's office
work out of him. Yet when I once wrote him a question on certain
mathematical forms which arise in the theory of "least squares,"
he replied in a letter which, with some developments and change of
form, would have made a worthy memoir in any mathematical journal.
As a matter of fact, the same thoughts did appear some years after,
in an elaborate paper by Professor J. W. L. Glaisher, of England,
published by the Royal Astronomical Society.
Oliver, who afterward became professor of higher mathematics at
Cornell University, was noted for what I think should be considered
the valuable quality of absent-mindedness. It was said of him that
he was once walking on the seashore with a small but valuable gold
watch loose in his pocket. While deep in thought he started a kind
of distraction by picking up flat stones and skipping them on the
water. Taking his watch from his pocket he skipped it as a stone.
When I became well acquainted with him I took the liberty of asking
him as to the correctness of this story. He could not positively
say whether it was true or not. The facts were simply that he had
the watch, that he had walked on the seashore, had skipped stones,
missed the watch at some subsequent time, and never saw it again.
More definite was an observation made on his movements one afternoon
by a looker-out from a window of the Nautical Almanac Office.
Across the way the road was bounded by no fence, simply passing
along the side of an open field. As Oliver got near the office,
his chin on his breast, deep in thought, he was seen gradually to
deviate from the sidewalk, and direct his steps along the field.
He continued on this erratic course until he ran almost against the
fence at the other end. This awoke him from his reverie, and he
started up, looked around, and made his way back to the road.
I have spoken only of the men who were employed at the office at
the time I entered. Previous to my time were several who left to
accept professorships in various parts of the country. Among them
were Professors Van Vleck, of Middletown, and Hedrick and Kerr, of
North Carolina. Not desiring to leave upon the mind of the reader the
impression that all of whom I have not spoken remained in obscurity,
I will remark that Mr. Isaac Bradford rose to the position of mayor
of the city of Cambridge, and that fugitive pieces in prose and
poetry by Mr. E. J. Loomis were collected in a volume. [2]
The discipline of the public service was less rigid in the office
at that time than at any government institution I ever heard of.
In theory there was an understanding that each assistant was
"expected" to be in the office five hours a day. The hours might be
selected by himself, and they generally extended from nine until two,
the latter being at that time the college and family dinner hour.
As a matter of fact, however, the work was done pretty much where
and when the assistant chose, all that was really necessary being
to have it done on time.
It will be seen that the excellent opportunities offered by this
system were well improved by those who enjoyed them--improved in a way
that I fear would not be possible in any other surroundings. I took
advantage of them by enrolling myself as a student of mathematics in
the Lawrence Scientific School. On this occasion I well remember
my pleasant reception by Charles W. Eliot, tutor in mathematics,
and E. N. Horsford, professor of chemistry, and, I believe, dean of
the school. As a newcomer into the world of light, it was pleasant
to feel the spirit with which they welcomed me. The departments of
chemistry and engineering were about the only ones which, at that
time, had any distinct organization. As a student of mathematics
it could hardly be said that anything was required of me either in
the way of attendance on lectures or examinations until I came up
for the degree of Bachelor of Science. I was supposed, however,
to pursue my studies under the direction of Professor Peirce.
So slight a connection with the university does not warrant me in
assuming an authoritative position as an observer of its men or
its workings. Yet there are many features associated with it which
I have not seen in print, which have probably disappeared with the
progress of the age, and to which, therefore, allusion may be made.
One, as it presents itself to my memory, is the great variety and
picturesqueness of character which the university then presented.
I would like to know whether the changes in men which one fancies he
sees during his passage from youth to age are real, or only relative
to his point of view. If my impressions are correct, our educational
planing mill cuts down all the knots of genius, and reduces the best
of the men who go through it to much the same standard. Does not the
Harvard professor of to-day always dine in a dress coat? Is he not
free from every eccentricity? Do the students ever call him "Benny"
or "Tobie"? Is any "Old Soph" [3] now ambulant on the college green?
Is not the administration of the library a combination of liberality
and correctness? Is such a librarian as John Langdon Sibley possible?
Mr. Sibley, under a rough exterior, was one of the best-hearted and
most admirable of men, with whom I ultimately formed an intimate
friendship. But our first acquaintance was of a very unfavorable
kind. It came about in this way: not many days after being taken
into the Nautical Almanac Office I wanted a book from the university
library, and asked a not over-bright old gentleman in the office
what formalities were necessary in order to borrow it.
"Just go over and tell them you want it for the Nautical Almanac."
"But they don't know me at the library, and surely will not give
a book to any stray caller because he says he wants it for the
Nautical Almanac."
"You have only to say 'Nautical Almanac' and you will get the book."
I argued the matter as stoutly as courtesy admitted, but at length,
concluding that I was new to the rules and regulations of the place,
accepted the supposedly superior knowledge of my informer and went
over to the library with a due measure of assurance. The first
attendant whom I addressed referred me to the assistant librarian,
and he again to the librarian. After these formalities, conducted
with impressive gravity, my assurance wilted when I was ushered into
the august presence of the chief librarian.
As the mental picture of the ensuing scene has shaped itself through
more than forty years it shows a personage of imposing presence,
gigantic features, and forbidding countenance, standing on a dais
behind a desk, expounding the law governing the borrowing of books
from the library of Harvard College to an abashed youth standing
before him. I left without the book, but with a valuable addition
to my knowledge of library management. We both remembered this
interview, and exchanged impressions about it long years after.
"I thought you the most crusty and disobliging old man I had ever
seen."
"And I thought _you_ the most presumptuous youth that had ever
appeared in the library."
One of Mr. Sibley's professional doctrines was that at least one copy
of everything printed was worth preserving. I strove to refute him,
but long failed. Half in derision, I offered the library the stub
of my wash-book. Instead of throwing it into the wastebasket he
kept it, with the remark that the wash-book of a nineteenth century
student would at some future time be of interest to the antiquarian.
In due time I received a finely engraved acknowledgment of the gift.
But I forced him from his position at last. He had to admit that
copies of the theatre posters need not all be preserved. It would
suffice to keep a few specimens.
Professor Peirce was much more than a mathematician. Like many men
of the time, he was a warm lover and a cordial hater. It could not
always be guessed which side of a disputed question he would take;
but one might be fairly sure that he would be at one extreme or
the other. As a speaker and lecturer he was very pleasing, neither
impressive nor eloquent, and yet interesting from his earnestness
and vivacity. For this reason it is said that he was once chosen
to enforce the views of the university professors at a town meeting,
where some subject of interest to them was coming up for discussion.
Several of the professors attended the meeting, and Peirce made
his speech. Then a townsman rose and took the opposite side,
expressing the hope that the meeting would not allow itself to be
dictated to by these nabobs of Harvard College. When he sat down,
Peirce remained in placid silence, making no reply. When the meeting
broke up, some one asked Peirce why he had not replied to the man.
"Why! did you not hear what he called us? He said we were nabobs!
I so enjoyed sitting up there and seeing all that crowd look up to
me as a nabob that I could not say one word against the fellow."
The first of the leading astronomers whose acquaintance I made
was Dr. Benjamin Apthorp Gould. Knowing his eminence, I was
quite surprised by his youthful vivacity. His history, had I time
to recount it, might be made to serve well the purpose of a grave
lesson upon the conditions required, even by the educated public, of
a scientific investigator, capable of doing the highest and best work
in his branch. The soul of generosity and the pink of honor, ever
ready to lend a hand to a struggling youth whom he found deserving
of help, enthusiastically devoted to his favorite science, pursuing
it in the most exalted spirit, animated by not a single mean motive,
it might have been supposed that all the facilities the world could
offer would have been open to him in his career. If such was not the
case to the extent one might have wished, I do not mean to intimate
that his life can be regarded as a failure. In whatever respect
the results may have fallen off from his high ideal, it is more to
be regretted on the score of science than on his own.
Scorning pretense and charlatanry of all kinds, believing that
only the best were to be encouraged, he was far from being a man
of the people. Only a select few enjoyed his favor, but these few
well deserved it. That no others would have deserved it I should
be far from intimating. The undisguised way in which he expressed
his sentiments for any one, no matter how influential, who did not
come up to the high standard he set, was not adapted to secure the
favor even of the most educated community. Of worldly wisdom in
this matter he seemed, at least in his early days, to know nothing.
He graduated at Harvard in 1845, in one of the very distinguished
classes. Being fond of astronomy, he was struck with the backward
condition of that science in our country. He resolved to devote his
life to building up the science in America. He went to Germany,
then the only country in which astronomy was pursued in its most
advanced form, studied under Gauss and Argelander, and took his
degree at Göttingen in 1848. Soon after his return he founded the
"Astronomical Journal," and also took a position as Chief of the
Longitude Department in the Coast Survey.
The great misfortune of his life, and temporarily at least, a severe
blow to American astronomy, were associated with his directorship of
the Dudley Observatory at Albany. This institution was founded by
the munificence of a wealthy widow of Albany. The men to whom she
intrusted the administration of her gift were among the most prominent
and highly respected citizens of the place. The trustees went wisely
to work. They began by forming an advisory scientific council,
consisting of Bache, Henry, and Peirce. Under the direction of this
council the observatory was built and equipped with instruments.
When ready for active work in 1857, Gould moved thither and took
personal charge. Very soon rumors of dissension were heard.
The affair gradually grew into a contest between the director and
the trustees, exceeding in bitterness any I have ever known in the
world of learning or even of politics. It doubtless had its origin
in very small beginnings. The policy of the director recognized no
end but scientific efficiency. The trustees, as the responsible
administrators of the trust, felt that they had certain rights in
the matter, especially that of introducing visitors to inspect the
institution and look through the telescope. How fatal the granting
of such courtesies is to continuous work with an instrument only
astronomers know; and one of the most embarrassing difficulties the
director of such an institution meets with is to effect a prudent
compromise between the scientific efficiency of his institution and
the wishes of the public. But Gould knew no such word as compromise.
It was humiliating to one in the position of a trustee to send some
visitor with a permit to see the observatory, and have the visitor
return with the report that he had not been received with the most
distinguished courtesy, and, perhaps, had not seen the director at
all, but had only been informed by an assistant of the rules of the
place and the impossibility of securing admission.
This spark was enough to kindle a fire. When the fire gathered
strength, the director, instead of yielding, called on the scientific
council for aid. It is quite likely that, had these wise and prudent
men been consulted at each step, and their advice been followed, he
would have emphasized his protest by resigning. But before they were
called in, the affair had gone so far that, believing the director
to be technically right in the ground he had taken and the work he
had done, the council felt bound to defend him. The result was a
war in which the shots were pamphlets containing charges, defenses,
and rejoinders. The animosity excited may be shown by the fact
that the attacks were not confined to Gould and his administration,
but extended to every institution with which he and the president of
the council were supposed to be connected. Bache's administration of
the Coast Survey was held up to scorn and ridicule. It was supposed
that Gould, as a Cambridge astronomer, was, as a matter of course,
connected with the Nautical Almanac Office, and paid a high salary.
This being assumed, the office was included in the scope of attack,
and with such success that the item for its support for the year 1859,
on motion of Mr. Dawes, was stricken out of the naval bill. How far
the fire spread may be judged by the fact that a whole edition of the
"Astronomical Journal," supposed to have some mention of the affair
in the same cover, was duly sent off from the observatory, but never
reached its destination through the mails. Gould knew nothing of
this fact until, some weeks later, I expressed my surprise to him
at not receiving No. 121. How or by whom it was intercepted, I do
not know that he ever seriously attempted to inquire. The outcome
of the matter was that the trustees asserted their right by taking
forcible possession of the observatory.
During my first year at Cambridge I made the acquaintance of a
senior in the college whose untimely death seven years later I have
never ceased to deplore. This was William P. G. Bartlett, son of a
highly esteemed Boston physician, Dr. George Bartlett. The latter
was a brother of Sidney Bartlett, long the leader of the Boston bar.
Bartlett was my junior in years, but his nature and the surrounding
circumstances were such that he exercised a powerful influence
upon me. His virile and aggressive honesty could not be exceeded.
His mathematical abilities were of a high order, and he had no
ambition except to become a mathematician. Had he entered public
life at Washington, and any one had told me that he was guilty of a
dishonest act, I should have replied, "You might as well tell me that
he picked up the Capitol last night and carried it off on his back."
The fact that one could say so much of any man, I have always looked
upon as illustrating one of the greatest advantages of having a youth
go through college. The really important results I should look for
are not culture or training alone, but include the acquaintance of
a body of men, many of whom are to take leading positions in the
world, of a completeness and intimacy that can never be acquired
under other circumstances. The student sees his fellow students
through and through as he can never see through a man in future years.
It was, and I suppose still is, the custom for the members of a
graduating class at Harvard to add to their class biographies a
motto expressing their aspirations or views of life. Bartlett's was,
"I love mathematics and hate humbug." What the latter clause would
have led to in his case, had he gone out into the world, one can
hardly guess.
"I have had a long talk with my Uncle Sidney," he said to me one day.
"He wants me to study law, maintaining that the wealth one can thereby
acquire, and the prominence he may assume, will give him a higher
position in society and public esteem than mere learning ever can.
But I told him that if I could stand high in the esteem of twenty such
men as Cayley, Sylvester, and Peirce, I cared nothing to be prominent
in the eyes of the rest of the world." Such an expression from an
eminent member of the Boston bar, himself a Harvard graduate, was the
first striking evidence I met with that my views of the exalted nature
of astronomical investigation were not shared by society at large.
One of the greatest advantages I enjoyed through Bartlett was an
intimate acquaintance with a cultured and refined Boston family.
In 1858 Mr. Runkle founded the "Mathematical Monthly," having
secured, in advance, the coöperation of the leading professors
of the subject in the country. The journal was continued, under
many difficulties, for three years. As a vehicle for publishing
researches in advanced mathematics, it could not be of a high order,
owing to the necessity of a subscription list. Its design was
therefore to interest students and professors in the subject, and
thus prepare the way for the future growth of mathematical study
among us. Its principal feature was the offer of prize problems
to students as well as prizes for essays on mathematical subjects.
The first to win a prize for an essay was George W. Hill, a graduate
of Rutgers just out of college, who presented a memoir in which the
hand of the future master was evident throughout.
In the general conduct of the journal Bartlett and myself, though not
ostensibly associate editors, were at least assistants. Simple though
the affair was, some of our experiences were of an interesting and,
perhaps, instructive nature.
Soon after the first number appeared, a contribution was offered by
a professor in a distant State. An important part of the article
was found to be copied bodily from Walton's "Problems in Mechanics,"
an English book which, it might be supposed, was not much known in
this country. Runkle did not want to run the risk of injuring his
subscription list by offending one occupying an influential position
if he could help it with honor to the journal. Of course it was not
a question of publishing the paper, but only of letting the author
know why he did not do so,--"letting him down easy."
Bartlett's advice was characteristic. "Just write to the fellow
that we don't publish stolen articles. That's all you need say."
I suggested that we might inflict on him all necessary humiliation
by letting him know in the gentlest manner possible that we saw
the fraud. Of course Runkle preferred this course, and wrote him,
calling his attention to a similarity between his treatment of
the subject and that of Walton, which materially detracted from the
novelty of the former. I think it was suggested that he get the book,
if possible, and assure himself on the subject.
A vigorous answer came by return of mail. He was a possessor of
Walton's book, knew all about the similar treatment of the subject by
Walton, and did not see that that should be any bar to the publication
of the article. I think it was he who wound up his letter with the
statement that, while he admitted the right of the editor to publish
what he pleased, he, the writer, was too busy to spend his time in
writing rejected articles.
An eminent would-be contributor was a prominent Pennsylvania
politician, who had read a long and elaborate article, before some
teachers' association, on an arithmetical problem about oxen eating
grass, the power to solve which was taken as the highest mark of
mathematical ability, among school teachers during the first half
of the century. The association referred the paper to the editor
of the "Mathematical Monthly," by whom it was, I believe, consigned
to the wastebasket. The result was a good deal of correspondence,
such a proceeding being rather humiliating to a man of eminence
who had addressed so distinguished an assembly. The outcome of the
matter was that the paper, which was much more in the nature of a
legal document than of a mathematical investigation, was greatly
reduced in length by its author, and then still further shorn by the
editor, until it would fill only two or three pages of the journal;
thus reduced, it was published.
The time was not yet ripe for the growth of mathematical science
among us, and any development that might have taken place in that
direction was rudely stopped by the civil war. Perhaps this may
account for the curious fact that, so far as I have ever remarked,
none of the student contributors to the journal, Hill excepted,
has made himself known as a mathematical investigator. Not only
the state of mathematical learning, but the conditions of success
at that time in a mathematical text-book, are strikingly illustrated
by one of our experiences.
One of the leading publishing houses of educational text-books in
the country issued a very complete and advanced series, from the
pen of a former teacher of the subject. They were being extensively
introduced, and were sent to the "Mathematical Monthly" for review.
They were distinguished by quite apt illustrations, well fitted,
perhaps, to start the poorly equipped student in the lower branches of
the work, but the advanced works, at least, were simply ridiculous.
A notice appeared in which the character of the books was pointed
out. The evidence of the worthlessness of the entire series was
so strong that the publishers had it entirely rewritten by more
competent authors. Now came the oddest part of the whole affair.
The new series was issued under the name of the same author as the
old one, just as if the acknowledgment of his total failure did not
detract from the value of his name as an author.
In 1860 a total eclipse of the sun was visible in British America.
The shadow of the moon, starting from near Vancouver's Island,
crossed the continent in a northeast direction, passed through the
central part of the Hudson Bay region, crossed Hudson Bay itself and
Greenland, then inclining southward, swept over the Atlantic to Spain.
As this was the first eclipse of the kind which had recently been
visible, much interest was taken in its observation. On the part of
the Nautical Almanac Office I computed the path of the shadow and
the times of crossing certain points in it. The results were laid
down on a map which was published by the office. One party, fitted
out in connection with the American Association for the Advancement
of Science, was sent to Greenland. Admiral Davis desired to send
another, on behalf of his own office, into the central regions of
the continent. As members of this party Mr. Ferrel and myself were
chosen. At the request of Professor Agassiz one of the assistants in
the Museum of Comparative Zoölogy, Mr. Samuel H. Scudder, accompanied
us. More than twenty years later Mr. Scudder published a little book
describing some of our adventures, which was illustrated with sketches
showing the experiences of a party in the wild West at that time.
Our course lay from St. Paul across Minnesota to the Red River of
the North, thence north to Fort Garry near the southern end of Lake
Winnipeg, then over the lake and some distance up the Saskatchewan
River. At St. Paul we paid our respects to Governor Ramsey, afterward
Senator from Minnesota and Secretary of War. We were much surprised
at the extraordinary deference paid by the community to a Mr. Burbank,
a leading citizen of the town, and owner of the stages which we had
to engage for our journey across the country. He seemed to be a man
whom every one was afraid to offend. Even the local newspapers were
careful what they printed about matters in which he was interested.
The two or three days which we passed in getting things ready
to start were rather dull. The morning after our arrival I saw,
during a morning walk, on a hill just outside the town, a large new
building, on which the word "Athenæum" was conspicuously shown.
The Boston Athenæum had a very fine library; is it not possible
that this may have a beginning of something of the same sort?
Animated by this hope, I went up the hill and entered the building,
which seemed to be entirely vacant. The first words that met my
eyes were "Bar Room" painted over a door. It was simply a theatre,
and I left it much disappointed.
Here we were joined by a young Methodist clergyman,--Edward
Eggleston,--and the four of us, with our instruments and appliances,
set out on our journey of five days over the plains. On the
first day we followed partly the line of a projected railway, of
which the embankments had been completed, but on which work had,
for some reason, been stopped to await a more prosperous season.
Here was our first experience of towns on paper. From the tone in
which the drivers talked of the places where we were to stop over
night one might have supposed that villages, if not cities, were
plentiful along our track. One example of a town at that time will
be enough. The principal place on our route, judging from the talk,
was Breckenridge. We would reach it at the end of the fourth day,
where we anticipated a pleasant change after camping out in our tent
for three nights. It was after dark before we arrived, and we looked
eagerly for signs of the town we were approaching.
The team at length stopped in front of an object which, on careful
examination in the darkness, appeared to be the most primitive
structure imaginable. It had no foundations, and if it had a
wall at all, it was not more than two or three feet in height.
Imagine the roof taken off a house forty feet long and twenty feet
wide and laid down on the ground, and you have the hotel and only
building, unless perhaps a stable, in Breckenridge at that time.
The entrance was at one end. Going in, a chimney was seen in the
middle of the building. The floor was little more than the bare
ground. On each side of the door, by the flickering light of a fire,
we saw what looked like two immense boxes. A second glance showed
that these boxes seemed to be filled with human heads and legs.
They were, in fact, the beds of the inhabitants of Breckenridge.
Beds for the arriving travelers, if they existed at all, which I do
not distinctly remember, were in the back of the house. I think the
other members of the party occupied that portion. I simply spread
my blanket out on the hearth in front of the fire, wrapped up,
and slept as soundly as if the bed was the softest of a regal palace.
At Fort Garry we were received by Governor McTavish, with whom Captain
Davis had had some correspondence on the subject of our expedition,
and who gave us letters to the "factors" of the Hudson Bay Company
scattered along our route. We found that the rest of our journey
would have to be made in a birch bark canoe. One of the finest craft
of this class was loaned us by the governor. It had been, at some
former time, the special yacht of himself or some visiting notable.
It was manned by eight half-breeds, men whose physical endurance I
have never seen equaled.
It took three or four days to get everything ready, and this interval
was, of course, utilized by Scudder in making his collections.
He let the fishermen of the region know that he wanted specimens of
every kind of fish that could be found in the lake. A very small
reward stirred them into activity, and, in due time, the fish were
brought to the naturalist,--but lo! all nicely dressed and fit for
cooking. They were much surprised when told that all their pains in
dressing their catch had spoiled it for the purposes of the visiting
naturalist, who wanted everything just as it was taken from the water.
Slow indeed was progress through the lake. A canoe can be paddled
only in almost smooth water, and we were frequently stormbound on some
desolate island or point of land for two or three days at a time.
When, after many adventures, some of which looked like hairbreadth
escapes, we reached the Saskatchewan River, the eclipse was only three
or four days ahead, and it became doubtful whether we should reach
our station in time for the observation. It was to come off on the
morning of July 18, and, by dint of paddling for twenty-four hours
at a stretch, our men brought us to the place on the evening before.
Now a new difficulty occurred. In the wet season the Saskatchewan
inundates the low flat region through which it flows, much like
the Nile. The country was practically under water. We found the
most elevated spot we could, took out our instruments, mounted
them on boxes or anything else in the shallow puddles of water, and
slept in the canoe. Next morning the weather was hopelessly cloudy.
We saw the darkness of the eclipse and nothing more.
Astronomers are greatly disappointed when, having traveled halfway
around the world to see an eclipse, clouds prevent a sight of it;
and yet a sense of relief accompanies the disappointment. You are
not responsible for the mishap; perhaps something would have broken
down when you were making your observations, so that they would
have failed in the best of weather; but now you are relieved from
all responsibility. It was much easier to go back and tell of
the clouds than it would have been to say that the telescope got
disarranged at the critical moment so that the observations failed.
On our return across Minnesota we had an experience which I have
always remembered as illustrative of the fallacy of all human
testimony about ghosts, rappings, and other phenomena of that
character. We spent two nights and a day at Fort Snelling. Some of
the officers were greatly surprised by a celestial phenomenon of a
very extraordinary character which had been observed for several
nights past. A star had been seen, night after night, rising in
the east as usual, and starting on its course toward the south.
But instead of continuing that course across the meridian, as stars
invariably had done from the remotest antiquity, it took a turn
toward the north, sunk toward the horizon, and finally set near the
north point of the horizon. Of course an explanation was wanted.
My assurance that there must be some mistake in the observation could
not be accepted, because this erratic course of the heavenly body
had been seen by all of them so plainly that no doubt could exist on
the subject. The men who saw it were not of the ordinary untrained
kind, but graduates of West Point, who, if any one, ought to be free
from optical deceptions. I was confidently invited to look out that
night and see for myself. We all watched with the greatest interest.
In due time the planet Mars was seen in the east making its way
toward the south. "There it is!" was the exclamation.
"Yes, there it is," said I. "Now that planet is going to keep right
on its course toward the south."
"No, it is not," said they; "you will see it turn around and go down
towards the north."
Hour after hour passed, and as the planet went on its regular course,
the other watchers began to get a little nervous. It showed no
signs of deviating from its course. We went out from time to time
to look at the sky.
"There it is," said one of the observers at length, pointing to
Capella, which was now just rising a little to the east of north;
"there is the star setting."
"No, it is n't," said I; "there is the star we have been looking at,
now quite inconspicuous near the meridian, and that star which you
think is setting is really rising and will soon be higher up."
A very little additional watching showed that no deviation of the
general laws of Nature had occurred, but that the observers of
previous nights had jumped at the conclusion that two objects,
widely apart in the heavens, were the same.
I passed more than four years in such life, surroundings, and
activities as I have described. In 1858 I received the degree of
D. S. from the Lawrence Scientific School, and thereafter remained
on the rolls of the university as a resident graduate. Life in the
new atmosphere was in such pleasant and striking contrast to that
of my former world that I intensely enjoyed it. I had no very well
marked object in view beyond continuing studies and researches in
mathematical astronomy. Not long after my arrival in Cambridge some
one, in speaking of Professor Peirce, remarked to me that he had a
European reputation as a mathematician. It seemed to me that this
was one of the most exalted positions that a man could attain, and I
intensely longed for it. Yet there was no hurry. Reputation would
come to him who deserved it by his works; works of the first class
were the result of careful thought and study, and not of hurry.
A suggestion had been made to me looking toward a professorship in
some Western college, but after due consideration, I declined to
consider the matter. Yet the necessity of being on the alert for
some opening must have seemed quite strong, because in 1860 I became
a serious candidate for the professorship of physics in the newly
founded Washington University at St. Louis. I was invited to visit
the university, and did so on my way to observe the eclipse of 1860.
My competitor was Lieutenant J. M. Schofield of the United States
Army, then an instructor at West Point. It will not surprise the
reader to know that the man who was afterward to command the army
of the United States received the preference, so I patiently waited
more than another year.
[1] Henry Holt & Co.: New York, 1877.
[2] _Wayside Sketches_, by E. J. Loomis. Roberts: Boston
[3] Evangelinus Apostolides Sophocles, a native Greek and a learned
professor of the literature of his country.
IV
LIFE AND WORK AT AN OBSERVATORY
In August, 1861, while I was passing my vacation on Cape Ann,
I received a letter from Dr. Gould, then in Washington, informing
me that a vacancy was to be filled in the corps of professors of
mathematics attached to the Naval Observatory, and suggesting that
I might like the place. I was at first indisposed to consider
the proposition. Cambridge was to me the focus of the science
and learning of our country. I feared that, so far as the world
of learning was concerned, I should be burying myself by moving
to Washington. The drudgery of night work at the observatory would
also interfere with carrying on any regular investigation. But, on
second thought, having nothing in view at the time, and the position
being one from which I could escape should it prove uncongenial,
I decided to try, and indited the following letter:--
Nautical Almanac Office,
Cambridge, Mass., August 22, 1861.
Sir,--I have the honor to apply to you for my appointment
to the office of Professor of Mathematics in the United
States Navy. I would respectfully refer you to Commander
Charles Henry Davis, U. S. N., Professor Benjamin Peirce,
of Harvard University, Dr. Benjamin A. Gould, of Cambridge,
and Professor Joseph Henry, Secretary of the Smithsonian
Institution, for any information respecting me which will
enable you to judge of the propriety of my appointment.
With high respect,
Your obedient servant,
Simon Newcomb,
Assistant, Nautical Almanac.
Hon. Gideon Welles,
Secretary of the Navy,
Washington, D. C.
I also wrote to Captain Davis, who was then on duty in the Navy
Department, telling him what I had done, but made no further effort.
Great was my surprise when, a month later, I found in the post-office,
without the slightest premonition, a very large official envelope,
containing my commission duly signed by Abraham Lincoln, President
of the United States. The confidence in the valor, abilities, etc.,
of the appointee, expressed in the commission, was very assuring.
Accompanying it was a letter from the Secretary of the Navy
directing me to report to the Bureau of Ordnance and Hydrography,
in Washington, for such duty as it might assign me. I arrived on
October 6, and immediately called on Professor J. S. Hubbard, who was
the leading astronomer of the observatory. On the day following I
reported as directed, and was sent to Captain Gilliss, the recently
appointed Superintendent of the Naval Observatory, before whom I
stood with much trepidation. In reply to his questions I had to
confess my entire inexperience in observatory work or the making
of astronomical observations. A coast survey observer had once
let me look through his transit instrument and try to observe the
passage of a star. On the eclipse expedition mentioned in the last
chapter I had used a sextant. This was about all the experience
in practical astronomy which I could claim. In fact I had never
been inside of an observatory, except on two or three occasions at
Cambridge as a visitor. The captain reassured me by saying that
no great experience was expected of a newcomer, and told me that I
should go to work on the transit instrument under Professor Yarnall,
to whose care I was then confided.
As the existence of a corps of professors of mathematics is peculiar
to our navy, as well as an apparent, perhaps a real, anomaly,
some account of it may be of interest. Early in the century--one
hardly knows when the practice began--the Secretary of the Navy,
in virtue of his general powers, used to appoint men as professors
of mathematics in the navy, to go to sea and teach the midshipmen
the art of navigation. In 1844, when work at the observatory was
about to begin, no provision for astronomers was made by Congress.
The most convenient way of supplying this want was to have the
Secretary appoint professors of mathematics, and send them to the
observatory on duty.
A few years later the Naval Academy was founded at Annapolis, and a
similar course was pursued to provide it with a corps of instructors.
Up to this time the professors had no form of appointment except
a warrant from the Secretary of the Navy. Early in the history of
the academy the midshipmen burned a professor in effigy. They were
brought before a court-martial on the charge of disrespect to a
superior officer, but pleaded that the professor, not holding a
commission, was not their superior officer, and on this plea were
acquitted. Congress thereupon took the matter up, provided that
the number of professors should not exceed twelve, and that they
should be commissioned by the President by and with the advice
and consent of the Senate. This raised their rank to that of a
commissioned corps in the navy. They were to perform such duty as
the Secretary of the Navy might direct, and were, for the most part,
divided between the Naval Academy and the Observatory.
During the civil war some complaint was made that the midshipmen
coming from the academy were not well trained in the duties of a
seagoing officer; and it was supposed that this was due to too much
of their time being given to scientific studies. This was attributed
to the professors, with the result that nearly all those attached to
the academy were detached during the four years following the close
of the civil war and ordered elsewhere, mostly to the observatory.
Their places were taken by line officers who, in the intervals between
their turns of sea duty, were made heads of departments and teachers
of the midshipmen in nearly every branch.
This state of things led to the enactment of a law (in 1869, I think),
"that hereafter no vacancy in the grade of professors of mathematics
in the navy shall be filled."
In 1873 this provision was annulled by a law, again providing
for a corps of twelve professors, three of whom should have the
relative rank of captain, four of commander, and the remainder of
lieutenant-commander or lieutenant.
Up to 1878 the Secretary of the Navy was placed under no restrictions
as to his choice of a professor. He could appoint any citizen whom
he supposed to possess the necessary qualifications. Then it was
enacted that, before appointment, a candidate should pass a medical
and a professional examination.
I have said that the main cause of hesitation in making my
application arose from my aversion to very late night work. It soon
became evident that there was less ground than I had supposed for
apprehension on this point. There was a free and easy way of carrying
on work which was surprising to one who had supposed it all arranged
on strict plans, and done according to rule and discipline. Professor
Yarnall, whose assistant I was, was an extremely pleasant gentleman
to be associated with. Although one of the most industrious workers
at the observatory, there was nothing of the martinet about him.
He showed me how to handle the instrument and record my observations.
There was a Nautical Almanac and a Catalogue of Stars. Out of these
each of us could select what he thought best to observe.
The custom was that one of us should come on every clear evening,
make observations as long as he chose, and then go home. The transit
instrument was at one end of the building and the mural circle, in
charge of Professor Hubbard, at the other. He was weak in health,
and unable to do much continuous work of any kind, especially the
hard work of observing. He and I arranged to observe on the same
nights; but I soon found that there was no concerted plan between
the two sets of observers. The instruments were old-fashioned
ones, of which mine could determine only the right ascension of a
star and his only its declination; hence to completely determine
the position of a celestial body, observations must be made on the
same object with both instruments. But I soon found that there was
no concert of action of this kind. Hubbard, on the mural circle,
had his plan of work; Yarnall and myself, on the transit, had ours.
When either Hubbard or myself got tired, we could "vote it cloudy"
and go out for a plate of oysters at a neighboring restaurant.
In justice to Captain Gilliss it must be said that he was not in
any way responsible for this lack of system. It grew out of the
origin and history of the establishment and the inaction of Congress.
The desirableness of our having a national observatory of the same
rank as those of other countries was pointed out from time to time by
eminent statesmen from the first quarter of the century. John Quincy
Adams had, both while he filled the presidential office and afterward,
made active efforts in this direction; but there were grave doubts
whether Congress had any constitutional authority to erect such an
institution, and the project got mixed up with parties and politics.
So strong was the feeling on the subject that, when the Coast Survey
was organized, it was expressly provided that it should not establish
an astronomical observatory.
The outcome of the matter was that, in 1842, when Congress at length
decided that we should have our national observatory, it was not
called such, but was designated as a "house" to serve as a depot
for charts and instruments for the navy. But every one knew that
an observatory was meant. Gilliss was charged with its erection,
and paid a visit to Europe to consult with astronomers there on
its design, and to order the necessary instruments. When he got
through with this work and reported it as completed he was relieved,
and Lieutenant Matthew F. Maury was appointed superintendent of the
new institution.
Maury, although (as he wrote a few years later) quite without
experience in the use of astronomical instruments, went at his work
with great energy and efficiency, so that, for two or three years,
the institution bade fair to take a high place in science. Then he
branched off into what was, from a practical standpoint, the vastly
more important work of studying the winds and currents of the ocean.
The epoch-making character of his investigations in this line,
and their importance to navigation when ships depended on sails for
their motive power, were soon acknowledged by all maritime nations,
and the fame which he acquired in pursuing them added greatly to
the standing of the institution at which the work was done, though
in reality an astronomical outfit was in no way necessary to it.
The new work was so absorbing that he seemed to have lost interest
in the astronomical side of the establishment, which he left to his
assistants. The results were that on this side things fell into the
condition I have described, and stayed there until Maury resigned his
commission and cast his fortunes with the Confederacy. Then Gilliss
took charge and had to see what could be done under the circumstances.
It soon became evident to him that no system of work of the first
order of importance could be initiated until the instrumental
equipment was greatly improved. The clocks, perfection in
which is almost at the bottom of good work, were quite unfit
for use. The astronomical clock with which Yarnall and I made
our observations kept worse time than a high-class pocket watch
does to-day. The instruments were antiquated and defective in
several particulars. Before real work could be commenced new ones
must be procured. But the civil war was in progress, and the times
were not favorable to immediately securing them. That the work of
the observatory was kept up was due to a feeling of pride on the
part of our authorities in continuing it without interruption through
the conflict. The personnel was as insufficient as the instruments.
On it devolved not only the making of the astronomical observations,
but the issue of charts and chronometers to the temporarily immense
navy. In fact the observatory was still a depot of charts for the
naval service, and continued to be such until the Hydrographic Office
was established in 1866.
In 1863 Gilliss obtained authority to have the most pressing wants
supplied by the construction of a great transit circle by Pistor and
Martins in Berlin. He had a comprehensive plan of work with this
instrument when it should arrive, but deferred putting any such plan
in operation until its actual reception.
Somehow the work of editing, explaining, and preparing for the
press the new series of observations made by Yarnall and myself with
our old transit instrument devolved on me. To do this in the most
satisfactory way, it was necessary to make a careful study of the
methods and system at the leading observatories of other countries
in the line we were pursuing, especially Greenwich. Here I was
struck by the superiority of their system to ours. Everything was
there done on an exact and uniform plan, and one which seemed to
me better adapted to get the best results than ours was. For the
non-astronomical reader it may be remarked that after an astronomer
has made and recorded his observations, a large amount of calculation
is necessary to obtain the result to which they lead. Making such
calculations is called "reducing" the observations. Now in the
previous history of the observatory, the astronomers fell into the
habit of every one not only making his observations in his own way,
but reducing them for himself. Thus it happened that Yarnall had
been making and reducing his observations in his own way, and I,
on alternate nights, had been making and reducing mine in my way,
which was modeled after the Greenwich fashion, and therefore quite
different from his. Now I suddenly found myself face to face with
the problem of putting these two heterogeneous things together so
as to make them look like a homogeneous whole. I was extremely
mortified to see how poor a showing would be made in the eyes of
foreign astronomers. But I could do nothing more than to describe
the work and methods in such a way as to keep in the background the
want of system that characterized them.
Notwithstanding all these drawbacks of the present, the prospect
of future success seemed brilliant. Gilliss had the unlimited
confidence of the Secretary of the Navy, had a family very popular
in Washington society, was enthusiastically devoted to building
up the work of the observatory, and was drawing around him the
best young men that could be found to do that work. He made it a
point that his relations with his scientific subordinates should
be not only official, but of the most friendly social character.
All were constantly invited to his charming family circle. It was
from the occasional talks thus arising that I learned the details
of his plan of work with the coming instrument.
In 1862 Gilliss had the working force increased by the appointment of
four "aides," as they were then called,--a number that was afterwards
reduced to three. This was the beginning of the corps of three
assistant astronomers, which is still maintained. It will be of
interest to know that the first aide was Asaph Hall; but before his
appointment was made, an impediment, which for a time looked serious,
had to be overcome. Gilliss desired that the aide should hold a
good social and family position. The salary being only $1000, this
required that he should not be married. Hall being married, with
a growing family, his appointment was long objected to, and it was
only through much persuasion on the part of Hubbard and myself that
Gilliss was at length induced to withdraw his objections. Among other
early appointees were William Harkness and John A. Eastman, whose
subsequent careers in connection with the observatory are well known.
The death of Professor Hubbard in 1863 led to my taking his place,
in charge of the mural circle, early in September of that year.
This gave me an opportunity of attempting a little improvement
in the arrangements. I soon became conscious of the fact, which
no one had previously taken much account of, that upon the plan of
each man reducing his own observations, not only was there an entire
lack of homogeneity in the work, but the more work one did at night
the more he had to do by day. It was with some trepidation that I
presented the case to Gilliss, who speedily saw that work done with
the instruments should be regarded as that of the observatory, and
reduced on a uniform plan, instead of being considered as the property
of the individual who happened to make it. Thus was introduced the
first step toward a proper official system.
In February, 1865, the observatory sustained the greatest loss
it had ever suffered, in the sudden death of its superintendent.
What it would have grown to had he lived it is useless to guess,
but there is little doubt that its history would have been quite
different from what it is.
Soon afterward Admiral Davis left his position as Chief of the
Bureau of Navigation to take the subordinate one of Superintendent
of the Observatory. This step was very gratifying to me, Davis had
not only a great interest in scientific work, especially astronomy,
but a genuine admiration of scientific men which I have never seen
exceeded, accompanied with a corresponding love of association with
them and their work.
In October, 1865, occurred what was, in my eyes, the greatest event
in the history of the observatory. The new transit circle arrived
from Berlin in its boxes. Now for the first time in its history, the
observatory would have a meridian instrument worthy of it, and would,
it was hoped, be able to do the finest work in at least one branch
of astronomy. To my great delight, Davis placed me in charge of it.
The last three months of the year were taken up with mounting it
in position and making those investigations of its peculiarities
which are necessary before an instrument of the kind is put into
regular use. On the 1st day of January, 1866, this was all done,
and we were ready to begin operations. An opportunity thus arose
of seeing what we could do in the way of a regular and well-planned
piece of work. In the greater clearness of our sky, and the more
southern latitude of our observatory, we had two great advantages
over Greenwich. Looking back at his first two or three years of
work at the observatory, Maury wrote to a friend, "We have beaten
Greenwich hollow." It may be that I felt like trying to do the
same thing over again. At any rate, I mapped out a plan of work
the execution of which would require four years.
It was a piece of what, in astronomy, is called "fundamental work,"
in which results are to be obtained independent of any previously
obtained by other observers. It had become evident to me from our
own observations, as well as from a study of those made at European
observatories, that an error in the right ascension of stars, so
that stars in opposite quarters of the heavens would not agree, might
very possibly have crept into nearly all the modern observations at
Greenwich, Paris, and Washington. The determination of this error
was no easy matter. It was necessary that, whenever possible,
observations should be continued through the greater part of the
twenty-four hours. One observer must be at work with comparative
steadiness from nine o'clock in the morning until midnight or even
dawn of the morning following. This requirement was, however, less
exacting than might appear when stated. One half the nights would,
as a general rule, be cloudy, and an observer was not expected to
work on Sunday. Hence no one of the four observers would probably
have to do such a day's work as this more than thirty or forty times
in a year.
All this was hard work enough in itself, but conditions existed which
made it yet harder. No houses were then provided for astronomers,
and the observatory itself was situated in one of the most unhealthy
parts of the city. On two sides it was bounded by the Potomac, then
pregnant with malaria, and on the other two, for nearly half a mile,
was found little but frame buildings filled with quartermaster's
stores, with here and there a few negro huts. Most of the observers
lived a mile or more from the observatory; during most of the time I
was two miles away. It was not considered safe to take even an hour's
sleep at the observatory. The result was that, if it happened to
clear off after a cloudy evening, I frequently arose from my bed
at any hour of the night or morning and walked two miles to the
observatory to make some observation included in the programme.
This was certainly a new departure from the free and easy way in which
we had been proceeding, and it was one which might be unwelcome to
any but a zealous astronomer. As I should get the lion's share of
credit for its results, whether I wanted to or not, my interest in the
work was natural. But it was unreasonable to expect my assistants,
one or two of whom had been raised to the rank of professor, to feel
the same interest, and it is very creditable to their zeal that we
pursued it for some time as well as we did. If there was any serious
dissatisfaction with the duty, I was not informed of that fact.
During the second year of this work Admiral Davis was detached and
ordered to sea. The question of a successor interested many besides
ourselves. Secretary Welles considered the question what policy
should be pursued in the appointment. Professor Henry took part in
the matter by writing the secretary a letter, in which he urged the
appointment of an astronomer as head of the institution. His position
prevented his supporting any particular candidate; so he submitted
a list of four names, any one of which would be satisfactory.
These were: Professor William Chauvenet, Dr. B. A. Gould, Professor
J. H. C. Coffin, U. S. N., and Mr. James Ferguson. The latter held
a civil position at the observatory, under the title of "assistant
astronomer," and was at the time the longest in service of any of
its force.
A different view was urged upon the secretary in terms substantially
these: "Professors so able as those of the observatory require no
one to direct their work. All that the observatory really needs
is an administrative head who shall preserve order, look after
its business generally, and see that everything goes smoothly."
Such a head the navy can easily supply.
The secretary allowed it to be given out that he would be glad to
hear from the professors upon the subject. I thereupon went to
him and expressed my preference for Professor Coffin. He asked me,
"How would it do to have a purely administrative head?"
I replied that we might get along for a time if he did not interfere
with our work.
"No," said the secretary, "he shall not interfere. That shall
be understood."
As I left him there was, to my inexperienced mind, something very
odd in this function, or absence of function, of the head of an
establishment; but of course I had to bow to superior wisdom and
could say nothing.
The policy of Commodore (afterward Rear-Admiral) Sands, the incoming
superintendent, toward the professors was liberal in the last degree.
Each was to receive due credit for what he did, and was in every way
stimulated to do his best at any piece of scientific work he might
undertake with the approval of the superintendent. Whether he wanted
to observe an eclipse, determine the longitude of a town or interior
station, or undertake some abstruse investigation, every facility
for doing it and every encouragement to go on with it was granted him.
Under this policy the observatory soon reached the zenith of
its fame and popularity. Whenever a total eclipse of the sun was
visible in an accessible region parties were sent out to observe it.
In 1869 three professors, I being one, were sent to Des Moines,
Iowa, to observe the solar eclipse which passed across the country
in June of that year. As a part of this work, I prepared and the
observatory issued a detailed set of instructions to observers in
towns at each edge of the shadow-path to note the short duration of
totality. The object was to determine the exact point to which the
shadow extended. At this same eclipse Professor Harkness shared with
Professor Young of Princeton the honor of discovering the brightest
line in the spectrum of the sun's corona. The year following parties
were sent to the Mediterranean to observe an eclipse which occurred
in December, 1870. I went to Gibraltar, although the observation of
the eclipse was to me only a minor object. Some incidents connected
with this European trip will be described in a subsequent chapter.
The reports of the eclipse parties not only described the scientific
observations in great detail, but also the travels and experiences,
and were sometimes marked by a piquancy not common in official
documents. These reports, others pertaining to longitude, and
investigations of various kinds were published in full and distributed
with great liberality. All this activity grew out of the stimulating
power and careful attention to business of the head of the observatory
and the ability of the young professors of his staff. It was very
pleasant to the latter to wear the brilliant uniform of their rank,
enjoy the protection of the Navy Department, and be looked upon,
one and all, as able official astronomers. The voice of one of our
scientific men who returned from a visit abroad declaring that one
of our eclipse reports was the laughing-stock of Europe was drowned
in the general applause.
In the latter part of 1869 I had carried forward the work with
the transit circle as far as it could be profitably pursued under
existing conditions. On working up my observations, the error which
I had suspected in the adopted positions of the stars was proved
to be real. But the discovery of this error was due more to the
system of observation, especially the pursuit of the latter through
the day and night, than it was to any excellence of the instrument.
The latter proved to have serious defects which were exaggerated by
the unstable character of the clayey soil of the hill on which the
observatory was situated. Other defects also existed, which seemed
to preclude the likelihood that the future work of the instrument
would be of a high class. I had also found that very difficult
mathematical investigations were urgently needed to unravel one
of the greatest mysteries of astronomy, that of the moon's motion.
This was a much more important work than making observations, and
I wished to try my hand at it. So in the autumn I made a formal
application to the Secretary of the Navy to be transferred from
the observatory to the Nautical Almanac Office for the purpose of
engaging in researches on the motion of the moon. On handing this
application to the superintendent he suggested that the work in
question might just as well be done at the observatory. I replied
that I thought that the business of the observatory was to make and
reduce astronomical observations with its instruments, and that the
making of investigations of the kind I had in view had always been
considered to belong to the Nautical Almanac Office. He replied that
he deemed it equally appropriate for the observatory to undertake it.
As my objection was founded altogether on a principle which he
refused to accept, and as by doing the work at the observatory
I should have ready access to its library, I consented to the
arrangement he proposed. Accordingly, in forwarding my application,
he asked that my order should be so worded as not to detach me from
the observatory, but to add the duty I asked for to that which I
was already performing.
So far as I was personally concerned, this change was fortunate
rather than otherwise. As things go in Washington, the man who
does his work in a fine public building can gain consideration for
it much more readily than if he does it in a hired office like that
which the "Nautical Almanac" then occupied. My continued presence
on the observatory staff led to my taking part in two of the great
movements of the next ten years, the construction and inauguration
of the great telescope and the observations of the transit of Venus.
But for the time being my connection with the regular work of the
observatory ceased.
On the retirement of Admiral Sands in 1874, Admiral Davis returned
to the observatory, and continued in charge until his death in
February, 1877. The principal event of this second administration
was the dispatch of parties to observe the transit of Venus. Of this
I shall speak in full in a subsequent chapter.
One incident, although of no public importance, was of some interest
at the time. This was a visit of the only emperor who, I believe,
had ever set foot on our shores,--Dom Pedro of Brazil. He had
chosen the occasion of our Centennial for a visit to this country,
and excited great interest during his stay, not only by throwing
off all imperial reserve during his travels, but by the curiosity
and vigor with which he went from place to place examining and
studying everything he could find, and by the singular extent of
his knowledge on almost every subject of a scientific or technical
character. A Philadelphia engineer with whom he talked was quoted
as saying that his knowledge of engineering was not merely of the
ordinary kind to be expected in an intelligent man, but extended
to the minutest details and latest improvements in the building of
bridges, which was the specialty of the engineer in question.
Almost as soon as he arrived in Washington I received the following
letter by a messenger from the Arlington Hotel:--
Mr.:
En arrivant à Washington j'ai tout-de-suite songé à votre
observatoire, où vous avez acquis tant de droit à l'estime
de tout ceux qui achèvent la science. Je m'y rendrai donc
aujourd'hui à 7 heures du soir, et je compte vous y trouver,
surtout pour vous remercier de votre beau mémoire que j'ai
reçu peu avant mon départ de mon pays, et que je n'ai pas
pu, par conséquent, apprécier autant que je l'aurais voulu.
En me plaisant de l'espoir de vous connaître personnellement
je vous prie de me compter parmi vos affectionnés.
D. Pedro D'Alcantara.
7 Mai, 1876.
Like other notes which I subsequently received from him, it was in
his own autograph throughout: if he brought any secretary with him
on his travels I never heard of it.
The letter placed me in an embarrassing position, because its being
addressed to me was in contravention of all official propriety.
Of course I lost no time in calling on him and trying to explain the
situation. I told him that Admiral Davis, whom he well knew from
his being in command of the Brazilian station a few years before,
was the head of the observatory, and hinted as plainly as I could
that a notification of the coming of such a visitor as he should
be sent to the head of the institution. But he refused to take
the hint, and indicated that he expected me to arrange the whole
matter for him. This I did by going to the observatory and frankly
explaining the matter to Admiral Davis. Happily the latter was not
a stickler for official forms, and was cast in too large a mould to
take offense where none was intended. At his invitation I acted as
one of the receiving party. The carriage drove up at the appointed
hour, and its occupant was welcomed by the admiral at the door with
courtly dignity. The visitor had no time to spend in preliminaries;
he wished to look through the establishment immediately.
The first object to meet his view was a large marble-cased clock
which, thirty years before, had acquired some celebrity from being
supposed to embody the first attempt to apply electricity to the
recording of astronomical observations. It was said to have cost
a large sum, paid partly as a reward to its inventor. Its only
drawbacks were that it would not keep time and had never, so far as
I am aware, served any purpose but that of an ornament. The first
surprise came when the visitor got down on his hands and knees in
front of the clock, reached his hands under it, and proceeded to
examine its supports. We all wondered what it could mean. When he
arose, it was explained. He did not see how a clock supported in this
way could keep the exact time necessary in the work of an astronomer.
So we had to tell him that the clock was not used for this purpose,
and that he must wait until we visited the observing rooms to see
our clocks properly supported.
The only evidence of the imperial will came out when he reached the
great telescope. The moon, near first quarter, was then shining,
but the night was more than half cloudy, and there was no hope of
obtaining more than a chance glimpse at it through the clouds.
But he wished to see the moon through the telescope. I replied
that the sky was now covered, and it was very doubtful whether we
should get a view of the moon. But he required that the telescope
should be at once pointed at it. This was done, and at that moment a
clear space appeared between the clouds. I remarked upon the fact,
but he seemed to take it as a matter of course that the cloud would
get out of the way when he wanted to look.
I made some remark about the "vernier" of one of the circles on
the telescope.
"Why do you call it a vernier?" said he. "Its proper term is a
nonius, because Nonius was its inventor and Vernier took the idea
from him."
In this the national spirit showed itself. Nonius, a Portuguese,
had invented something on a similar principle and yet essentially
different from the modern vernier, invented by a Frenchman of
that name.
Accompanying the party was a little girl, ten or twelve years old,
who, though an interested spectator, modestly kept in the background
and said nothing. On her arrival home, however, she broke her
silence by running upstairs with the exclamation,--
"Oh, Mamma, he's the funniest emperor you ever did see!"
My connection with the observatory ceased September 15, 1877, when
I was placed in charge of the Nautical Almanac Office. It may not,
however, be out of place to summarize the measures which have since
been taken both by the Navy Department and by eminent officers of
the service to place the work of the institution on a sound basis.
One great difficulty in doing this arises from the fact that neither
Congress nor the Navy Department has ever stated the object which
the government had in view in erecting the observatory, or assigned
to it any well-defined public functions. The superintendent and his
staff have therefore been left to solve the question what to do from
time to time as best they could.
In the spring of 1877 Rear-Admiral John Rodgers became the
superintendent of the observatory. As a cool and determined fighter
during the civil war he was scarcely second even to Farragut, and he
was at the same time one of the ablest officers and most estimable
men that our navy ever included in its ranks. "I would rather be
John Rodgers dead than any other man I know living," was said by
one of the observatory assistants after his death. Not many months
after his accession he began to consider the question whether the wide
liberty which had been allowed the professors in choosing their work
was adapted to attain success. The Navy Department also desired to
obtain some expressions of opinion on the subject. The result was
a discussion and an official paper, not emanating from the admiral,
however, in which the duty of the head of the observatory was defined
in the following terms:--
"The superintendent of the observatory should be a line officer of
the navy, of high rank, who should attend to the business affairs
of the institution, thus leaving the professors leisure for their
proper work."
Although he did not entirely commit himself to this view, he was under
the impression that to get the best work out of the professors their
hearts must be in it; and this would not be the case if any serious
restraint was placed upon them as to the work they should undertake.
After Rodgers's death Vice-Admiral Rowan was appointed superintendent.
About this time it would seem that the department was again disposed
to inquire into the results of the liberal policy heretofore pursued.
Commander (since Rear-Admiral) William T. Sampson was ordered to the
observatory, not as its head, but as assistant to the superintendent.
He was one of the most proficient men in practical physics that the
navy has ever produced. I believe that one reason for choosing
so able and energetic an officer for the place was to see if any
improvement could be made on the system. As I was absent at the
Cape of Good Hope to observe the transit of Venus during the most
eventful occasion of his administration, I have very little personal
knowledge of it. It seems, however, that newspaper attacks were made
on him, in which he was charged with taking possession of all the
instruments of the observatory but two, and placing them in charge
of naval officers who were not proficient in astronomical science.
In reply he wrote an elaborate defense of his action to the "New
York Herald," which appeared in the number for February 13, 1883.
The following extract is all that need find a place in the present
connection.
When I came here on duty a little more than a year since,
I found these instruments disused. The transit instrument
had not been used since 1878, and then only at intervals for
several years previous; the mural circle had not been used
since 1877; the prime vertical had not been used since 1867.
These instruments had been shamefully neglected and much
injured thereby. . . . The small equatorial and comet
seeker were in the same disgraceful condition, and were
unfit for any real work.
Admiral Franklin was made superintendent sometime in 1883, I believe,
and issued an order providing that the work of the observatory should
be planned by a board consisting of the superintendent, the senior
line officer, and the senior professor. Professors or officers
in charge of instruments were required to prepare a programme for
their proposed work each year in advance, which programme would be
examined by the board. Of the work of this board or its proceedings,
no clear knowledge can be gleaned from the published reports, nor
do I know how long it continued.
In 1885 Secretary Whitney referred to the National Academy of Sciences
the question of the advisability of proceeding promptly with the
erection of a new naval observatory upon the site purchased in 1880.
The report of the academy was in the affirmative, but it was added
that the observatory should be erected and named as a national
one, and placed under civilian administration. The year following
Congress made the preliminary appropriation for the commencement of
the new building, but no notice was taken of the recommendation of
the academy.
In 1891 the new buildings were approaching completion, and Secretary
Tracy entered upon the question of the proper administration of
the observatory. He discussed the subject quite fully in his annual
report for that year, stating his conclusion in the following terms:--
I therefore recommend the adoption of legislation which
shall instruct the President to appoint, at a sufficient
salary, without restriction, from persons either within or
outside the naval service, the ablest and most accomplished
astronomer who can be found for the position of
superintendent.
At the following session of Congress Senator Hale introduced an
amendment to the naval appropriation bill, providing for the expenses
of a commission to be appointed by the Secretary of the Navy,
to consider and report upon the organization of the observatory.
The House non-concurred in this amendment, and it was dropped from
the bill.
At the same session, all the leading astronomers of the country
united in a petition to Congress, asking that the recommendation of
the Secretary of the Navy should be carried into effect. After a
very patient hearing of arguments on the subject by Professor Boss
and others, the House Naval Committee reported unanimously against
the measure, claiming that the navy had plenty of officers able to
administer the observatory in a satisfactory way, and that there
was therefore no necessity for a civilian head.
Two years later, Senator Morrill offered an amendment to the
legislative appropriation bill, providing that the superintendent of
the observatory should be selected from civil life, and be learned
in the science of astronomy. He supported his amendment by letters
from a number of leading astronomers of the country in reply to
questions which he had addressed to them.
This amendment, after being approved by the Senate Naval Committee,
was referred by the Committee on Appropriations to the Secretary
of the Navy. He recommended a modification of the measure so
as to provide for the appointment of a "Director of Astronomy,"
to have charge of the astronomical work of the observatory, which
should, however, remain under a naval officer as superintendent.
This arrangement was severely criticised in the House by Mr. Thomas
B. Reed, of Maine, and the whole measure was defeated in conference.
In 1892, when the new observatory was being occupied, the
superintendent promulgated regulations for its work. These set forth
in great detail what the observatory should do. Its work was divided
into nine departments, each with its chief, besides which there
was a chief astronomical assistant and a chief nautical assistant
to the superintendent, making eleven chiefs in all. The duties of
each chief were comprehensively described. As the entire scientific
force of the observatory numbered some ten or twelve naval officers,
professors, and assistant astronomers, with six computers, it may
be feared that some of the nine departments were short-handed.
In September, 1894, new regulations were established by the Secretary
of the Navy, which provided for an "Astronomical Director," who
was to "have charge of and to be responsible for the direction,
scope, character, and preparation for publication of all work purely
astronomical, which is performed at the Naval Observatory." As there
was no law for this office, it was filled first by the detail of
Professor Harkness, who served until his retirement in 1899, then
by the detail of Professor Brown, who served until March, 1901.
In 1899 the Secretary of the Navy appointed a Board of Visitors
to the observatory, comprising Senator Chandler, of New Hampshire,
Hon. A. G. Dayton, House of Representatives, and Professors Pickering,
Comstock, and Hale. This board, "in order to obviate a criticism
that the astronomical work of the observatory has not been prosecuted
with that vigor and continuity of purpose which should be shown in
a national observatory," recommended that the Astronomical Director
and the Director of the Nautical Almanac should be civil officers,
with sufficient salaries. A bill to this effect was introduced
into each House of Congress at the next session, and referred to
the respective naval committees, but never reported.
In 1901 Congress, in an amendment to the naval appropriation bill,
provided a permanent Board of Visitors to the observatory, in whom
were vested full powers to report upon its condition and expenditures,
and to prescribe its plan of work. It was also provided in the same
law that the superintendent of the observatory should, until further
legislation by Congress, be a line officer of the navy of a rank not
below that of captain. In the first annual report of this board is
the following clause:--
"We wish to record our deliberate and unanimous judgment that the
law should be changed so as to provide that the official head of
the observatory--perhaps styled simply the Director--should be an
eminent astronomer appointed by the President by and with the consent
of the Senate."
Although the board still has a legal existence, Congress, in
1902, practically suspended its functions by declining to make any
appropriation for its expenses. Moreover, since the detachment of
Professor Brown, Astronomical Director, no one has been appointed to
fill the vacancy thus arising. At the time of the present writing,
therefore, the entire responsibility for planning and directing
the work of the observatory is officially vested in the naval
superintendent, as it was at the old observatory.
V
GREAT TELESCOPES AND THEIR WORK
One hardly knows where, in the history of science, to look for an
important movement that had its effective start in so pure and simple
an accident as that which led to the building of the great Washington
telescope, and went on to the discovery of the satellites of Mars.
Very different might have been a chapter of astronomical history,
but for the accident of Mr. Cyrus Field, of Atlantic cable fame,
having a small dinner party at the Arlington Hotel, Washington, in the
winter of 1870. Among the guests were Senators Hamlin and Casserly,
Mr. J. E. Hilgard of the Coast Survey, and a young son of Mr. Field,
who had spent the day in seeing the sights of Washington. Being
called upon for a recital of his experiences, the youth described his
visit to the observatory, and expressed his surprise at finding no
large telescope. The only instrument they could show him was much
smaller and more antiquated than that of Mr. Rutherfurd in New York.
The guests listened to this statement with incredulity, and applied to
Mr. Hilgard to know whether the visitor was not mistaken, through a
failure to find the great telescope of the observatory. Mr. Hilgard
replied that the statement was quite correct, the observatory having
been equipped at a time when the construction of great refracting
telescopes had not been commenced, and even their possibility was
doubted.
"This ought not to be," said one of the senators. "Why is it so?"
Mr. Hilgard mentioned the reluctance of Congress to appropriate
money for a telescope.
"It must be done," replied the senator. "You have the case properly
represented to Congress, and we will see that an appropriation goes
through the Senate at least."
It chanced that this suggestion had an official basis which was not
known to the guests. Although Mr. Alvan Clark had already risen into
prominence as a maker of telescopes, his genius in this direction
had not been recognized outside of a limited scientific circle.
The civil war had commenced just as he had completed the largest
refracting telescope ever made, and the excitement of the contest,
as well as the absorbing character of the questions growing out
of the reconstruction of the Union, did not leave our public men
much time to think about the making of telescopes. Mr. Clark had,
however, been engaged by Captain Gilliss only a year or two after the
latter had taken charge of the observatory, to come to Washington,
inspect our instruments, and regrind their glasses. The result
of his work was so striking to the observers using the instruments
before and after his work on them, that no doubt of his ability could
be felt. Accordingly, in preparing items for the annual reports of
the observatory for the years 1868 and 1869, I submitted one to the
superintendent setting forth the great deficiency of the observatory
in respect to the power of its telescope, and the ability of Mr. Clark
to make good that deficiency. These were embodied in the reports.
It was recommended that authority be given to order a telescope of
the largest size from Mr. Clark.
It happened, however, that Secretary Welles had announced in his
annual reports as his policy that he would recommend no estimates for
the enlargement and improvement of public works in his department,
but would leave all matters of this kind to be acted on by Congress
as the latter might deem best. As the telescope was thrown out of
the regular estimates by this rule, this subject had failed to be
considered by Congress.
Now, however, the fact of the recommendation appearing in the annual
report, furnished a basis of action. Mr. Hilgard did not lose a
day in setting the ball in motion.
He called upon me immediately, and I told him of the recommendations
in the last two reports of the superintendent of the observatory.
Together we went to see Admiral Sands, who of course took the warmest
interest in the movement, and earnestly promoted it on the official
side. Mr. Hilgard telegraphed immediately to some leading men of
science, who authorized their signatures to a petition. In this paper
attention was called to the wants of the observatory, as set forth
by the superintendent, and to the eminent ability of the celebrated
firm of the Clarks to supply them. The petition was printed and put
into the hands of Senator Hamlin for presentation to the Senate only
three or four days after the dinner party. The appropriation measure
was formally considered by the Committee on Naval Affairs and that on
Appropriations, and was adopted in the Senate as an amendment to the
naval appropriation bill without opposition. The question then was
to get the amendment concurred in by the House of Representatives.
The session was near its close, and there was no time to do much work.
Several members of the House Committee on Appropriations were
consulted, and the general feeling seemed to be favorable to
the amendment. Great, therefore, was our surprise to find the
committee recommending that the amendment be not concurred in.
To prevent a possible misapprehension, I may remark that the present
system of non-concurring in all amendments to an appropriation bill,
in order to bring the whole subject into conference, had not then
been introduced, so that this action showed a real opposition to the
movement. One of the most curious features of the case is that the
leader in the opposition was said to be Mr. Washburn, the chairman
of the committee, who, not many years later, founded the Washburn
Observatory of the University of Wisconsin. There is, I believe,
no doubt that his munificence in this direction arose from what he
learned about astronomy and telescopes in the present case.
It happened, most fortunately, that the joint committee of conference
included Drake of the Senate and Niblack of the House, both earnestly
in favor of the measure. The committee recommended concurrence,
and the clause authorizing the construction became a law. The price
was limited to $50,000, and a sum of $10,000 was appropriated for
the first payment.
No sooner were the Clarks consulted than difficulties were found
which, for a time, threatened to complicate matters, and perhaps delay
the construction. In the first place, our currency was then still
on a paper basis. Gold was at a premium of some ten or fifteen per
cent., and the Clarks were unwilling to take the contract on any but
a gold basis. This, of course, the Government could not do. But the
difficulty was obviated through the action of a second one, which
equally threatened delay. Mr. L. J. McCormick, of reaping-machine
fame, had conceived the idea of getting the largest telescope that
could be made. He had commenced negotiations with the firm of Alvan
Clark & Sons before we had moved, and entered into a contract while
the appropriation was still pending in Congress. If the making of
one great telescope was a tedious job, requiring many years for its
completion, how could two be made?
I was charged with the duty of negotiating the government contract
with the Clarks. I found that the fact of Mr. McCormick's
contract being on a gold basis made them willing to accept one
from the Government on a currency basis; still they considered that
Mr. McCormick had the right of way in the matter of construction,
and refused to give precedence to our instrument. On mature
consideration, however, the firm reached the conclusion that two
instruments could be made almost simultaneously, and Mr. McCormick
very generously waived any right he might have had to precedence in
the matter.
The question how large an instrument they would undertake was, of
course, one of the first to arise. Progress in the size of telescopes
had to be made step by step, because it could never be foreseen how
soon the limit might be met; and if an attempt were made to exceed it,
the result would be not only failure for the instrument, but loss
of labor and money by the constructors. The largest refracting
telescope which the Clarks had yet constructed was one for the
University of Mississippi, which, on the outbreak of the civil war,
had come into the possession of the Astronomical Society of Chicago.
This would have been the last step, beyond which the firm would not
have been willing to go to any great extent, had it not happened that,
at this very time, a great telescope had been mounted in England.
This was made by Thomas Cooke & Sons of York, for Mr. R. S. Newall of
Gateshead on Tyne, England. The Clarks could not, of course, allow
themselves to be surpassed or even equaled by a foreign constructor;
yet they were averse to going much beyond the Cooke telescope in size.
Twenty-six inches aperture was the largest they would undertake.
I contended as strongly as I could for a larger telescope than
Mr. McCormick's, but they would agree to nothing of the sort,--the
supposed right of that gentleman to an instrument of equal size being
guarded as completely as if he had been a party to the negotiations.
So the contract was duly made for a telescope of twenty-six inches
clear aperture.
At that time Cooke and Clark were the only two men who had ever
succeeded in making refracting telescopes of the largest size. But in
order to exercise their skill, an art equally rare and difficult
had to be perfected, that of the glassmaker. Ordinary glass,
even ordinary optical glass, would not answer the purpose at all.
The two disks, one of crown glass and the other of flint, must be not
only of perfect transparency, but absolutely homogeneous through and
through, to avoid inequality of refraction, and thus cause all rays
passing through them to meet in the same focus. It was only about the
beginning of the century that flint disks of more than two or three
inches diameter could be made. Even after that, the art was supposed
to be a secret in the hands of a Swiss named Guinand, and his family.
Looking over the field, the Clarks concluded that the only firm that
could be relied on to furnish the glass was that of Chance & Co., of
Birmingham, England. So, as soon as the contracts were completed,
one of the Clark firm visited England and arranged with Chance &
Co. to supply the glass for the two telescopes. The firm failed in
a number of trials, but by repeated efforts finally reached success
at the end of a year. The glasses were received in December,
1871, and tested in the following month. A year and a half more
was required to get the object glasses into perfect shape; then,
in the spring or summer of 1873, I visited Cambridge for the purpose
of testing the glasses. They were mounted in the yard of the Clark
establishment in a temporary tube, so arranged that the glass could
be directed to any part of the heavens.
I have had few duties which interested me more than this. The
astronomer, in pursuing his work, is not often filled with those
emotions which the layman feels when he hears of the wonderful power
of the telescope. Not to say anything so harsh as that "familiarity
breeds contempt," we must admit that when an operation of any sort
becomes a matter of daily business, the sentiments associated with
it necessarily become dulled. Now, however, I was filled with
the consciousness that I was looking at the stars through the most
powerful telescope that had ever been pointed at the heavens, and
wondered what mysteries might be unfolded. The night was of the
finest, and I remember, sweeping at random, I ran upon what seemed
to be a little cluster of stars, so small and faint that it could
scarcely have been seen in a smaller instrument, yet so distant
that the individual stars eluded even the power of this instrument.
What cluster it might have been it was impossible to determine,
because the telescope had not the circles and other appliances
necessary for fixing the exact location of an object. I could
not help the vain longing which one must sometimes feel under such
circumstances, to know what beings might live on planets belonging
to what, from an earthly point of view, seemed to be a little colony
on the border of creation itself.
In his report dated October 9, 1873, Admiral Sands reported
the telescope as "nearly completed." The volume of Washington
observations showed that the first serious observations made with it,
those on the satellites of Neptune, were commenced on November 10
of the same year. Thus, scarcely more than a month elapsed from
the time that the telescope was reported still incomplete in the
shop of its makers until it was in regular nightly use.
Associated with the early history of the instrument is a chapter
of astronomical history which may not only instruct and amuse the
public, but relieve the embarrassment of some astronomer of a future
generation who, reading the published records, will wonder what became
of an important discovery. If the faith of the public in the absolute
certainty of all astronomical investigation is thereby impaired,
what I have to say will be in the interest of truth; and I have no
fear that our science will not stand the shock of the revelation.
Of our leading astronomical observers of the present day--of such
men as Burnham and Barnard--it may be safely said that when they
see a thing it is there. But this cannot always be said of every
eminent observer, and here is a most striking example of this fact.
When the telescope was approaching completion I wrote to the head of
one of the greatest European observatories, possessing one of the best
telescopes of the time, that the first thing I should attempt with
the telescope would be the discovery of the companion of Procyon.
This first magnitude star, which may be well seen in the winter
evenings above Orion, had been found to move in an exceedingly small
orbit, one too small to be detected except through the most refined
observations of modern precision. The same thing had been found in
the case of Sirius, and had been traced to the action of a minute
companion revolving around it, which was discovered by the Clarks
a dozen years before. There could be no doubt that the motion of
Procyon was due to the same cause, but no one had ever seen the
planet that produced it, though its direction from the star at any
time could be estimated.
Now, it happened that my European friend, as was very natural, had
frequently looked for this object without seeing it. Whether my
letter set him to looking again, or whether he did not receive
it until a later day, I do not know. What is certain is that,
in the course of the summer, he published the discovery of the
long-looked-for companion, supplemented by an excellent series of
observations upon it, made in March and April.
Of course I was a little disappointed that the honor of first
finding this object did not belong to our own telescope. Still I was
naturally very curious to see it. So, on the very first night on
which the telescope could be used, I sat up until midnight to take
a look at Procyon, not doubting that, with the greater power of our
telescope, it would be seen at the first glance. To my great concern,
nothing of the sort was visible. But the night was far from good,
the air being somewhat thick with moisture, which gave objects seen
through it a blurred appearance; so I had to await a better night and
more favorable conditions. Better nights came and passed, and still
not a trace of the object could be seen. Supposing that the light
of the bright star might be too dazzling, I cut it off with a piece
of green glass in the focus. Still no companion showed itself.
Could it be that our instrument, in a more favorable location,
would fail to show what had been seen with one so much smaller?
This question I could not answer, but wrote to my European friend
of my unavailing attempts.
He replied expressing his perplexity and surprise at the occurrence,
which was all the greater that the object had again been seen and
measured in April, 1874. A fine-looking series of observations
was published, similar to those of the preceding year. What made
the matter all the more certain was that there was a change in the
direction of the object which corresponded very closely to the motion
as it had been predicted by Auwers. The latter published a revision
of his work, based on the new observations.
A year later, the parties that had been observing the transit of Venus
returned home. The head of one of them, Professor C. H. F. Peters
of Clinton, stopped a day or two at Washington. It happened that
a letter from my European friend arrived at the same time. I found
that Peters was somewhat skeptical as to the reality of the object.
Sitting before the fire in my room at the observatory, I read to
him and some others extracts from the letter, which cited much
new evidence to show the reality of the discovery. Not only had
several of his own observers seen the object, but it had been seen
and measured on several different nights by a certain Professor Blank,
with a telescope only ten or twelve inches aperture.
"What," said Peters, "has Blank seen it?"
"Yes, so the letter says."
"Then it is n't there!"
And it really was not there. The maker of the discovery took it
all back, and explained how he had been deceived. He found that the
telescope through which the observations were made seemed to show a
little companion of the same sort alongside of every very bright star.
Everything was explained by this discovery. Even the seeming motion
of the imaginary star during the twelve months was accounted for by
the fact that in 1873 Procyon was much nearer the horizon when the
observations were made than it was the year following. [1]
There is a sequel to the history, which may cause its revision by some
astronomer not many years hence. When the great telescope was mounted
at the Lick Observatory, it is understood that Burnham and Barnard,
whose eyes are of the keenest, looked in vain for the companion
of Procyon. Yet, in 1895, it was found with the same instrument
by Schaeberle, and has since been observed with the great Yerkes
telescope, as well as by the observers at Mount Hamilton, so that the
reality of the discovery is beyond a doubt. The explanation of the
failure of Burnham and Barnard to see it is very simple: the object
moves in an eccentric orbit, so that it is nearer the planet at some
points of its orbit than at others. It was therefore lost in the
rays of the bright star during the years 1887-94. Is it possible
that it could have been far enough away to be visible in 1873-74?
I need scarcely add that this question must be answered in the
negative, yet it may be worthy of consideration, when the exact
orbit of the body is worked out twenty or thirty years hence.
In my work with the telescope I had a more definite end in view
than merely the possession of a great instrument. The work of
reconstructing the tables of the planets, which I had long before
mapped out as the greatest one in which I should engage, required
as exact a knowledge as could be obtained of the masses of all
the planets. In the case of Uranus and Neptune, the two outer
planets, this knowledge could best be obtained by observations on
their satellites. To the latter my attention was therefore directed.
In the case of Neptune, which has only one satellite yet revealed
to human vision, and that one so close to the planet that the
observations are necessarily affected by some uncertainty, it was
very desirable that a more distant one should be found if it existed.
I therefore during the summer and autumn of 1874 made most careful
search under the most favorable conditions. But no second satellite
was found. I was not surprised to learn that the observers with
the great Lick telescope were equally unsuccessful. My observations
with the instrument during two years were worked up and published,
and I turned the instrument over to Professor Hall in 1875.
The discovery of the satellites of Mars was made two years later,
in August, 1877. As no statement that I took any interest in the
discovery has ever been made in any official publication, I venture,
with the discoverer's permission, to mention the part that I took
in verifying it.
One morning Professor Hall confidentially showed me his first
observations of an object near Mars, and asked me what I thought
of them. I remarked, "Why, that looks very much like a satellite."
Yet he seemed very incredulous on the subject; so incredulous
that I feared he might make no further attempt to see the object.
I afterward learned, however, that this was entirely a misapprehension
on my part. He had been making a careful search for some time,
and had no intention of abandoning it until the matter was cleared
up one way or the other.
The possibility of the object being an asteroid suggested itself.
I volunteered to test this question by looking at the ephemerides
of all the small planets in the neighborhood of Mars. A very little
searching disproved the possibility of the object belonging to this
class. One such object was in the neighborhood, but its motion was
incompatible with the measures.
Then I remarked that, if the object were really a satellite, the
measures already made upon it, and the approximately known mass of
the planet, would enable the motion of the satellite to be determined
for a day or two. Thus I found that on that night the satellite would
be hidden in the early evening by the planet, but would emerge after
midnight. I therefore suggested to Professor Hall that, if it was
not seen in the early evening, he should wait until after midnight.
The result was in accordance with the prediction,--the satellite
was not visible in the early evening, but came out after midnight.
No further doubt was possible, and the discovery was published.
The labor of searching and observing was so exhausting that Professor
Hall let me compute the preliminary orbit of the satellites from
his early observations.
My calculations and suggestions lost an importance they might
otherwise have claimed, for the reason that several clear nights
followed. Had cloudy weather intervened, a knowledge of when to
look for the object might have greatly facilitated its recognition.
It is still an open question, perhaps, whether a great refracting
telescope will last unimpaired for an indefinite length of time.
I am not aware that the twin instruments of Harvard and Pulkowa,
mounted in 1843, have suffered from age, nor am I aware that any
of Alvan Clark's instruments are less perfect to-day than when they
left the hands of their makers. But not long after the discovery of
the satellites of Mars, doubts began to spread in some quarters as to
whether the great Washington telescope had not suffered deterioration.
These doubts were strengthened in the following way: When hundreds of
curious objects were being discovered in the heavens here and there,
observers with small instruments naturally sought to find them.
The result was several discoveries belonging to the same class
as that of the satellite of Procyon. They were found with very
insignificant instruments, but could not be seen in the large ones.
Professor Hall published a letter in a European journal, remarking
upon the curious fact that several objects were being discovered
with very small instruments, which were invisible in the Washington
telescope. This met the eye of Professor Wolf, a professor at the
Sorbonne in Paris, as well as astronomer at the Paris Observatory.
In a public lecture, which he delivered shortly afterward, he lamented
the fact that the deterioration of the Washington telescope had gone
so far as that, and quoted Professor Hall as his authority.
The success of the Washington telescope excited such interest the
world over as to give a new impetus to the construction of such
instruments. Its glass showed not the slightest drawbacks from its
great size. It had been feared that, after a certain limit, the
slight bending of the glass under its own weight would be injurious
to its performance. Nothing of the kind being seen, the Clarks were
quite ready to undertake much larger instruments. A 30-inch telescope
for the Pulkova Observatory in Russia, the 36-inch telescope of the
Lick Observatory in California, and, finally, the 40-inch of the
Yerkes Observatory in Chicago, were the outcome of the movement.
Of most interest to us in the present connection is the history
of the 30-inch telescope of the Pulkova Observatory, the object
glass of which was made by Alvan Clark & Sons. It was, I think,
sometime in 1878 that I received a letter from Otto Struve, [2]
director of the Pulkova Observatory, stating that he was arranging
with his government for a grant of money to build one of the largest
refracting telescopes. In answering him I called his attention to
the ability of Alvan Clark & Sons to make at least the object glass,
the most delicate and difficult part of the instrument. The result
was that, after fruitless negotiations with European artists, Struve
himself came to America in the summer of 1879 to see what the American
firm could do. He first went to Washington and carefully examined
the telescope there. Then he proceeded to Cambridge and visited the
workshop of the Clarks. He expressed some surprise at its modest
dimensions and fittings generally, but was so well pleased with what
he saw that he decided to award them the contract for making the
object glass. He was the guest of the Pickerings at the Cambridge
Observatory, and invited me thither from where I was summering on
the coast of Massachusetts to assist in negotiating the contract.
He requested that, for simplicity in conference, the preliminary terms
should be made with but a single member of the firm to talk with.
George B. Clark, the eldest member, was sent up to represent the firm.
I was asked to take part in the negotiations as a mutual friend of
both parties, and suggested the main conditions of the contract.
A summary of these will be found in the publication to which I have
already referred.
There was one provision the outcome of which was characteristic
of Alvan Clark & Sons. Struve, in testing some object glasses
which they had constructed and placed in their temporary tube,
found so great physical exertion necessary in pointing so rough
an instrument at any heavenly body with sufficient exactness,
that he could not form a satisfactory opinion of the object glass.
As he was to come over again when the glass was done, in order to
test it preliminary to acceptance, he was determined that no such
difficulty should arise. He therefore made a special provision
that $1000 extra, to be repaid by him, should be expended in making
a rough equatorial mounting in which he could test the instrument.
George Clark demurred to this, on the ground that such a mounting as
was necessary for this purpose could not possibly cost so much money.
But Struve persistently maintained that one to cost $1000 should
be made. The other party had to consent, but failed to carry out
this provision. The tube was, indeed, made large enough to test not
only Struve's glass but the larger one of the Lick Observatory, which,
though not yet commenced, was expected to be ready not long afterward.
Yet, notwithstanding this increase of size, I think the extra cost
turned out to be much less than $1000, and the mounting was so rough
that when Struve came over in 1883 to test the glass, he suffered
much physical inconvenience and met, if my memory serves me aright,
with a slight accident, in his efforts to use the rough instrument.
In points like this I do not believe that another such business firm
as that of the Clarks ever existed in this country or any other.
Here is an example. Shortly before the time of Struve's visit,
I had arranged with them for the construction of a refined and
complicated piece of apparatus to measure the velocity of light.
As this apparatus was quite new in nearly all its details, it was
impossible to estimate in advance what it might cost; so, of course,
they desired that payment for it should be arranged on actual cost
after the work was done. I assured them that the government would
not enter into a contract on such terms. There must be some maximum
or fixed price. This they fixed at $2500. I then arranged with
them that this should be taken as a maximum and that, if it was
found to cost less, they should accept actual cost. The contract
was arranged on this basis. There were several extras, including
two most delicate reflecting mirrors which would look flat to the
eye, but were surfaces of a sphere of perhaps four miles diameter.
The entire cost of the apparatus, as figured up by them after it was
done, with these additions, was less than $1500, or about forty per
cent. below the contract limit.
No set of men were ever so averse to advertising themselves.
If anybody, in any part of the world, wanted them to make a telescope,
he must write to them to know the price, etc. They could never be
induced to prepare anything in the form of a price catalogue of the
instruments they were prepared to furnish. The history of their
early efforts and the indifference of our scientific public to their
skill forms a mortifying chapter in our history of the middle of the
century. When Mr. Clark had finished his first telescope, a small
one of four inches aperture, which was, I have no reason to doubt,
the best that human art could make, he took it to the Cambridge
Observatory to be tested by one of the astronomers. The latter
called his attention to a little tail which the glass showed as
an appendage of a star, and which was, of course, non-existent.
It was attributed to a defect in the glass, which was therefore
considered a failure. Mr. Clark was quite sure that the tail was
not shown when he had previously used the glass, but he could not
account for it at the time. He afterwards traced it to the warm air
collecting in the upper part of the tube and producing an irregular
refraction of the light. When this cause was corrected the defect
disappeared. But he got no further encouragement at home to pursue
his work. The first recognition of his genius came from England,
the agent being Rev. W. R. Dawes, an enthusiastic observer of double
stars, who was greatly interested in having the best of telescopes.
Mr. Clark wrote him a letter describing a number of objects which
he had seen with telescopes of his own make. From this description
Mr. Dawes saw that the instruments must be of great excellence, and
the outcome of the matter was that he ordered one or more telescopes
from the American maker. Not until then were the abilities of the
latter recognized in his own country.
I have often speculated as to what the result might have been had
Mr. Clark been a more enterprising man. If, when he first found
himself able to make a large telescope, he had come to Washington,
got permission to mount his instrument in the grounds of the capitol,
showed it to members of Congress, and asked for legislation to
promote this new industry, and, when he got it, advertised himself
and his work in every way he could, would the firm which he founded
have been so little known after the death of its members, as it
now unhappily is? This is, perhaps, a rather academic question,
yet not an unprofitable one to consider.
In recent years the firm was engaged only to make object glasses
of telescopes, because the only mountings they could be induced to
make were too rude to satisfy astronomers. The palm in this branch
of the work went to the firm of Warner & Swasey, whose mounting of
the great Yerkes telescope of the University of Chicago is the last
word of art in this direction.
During the period when the reputation of the Cambridge family was
at its zenith, I was slow to believe that any other artist could
come up to their standard. My impression was strengthened by a
curious circumstance. During a visit to the Strasburg Observatory
in 1883 I was given permission to look through its great telescope,
which was made by a renowned German artist. I was surprised to find
the object glass affected by so serious a defect that it could not be
expected to do any work of the first class. One could only wonder
that European art was so backward. But, several years afterward,
the astronomers discovered that, in putting the glasses together after
being cleaned, somebody had placed one of them in the wrong position,
the surface which should have been turned toward the star being now
turned toward the observer. When the glass was simply turned over
so as to have the right face outward, the defect disappeared.
[1] In justice to Mr. Blank, I must say that there seems to have been
some misunderstanding as to his observations. What he had really
seen and observed was a star long well known, much more distant from
Procyon than the companion in question.
[2] Otto Struve was a brother of the very popular Russian minister to
Washington during the years 1882-92. He retired from the direction
of the Pulkowa Observatory about 1894. The official history of
his negotiations and other proceedings for the construction of the
telescope will be found in a work published in 1889 in honor of the
jubilee of the observatory.
VI
THE TRANSITS OF VENUS
It was long supposed that transits of Venus over the sun's disk
afforded the only accurate method of determining the distance of the
sun, one of the fundamental data of astronomy. Unfortunately, these
phenomena are of the rarest. They come in pairs, with an interval
of eight years between the transits of a pair. A pair occurred
in 1761 and 1769, and again in 1874 and 1882. Now the whole of
the twentieth century will pass without another recurrence of the
phenomenon. Not until the years 2004 and 2012 will our posterity
have the opportunity of witnessing it.
Much interesting history is associated with the adventures of the
astronomers who took part in the expeditions to observe the transits
of 1761 and 1769. In the almost chronic warfare which used to rage
between France and England during that period, neither side was
willing to regard as neutral even a scientific expedition sent out
by the other. The French sent one of their astronomers, Le Gentil,
to observe the transit at Pondicherry in the East Indies. As he
was nearing his station, the presence of the enemy prevented him
from making port, and he was still at sea on the day of the transit.
When he at length landed, he determined to remain until the transit
of 1769, and observe that. We must not suppose, however, that he
was guilty of the eccentricity of doing this with no other object in
view than that of making the observation. He found the field open
for profitable mercantile enterprise, as well as interesting for
scientific observations and inquiries. The eight long years passed
away, and the morning of June 4, 1769, found him in readiness for
his work. The season had been exceptionally fine. On the morning
of the transit the sun shone in a cloudless sky, as it had done for
several days previous. But, alas for all human hopes! Just before
Venus reached the sun, the clouds gathered, and a storm burst upon
the place. It lasted until the transit was over, and then cleared
away again as if with the express object of showing the unfortunate
astronomer how helpless he was in the hands of the elements.
The Royal Society of England procured a grant of £800 from King
George II. for expeditions to observe the transit of 1761. [1]
With this grant the Society sent the Rev. Nevil Maskelyne to the
island of St. Helena, and, receiving another grant, it was used to
dispatch Messrs. Mason and Dixon (those of our celebrated "line")
to Bencoolen. The admiralty also supplied a ship for conveying the
observers to their respective destinations. Maskelyne, however,
would not avail himself of this conveyance, but made his voyage
on a private vessel. Cloudy weather prevented his observations of
the transit, but this did not prevent his expedition from leaving
for posterity an interesting statement of the necessaries of an
astronomer of that time. His itemized account of personal expenses
was as follows:--
One year's board at St. Helena . . £109 10s. 0d.
Liquors at 5s. per day . . . . 91 5 0
Washing at 9d. per day . . . . 13 13 9
Other expenses . . . . . . 27 7 6
Liquors on board ship for six months 50 0 0
--- --- ---
£291 16s. 3d.
Seven hundred dollars was the total cost of liquors during the
eighteen months of his absence. Admiral Smyth concludes that
Maskelyne "was not quite what is now ycleped a teetotaler." He was
subsequently Astronomer Royal of England for nearly half a century,
but his published observations give no indication of the cost of
the drinks necessary to their production.
Mason and Dixon's expedition met with a mishap at the start.
They had only got fairly into the English Channel when their ship
fell in with a French frigate of superior force. An action ensued in
which the English crew lost eleven killed and thirty-eight wounded.
The Frenchman was driven off, but the victorious vessel had to return
to Plymouth for repairs. This kind of a scientific expedition was
more than the astronomers had bargained for, and they wrote from
Plymouth to the Royal Society, describing their misfortune and
resigning their mission. But the Council of the Society speedily
let them know that they were unmoved by the misfortunes of their
scientific missionaries, and pointed out to them in caustic terms
that, having solemnly undertaken the expedition, and received money
on account of it, their failure to proceed on the voyage would
be a reproach to the nation in general, and to the Royal Society
in particular. It would also bring an indelible scandal upon their
character, and probably end in their utter ruin. They were assured
that if they persisted in the refusal, they would be treated with the
most inflexible resentment, and prosecuted with the utmost severity
of the law.
Under such threats the unfortunate men could do nothing but accept
the situation and sail again after their frigate had been refitted.
When they got as far as the Cape of Good Hope, it was found very
doubtful whether they would reach their destination in time for
the transit; so, to make sure of some result from their mission,
they made their observations at the Cape.
One of the interesting scraps of history connected with the transit
of 1769 concerns the observations of Father Maximilian Hell, S. J.,
the leading astronomer of Vienna. He observed the transit at Wardhus,
a point near the northern extremity of Norway, where the sun did not
set at the season of the transit. Owing to the peculiar circumstances
under which the transit was observed,--the ingress of the planet
occurring two or three hours before the sun approached the northern
horizon, and the end of the transit about as long afterward,--this
station was the most favorable one on the globe. Hell, with two or
three companions, one of them named Sajnovics, went on his mission
to this isolated place under the auspices of the king of Denmark.
The day was cloudless and the observations were made with entire
success. He returned to Copenhagen, where he passed several months
in preparing for the press a complete account of his expedition and
the astronomical observations made at the station.
Astronomers were impatient to have the results for the distance of
the sun worked out as soon as possible. Owing to the importance of
Hell's observations, they were eagerly looked for. But he at first
refused to make them known, on the ground that, having been made
under the auspices of the king of Denmark, they ought not to be made
known in advance of their official publication by the Danish Academy
of Sciences. This reason, however, did not commend itself to the
impatient astronomers; and suspicions were aroused that something
besides official formalities was behind the delay. It was hinted
that Hell was waiting for the observations made at other stations in
order that he might so manipulate his own that they would fit in with
those made elsewhere. Reports were even circulated that he had not
seen the transit at all, owing to cloudy weather, and that he was
manufacturing observations in Copenhagen. The book was, however,
sent to the printer quite promptly, and the insinuations against its
author remained a mere suspicion for more than sixty years. Then,
about 1833, a little book was published on the subject by Littrow,
Director of the Vienna Observatory, which excited much attention.
Father Hell's original journal had been conveyed to Vienna on his
return, and was still on deposit at the Austrian National Observatory.
Littrow examined it and found, as he supposed, that the suspicions
of alterations in observations were well founded; more especially
that the originals of the all-important figures which recorded the
critical moment of "contact" had been scraped out of the paper,
and new ones inserted in their places. The same was said to be
the case with many other important observations in the journal, and
the conclusion to which his seemingly careful examination led was
that no reliance could be placed on the genuineness of Hell's work.
The doubts thus raised were not dispelled until another half-century
had elapsed.
In 1883 I paid a visit to Vienna for the purpose of examining the
great telescope which had just been mounted in the observatory there
by Grubb, of Dublin. The weather was so unfavorable that it was
necessary to remain two weeks, waiting for an opportunity to see
the stars. One evening I visited the theatre to see Edwin Booth,
in his celebrated tour over the Continent, play King Lear to the
applauding Viennese. But evening amusements cannot be utilized to
kill time during the day. Among the tasks I had projected was that
of rediscussing all the observations made on the transits of Venus
which had occurred in 1761 and 1769, by the light of modern science.
As I have already remarked, Hell's observations were among the most
important made, if they were only genuine. So, during my almost
daily visits to the observatory, I asked permission of Director
Weiss to study Hell's manuscript.
At first the task of discovering anything which would lead to a
positive decision on one side or the other seemed hopeless. To a
cursory glance, the descriptions given by Littrow seemed to cover the
ground so completely that no future student could turn his doubt into
certainty. But when one looks leisurely at an interesting object,
day after day, he continually sees more and more. Thus it was in
the present case. One of the first things to strike me as curious
was that many of the alleged alterations had been made before the
ink got dry. When the writer made a mistake, he had rubbed it out
with his finger, and made a new entry.
The all-important point was a certain suspicious record which Littrow
affirmed had been scraped out so that the new insertion could
be made. As I studied these doubtful figures, day by day, light
continually increased. Evidently the heavily written figures, which
were legible, had been written over some other figures which were
concealed beneath them, and were, of course, completely illegible,
though portions of them protruded here and there outside of the
heavy figures. Then I began to doubt whether the paper had been
scraped at all. To settle the question, I found a darkened room,
into which the sun's rays could be admitted through an opening in the
shutter, and held the paper in the sunlight in such a way that the
only light which fell on it barely grazed the surface of the paper.
Examining the sheet with a magnifying glass, I was able to see the
original texture of the surface with all its hills and hollows.
A single glance sufficed to show conclusively that no eraser had
ever passed over the surface, which had remained untouched.
The true state of the case seemed to me almost beyond doubt.
It frequently happened that the ink did not run freely from the
pen, so that the words had sometimes to be written over again.
When Hell first wrote down the little figures on which, as he
might well suppose, future generations would have to base a very
important astronomical element, he saw that they were not written
with a distinctness corresponding to their importance. So he wrote
them over again with the hand, and in the spirit of a man who was
determined to leave no doubt on the subject, little weening that
the act would give rise to a doubt which would endure for a century.
This, although the most important case of supposed alteration, was by
no means the only one. Yet, to my eyes, all the seeming corrections
in the journal were of the most innocent and commonplace kind,--such
as any one may make in writing.
Then I began to compare the manuscript, page after page, with
Littrow's printed description. It struck me as very curious that
where the manuscript had been merely retouched with ink which was
obviously the same as that used in the original writing, but looked
a little darker than the original, Littrow described the ink as of
a different color. In contrast with this, there was an important
interlineation, which was evidently made with a different kind of
ink, one that had almost a blue tinge by comparison; but in the
description he makes no mention of this plain difference. I thought
this so curious that I wrote in my notes as follows:--
"That Littrow, in arraying his proofs of Hell's forgery, should
have failed to dwell upon the obvious difference between this ink
and that with which the alterations were made leads me to suspect
a defect in his sense of color."
Then it occurred to me to inquire whether, perhaps, such could have
been the case. So I asked Director Weiss whether anything was known
as to the normal character of Littrow's power of distinguishing
colors. His answer was prompt and decisive. "Oh, yes, Littrow was
color blind to red. He could not distinguish between the color of
Aldebaran and that of the whitest star." No further research was
necessary. For half a century the astronomical world had based an
impression on the innocent but mistaken evidence of a color-blind
man respecting the tints of ink in a manuscript.
About the middle of the nineteenth century other methods of measuring
the sun's distance began to be developed which, it was quite possible,
might prove as good as the observation in question. But the relative
value of these methods and of transits of Venus was a subject on which
little light could be thrown; and the rarity of the latter phenomena
naturally excited universal interest, both among the astronomers
and among the public. For the purpose in question it was necessary
to send expeditions to different and distant parts of the globe,
because the result had to depend upon the times of the phases,
as seen from widely separated stations.
In 1869 the question what stations should be occupied and what
observations should be made was becoming the subject of discussion
in Europe, and especially in England. But our country was still
silent on the subject. The result of continued silence was not hard
to foresee. Congress would, at the last moment, make a munificent
appropriation for sending out parties to observe the transit.
The plans and instruments would be made in a hurry, and the parties
packed off without any well-considered ideas of what they were to
do; and the whole thing would end in failure so far as results of
any great scientific value were concerned.
I commenced the discussion by a little paper on the subject in the
"American Journal of Science," but there was no one to follow it up.
So, at the spring meeting of the National Academy of Sciences, in
1870, I introduced a resolution for the appointment of a committee to
consider the subject and report upon the observations which should
be made. This resolution was adopted, and a few days afterward
Professor Henry invited me to call at his office in the evening to
discuss with himself and Professor Peirce, then superintendent of
the Coast Survey, the composition of the committee.
At the conference I began by suggesting Professor Peirce himself
for chairman. Naturally this met with no opposition; then I waited
for the others to go on. But they seemed determined to throw the
whole onus of the matter on me. This was the more embarrassing,
because I believe that, in parliamentary law and custom, the mover
of a resolution of this sort has a prescribed right to be chairman
of the committee which he proposes shall be appointed. If not
chairman, it would seem that he ought at any rate to be a member.
But I was determined not to suggest myself in any way, so I went on
and suggested Admiral Davis. This nomination was, of course, accepted
without hesitation. Then I remarked that the statutes of the academy
permitted of persons who were not members being invited to serve on a
committee, and as the Naval Observatory would naturally take a leading
part in such observations as were to be made, I suggested that its
superintendent, Admiral Sands, should be invited to serve as a member
of the committee. "There," said Peirce, "we now have three names.
Committees of three are always the most efficient. Why go farther?"
I suggested that the committee should have on it some one practiced
in astronomical observation, but he deemed this entirely unnecessary,
and so the committee of three was formed. I did not deem it advisable
to make any opposition at the time, because it was easy to foresee
what the result would be.
During the summer nothing was heard of the committee, and in the
autumn I made my first trip to Europe. On my return, in May, 1871,
I found that the committee had never even held a meeting, and that
it had been enlarged by the addition of a number of astronomers,
among them myself. But, before it went seriously to work, it was
superseded by another organization, to be described presently.
At that time astronomical photography was in its infancy. Enough had
been done by Rutherfurd to show that it might be made a valuable
adjunct to astronomical investigation. Might we not then photograph
Venus on the sun's disk, and by measurements of the plates obtain the
desired result, perhaps better than it could be obtained by any kind
of eye observation? This question had already suggested itself to
Professor Winlock, who, at the Cambridge Observatory, had designed
an instrument for taking the photographs. It consisted of a fixed
horizontal telescope, into which the rays of the sun were to be
thrown by a reflector. This kind of an instrument had its origin
in France, but it was first practically applied to photographing
the sun in this country. As whatever observations were to be made
would have to be done at governmental expense, an appropriation of
two thousand dollars was obtained from Congress for the expense of
some preliminary instruments and investigations.
Admiral Sands, superintendent of the observatory, now took an
active part in the official preparations. It was suggested to
him, on the part of the academy committee, that it would be well
to join hands with other organizations, so as to have the whole
affair carried on with unity and harmony. To this he assented.
The result was a provision that these and all other preparations for
observing the transit of Venus should be made under the direction
of a commission to be composed of the superintendent of the Naval
Observatory, the superintendent of the United States Coast Survey, the
president of the National Academy of Sciences, and two professors of
mathematics attached to the Naval Observatory. Under this provision
the commission was constituted as follows: Commodore B. F. Sands,
U. S. N., Professor Benjamin Peirce, Professor Joseph Henry, Professor
Simon Newcomb, Professor William Harkness.
The academy committee now surrendered its functions to the commission,
and the preparations were left entirely in the hands of the latter.
So far as scientific operations were concerned, the views of the
commission were harmonious through the whole of their deliberations.
It was agreed from the beginning that the photographic method
offered the greatest promise of success. But how, with what sort
of instruments, and on what plan, must the photographs be taken?
Europeans had already begun to consider this question, and for the
most part had decided on using photographic telescopes having no
distinctive feature specially designed for the transit. In fact,
one might almost say that the usual observations with the eye
were to be made on the photograph instead of on the actual sun.
The American commissioners were of opinion that this would lead to
nothing but failure, and that some new system must be devised.
The result was a series of experiments and trials with Professor
Winlock's instrument at the Cambridge Observatory. The outcome of
the matter was the adoption of his plan, with three most important
additions, which I shall mention, because they may possibly yet be
adopted with success in other branches of exact astronomy if this
telescope is used, as it seems likely it may be.
The first feature was that the photographic telescope should be
mounted exactly in the meridian, and that its direction should be
tested by having the transit instrument mounted in front of it,
in the same line with it. In this way the axis of the telescope
was a horizontal north and south line.
The next feature was that, immediately in front of the photographic
plate, in fact as nearly in contact with it as possible without
touching it, a plumb line of which the thread was a very fine silver
wire should be suspended, the bob of which passed down below, and
was immersed in a vessel of water to prevent vibration. In this way
the direction of the north and south line on the plate admitted of
being calculated with the greatest exactness, and the plumb line being
photographed across the disk of the sun, the position angle could be
measured with the same precision that any other measure could be made.
The third feature was that the distance between the photographic
plate and the object glass of the telescope should be measured by
a long iron rod which was kept in position above the line of sight
of the telescope itself. This afforded the means of determining
to what angle a given measure on the plate would correspond.
The whole arrangement would enable the position of the centre of
Venus with respect to the centre of the sun to be determined by
purely geometric methods. One reason for relying entirely on this
was that the diameter of the sun, as photographed, would be greater
the greater the intensity of the photographic impression, so that
no reliance could be placed upon its uniformity.
Ours were the only parties whose photographic apparatus was fitted
up in this way. The French used a similar system, but without the
essentials of the plumb line and the measurement of the length of
the telescope. The English and Germans used ordinary telescopes
for the purpose.
One of the earliest works of the commission was the preparation
and publication of several papers, which were published under the
general title, "Papers relating to the Transit of Venus in 1874."
The first of these papers was a discussion of our proposed plan of
photographing, in which the difficulties of the problem, and the
best way of surmounting them, were set forth. The next, called
Part II., related to the circumstances of the transit, and was
therefore entirely technical. Part III. related to the corrections
of Hansen's table of the moon, and was published as a paper relating
to the transit of Venus, because these corrections were essential
in determining the longitudes of the stations by observations of
the moon.
In England the preparations were left mostly in the hands of
Professor Airy, Astronomer Royal, and, I believe, Captain Tupman,
who at least took a leading part in the observations and their
subsequent reduction. In France, Germany, and Russia, commissions
were appointed to take charge of the work and plan the observations.
As coöperation among the parties from different countries would be
generally helpful, I accepted an invitation to attend a meeting of the
German commission, to be held at Hanover in August, 1873. Hansen was
president of the commission, while Auwers was its executive officer.
One of my main objects was to point out the impossibility of obtaining
any valuable result by the system of photographing which had been
proposed, but I was informed, in reply, that the preparations had
advanced too far to admit of starting on a new plan and putting it
in operation.
From the beginning of our preparations it began to be a question
of getting from Congress the large appropriations necessary for
sending out the expeditions and fitting them up with instruments.
The sum of $50,000 was wanted for instruments and outfit. Hon. James
A. Garfield was then chairman of the committee on appropriations.
His principles and methods of arranging appropriations for the
government were, in some features, so different from those generally
in vogue that it will be of interest to describe them.
First of all, Garfield was rigidly economical in grants of money.
This characteristic of a chairman of a committee on appropriations
was almost a necessary one. But he possessed it in a different
way from any other chairman before or since. The method of the
"watch dogs of the treasury" who sometimes held this position was to
grant most of the objects asked for, but to cut down the estimated
amounts by one fourth or one third. This was a very easy method,
and one well fitted to impress the public, but it was one that the
executive officers of the government found no difficulty in evading,
by the very simple process of increasing their estimate so as to
allow for the prospective reduction. [2]
Garfield compared this system to ordering cloth for a coat,
but economizing by reducing the quantity put into it. If a new
proposition came before him, the question was whether it was advisable
for the government to entertain it at all. He had to be thoroughly
convinced before this would be done. If the question was decided
favorably all the funds necessary for the project were voted.
When the proposition for the transit of Venus came before him,
he proceeded in a manner which I never heard of the chairman of an
appropriation committee adopting before or since. Instead of calling
upon those who made the proposition to appear formally before the
committee, he asked me to dinner with his family, where we could
talk the matter over. One other guest was present, Judge Black
of Pennsylvania. He was a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat, wielding
as caustic a pen as was ever dipped into ink, but was, withal,
a firm personal friend and admirer of Garfield. As may readily be
supposed, the transit of Venus did not occupy much time at the table.
I should not have been an enthusiastic advocate of the case against
opposition, in any case, because my hopes of measuring the sun's
distance satisfactorily by that method were not at all sanguine.
My main interest lay in the fact that, apart from this, the transit
would afford valuable astronomical data for the life work which I
had mainly in view. So the main basis of my argument was that other
nations were going to send out parties; that we should undoubtedly
do the same, and that they must be equipped and organized in the
best way.
It appears that Judge Black was an absent-minded man, as any man
engaged in thought on very great subjects, whether of science,
jurisprudence, or politics, has the right to be. Garfield asked him
whether it was true that, on one occasion, when preparing an argument,
and walking up and down the room, his hat chanced to drop on the floor
at one end of the room, and was persistently used as a cuspidor until
the argument was completed. Mr. Black neither affirmed nor denied
the story, but told another which he said was true. While on his
circuit as judge he had, on one occasion, tried a case of theft in
which the principal evidence against the accused was the finding of
the stolen article in his possession. He charged the jury that this
fact was _prima facie_ evidence that the man was actually the thief.
When through his business and about to leave for home, he went
into a jeweler's shop to purchase some little trinket for his wife.
The jeweler showed him a number of little articles, but finding none
to suit him, he stepped into his carriage and drove off. In the
course of the day he called on a street urchin to water his horse.
Reaching into his pocket for a reward, the first thing he got hold of
was a diamond ring which must have been taken from the shop of the
jeweler when he left that morning. "I wondered," said the judge,
"how I should have come out had I been tried under my own law."
The outcome of the matter was that the appropriations were duly made;
first, in 1872, $50,000 for instruments, then, the year following,
$100,000 for the expeditions. In 1874, $25,000 more was appropriated
to complete the work and return the parties to their homes.
The date of the great event was December 8-9, 1874. To have the
parties thoroughly drilled in their work, they were brought together
at Washington in the preceding spring for practice and rehearsal.
In order that the observations to be made by the eye should not
be wholly new, an apparatus representing the transit was mounted
on the top of Winder's building, near the War Department, about
two thirds of a mile from the observatory. When this was observed
through the telescope from the roof of the observatory, an artificial
black Venus was seen impinging upon an artificial sun, and entering
upon its disk in the same way that the actual Venus would be seen.
This was observed over and over until, as was supposed, the observers
had gotten into good practice.
In order to insure the full understanding of the photographic
apparatus, the instruments were mounted and the parties practiced
setting them up and going through the processes of photographing the
sun. To carry out this arrangement with success, it was advisable to
have an expert in astronomical photography to take charge of the work.
Dr. Henry Draper of New York was invited for this purpose, and gave
his services to the commission for several weeks.
This transit was not visible in the United States. It did not begin
until after the sun had set in San Francisco, and it was over before
the rising sun next morning had reached western Europe. All the
parties had therefore to be sent to the other side of the globe.
Three northern stations were occupied,--in China, Japan, and Siberia;
and five southern ones, at various points on the islands of the
Pacific and Indian oceans. This unequal division was suggested
by the fact that the chances of fair weather were much less in the
southern hemisphere than in the northern.
The southern parties were taken to their destinations in the
U. S. S. Swatara, Captain Ralph Chandler, U. S. N., commanding.
In astronomical observations all work is at the mercy of the elements.
Clear weather was, of course, a necessity to success at any station.
In the present case the weather was on the whole unpropitious.
While there was not a complete failure at any one station, the number
or value of the observations was more or less impaired at all.
Where the sky was nearly cloudless, the air was thick and hazy.
This was especially the case at Nagasaki and Pekin, where from
meteorological observations which the commission had collected through
our consuls, the best of weather was confidently expected. What made
this result more tantalizing was that the very pains we had taken to
collect the data proved, by chance, to have made the choice worse.
For some time it was deliberated whether the Japanese station should
be in Nagasaki or Yokohama. Consultation with the best authorities
and a study of the records showed that, while Yokohama was a favorable
spot, the chances were somewhat better at Nagasaki. So to Nagasaki
the party was sent. But when the transit came, while the sky was
of the best at Yokohama, it was far from being so at Nagasaki.
Something of the same sort occurred at the most stormy of all the
southern stations, that at Kerguelen Island. The British expeditions
had, in the beginning, selected a station on this island known as
Christmas Harbor. We learned that a firm of New London, Conn.,
had a whaling station on the island. It was therefore applied to to
know what the weather chances were at various points in the island.
Information was obtained from their men, and it was thus found that
Molloy Point, bad though the weather there was, afforded better
chances than Christmas Harbor; so it was chosen. But this was not
all; the British parties, either in consequence of the information
we had acquired, or through what was learned from the voyage of the
Challenger, established their principal station near ours. But it
happened that the day at Christmas Harbor was excellent, while
the observations were greatly interfered with by passing clouds at
Molloy Point.
After the return of the parties sent out by the various nations,
it did not take long for the astronomers to find that the result was
disappointing, so far, at least, as the determination of the sun's
distance was concerned. It became quite clear that this important
element could be better measured by determining the velocity of
light and the time which it took to reach us from the sun than it
could by any transit of Venus. It was therefore a question whether
parties should be sent out to observe the transit of 1882. On this
subject the astronomers of the country at large were consulted.
As might have been expected, there was a large majority in favor
of the proposition. The negative voices were only two in number,
those of Pickering and myself. I took the ground that we should
make ample provisions for observing it at various stations in
our own country, where it would now be visible, but that, in view
of the certain failure to get a valuable result for the distance
of the sun by this method, it was not worth while for us to send
parties to distant parts of the world. I supposed the committee on
appropriations might make careful inquiry into the subject before
making the appropriation, but a representation of the case was all
they asked for, and $10,000 was voted for improving the instruments
and $75,000 for sending out parties.
Expeditions being thus decided upon, I volunteered to take charge of
that to the Cape of Good Hope. The scientific personnel of my party
comprised an officer of the army engineers, one of the navy, and a
photographer. The former were Lieutenant Thomas L. Casey, Jr., Corps
of Engineers, U. S. A., and Lieutenant J. H. L. Holcombe, U. S. N.
We took a Cunard steamer for Liverpool about the middle of September,
1882, and transported our instruments by rail to Southampton, there
to have them put on the Cape steamship. At Liverpool I was guilty
of a remissness which might have caused much trouble. Our apparatus
and supplies, in a large number of boxes, were all gathered and
piled in one place. I sent one of my assistants to the point to
see that it was so collected that there should be no possibility
of mistake in getting it into the freight car designed to carry it
to Southampton, but did not require him to stay there and see that
all was put on board. When the cases reached Southampton it was
found that one was missing. It was one of the heaviest of the lot,
containing the cast-iron pier on which the photoheliograph was to
be mounted. While it was possible to replace this by something else,
such a course would have been inconvenient and perhaps prejudicial.
The steamer was about to sail, but would touch at Plymouth next day.
Only one resource was possible. I telegraphed the mistake to
Liverpool and asked that the missing box be sent immediately by
express to Plymouth. We had the satisfaction of seeing it come on
board with the mail just as the steamer was about to set sail.
We touched first at Madeira, and then at Ascension Island, the latter
during the night. One of the odd things in nomenclature is that this
island, a British naval station, was not called such officially,
but was a "tender to Her Majesty's ship Flora," I believe. It had
become astronomically famous a few years before by Gill's observations
of the position of Mars to determine the solar parallax.
We touched six hours at St. Helena, enough to see the place, but
scarcely enough to make a visit to the residence of Napoleon, even had
we desired to see it. The little town is beautifully situated, and
the rocks around are very imposing. My most vivid recollection is,
however, of running down from the top of a rock some six hundred or
eight hundred feet high, by a steep flight of steps, without stopping,
or rather of the consequences of this imprudent gymnastic performance.
I could scarcely move for the next three days.
Cape Town was then suffering from an epidemic of smallpox, mostly
confined to the Malay population, but causing some disagreeable
results to travelers. Our line of ships did not terminate their
voyage at the Cape, but proceeded thence to other African ports east
of the Cape. Here a rigid quarantine had been established, and it
was necessary that the ships touching at the Cape of Good Hope should
have had no communication with the shore. Thus it happened that we
found, lying in the harbor, the ship of our line which had preceded
us, waiting to get supplies from us, in order that it might proceed
on its voyage. Looking at a row-boat after we had cast anchor, we
were delighted to see two faces which I well knew: those of David
Gill, astronomer of the Cape Observatory, and Dr. W. L. Elkin, now
director of the Yale Observatory. The latter had gone to the Cape as
a volunteer observer with Gill, their work being directed mostly to
parallaxes of stars too far south to be well observed in our latitude.
Our friends were not, however, even allowed to approach the ship,
for fear of the smallpox, the idea appearing to be that the latter
might be communicated by a sort of electric conduction, if the boat
and the ship were allowed to come into contact, so we had to be put
ashore without their aid.
We selected as our station the little town of Wellington, some forty
miles northeast of Cape Town. The weather chances were excellent
anywhere, but here they were even better than at the Cape. The most
interesting feature of the place was what we might call an American
young ladies' school. The Dutch inhabitants of South Africa are
imbued with admiration of our institutions, and one of their dreams
is said to be a United States of South Africa modeled after our
own republic. Desiring to give their daughters the best education
possible, they secured the services of Miss Ferguson, a well-known
New England teacher, to found a school on the American model.
We established our station in the grounds of this school.
The sky on the day of the transit was simply perfect. Notwithstanding
the intensity of the sun's rays, the atmosphere was so steady that I
have never seen the sun to better advantage. So all our observations
were successful.
On our departure we left two iron pillars, on which our apparatus for
photographing the sun was mounted, firmly imbedded in the ground, as
we had used them. Whether they will remain there until the transit
of 2004, I do not know, but cannot help entertaining a sentimental
wish that, when the time of that transit arrives, the phenomenon
will be observed from the same station, and the pillars be found in
such a condition that they can again be used.
All the governments, except our own, which observed the two transits
of Venus on a large scale long ago completed the work of reduction,
and published the observations in full. On our own part we have
published a preliminary discussion of some observations of the transit
of 1874. Of that of 1882 nothing has, I believe, been published
except some brief statements of results of the photographs, which
appeared in an annual report of the Naval Observatory. Having need in
my tables of the planets of the best value of the solar parallax that
could be obtained by every method, I worked up all the observations
of contacts made by the parties of every country, but, of course,
did not publish our own observations. Up to the present time,
twenty-eight years after the first of the transits, and twenty
years after the second, our observations have never been officially
published except to the extent I have stated. The importance of
the matter may be judged by the fact that the government expended
$375,000 on these observations, not counting the salaries of its
officers engaged in the work, or the cost of sailing a naval ship.
As I was a member of the commission charged with the work, and must
therefore bear my full share of the responsibility for this failure,
I think it proper to state briefly how it happened, hoping thereby
to enforce the urgent need of a better organization of some of our
scientific work.
The work of reducing such observations, editing and preparing them for
the press, involved much computation to be done by assistants, and I,
being secretary of the commission, was charged with the execution
of this part of the work. The appropriations made by Congress for
the observations were considered available for the reduction also.
There was a small balance left over, and I estimated that $3000 more
would suffice to complete the work. This was obtained from Congress
in the winter of 1875.
About the end of 1876 I was surprised to receive from the Treasury
Department a notification that the appropriation for the transit
of Venus was almost exhausted, when according to my accounts, more
than $3000 still remained. On inquiry it was found that the sum
appropriated about two years before had never been placed to the
credit of the transit of Venus commission, having been, in fact,
inserted in a different appropriation bill from that which contained
the former grant.
I, as secretary of the commission, made an application to the Treasury
Department to have the sum, late though it was, placed to our credit.
But the money had been expended and nothing could be now done in the
matter. [3] The computers had therefore to be discharged and the work
stopped until a new appropriation could be obtained from Congress.
During the session of 1876-77, $5000 was therefore asked for for
the reduction of the observations. It was refused by the House
committee on appropriations. I explained the matter to Mr. Julius
H. Seelye, formerly president of Amherst College, who was serving a
term in Congress. He took much interest in the subject, and moved
the insertion of the item when the appropriation bill came up before
the House. Mr. Atkins, chairman of the appropriations committee,
opposed the motion, maintaining that the Navy Department had under
its orders plenty of officers who could do the work, so there was
no need of employing the help of computers. But the House took
a different view, and inserted the item over the heads of the
appropriations committee.
Now difficulties incident to the divided responsibility of the
commission were met with. During the interim between the death of
Admiral Davis, in February, 1877, and the coming of Admiral John
Rodgers as his successor, a legal question arose as to the power
of the commission over its members. The work had to stop until
it was settled, and I had to discharge my computers a second time.
After it was again started I discovered that I did not have complete
control of the funds appropriated for reducing the observations.
The result was that the computers had to be discharged and the work
stopped for the third time. This occurred not long before I started
out to observe the transit in 1882. For me the third hair was the
one that broke the camel's back. I turned the papers and work over
to Professor Harkness, by whom the subject was continued until he
was made astronomical director of the Naval Observatory in 1894.
I do not know that the commission was ever formally dissolved.
Practically, however, its functions may be said to have terminated
in the year 1886, when a provision of law was enacted by which all
its property was turned over to the Secretary of the Navy.
What the present condition of the work may be, and how much of it
is ready for the press, I cannot say. My impression is that it
is in that condition known in household language as "all done but
finishing." Whether it will ever appear is a question for the future.
All the men who took part in it or who understood its details are
either dead or on the retired list, and it is difficult for one not
familiar with it from the beginning to carry it to completion.
[1] For the incidents connected with the English observations of
this transit, the author is indebted to Vice-Admiral W. H. Smyth's
curious and rare book, _Speculum Hartwellianum_, London, 1860.
It and other works of the same author may be described as queer and
interesting jumbles of astronomical and other information, thrown
into an interesting form; and, in the case of the present work,
spread through a finely illustrated quarto volume of nearly five
hundred pages.
[2] "The War Department got ahead of us in the matter of furniture,"
said an officer of the Navy Department to me long afterwards, when
the furniture for the new department building was being obtained.
"They knew enough to ask for a third more than they wanted; we reduced
our estimate to the lowest point. Both estimates were reduced one
third by the Appropriations Committee. The result is that they have
all the furniture they want, while we are greatly pinched."
[3] As this result would not be possible under our present system,
which was introduced by the first Cleveland administration, I might
remark that it resulted from a practice on the part of the Treasury
of lumping appropriations on its books in order to simplify the
keeping of the accounts.
VII
THE LICK OBSERVATORY
In the wonderful development of astronomical research in our country
during the past twenty years, no feature is more remarkable than
the rise on an isolated mountain in California of an institution
which, within that brief period, has become one of the foremost
observatories of the world. As everything connected with the early
history of such an institution must be of interest, it may not be
amiss if I devote a few pages to it.
In 1874 the announcement reached the public eye that James Lick, an
eccentric and wealthy Californian, had given his entire fortune to
a board of trustees to be used for certain public purposes, one of
which was the procuring of the greatest and most powerful telescope
that had ever been made. There was nothing in the previous history
of the donor that could explain his interest in a great telescope.
I am sure he had never looked through a telescope in his life, and
that if he had, and had been acquainted with the difficulties of an
observation with it, it is quite likely the Lick Observatory would
never have existed. From his point of view, as, indeed, from that of
the public very generally, the question of telescopic vision is merely
one of magnifying power. By making an instrument large and powerful
enough we may hope even to discover rational beings on other planets.
The president of the first board of trustees was Mr. D. O. Mills,
the well-known capitalist, who had been president of the Bank of
California. Mr. Mills visited Washington in the summer or autumn of
1874, and conferred with the astronomers there, among others myself,
on the question of the proposed telescope. I do not think that an
observatory properly so called was, at first, in Mr. Lick's mind;
all he wanted was an immense telescope.
The question was complicated by the result of some correspondence
between Mr. Lick and the firm of Alvan Clark & Sons. The latter
had been approached to know the cost of constructing the desired
telescope. Without making any exact estimate, or deciding upon the
size of the greatest telescope that could be constructed, they named
a very large sum, $200,000 I believe, as the amount that could be
put into the largest telescope it was possible to make. Mr. Lick
deemed this estimate exorbitant, and refused to have anything more
to do with the firm. The question now was whether any one else
besides the Clarks could make what was wanted.
I suggested to Mr. Mills that this question was a difficult one to
answer, as no European maker was known to rival the Clerks in skill in
the desired direction. It was impossible to learn what could be done
in Europe except by a personal visit to the great optical workshops
and a few observatories where great telescopes had been mounted.
I also suggested that a director of the new establishment should
be chosen in advance of beginning active work, so that everything
should be done under his supervision. As such director I suggested
that very likely Professor Holden, then my assistant on the great
equatorial, might be well qualified. At least I could not, at the
moment, name any one I thought would be decidedly preferable to him.
I suggested another man as possibly available, but remarked that
he had been unfortunate. "I don't want to have anything to do
with unfortunate men," was the reply. The necessity of choosing
a director was not, however, evident, but communication was opened
with Professor Holden as well as myself to an extent that I did not
become aware of until long afterward.
The outcome of Mr. Mills's visit was that in December, 1874, I was
invited to visit the European workshops as an agent of the Lick
trustees, with a view of determining whether there was any chance of
getting the telescope made abroad. The most difficult and delicate
question arose in the beginning; shall the telescope be a reflector
or a refractor? The largest and most powerful one that could be made
would be, undoubtedly, a reflector. And yet reflecting telescopes
had not, as a rule, been successful in permanent practical work.
The world's work in astronomy was done mainly with refracting
telescopes. This was not due to any inherent superiority in the
latter, but to the mechanical difficulties incident to so supporting
the great mirror of a reflecting telescope that it should retain its
figure in all positions. Assuming that the choice must fall upon a
refractor, unless proper guarantees for one of the other kind should
be offered, one of my first visits was to the glass firm of Chance &
Co. in Birmingham, who had cast the glass disks for the Washington
telescope. This firm and Feil of Paris were the only two successful
makers of great optical disks in the world. Chance & Co. offered
the best guarantees, while Feil had more enthusiasm than capital,
although his skill was of the highest. Another Paris firm was quite
willing to undertake the completion of the telescope, but it was also
evident that its price was suggested by the supposed liberality of an
eccentric California millionaire. I returned their first proposal
with the assurance that it would be useless to submit it. A second
was still too high to offer any inducement over the American firm.
Besides, there was no guarantee of the skill necessary to success.
In Germany the case was still worse. The most renowned firm there,
the successors of Fraunhofer, were not anxious to undertake such
a contract. The outcome of the matter was that Howard Grubb, of
Dublin, was the only man abroad with whom negotiations could be
opened with any chance of success. He was evidently a genius who
meant business. Yet he had not produced a work which would justify
unlimited confidence in his ability to meet Mr. Lick's requirements.
The great Vienna telescope which he afterward constructed was then
only being projected.
Not long after my return with this not very encouraging report,
Mr. Lick suddenly revoked his gift, through some dissatisfaction with
the proceedings of his trustees, and appointed a new board to carry
out his plans. This introduced legal complications, which were soon
settled by a friendly suit on the part of the old trustees, asking
authority to transfer their trust. The president of the new board was
Mr. Richard S. Floyd, a member of the well-known Virginia family of
that name, and a graduate, or at least a former cadet, of the United
States Naval Academy. I received a visit from him on his first trip
to the East in his official capacity, early in 1876, I believe. Some
correspondence with Mr. Lick's home representative ensued, of which
the most interesting feature was the donor's idea of a telescope.
He did not see why so elaborate and expensive a mounting as that
proposed was necessary, and thought that the object glass might be
mounted on the simplest kind of a pole or tower which would admit of
its having the requisite motions in connection with the eyepiece.
Whether I succeeded in convincing him of the impracticability of
his scheme, I do not know, as he died before the matter was settled.
This left the trustees at liberty to build and organize the
institution as they deemed best. It was speedily determined that
the object glass should be shaped by the Clarks, who should also be
responsible for getting the rough disks. This proved to be a very
difficult task. Chance & Co. were unwilling to undertake the work and
Feil had gone out of business, leaving the manufacture in the hands
of his son. The latter also failed, and the father had to return.
Ultimately the establishment was purchased by Mantois, whose success
was remarkable. He soon showed himself able to make disks not only
of much larger size than had ever before been produced, but of a
purity and transparency which none before him had ever approached.
He died in 1899 or 1900, and it is to be hoped that his successor
will prove to be his equal.
The original plan of Mr. Lick had been to found the observatory
on the borders of Lake Tahoe, but he grew dissatisfied with this
site and, shortly before his death, made provisional arrangements
for placing it on Mount Hamilton. In 1879 preparations had so far
advanced that it became necessary to decide whether this was really
a suitable location. I had grave doubts on the subject. A mountain
side is liable to be heated by the rays of the sun during the day,
and a current of warm air which would be fatal to the delicacy of
astronomical vision is liable to rise up the sides and envelope the
top of the mountain. I had even been informed that, on a summer
evening, a piece of paper let loose on the mountain top would be
carried up into the air by the current. But, after all, the proof of
the pudding is in the eating, and Holden united with me in advising
that an experienced astronomer with a telescope should be stationed
for a few weeks on the mountain in order to determine, by actual
trial, what the conditions of seeing were. The one best man for
this duty was S. W. Burnham of Chicago, who had already attained
a high position in the astronomical world by the remarkable skill
shown in his observations of double stars. So, in August, 1879,
huts were built on the mountain, and Burnham was transported thither
with his telescope. I followed personally in September.
We passed three nights on the mountain with Captain Floyd, studying
the skies by night and prospecting around in the daytime to see
whether the mountain top or some point in the neighboring plateau
offered the best location for the observatory. So far as the
atmospheric conditions were concerned, the results were beyond our
most sanguine expectations. What the astronomer wants is not merely
a transparent atmosphere, but one of such steadiness that the image
of a star, as seen in a telescope, may not be disturbed by movements
of the air which are invisible to the naked eye.
Burnham found that there were forty-two first-class nights during his
stay, and only seven which would be classed as low as medium. In the
East the number of nights which he would call first-class are but few
in a year, and even the medium night is by no means to be counted on.
No further doubt could remain that the top of the mountain was one
of the finest locations in the world for an astronomical observatory,
and it was definitely selected without further delay.
Sometime after my return Mr. Floyd sent me a topographical sketch
of the mountain, with a request to prepare preliminary plans for the
observatory. As I had always looked on Professor Holden as probably
the coming director, I took him into consultation, and the plans
were made under our joint direction in my office. The position and
general arrangement of the buildings remain, so far as I am aware,
much as then planned; the principal change being the omission of a
long colonnade extending over the whole length of the main front in
order to secure an artistic and imposing aspect from the direction
of San José.
In the summer of 1885, as I was in New York in order to sail
next day to Europe, I was surprised by a visit from Judge Hagar,
a prominent citizen of San Francisco, a member of the Board of
Regents of the University of California, and an active politician,
who soon afterward became collector of the port, to consult me on the
question of choosing Professor Holden as president of the university.
This was not to interfere with his becoming director of the Lick
Observatory whenever that institution should be organized, but was
simply a temporary arrangement to bridge over a difficulty.
In the autumn of 1887 I received an invitation from Mr. Floyd to go
with him to Cleveland, in order to inspect the telescope, which was
now nearly ready for delivery. It was mounted in the year following,
and then Holden stepped from the presidency of the university into
the directorship of the observatory.
The institution made its mark almost from the beginning. I know of no
example in the world in which young men, most of whom were beginners,
attained such success as did those whom Holden collected around him.
The names of Barnard, Campbell, and Schaeberle immediately became
well known in astronomy, owing to the excellence of their work.
Burnham was, of course, no beginner, being already well known,
nor was Keeler, who was also on the staff.
In a few years commenced the epoch-making work of Campbell, in the
most refined and difficult problem of observational astronomy,--that
of the measurement of the motion of stars to or from us. Through the
application of photography and minute attention to details, this
work of the Lick Observatory almost immediately gained a position
of preëminence, which it maintains to the present time. If any
rival is to appear, it will probably be the Yerkes Observatory.
The friendly competition which we are likely to see between these
two establishments affords an excellent example of the spirit of
the astronomy of the future. Notwithstanding their rivalry, each
has done and will do all it can to promote the work of the other.
The smiles of fortune have been bestowed even upon efforts that seemed
most unpromising. After work was well organized, Mr. Crossley,
of England, presented the observatory with a reflecting telescope
of large size, but which had never gained a commanding reputation.
No member of the staff at first seemed ambitious to get hold of such
an instrument, but, in time, Keeler gave it a trial in photographing
nebulæ. Then it was found that a new field lay open. The newly
acquired reflector proved far superior to other instruments for this
purpose, the photographic plates showing countless nebulæ in every
part of the sky, which the human eye was incapable of discerning in
the most powerful of telescopes.
In 1892, only four years after the mounting of the telescope, came
the surprising announcement that the work of Galileo on Jupiter had
been continued by the discovery of a fifth satellite to that planet.
This is the most difficult object in the solar system, only one or two
observers besides Barnard having commanded the means of seeing it.
The incident of my first acquaintance with the discoverer is not
flattering to my pride, but may be worth recalling.
In 1877 I was president of the American Association for the
Advancement of Science at the meeting held in Nashville. There I was
told of a young man a little over twenty years of age, a photographer
by profession, who was interested in astronomy, and who desired to see
me. I was, of course, very glad to make his acquaintance. I found
that with his scanty earnings he had managed either to purchase or
to get together the materials for making a small telescope. He was
desirous of doing something with it that might be useful in astronomy,
and wished to know what suggestions I could make in that line. I did
not for a moment suppose that there was a reasonable probability of
the young man doing anything better than amuse himself. At the same
time, feeling it a duty to encourage him, I suggested that there
was only one thing open to an astronomical observer situated as he
was, and that was the discovery of comets. I had never even looked
for a comet myself, and knew little about the methods of exploring
the heavens for one, except what had been told me by H. P. Tuttle.
But I gave him the best directions I could, and we parted. It is
now rather humiliating that I did not inquire more thoroughly into
the case. It would have taken more prescience than I was gifted
with to expect that I should live to see the bashful youth awarded
the gold medal of the Royal Astronomical Society for his work.
The term of Holden's administration extended through some ten
years. To me its most singular feature was the constantly growing
unpopularity of the director. I call it singular because, if we
confine ourselves to the record, it would be difficult to assign
any obvious reason for it. One fact is indisputable, and that
is the wonderful success of the director in selecting young men
who were to make the institution famous by their abilities and
industry. If the highest problem of administration is to select
the right men, the new director certainly mastered it. So far as
liberty of research and publication went, the administration had
the appearance of being liberal in the extreme. Doubtless there
was another side to the question. Nothing happens spontaneously,
and the singular phenomenon of one who had done all this becoming a
much hated man must have an adequate cause. I have several times,
from pure curiosity, inquired about the matter of well-informed men.
On one occasion an instance of maladroitness was cited in reply.
"True," said I, "it was not exactly the thing to do, but, after all,
that is an exceedingly small matter."
"Yes," was the answer, "that was a small thing, but put a thousand
small things like that together, and you have a big thing."
A powerful factor in the case may have been his proceeding, within
a year of his appointment, to file an astounding claim for the sum
of $12,000 on account of services rendered to the observatory in
the capacity of general adviser before his appointment as director.
These services extended from the beginning of preparations in 1874
up to the completion of the work. The trustees in replying to the
claim maintained that I had been their principal adviser in preparing
the plans. However true this may have been, it was quite evident,
from Holden's statement, that they had been consulting him on a much
larger scale than I had been aware of. This, however, was none of
my concern. I ventured to express the opinion that the movement
was made merely to place on record a statement of the director's
services; and that no serious intention of forcing the matter to a
legal decision was entertained. This surmise proved to be correct,
as nothing more was heard of the claim.
Much has been said of the effect of the comparative isolation of such
a community, which is apt to be provocative of internal dissension.
But this cause has not operated in the case of Holden's successors.
Keeler became the second director in 1897, and administered his office
with, so far as I know, universal satisfaction till his lamented
death in 1900. It would not be a gross overstatement to say that his
successor was named by the practically unanimous voice of a number
of the leading astronomers of the world who were consulted on the
subject, and who cannot but be pleased to see how completely their
advice has been justified by the result of Campbell's administration.
VIII
THE AUTHOR'S SCIENTIFIC WORK
Perhaps an apology is due to the reader for my venturing to devote a
chapter to my own efforts in the scientific line. If so, I scarcely
know what apology to make, unless it is that one naturally feels
interested in matters relating to his own work, and hopes to share
that interest with his readers, and that it is easier for one to write
such an account for himself than for any one else to do it for him.
Having determined to devote my life to the prosecution of exact
astronomy, the first important problem which I took up, while at
Cambridge, was that of the zone of minor planets, frequently called
asteroids, revolving between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. It was
formerly supposed that these small bodies might be fragments of a
large planet which had been shattered by a collision or explosion.
If such were the case, the orbits would, for a time at least, all
pass through the point at which the explosion occurred. When only
three or four were known, it was supposed that they did pass nearly
through the same point. When this was found not to be the case,
the theory of an explosion was in no way weakened, because, owing
to the gradual changes in the form and position of the orbits,
produced by the attraction of the larger planets, these orbits would
all move away from the point of intersection, and, in the course of
thousands of years, be so mixed up that no connection could be seen
between them. This result was that nothing could be said upon the
subject except that, if the catastrophe ever did occur, it must have
been many thousand years ago. The fact did not in any way militate
against the theory because, in view of the age of the universe, the
explosion might as well have occurred hundreds of thousands or even
millions of years ago as yesterday. To settle the question, general
formulæ must be found by which the positions of these orbits could
be determined at any time in the past, even hundreds of thousands of
years back. The general methods of doing this were known, but no
one had applied them to the especial case of these little planets.
Here, then, was an opportunity of tracing back the changes in these
orbits through thousands of centuries in order to find whether, at
a certain epoch in the past, so great a cataclysm had occurred as
the explosion of a world. Were such the case, it would be possible
almost to set the day of the occurrence. How great a feat would it
be to bring such an event at such a time to light!
I soon found that the problem, in the form in which it had been
attacked by previous mathematicians, involved no serious difficulty.
At the Springfield meeting of the American Association for the
Advancement of Science, in 1859, I read a paper explaining the
method, and showed by a curve on the blackboard the changes
in the orbit of one of the asteroids for a period, I think, of
several hundred thousand years,--"beyond the memory of the oldest
inhabitants"--said one of the local newspapers. A month later it was
extended to three other asteroids, and the result published in the
"Astronomical Journal." In the following spring, 1860, the final
results of the completed work were communicated to the American
Academy of Arts and Sciences in a paper "On the Secular Variations
and Mutual Relations of the Orbits of the Asteroids." The question
of the possible variations in the orbits and the various relations
amongst them were here fully discussed. One conclusion was that,
so far as our present theory could show, the orbits had never passed
through any common point of intersection.
The whole trend of thought and research since that time has been
toward the conclusion that no such cataclysm as that looked for ever
occurred, and that the group of small planets has been composed of
separate bodies since the solar system came into existence. It was,
of course, a great disappointment not to discover the cataclysm, but
next best to finding a thing is showing that it is not there. This,
it may be remarked, was the first of my papers to attract especial
notice in foreign scientific journals, though I had already published
several short notes on various subjects in the "Astronomical Journal."
At this point I may say something of the problems of mathematical
astronomy in the middle of the last century. It is well known that
we shall at least come very near the truth when we say that the
planets revolve around the sun, and the satellites around their
primaries according to the law of gravitation. We may regard all
these bodies as projected into space, and thus moving according to
laws similar to that which governs the motion of a stone thrown
from the hand. If two bodies alone were concerned, say the sun
and a planet, the orbit of the lesser around the greater would be
an ellipse, which would never change its form, size, or position.
That the orbits of the planets and asteroids do change, and that they
are not exact ellipses, is due to their attraction upon each other.
The question is, do these mutual attractions completely explain all
the motions down to the last degree of refinement? Does any world
move otherwise than as it is attracted by other worlds?
Two different lines of research must be brought to bear on the
question thus presented. We must first know by the most exact and
refined observations that the astronomer can make exactly how a
heavenly body does move. Its position, or, as we cannot directly
measure distance, its direction from us, must be determined as
precisely as possible from time to time. Its course has been
mapped out for it in advance by tables which are published in the
"Astronomical Ephemeris," and we may express its position by its
deviation from these tables. Then comes in the mathematical problem
how it ought to move under the attraction of all other heavenly bodies
that can influence its motion. The results must then be compared,
in order to see to what conclusion we may be led.
This mathematical side of the question is of a complexity beyond
the powers of ordinary conception. I well remember that when,
familiar only with equations of algebra, I first looked into a
book on mechanics, I was struck by the complexity of the formulæ.
But this was nothing to what one finds when he looks into a work on
celestial mechanics, where a single formula may fill a whole chapter.
The great difficulty arises from the fact that the constant action
upon a planet exerted at every moment of time through days and
years by another planet affects its motion in all subsequent time.
The action of Jupiter upon our earth this morning changes its motion
forever, just as a touch upon a ball thrown by a pitcher will change
the direction of the ball through its whole flight.
The wondrous perfection of mathematical research is shown by the
fact that we can now add up, as it were, all these momentary effects
through years and centuries, with a view of determining the combined
result at any one moment. It is true that this can be done only in an
imperfect way, and at the expense of enormous labor; but, by putting
more and more work into it, investigating deeper and deeper, taking
into account smaller and smaller terms of our formulæ, and searching
for the minutest effects, we may gradually approach, though we may
never reach, absolute exactness. Here we see the first difficulty
in reaching a definite conclusion. One cannot be quite sure that
a deviation is not due to some imperfection in mathematical method
until he and his fellows have exhausted the subject so thoroughly
as to show that no error is possible. This is hard indeed to do.
Taking up the question on the observational side, a source of
difficulty and confusion at once presented itself. The motions
of a heavenly body from day to day and year to year are mapped out
by comparative observations on it and on the stars. The question
of the exact positions of the stars thus comes in. In determining
these positions with the highest degree of precision, a great variety
of data have to be used. The astronomer cannot reach a result by a
single step, nor by a hundred steps. He is like a sculptor chiseling
all the time, trying to get nearer and nearer the ideal form of his
statue, and finding that with every new feature he chisels out,
a defect is brought to light in other features. The astronomer,
when he aims at the highest mathematical precision in his results,
finds Nature warring with him at every step, just as if she wanted
to make his task as difficult as possible. She alters his personal
equation when he gets tired, makes him see a small star differently
from a bright one, gives his instrument minute twists with heat and
cold, sends currents of warm or cold air over his locality, which
refract the rays of light, asks him to keep the temperature in which
he works the same as that outside, in order to avoid refraction when
the air enters his observing room, and still will not let him do it,
because the walls and everything inside the room, being warmed up
during the day, make the air warmer than it is outside. With all
these obstacles which she throws in his way he must simply fight the
best he can, exerting untiring industry to eliminate their effects
by repeated observations under a variety of conditions.
A necessary conclusion from all this is that the work of all observing
astronomers, so far as it could be used, must be combined into a
single whole. But here again difficulties are met at every step.
There has been, in times past, little or no concert of action among
astronomers at different observatories. The astronomers of each
nation, perhaps of each observatory, to a large extent, have gone
to work in their own way, using discordant data, perhaps not always
rigidly consistent, even in the data used in a single establishment.
How combine all the astronomical observations, found scattered
through hundreds of volumes, into a homogeneous whole?
What is the value of such an attempt? Certainly if we measure value
by the actual expenditure of nations and institutions upon the work,
it must be very great. Every civilized nation expends a large annual
sum on a national observatory, while a still greater number of such
institutions are supported at corporate expense. Considering that
the highest value can be derived from their labors only by such a
combination as I have described, we may say the result is worth an
important fraction of what all the observatories of the world have
cost during the past century.
Such was, in a general way, the great problem of exact astronomy
forty or fifty years ago. Its solution required extended coöperation,
and I do not wish to give the impression that I at once attacked it,
or even considered it as a whole. I could only determine to do my
part in carrying forward the work associated with it.
Perhaps the most interesting and important branch of the problem
concerned the motion of the moon. This had been, ever since the
foundation of the Greenwich Observatory, in 1670, a specialty
of that institution. It is a curious fact, however, that while
that observatory supplied all the observations of the moon,
the investigations based upon these observations were made almost
entirely by foreigners, who also constructed the tables by which the
moon's motion was mapped out in advance. The most perfect tables
made were those of Hansen, the greatest master of mathematical
astronomy during the middle of the century, whose tables of the
moon were published by the British government in 1857. They were
based on a few of the Greenwich observations from 1750 to 1850.
The period began with 1750, because that was the earliest at which
observations of any exactness were made. Only a few observations
were used, because Hansen, with the limited computing force at
his command,--only a single assistant, I believe,--was not able to
utilize a great number of the observations. The rapid motion of the
moon, a circuit being completed in less than a month, made numerous
observations necessary, while the very large deviations in the
motion produced by the attraction of the sun made the problem of the
mathematical theory of that motion the most complicated in astronomy.
Thus it happened that, when I commenced work at the Naval Observatory
in 1861, the question whether the moon exactly followed the course
laid out for her by Hansen's tables was becoming of great importance.
The same question arose in the case of the planets. So from a
survey of the whole field, I made observations of the sun, moon,
and planets my specialty at the observatory. If the astronomical
reader has before him the volume of observations for 1861, he will,
by looking at pages 366-440, be able to infer with nearly astronomical
precision the date when I reported for duty.
For a year or two our observations showed that the moon seemed
to be falling a little behind her predicted motion. But this soon
ceased, and she gradually forged ahead in a much more remarkable way.
In five or six years it was evident that this was becoming permanent;
she was a little farther ahead every year. What could it mean?
To consider this question, I may add a word to what I have already
said on the subject.
In comparing the observed and predicted motion of the moon,
mathematicians and astronomers, beginning with Laplace, have been
perplexed by what are called "inequalities of long period." For a
number of years, perhaps half a century, the moon would seem to be
running ahead, and then she would gradually relax her speed and fall
behind. Laplace suggested possible causes, but could not prove them.
Hansen, it was supposed, had straightened out the tangle by showing
that the action of Venus produced a swinging of this sort in the
moon; for one hundred and thirty years she would be running ahead
and then for one hundred and thirty years more falling back again,
like a pendulum. Two motions of this sort were combined together.
They were claimed to explain the whole difficulty. The moon, having
followed Hansen's theory for one hundred years, would not be likely
to deviate from it. Now, it was deviating. What could it mean?
Taking it for granted, on Hansen's authority, that his tables
represented the motions of the moon perfectly since 1750, was there no
possibility of learning anything from observations before that date?
As I have already said, the published observations with the usual
instruments were not of that refined character which would decide
a question like this. But there is another class of observations
which might possibly be available for the purpose.
Millions of stars, visible with large telescopes, are scattered
over the heavens; tens of thousands are bright enough to be seen
with small instruments, and several thousand are visible to any
ordinary eye. The moon, in her monthly course around the heavens,
often passes over a star, and of course hides it from view during
the time required for the passage. The great majority of stars
are so small that their light is obscured by the effulgence of
the moon as the latter approaches them. But quite frequently the
star passed over is so bright that the exact moment when the moon
reaches it can be observed with the utmost precision. The star then
disappears from view in an instant, as if its light were suddenly
and absolutely extinguished. This is called an occultation.
If the moment at which the disappearance takes place is observed,
we know that at that instant the apparent angle between the centre
of the moon and the star is equal to the moon's semi-diameter.
By the aid of a number of such observations, the path of the moon in
the heavens, and the time at which she arrives at each point of the
path, can be determined. In order that the determination may be of
sufficient scientific precision, the time of the occultation must be
known within one or two seconds; otherwise, we shall be in doubt how
much of the discrepancy may be due to the error of the observation,
and how much to the error of the tables.
Occultations of some bright stars, such as Aldebaran and Antares,
can be observed by the naked eye; and yet more easily can those of
the planets be seen. It is therefore a curious historic fact that
there is no certain record of an actual observation of this sort
having been made until after the commencement of the seventeenth
century. Even then the observations were of little or no use,
because astronomers could not determine their time with sufficient
precision. It was not till after the middle of the century, when the
telescope had been made part of astronomical instruments for finding
the altitude of a heavenly body, and after the pendulum clock had
been invented by Huyghens, that the time of an occultation could be
fixed with the required exactness. Thus it happens that from 1640
to 1670 somewhat coarse observations of the kind are available, and
after the latter epoch those made by the French astronomers become
almost equal to the modern ones in precision.
The question that occurred to me was: Is it not possible that such
observations were made by astronomers long before 1750? Searching
the published memoirs of the French Academy of Sciences and the
Philosophical Transactions, I found that a few such observations were
actually made between 1660 and 1700. I computed and reduced a few of
them, finding with surprise that Hansen's tables were evidently much
in error at that time. But neither the cause, amount, or nature of
the error could be well determined without more observations than
these. Was it not possible that these astronomers had made more
than they published? The hope that material of this sort existed
was encouraged by the discovery at the Pulkowa Observatory of an
old manuscript by the French astronomer Delisle, containing some
observations of this kind. I therefore planned a thorough search
of the old records in Europe to see what could be learned.
The execution of this plan was facilitated by the occurrence,
in December, 1870, of an eclipse of the sun in Spain and along the
Mediterranean. A number of parties were going out from this country
to observe it, two of which were fitted out at the Naval Observatory.
I was placed in charge of one of these, consisting, practically,
of myself. The results of my observation would be of importance
in the question of the moon's motion, but, although the eclipse was
ostensibly the main object, the proposed search of the records was
what I really had most in view. In Paris was to be found the most
promising mine; but the Franco-Prussian war was then going on, and
I had to wait for its termination. Then I made a visit to Paris,
which will be described in a later chapter.
At the observatory the old records I wished to consult were placed
at my disposal, with full liberty not only to copy, but to publish
anything of value I could find in them. The mine proved rich beyond
the most sanguine expectation. After a little prospecting, I found
that the very observations I wanted had been made in great numbers
by the Paris astronomers, both at the observatory and at other points
in the city.
And how, the reader may ask, did it happen that these observations
were not published by the astronomers who made them? Why should they
have lain unused and forgotten for two hundred years? The answer to
these questions is made plain enough by an examination of the records.
The astronomers had no idea of the possible usefulness and value of
what they were recording. So far as we can infer from their work,
they made the observations merely because an occultation was an
interesting thing to see; and they were men of sufficient scientific
experience and training to have acquired the excellent habit of
noting the time at which a phenomenon was observed. But they
were generally satisfied with simply putting down the clock time.
How they could have expected their successors to make any use of
such a record, or whether they had any expectations on the subject,
we cannot say with confidence. It will be readily understood that no
clocks of the present time (much less those of two hundred years ago)
run with such precision that the moment read from the clock is exact
within one or two seconds. The modern astronomer does not pretend
to keep his clock correct within less than a minute; he determines
by observation how far it is wrong, on each date of observation,
and adds so much to the time given by the clock, or subtracts it,
as the case may be, in order to get the correct moment of true time.
In the case of the French astronomers, the clock would frequently
be fifteen minutes or more in error, for the reason that they used
apparent time, instead of mean time as we do. Thus when, as was often
the case, the only record found was that, at a certain hour, minute,
and second, by a certain clock, _une étoile se cache par la lune_,
a number of very difficult problems were presented to the astronomer
who was to make use of the observations two centuries afterward.
First of all, he must find out what the error of the clock was at the
designated hour, minute, and second; and for this purpose he must
reduce the observations made by the observer in order to determine
the error. But it was very clear that the observer did not expect
any successor to take this trouble, and therefore did not supply
him with any facilities for so doing. He did not even describe
the particular instrument with which the observations were made,
but only wrote down certain figures and symbols, of a more or less
hieroglyphic character. It needed much comparison and examination
to find out what sort of an instrument was used, how the observations
were made, and how they should be utilized for the required purpose.
Generally the star which the moon hid was mentioned, but not in all
cases. If it was not, the identification of the star was a puzzling
problem. The only way to proceed was to calculate the apparent
position of the centre of the moon as seen by an observer at the Paris
Observatory, at the particular hour and minute of the observation.
A star map was then taken; the points of a pair of dividers were
separated by the length of the moon's radius, as it would appear
on the scale of the map; one point of the dividers was put into
the position of the moon's centre on the map, and with the other a
circle was drawn. This circle represented the outline of the moon,
as it appeared to the observer at the Paris Observatory, at the hour
and minute in question, on a certain day in the seventeenth century.
The star should be found very near the circumference of the circle,
and in nearly all cases a star was there.
Of course all this could not be done on the spot. What had to be
done was to find the observations, study their relations and the
method of making them, and copy everything that seemed necessary
for working them up. This took some six weeks, but the material I
carried away proved the greatest find I ever made. Three or four
years were spent in making all the calculations I have described.
Then it was found that seventy-five years were added, at a single
step, to the period during which the history of the moon's motion
could be written. Previously this history was supposed to commence
with the observations of Bradley, at Greenwich, about 1750; now it
was extended back to 1675, and with a less degree of accuracy thirty
years farther still. Hansen's tables were found to deviate from
the truth, in 1675 and subsequent years, to a surprising extent;
but the cause of the deviation is not entirely unfolded even now.
During the time I was doing this work, Paris was under the reign
of the Commune and besieged by the national forces. The studies
had to be made within hearing of the besieging guns; and I could
sometimes go to a window and see flashes of artillery from one of the
fortifications to the south. Nearly every day I took a walk through
the town, occasionally as far as the Arc. As my observations during
these walks have no scientific value, I shall postpone an account
of what I saw to another chapter.
One curious result of this work is that the longitude of the moon may
now be said to be known with greater accuracy through the last quarter
of the seventeenth century than during the ninety years from 1750 to
1840. The reason is that, for this more modern period, no effective
comparison has been made between observations and Hansen's tables.
Just as this work was approaching completion I was called upon to
decide a question which would materially influence all my future
activity. The lamented death of Professor Winlock in 1875 left vacant
the directorship of the Harvard Observatory. A month or two later I
was quite taken by surprise to receive a letter from President Eliot
tendering me this position. I thus had to choose between two courses.
One led immediately to a professorship in Harvard University,
with all the distinction and worldly advantages associated with it,
including complete freedom of action, an independent position, and
the opportunity of doing such work as I deemed best with the limited
resources at the disposal of the observatory. On the other hand
was a position to which the official world attached no importance,
and which brought with it no worldly advantages whatever.
I first consulted Mr. Secretary Robeson on the matter. The force with
which he expressed himself took me quite by surprise. "By all means
accept the place; don't remain in the government service a day longer
than you have to. A scientific man here has no future before him, and
the quicker he can get away the better." Then he began to descant on
our miserable "politics" which brought about such a state of things.
Such words, coming from a sagacious head of a department who, one
might suppose, would have been sorry to part with a coadjutor of
sufficient importance to be needed by Harvard University, seemed to
me very suggestive. And yet I finally declined the place, perhaps
unwisely for myself, though no one who knows what the Cambridge
Observatory has become under Professor Pickering can feel that
Harvard has any cause to regret my decision. An apology for it on
my own behalf will seem more appropriate.
On the Cambridge side it must be remembered that the Harvard
Observatory was then almost nothing compared with what it is now.
It was poor in means, meagre in instrumental outfit, and wanting in
working assistants; I think the latter did not number more than three
or four, with perhaps a few other temporary employees. There seemed
little prospect of doing much.
On the Washington side was the fact that I was bound to Washington
by family ties, and that, if Harvard needed my services, surely
the government needed them much more. True, this argument was,
for the time, annulled by the energetic assurance of Secretary
Robeson, showing that the government felt no want of any one in
its service able to command a university professorship. But I was
still pervaded by the optimism of youth in everything that concerned
the future of our government, and did not believe that, with the
growth of intelligence in our country, an absence of touch between
the scientific and literary classes on the one side, and "politics"
on the other, could continue. In addition to this was the general
feeling by which I have been actuated from youth--that one ought to
choose that line of activity for which Nature had best fitted him,
trusting that the operation of moral causes would, in the end,
right every wrong, rather than look out for place and preferment.
I felt that the conduct of government astronomy was that line of
activity for which I was best fitted, and that, in the absence
of strong reason to the contrary, it had better not be changed.
In addition to these general considerations was the special point
that, in the course of a couple of years, the directorship of the
Nautical Almanac would become vacant, and here would be an unequaled
opportunity for carrying on the work in mathematical astronomy I
had most at heart. Yet, could I have foreseen that the want of
touch which I have already referred to would not be cured, that I
should be unable to complete the work I had mapped out before my
retirement, or to secure active public interest in its continuance,
my decision would perhaps have been different.
On September 15, 1877, I took charge of the Nautical Almanac Office.
The change was one of the happiest of my life. I was now in a
position of recognized responsibility, where my recommendations met
with the respect due to that responsibility, where I could make plans
with the assurance of being able to carry them out, and where the
countless annoyances of being looked upon as an important factor in
work where there was no chance of my being such would no longer exist.
Practically I had complete control of the work of the office, and
was thus, metaphorically speaking, able to work with untied hands.
It may seem almost puerile to say this to men of business experience,
but there is a current notion, spread among all classes, that because
the Naval Observatory has able and learned professors, therefore
they must be able to do good and satisfactory work, which may be
worth correcting.
I found my new office in a rather dilapidated old dwelling-house,
about half a mile or less from the observatory, in one of those
doubtful regions on the border line between a slum and the lowest
order of respectability. If I remember aright, the only occupants
of the place were the superintendent, my old friend Mr. Loomis,
senior assistant, who looked after current business, a proof-reader
and a messenger. All the computers, including even one copyist,
did their work at their homes.
A couple of changes had to be made in the interest of efficiency.
The view taken of one of these may not only interest the reader,
but give him an idea of what people used to think of government
service before the era of civil service reform. The proof-reader
was excellent in every respect except that of ability to perform
his duty. He occupied a high position, I believe, in the Grand
Army of the Republic, and thus wielded a good deal of influence.
When his case was appealed to the Secretary of the Navy, apellant
was referred to me. I stated the trouble to counsel,--he did not
appear to see figures, or be able to distinguish whether they were
right or wrong, and therefore was useless as a proof-reader.
"It is not his fault," was the reply; "he nearly lost his eyesight
in the civil war, and it is hard for him to see at all." In the
view of counsel that explanation ought to have settled the case in
his favor. It did not, however, but "influence" had no difficulty
in making itself more successful in another field.
Among my first steps was that of getting a new office in the top of
the Corcoran Building, then just completed. It was large and roomy
enough to allow quite a number of assistants around me.
Much of the work was then, as now, done by the piece, or annual
job, the computers on it very generally working at their homes.
This offers many advantages for such work; the government is not
burdened with an officer who must be paid his regular monthly salary
whether he supplies his work or not, and whom it is unpleasant and
difficult to get rid of in case of sickness or breakdown of any
sort. The work is paid for when furnished, and the main trouble of
administration saved. It is only necessary to have a brief report
from time to time, showing that the work is actually going on.
I began with a careful examination of the relation of prices to work,
making an estimate of the time probably necessary to do each job.
Among the performers of the annual work were several able and eminent
professors at various universities and schools. I found that they
were being paid at pretty high professional prices. I recall with
great satisfaction that I was able to reduce the prices and, step by
step, concentrate all the work in Washington, without detriment to
the pleasant relations I sustained with these men, some of them old
and intimate friends. These economies went on increasing year by
year, and every dollar that was saved went into the work of making
the tables necessary for the future use of the Ephemeris.
The programme of work which I mapped out, involved, as one branch of
it, a discussion of all the observations of value on the positions
of the sun, moon, and planets, and incidentally, on the bright fixed
stars, made at the leading observatories of the world since 1750.
One might almost say it involved repeating, in a space of ten or
fifteen years, an important part of the world's work in astronomy for
more than a century past. Of course, this was impossible to carry out
in all its completeness. In most cases what I was obliged practically
to confine myself to was a correction of the reductions already made
and published. Still, the job was one with which I do not think
any astronomical one ever before attempted by a single person could
compare in extent. The number of meridian observations on the sun,
Mercury, Venus, and Mars alone numbered 62,030. They were made at the
observatories of Greenwich, Paris, Königsberg, Pulkowa, Cape of Good
Hope,--but I need not go over the entire list, which numbers thirteen.
The other branches of the work were such as I have already
described,--the computation of the formulæ for the perturbation of
the various planets by each other. As I am writing for the general
reader, I need not go into any further technical description of this
work than I have already done. Something about my assistants may,
however, be of interest. They were too numerous to be all recalled
individually. In fact, when the work was at its height, the office
was, in the number of its scientific employees, nearly on an equality
with the three or four greatest observatories of the world.
One of my experiences has affected my judgment on the general morale
of the educated young men of our country. In not a single case did I
ever have an assistant who tried to shirk his duty to the government,
nor do I think there was more than a single case in which one tried
to contest my judgment of his own merits, or those of his work.
I adopted the principle that promotion should be by merit rather than
by seniority, and my decisions on that matter were always accepted
without complaint. I recall two men who voluntarily resigned when
they found that, through failure of health or strength, they were
unable to properly go on with their work. In frankness I must admit
that there was one case in which I had a very disagreeable contest in
getting rid of a learned gentleman whose practical powers were so far
inferior to his theoretical knowledge that he was almost useless in
the office. He made the fiercest and most determined fight in which
I was ever engaged, but I must, in justice to all concerned, say that
his defect was not in will to do his work but in the requisite power.
Officially I was not without fault, because, in the press of matters
requiring my attention, I had entrusted too much to him, and did
not discover his deficiencies until some mischief had been done.
Perhaps the most eminent and interesting man associated with me
during this period was Mr. George W. Hill, who will easily rank as
the greatest master of mathematical astronomy during the last quarter
of the nineteenth century. The only defect of his make-up of which
I have reason to complain is the lack of the teaching faculty.
Had this been developed in him, I could have learned very much
from him that would have been to my advantage. In saying this
I have one especial point in mind. In beginning my studies in
celestial mechanics, I lacked the guidance of some one conversant
with the subject on its practical side. Two systems of computing
planetary perturbations had been used, one by Leverrier, while the
other was invented by Hansen. The former method was, in principle,
of great simplicity, while the latter seemed to be very complex and
even clumsy. I naturally supposed that the man who computed the
direction of the planet Neptune before its existence was known, must
be a master of the whole subject, and followed the lines he indicated.
I gradually discovered the contrary, and introduced modified methods,
but did not entirely break away from the old trammels. Hill had never
been bound by them, and used Hansen's method from the beginning.
Had he given me a few demonstrations of its advantages, I should
have been saved a great deal of time and labor.
The part assigned to Hill was about the most difficult in the whole
work,--the theory of Jupiter and Saturn. Owing to the great mass of
these "giant planets," the inequalities of their motion, especially
in the case of Saturn, affected by the attraction of Jupiter, is
greater than in the case of the other planets. Leverrier failed to
attain the necessary exactness in his investigation of their motion.
Hill had done some work on the subject at his home in Nyack Turnpike
before I took charge of the office. He now moved to Washington,
and seriously began the complicated numerical calculations which
his task involved. I urged that he should accept the assistance of
less skilled computers; but he declined it from a desire to do the
entire work himself. Computers to make the duplicate computations
necessary to guard against accidental numerical errors on his part
were all that he required. He labored almost incessantly for about
ten years, when he handed in the manuscript of what now forms Volume
IV. of the "Astronomical Papers."
A pleasant incident occurred in 1884, when the office was honored
by a visit from Professor John C. Adams of England, the man who,
independently of Leverrier, had computed the place of Neptune, but
failed to receive the lion's share of the honor because it happened to
be the computations of the Frenchman and not his which led immediately
to the discovery of the planet. It was of the greatest interest to
me to bring two such congenial spirits as Adams and Hill together.
It would be difficult to find a more impressive example than
that afforded by Hill's career, of the difficulty of getting the
public to form and act upon sane judgments in such cases as his.
The world has the highest admiration for astronomical research, and
in this sentiment our countrymen are foremost. They spend hundreds
of thousands of dollars to promote it. They pay good salaries to
professors who chance to get a certain official position where they
may do good work. And here was perhaps the greatest living master in
the highest and most difficult field of astronomy, winning world-wide
recognition for his country in the science, and receiving the salary
of a department clerk. I never wrestled harder with a superior
than I did with Hon. R. W. Thompson, Secretary of the Navy, about
1880, to induce him to raise Mr. Hill's salary from $1200 to $1400.
It goes without saying that Hill took even less interest in the
matter than I did. He did not work for pay, but for the love of
science. His little farm at Nyack Turnpike sufficed for his home,
and supplied his necessities so long as he lived there, and all
he asked in Washington was the means of going on with his work.
The deplorable feature of the situation is, that this devotion to
his science, instead of commanding due recognition on the public
and official side, rather tended to create an inadequate impression
of the importance of what he was doing. That I could not secure
for him at least the highest official consideration is among the
regretful memories of my official life.
Although, so far as the amount of labor is concerned, Mr. Hill's
work upon Jupiter and Saturn is the most massive he ever undertook,
his really great scientific merit consists in the development of a
radically new method of computing the inequalities of the moon's
motion, which is now being developed and applied by Professor
E. W. Brown. His most marked intellectual characteristic is the
eminently practical character of his researches. He does not aim
so much at elegant mathematical formulæ, as to determine with the
greatest precision the actual quantities of which mathematical
astronomy stands in need. In this direction he has left every
investigator of recent or present time far in the rear.
After the computations on Jupiter and Saturn were made, it was
necessary to correct their orbits and make tables of their motions.
This work I left entirely in Mr. Hill's hands, the only requirement
being that the masses of the planets and other data which he
adopted should be uniform with those I used in the rest of the
work. His tables were practically completed in manuscript at the
beginning of 1892. When they were through, doubtless feeling, as
well he might, that he had done his whole duty to science and the
government, Mr. Hill resigned his office and returned to his home.
During the summer he paid a visit to Europe, and visiting the
Cambridge University, was honored with the degree of Doctor of Laws,
along with a distinguished company, headed by the Duke of Edinburgh.
One of the pleasant things to recall was that, during the fifteen
years of our connection, there was never the slightest dissension
or friction between us.
I may add that the computations which he made on the theory of
Jupiter and Saturn are all preserved complete and in perfect form
at the Nautical Almanac Office, so that, in case any question should
arise respecting them in future generations, the point can be cleared
up by an inspection.
In 1874, three years before I left the observatory, I was informed
by Dr. Henry Draper that he had a mechanical assistant who showed
great fondness for and proficiency in some work in mathematical
astronomy. I asked to see what he was doing, and received a
collection of papers of a remarkable kind. They consisted mainly
of some of the complicated developments of celestial mechanics.
In returning them I wrote to Draper that, when I was ready to begin
my work on the planetary theories, I must have his man,--could he
possibly be spared? But he came to me before the time, while I was
carrying on some investigations with aid afforded by the Smithsonian
Institution. Of course, when I took charge of the Nautical Almanac
Office, he was speedily given employment on its work. His name
was John Meier, a Swiss by birth, evidently from the peasant class,
but who had nevertheless been a pupil of Professor Rudolph Wolf at
Zurich. Emigrating to this country, he was, during the civil war,
an engineer's mate or something of that grade in the navy. He was
the most perfect example of a mathematical machine that I ever had
at command. Of original power,--the faculty of developing new methods
and discovering new problems, he had not a particle. Happily for his
peace of mind, he was totally devoid of worldly ambition. I had only
to prepare the fundamental data for him, explain what was wanted,
write down the matters he was to start with, and he ground out
day after day the most complicated algebraic and trigonometrical
computations with untiring diligence and almost unerring accuracy.
But a dark side of the picture showed itself very suddenly and
unexpectedly in a few years. For the most selfish reasons, if for
no others, I desired that his peace of mind should be undisturbed.
The result was that I was from time to time appealed to as an
arbitrator of family dissensions, in which it was impossible to
say which side was right and which wrong. Then, as a prophylactic
against malaria, his wife administered doses of whiskey. The rest
of the history need not be told. It illustrates the maxim that
"blood will tell," which I fear is as true in scientific work as in
any other field of human activity.
A man of totally different blood, the best in fact, entered the
office shortly before Meier broke down. This was Mr. Cleveland
Keith, son of Professor Reuel Keith, who was one of the professors
at the observatory when it was started. His patience and ability
led to his gradually taking the place of a foreman in supervising
the work pertaining to the reduction of the observations, and the
construction of the tables of the planets. Without his help, I fear
I should never have brought the tables to a conclusion. He died in
1896, just as the final results of the work were being put together.
High among the troublesome problems with which I had to deal while
in charge of the Nautical Almanac, was that of universal time.
All but the youngest of my readers will remember the period when every
railway had its own meridian, by the time of which its trains were
run, which had to be changed here and there in the case of the great
trunk lines, and which seldom agreed with the local time of a place.
In the Pennsylvania station at Pittsburg were three different times;
one that of Philadelphia, one of some point farther west, and the
third the local Pittsburg time. The traveler was constantly liable
to miss a train, a connection, or an engagement by the doubt and
confusion thus arising.
This was remedied in 1883 by the adoption of our present system of
standard times of four different meridians, the introduction of which
was one of the great reforms of our generation. When this change
was made, I was in favor of using Washington time as the standard,
instead of going across the ocean to Greenwich for a meridian.
But those who were pressing the measure wanted to have a system for
the whole world, and for this purpose the meridian of Greenwich was
the natural one. Practically our purpose was served as well by the
Greenwich meridian as it would have been by that of Washington.
The year following this change an international meridian conference
was held at Washington, on the invitation of our government, to
agree upon a single prime meridian to be adopted by the whole world
in measuring longitudes and indicating time.
Of course the meridian of Greenwich was the only one that would
answer the purpose. This had already been adopted by several leading
maritime nations, including ourselves as well as Great Britain.
It was merely a question of getting the others to fall into line.
No conference was really necessary for this purpose, because the
dissentients caused much more inconvenience to themselves than to any
one else by their divergent practice. The French held out against the
adoption of the Greenwich meridian, and proposed one passing through
Behring Strait. I was not a member of the conference, but was invited
to submit my views, which I did orally. I ventured to point out to
the Frenchmen that the meridian of Greenwich also belonged to France,
passing near Havre and intersecting their country from north to south.
It was therefore as much a French as an English meridian, and could
be adopted without any sacrifice of national position. But they
were not convinced, and will probably hold out until England adopts
the metric system, on which occasion it is said that they will be
prepared to adopt the Greenwich meridian.
One proceeding of the conference illustrates a general characteristic
of reformers. Almost without debate, certainly without adequate
consideration, the conference adopted a recommendation that
astronomers and navigators should change their system of reckoning
time. Both these classes have, from time immemorial, begun the day
at noon, because this system was most natural and convenient, when
the question was not that of a measure of time for daily life, but
simply to indicate with mathematical precision the moment of an event.
Navigators had begun the day at noon, because the observations of the
sun, on which the latitude of a ship depends, are necessarily made at
noon, and the run of the ship is worked up immediately afterward.
The proposed change would have produced unending confusion in
astronomical nomenclature, owing to the difficulty of knowing in all
cases which system of time was used in any given treatise or record
of observations. I therefore felt compelled, in the general interest
of science and public convenience, to oppose the project with all my
power, suggesting that, if the new system must be put into operation,
we should wait until the beginning of a new century.
"I hope you will succeed in having its adoption postponed until
1900," wrote Airy to me, "and when 1900 comes, I hope you will
further succeed in having it again postponed until the year 2000."
The German official astronomers, and indeed most of the official ones
everywhere, opposed the change, but the efforts on the other side
were vigorously continued. The British Admiralty was strongly urged
to introduce the change into the Nautical Almanac, and the question
of doing this was warmly discussed in various scientific journals.
One result of this movement was that, in 1886, Rear-Admiral
George H. Belknap, superintendent of the Naval Observatory,
and myself were directed to report on the question. I drew up a
very elaborate report, discussing the subject especially in its
relations to navigation, pointing out in the strongest terms I
could the danger of placing in the hands of navigators an almanac
in which the numbers were given in a form so different from that to
which they were accustomed. If they chanced to forget the change,
the results of their computations might be out to any extent, to the
great danger and confusion of their reckoning, while not a solitary
advantage would be gained by it.
There is some reason to suppose that this document found its way
to the British Admiralty, but I never heard a word further on the
subject except that it ceased to be discussed in London. A few years
later some unavailing efforts were made to revive the discussion, but
the twentieth century is started without this confusing change being
introduced into the astronomical ephemerides and nautical almanacs
of the world, and navigators are still at liberty to practice the
system they find most convenient.
In 1894 I had succeeded in bringing so much of the work as pertained
to the reduction of the observations and the determination of the
elements of the planets to a conclusion. So far as the larger planets
were concerned, it only remained to construct the necessary tables,
which, however, would be a work of several years.
With the year 1896 came what was perhaps the most important event
in my whole plan. I have already remarked upon the confusion which
pervaded the whole system of exact astronomy, arising from the
diversity of the fundamental data made use of by the astronomers of
foreign countries and various institutions in their work. It was,
I think, rather exceptional that any astronomical result was based
on entirely homogeneous and consistent data. To remedy this state of
things and start the exact astronomy of the twentieth century on one
basis for the whole world, was one of the objects which I had mapped
out from the beginning. Dr. A. M. W. Downing, superintendent of the
British Nautical Almanac, was struck by the same consideration and
animated by the same motive. He had especially in view to avoid
the duplication of work which arose from the same computations
being made in different countries for the same result, whereby much
unnecessary labor was expended. The field of astronomy is so vast,
and the quantity of work urgently required to be done so far beyond
the power of any one nation, that a combination to avoid all such
waste was extremely desirable. When, in 1895, my preliminary results
were published, he took the initiative in a project for putting the
idea into effect, by proposing an international conference of the
directors of the four leading ephemerides, to agree upon a uniform
system of data for all computations pertaining to the fixed stars.
This conference was held in Paris in May, 1896. After several days
of discussion, it resolved that, beginning with 1901, a certain set
of constants should be used in all the ephemerides, substantially
the same as those I had worked out, but without certain ulterior,
though practically unimportant, modifications which I had applied
for the sake of symmetry. My determination of the positions and
motions of the bright fixed stars, which I had not yet completed,
was adopted in advance for the same purpose, I agreeing to complete
it if possible in time for use in 1901. I also agreed to make a new
determination of the constant of precession, that which I had used in
my previous work not being quite satisfactory. All this by no means
filled the field of exact astronomy, yet what was left outside of it
was of comparatively little importance for the special object in view.
More than a year after the conference I was taken quite by surprise
by a vigorous attack on its work and conclusions on the part of
Professor Lewis Boss, director of the Dudley Observatory, warmly
seconded by Mr. S. C. Chandler of Cambridge, the editor of the
"Astronomical Journal." The main grounds of attack were two
in number. The time was not ripe for concluding upon a system of
permanent astronomical standards. Besides this, the astronomers of
the country should have been consulted before a decision was reached.
Ultimately the attack led to a result which may appear curious to
the future astronomer. He will find the foreign ephemerides using
uniform data worked out in the office of the "American Ephemeris and
Nautical Almanac" at Washington for the years beginning with 1901.
He will find that these same data, after being partially adopted in
the ephemeris for 1900, were thrown out in 1901, and the antiquated
ones reintroduced in the main body of the ephemeris. The new ones
appear simply in an appendix.
As, under the operation of law, I should be retired from active
service in the March following the conference, it became a serious
question whether I should be able to finish the work that had been
mapped out, as well as the planetary tables. Mr. Secretary Herbert,
on his own motion so far as I know, sent for me to inquire into the
subject. The result of the conference was a movement on his part
to secure an appropriation somewhat less than the highest salary of
a professor, to compensate me for the completion of the work after
my retirement. The House Committee on Appropriations, ever mindful
of economy in any new item, reduced the amount to a clerical salary.
The committee of conference compromised on a mean between the two.
It happened that the work on the stars was not specified in the
law,--only the tables of the planets. In consequence I had no legal
right to go on with the former, although the ephemerides of Europe
were waiting for the results. After much trouble an arrangement
was effected under which the computers on the work were not to be
prohibited from consulting me in its prosecution.
Astronomical work is never really done and finished. The questions
growing out of the agreement or non-agreement of the tables with
observations still remain to be studied, and require an immense amount
of computation. In what country and by whom these computations will
be made no one can now tell. The work which I most regretted to leave
unfinished was that on the motion of the moon. As I have already
said, this work is complete to 1750. The computations for carrying
it on from 1750 to the present time were perhaps three fourths done
when I had to lay them aside. In 1902, when the Carnegie Institution
was organized, it made a grant for supplying me with the computing
assistance and other facilities necessary for the work, and the
Secretary of the Navy allowed me the use of the old computations.
Under such auspices the work was recommenced in March, 1903.
So far as I can recall, I never asked anything from the government
which would in any way promote my personal interests. The only
exception, if such it is, is that during the civil war I joined with
other professors in asking that we be put on the same footing with
other staff corps of the navy as regarded pay and rank. So far as
my views were concerned, the rank was merely a _pro forma_ matter,
as I never could see any sound reason for a man pursuing astronomical
duties caring to have military rank.
In conducting my office also, the utmost economy was always studied.
The increase in the annual appropriations for which I asked was so
small that, when I left the office in 1877, they were just about the
same as they were back in the fifties, when it was first established.
The necessary funds were saved by economical administration. All this
was done with a feeling that, after my retirement, the satisfaction
with which one could look back on such a policy would be enhanced by
a feeling on the part of the representatives of the public that the
work I had done must be worthy of having some pains taken to secure
its continuance in the same spirit.
I do not believe that the men who conduct our own government are a
whit behind the foremost of other countries in the desire to promote
science. If after my retirement no special measures were deemed
necessary to secure the continuance of the work in which I had been
engaged, I prefer to attribute it to adventitious circumstances rather
than to any undervaluation of scientific research by our authorities.
IX
SCIENTIFIC WASHINGTON
It is sometimes said that no man, in passing away, leaves a place
which cannot be equally well filled by another. This is doubtless
true in all ordinary cases. But scientific research, and scientific
affairs generally at the national capital, form an exception to many
of the rules drawn from experience in other fields.
Professor Joseph Henry, first secretary of the Smithsonian
Institution, was a man of whom it may be said, without any reflection
on men of our generation, that he held a place which has never
been filled. I do not mean his official place, but his position
as the recognized leader and exponent of scientific interests at
the national capital. A world-wide reputation as a scientific
investigator, exalted character and inspiring presence, broad views
of men and things, the love and esteem of all, combined to make him
the man to whom all who knew him looked for counsel and guidance
in matters affecting the interests of science. Whether any one
could since have assumed this position, I will not venture to say;
but the fact seems to be that no one has been at the same time able
and willing to assume it.
On coming to Washington I soon became very intimate with Professor
Henry, and I do not think there was any one here to whom he set
forth his personal wishes and convictions respecting the policy
of the Smithsonian Institution and its relations to the government
more freely than he did to me. As every point connected with the
history and policy of this establishment is of world-wide interest,
and as Professor Henry used to put some things in a different light
from that shed upon the subject by current publications, I shall
mention a few points that might otherwise be overlooked.
It has always seemed to me that a deep mystery enshrouded the act
of Smithson in devising his fortune as he did. That an Englishman,
whose connections and associations were entirely with the intellectual
classes,--who had never, so far as is known, a single American
connection, or the slightest inclination toward democracy,--should,
in the intellectual condition of our country during the early
years of the century, have chosen its government as his trustee
for the foundation of a scientific institution, does of itself seem
singular enough. What seems yet more singular is that no instructions
whatever were given in his will or found in his papers beyond the
comprehensive one "to found an institution at Washington to be
called the Smithsonian Institution for the increase and diffusion
of knowledge among men." No plan of the institution, no scrap
of paper which might assist in the interpretation of the mandate,
was ever discovered. Not a word respecting his intention was ever
known to have been uttered. Only a single remark was ever recorded
which indicated that he had anything unusual in view. He did at one
time say, "My name shall live in the memory of men when the titles
of the Northumberlands and the Percys are extinct and forgotten."
One result of this failure to indicate a plan for the institution was
that, when the government received the money, Congress was at a loss
what to do with it. Some ten years were spent in discussing schemes
of various kinds, among them that of declining the gift altogether.
Then it was decided that the institution should be governed by a
Board of Regents, who should elect a secretary as their executive
officer and the administrator of the institution. The latter was to
include a library, a museum, and a gallery of art. The plans for
the fine structure, so well known to every visitor to the capital,
were prepared, the building was started, the regents organized,
and Professor Henry made secretary.
We might almost say that Henry was opposed to every special function
assigned to the institution by the organic law. He did not agree
with me as to any mystery surrounding the intentions of the founder.
To him they were perfectly clear. Smithson was a scientific
investigator; and the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men
could be best promoted on the lines that he desired, by scientific
investigation and the publication of scientific researches. For this
purpose a great building was not necessary, and he regretted all the
money spent on it. The library, museum, and gallery of art would
be of only local advantage, whereas "diffusion among men" implied
all men, whether they could visit Washington or not. It was clearly
the business of the government to supply purely local facilities for
study and research, and the endowment of Smithson should not be used
for such a purpose.
His opposition to the building tinged the whole course of his thought.
I doubt whether he was ever called upon by founders of institutions
of any sort for counsel without his warning them to beware of spending
their money in bricks and mortar. The building being already started
before he took charge, and the three other objects being sanctioned
by law, he was, of course, hampered in carrying out his views.
But he did his utmost to reduce to a minimum the amount of the fund
that should be devoted to the objects specified.
This policy brought on the most animated contest in the history
of the institution. It was essential that his most influential
assistants should share his views or at least not thwart them. This,
he found, was not the case. The librarian, Mr. C. C. Jewett, an able
and accomplished man in the line of his profession, was desirous of
collecting one of the finest scientific libraries. A contest arose,
to which Professor Henry put an end by the bold course of removing
the librarian from office. Mr. Jewett denied his power to do this,
and the question came before the board of regents. The majority of
these voted that the secretary had the power to remove his assistants.
Among the minority was Rufus Choate, who was so strongly opposed to
the action that he emphasized his protest against it by resigning
from the board.
A question of legal interpretation came in to make the situation
yet more difficult. The regents had resolved that, after the
completion of the building, one half the income should be devoted
to those objects which Professor Henry considered most appropriate.
Meanwhile there was no limit to the amount that might be appropriated
to these objects, but Mr. Jewett and other heads of departments
wished to apply the rule from the beginning. Henry refused to do so,
and looked with entire satisfaction on the slowness of completion
of what was, in his eyes, an undesirable building.
It must be admitted that there was one point which Professor
Henry either failed to appreciate, or perhaps thought unworthy
of consideration. This is, the strong hold on the minds of men
which an institution is able to secure through the agency of an
imposing building. Saying nothing of the artistic and educational
value of a beautiful piece of architecture, it would seem that such
a structure has a peculiar power of impressing the minds of men with
the importance of the object to which it is devoted, or of the work
going on within it. Had Professor Henry been allowed to perform
all the functions of the Smithsonian Institution in a moderate-sized
hired house, as he felt himself abundantly able to do, I have very
serious doubts whether it would have acquired its present celebrity
and gained its present high place in the estimation of the public.
In the winter of 1865 the institution suffered an irreparable
loss by a conflagration which destroyed the central portion of
the building. At that time the gallery of art had been confined to
a collection of portraits of Indians by Stanley. This collection
was entirely destroyed. The library, being at one end, remained
intact. The lecture room, where courses of scientific lectures
had been delivered by eminent men of science, was also destroyed.
This event gave Professor Henry an opportunity of taking a long
step in the direction he desired. He induced Congress to take the
Smithsonian library on deposit as a part of its own, and thus relieve
the institution of the cost of supporting this branch.
The Corcoran Art Gallery had been founded in the mean time, and
relieved the institution of all necessity for supporting a gallery
of art. He would gladly have seen the National Museum made a separate
institution, and the Smithsonian building purchased by the government
for its use, but he found no chance of carrying this out.
After the death of Professor Henry the Institution grew rapidly
into a position in which it might almost claim to be a scientific
department of the government. The National Museum, remaining under
its administration, was greatly enlarged, and one of its ramifications
was extended into the National Zoölogical Park. The studies of
Indian ethnology, begun by Major J. W. Powell, grew into the Bureau
of Ethnology. The Astrophysical Observatory was established, in
which Professor Langley has continued his epoch-making work on the
sun's radiant heat with his wonderful bolometer, an instrument of
his own invention.
Before he was appointed to succeed Professor Henry, Professor Baird
was serving as United States Fish Commissioner, and continued to fill
this office, without other salary than that paid by the Smithsonian
Institution. The economic importance of the work done and still
carried on by this commission is too well known to need a statement.
About the time of Baird's death, the work of the commission was
separated from that of the Institution by providing a salary for
the commissioner.
We have here a great extension of the idea of an institution for
scientific publications and research. I recall once suggesting
to Professor Baird the question whether the utilization of the
institution founded by Smithson for carrying on and promoting such
government work as that of the National Museum was really the right
thing to do. He replied, "It is not a case of using the Smithsonian
fund for government work, but of the government making appropriations
for the work of the Smithsonian Institution." Between the two sides
of the question thus presented,--one emphasizing the honor done to
Smithson by expanding the institution which bears his name, and the
other aiming solely at the best administration of the fund which we
hold in trust for him,--I do not pretend to decide.
On the academic side of social life in Washington, the numerous
associations of alumni of colleges and universities hold a prominent
place. One of the earliest of these was that of Yale, which has held
an annual banquet every year, at least since 1877, when I first became
a member. Its membership at this time included Mr. W. M. Evarts, then
Secretary of State, Chief Justice Waite, Senator Dawes, and a number
of other men prominent in political life. The most attractive speaker
was Mr. Evarts, and the fact that his views of education were somewhat
conservative added much to the interest of his speeches. He generally
had something to say in favor of the system of a prescribed curriculum
in liberal education, which was then considered as quite antiquated.
When President Dwight, shortly after his accession to office, visited
the capital to explain the modernizing of the Yale educational system,
he told the alumni that the college now offered ninety-five courses to
undergraduates. Evarts congratulated the coming students on sitting
at a banquet table where they had their choice of ninety-five courses
of intellectual aliment.
Perhaps the strongest testimonial of the interest attached to these
reunions was unconsciously given by President Hayes. He had received
an honorary degree from Yale, and I chanced to be on the committee
which called to invite him to the next banquet. He pleaded, as I
suppose Presidents always do, the multiplicity of his engagements,
but finally said,--
"Well, gentlemen, I will come, but it must be on two well-understood
conditions. In the first place, I must not be called to my feet.
You must not expect a speech of me. The second condition is, I must
be allowed to leave punctually at ten o'clock."
"We regret your conditions, Mr. President," was the reply, "but must,
of course, accede to them, if you insist."
He came to the banquet, he made a speech,--a very good, and not a
very short one,--and he remained, an interested hearer, until nearly
two o'clock in the morning.
In recent years I cannot avoid a feeling that a change has come over
the spirit of such associations. One might gather the impression
that the apothegm of Sir William Hamilton needed a slight amendment.
On earth is nothing great but Man,
In Man is nothing great but Mind.
Strike out the last word, and insert "Muscle." The reader will
please not misinterpret this remark. I admire the physically
perfect man, loving everything out of doors, and animated by the
spirit that takes him through polar snows and over mountain tops.
But I do not feel that mere muscular practice during a few years of
college life really fosters this spirit.
Among the former institutions of Washington of which the memory is
worth preserving, was the Scientific Club. This was one of those
small groups, more common in other cities than in Washington, of men
interested in some field of thought, who meet at brief intervals at
one another's houses, perhaps listen to a paper, and wind up with
a supper. When or how the Washington Club originated, I do not know,
but it was probably sometime during the fifties. Its membership seems
to have been rather ill defined, for, although I have always been
regarded as a member, and am mentioned in McCulloch's book as such,
[1] I do not think I ever received any formal notice of election.
The club was not exclusively scientific, but included in its list the
leading men who were supposed to be interested in scientific matters,
and whose company was pleasant to the others. Mr. McCulloch himself,
General Sherman, and Chief Justice Chase are examples of the members
of the club who were of this class.
It was at the club meetings that I made the acquaintance of General
Sherman. His strong characteristics were as clearly seen at these
evening gatherings as in a military campaign. His restlessness
was such that he found it hard to sit still, especially in his
own house, two minutes at a time. His terse sentences, leaving
no doubt in the mind of the hearer as to what he meant, always
had the same snap. One of his military letters is worth reviving.
When he was carrying on his campaign in Georgia against Hood, the
latter was anxious that the war should damage general commercial
interests as little as possible; so he sent General Sherman a letter
setting forth the terms and conditions on which he, Hood, would
refrain from burning the cotton in his line of march, but leave it
behind,--at as great length and with as much detail as if it were
a treaty of peace between two nations. Sherman's reply was couched
in a single sentence: "I hope you will burn all the cotton you can,
for all you don't burn I will." When he introduced two people,
he did not simply mention their names, but told who each one was.
In introducing the adjutant-general to another officer who had just
come into Washington, he added, "You know his signature."
Mr. McCulloch, who succeeded Mr. Chase as Secretary of the Treasury,
was my beau idéal of an administrator. In his personal make-up,
he was as completely the opposite of General Sherman as a man
well could be. Deliberate, impassive, heavy of build, slow in
physical movement, he would have been supposed, at first sight,
a man who would take life easy, and concern himself as little
as possible about public affairs. But, after all, there is a
quality in the head of a great department which is quite distinct
from sprightliness, and that is wisdom. This he possessed in the
highest degree. The impress which he made on our fiscal system was
not the product of what looked like energetic personal action, but
of a careful study of the prevailing conditions of public opinion,
and of the means at his disposal for keeping the movement of things
in the right direction. His policy was what is sometimes claimed,
and correctly, I believe, to embody the highest administrative wisdom:
that of doing nothing himself that he could get others to do for him.
In this way all his energies could be devoted to his proper work,
that of getting the best men in office, and of devising measures
from time to time calculated to carry the government along the lines
which he judged to be best for the public interests.
The name of another attendant at the meetings of the club has from
time to time excited interest because of its connection with a
fundamental principle of evolutionary astronomy. This principle,
which looks paradoxical enough, is that up to a certain stage,
as a star loses heat by radiation into space, its temperature
becomes higher. It is now known as Lane's Law. Some curiosity
as to its origin, as well as the personality of its author, has
sometimes been expressed. As the story has never been printed,
I ask leave to tell it.
Among the attendants at the meetings of the Scientific Club was
an odd-looking and odd-mannered little man, rather intellectual in
appearance, who listened attentively to what others said, but who,
so far as I noticed, never said a word himself. Up to the time
of which I am speaking, I did not even know his name, as there was
nothing but his oddity to excite any interest in him.
One evening about the year 1867, the club met, as it not
infrequently did, at the home of Mr. McCulloch. After the
meeting Mr. W. B. Taylor, afterward connected with the Smithsonian
Institution in an editorial capacity, accompanied by the little man,
set out to walk to his home, which I believe was somewhere near the
Smithsonian grounds. At any rate, I joined them in their walk,
which led through these grounds. A few days previous there had
appeared in the "Reader," an English weekly periodical having a
scientific character, an article describing a new theory of the sun.
The view maintained was that the sun was not a molten liquid, as had
generally been supposed up to that time, but a mass of incandescent
gas, perhaps condensed at its outer surface, so as to form a sort of
immense bubble. I had never before heard of the theory, but it was
so plausible that there could be no difficulty in accepting it. So,
as we wended our way through the Smithsonian grounds, I explained the
theory to my companions in that _ex cathedra_ style which one is apt
to assume in setting forth a new idea to people who know little or
nothing of the subject. My talk was mainly designed for Mr. Taylor,
because I did not suppose the little man would take any interest
in it. I was, therefore, much astonished when, at a certain point,
he challenged, in quite a decisive tone, the correctness of one of
my propositions. In a rather more modest way, I tried to maintain
my ground, but was quite silenced by the little man informing us that
he had investigated the whole subject, and found so and so--different
from what I had been laying down.
I immediately stepped down from the pontifical chair, and asked the
little man to occupy it and tell us more about the matter, which
he did. Whether the theorem to which I have alluded was included
in his statement, I do not recall. If it was not, he told me about
it subsequently, and spoke of a paper he had published, or was about
to publish, in the "American Journal of Science." I find that this
paper appeared in Volume L. in 1870.
Naturally I cultivated the acquaintance of such a man. His name
was J. Homer Lane. He was quite alone in the world, having neither
family nor near relative, so far as any one knew. He had formerly
been an examiner or something similar in the Patent Office, but
under the system which prevailed in those days, a man with no more
political influence than he had was very liable to lose his position,
as he actually did. He lived in a good deal such a habitation and
surroundings as men like Johnson and Goldsmith lived in in their time.
If his home was not exactly a garret, it came as near it as a lodging
of the present day ever does.
After the paper in question appeared, I called Mr. Lane's attention
to the fact that I did not find any statement of the theorem which
he had mentioned to me to be contained in it. He admitted that it
was contained in it only impliedly, and proceeded to give me a very
brief and simple demonstration.
So the matter stood, until the centennial year, 1876, when Sir
William Thomson paid a visit to this country. I passed a very
pleasant evening with him at the Smithsonian Institution, engaged
in a discussion, some points of which he afterwards mentioned in
an address to the British Association. Among other matters, I
mentioned this law, originating with Mr. J. Homer Lane. He did not
think it could be well founded, and when I attempted to reproduce
Mr. Lane's verbal demonstration, I found myself unable to do so.
I told him I felt quite sure about the matter, and would write to
him on the subject. When I again met Mr. Lane, I told him of my
difficulty and asked him to repeat the demonstration. He did so
at once, and I sent it off to Sir William. The latter immediately
accepted the result, and published a paper on the subject, in which
the theorem was made public for the first time.
It is very singular that a man of such acuteness never achieved
anything else of significance. He was at my station on one occasion
when a total eclipse of the sun was to be observed, and made a report
on what he saw. At the same time he called my attention to a slight
source of error with which photographs of the transit of Venus might
be affected. The idea was a very ingenious one, and was published
in due course.
Altogether, the picture of his life and death remains in my memory
as a sad one, the brightest gleam being the fact that he was elected
a member of the National Academy of Sciences, which must have been
to him a very grateful recognition of his work on the part of his
scientific associates. When he died, his funeral was attended only
by a few of his fellow members of the academy. Altogether, I feel
it eminently appropriate that his name should be perpetuated by the
theorem of which I have spoken.
If the National Academy of Sciences has not proved as influential a
body as such an academy should, it has still taken such a place in
science, and rendered services of such importance to the government,
that the circumstances connected with its origin are of permanent
historic interest. As the writer was not a charter member, he cannot
claim to have been "in at the birth," though he became, from time to
time, a repository of desultory information on the subject. There is
abundant internal and circumstantial evidence that Dr. B. A. Gould,
although his name has, so far as I am aware, never been mentioned
in this connection, was a leading spirit in the first organization.
On the other hand, curiously enough, Professor Henry was not. I was
quite satisfied that Bache took an active part, but Henry assured me
that he could not believe this, because he was so intimate with Bache
that, had the latter known anything of the matter, he would surely
have consulted him. Some recent light is thrown on the subject
by letters of Rear-Admiral Charles H. Davis, found in his "Life,"
as published by his son. Everything was carried on in the greatest
secrecy, until the bill chartering the body was introduced by Senator
Henry Wilson of Massachusetts. Fifty charter members were named,
and this number was fixed as the permanent limit to the membership.
The list did not include either George P. Bond, director of the
Harvard Observatory, perhaps the foremost American astronomer of the
time in charge of an observatory, nor Dr. John W. Draper. Yet the
total membership in the section of astronomy and kindred sciences was
very large. A story to which I give credence was that the original
list, as handed to Senator Wilson, did not include the name of
William B. Rogers, who was then founding the Institute of Technology.
The senator made it a condition that room for Rogers should be found,
and his wish was acceded to. It is of interest that the man thus
added to the academy by a senator afterward became its President,
and proved as able and popular a presiding officer as it ever had.
The governmental importance of the academy arose from the fact
that its charter made it the scientific adviser of the government,
by providing that it should "investigate, examine, experiment,
and report upon any subject of science or art" whenever called
upon by any department of the government. In this respect it was
intended to perform the same valuable functions for the government
that are expected of the national scientific academies or societies
of foreign countries.
The academy was empowered to make its own constitution. That first
adopted was sufficiently rigid and complex. Following the example of
European bodies of the same sort, it was divided into two classes,
one of mathematical and physical, the other of natural science.
Each of these classes was divided into sections. A very elaborate
system of procedure for the choice of new members was provided.
Any member absent from four consecutive stated meetings of the
academy had his name stricken from the roll unless he communicated
a valid reason for his absence. Notwithstanding this requirement,
the academy had no funds to defray the traveling expenses of members,
nor did the government ever appropriate money for this purpose.
For seven years it became increasingly doubtful whether the
organization would not be abandoned. Several of the most eminent
members took no interest whatever in the academy,--did not attend
the meetings, but did tender their resignations, which, however,
were not accepted. This went on at such a rate that, in 1870,
to avoid a threatened dissolution, a radical change was made in
the constitution. Congress was asked to remove the restriction upon
the number of members, which it promptly did. Classes and sections
were entirely abandoned. The members formed but a single body.
The method of election was simplified,--too much simplified, in fact.
The election of new members is, perhaps, the most difficult and
delicate function of such an organization. It is one which cannot be
performed to public satisfaction, nor without making many mistakes;
and the avoidance of the latter is vastly more difficult when the
members are so widely separated and have little opportunity to discuss
in advance the merits of the men from whom a selection is to be made.
An ideal selection cannot be made until after a man is dead, so that
his work can be summed up; but I think it may fairly be said that,
on the whole, the selections have been as good as could be expected
under the conditions.
Notwithstanding the indifference of the government to the possible
benefits that the academy might render it, it has--in addition to
numerous reports on minor subjects--made two of capital importance
to the public welfare. One of these was the planning of the United
States Geological Survey, the other the organization of a forestry
system for the United States.
During the years 1870-77, besides several temporary surveys or
expeditions which had from time to time been conducted under the
auspices of the government, there were growing up two permanent
surveys of the territories. One of these was the Geographical
Survey of territories west of the 100th meridian, under the Chief
of Engineers of the Army; the other was the Geological Survey of
the territories under the Interior Department, of which the chief
was Professor F. V. Hayden.
The methods adopted by the two chiefs to gain the approval of the
public and the favoring smiles of Congress were certainly very
different. Wheeler's efforts were made altogether by official
methods and through official channels. Hayden considered it his
duty to give the public every possible opportunity to see what he
was doing and to judge his work. His efforts were chronicled at
length in the public prints. His summers were spent in the field,
and his winters were devoted to working up results and making every
effort to secure influence. An attractive personality and extreme
readiness to show every visitor all that there was to be seen in his
collections, facilitated his success. One day a friend introduced
a number of children with an expression of doubt as to the little
visitors being welcome. "Oh, I always like to have the children
come here," he replied, "they influence their parents." He was so
successful in his efforts that his organization grew apace, and soon
developed into the Geological Survey of the Territories.
Ostensibly the objects of the two organizations were different.
One had military requirements mainly in view, especially the mapping
of routes. Hayden's survey was mainly in the interests of geology.
Practically, however, the two covered the same field in all points.
The military survey extended its scope by including everything
necessary for a complete geographical and geological atlas.
The geological survey was necessarily a complete topographical and
geological survey from the beginning. Between 1870 and 1877, both
were engaged in making an atlas of Colorado, on the maps of which
were given the same topographical features and the same lines of
communication. Parties of the two surveys mounted their theodolites
on the same mountains, and triangulated the same regions. The Hayden
survey published a complete atlas of Colorado, probably more finely
gotten up than any atlas of a State in the Union, while the Wheeler
survey was vigorously engaged in issuing maps of the same territory.
No effort to prevent this duplication of work by making an arrangement
between the two organizations led to any result. Neither had any
official knowledge of the work of the other. Unofficially, the one
was dissatisfied with the political methods of the other, and claimed
that the maps which it produced were not fit for military purposes.
Hayden retorted with unofficial reflections on the geological
expertness of the engineers, and maintained that their work was
not of the best. He got up by far the best maps; Wheeler, in the
interests of economy, was willing to sacrifice artistic appearance
to economy of production. We thus had the curious spectacle of the
government supporting two independent surveys of the same region.
Various compromises were attempted, but they all came to nothing.
The state of things was clear enough to Congress, but the repugnance
of our national legislature to the adoption of decisive measures of
any sort for the settlement of a disputed administrative question
prevented any effective action. Infant bureaus may quarrel with each
other and eat up the paternal substance, but the parent cannot make
up his mind to starve them outright, or even to chastise them into
a spirit of conciliation. Unable to decide between them, Congress
for some years pursued the policy of supporting both surveys.
The credit for introducing a measure which would certainly lead to
unification is due to Mr. A. S. Hewitt, of New York, then a member
of the Committee on Appropriations. He proposed to refer the whole
subject to the National Academy of Sciences. His committee accepted
his view, and a clause was inserted in the Sundry Civil Bill of June
30, 1878, requiring the academy at its next meeting to take the matter
into consideration and report to Congress "as soon thereafter as may
be practicable, a plan for surveying and mapping the territory of
the United States on such general system as will, in their judgment,
secure the best results at the least possible cost."
Several of the older and more conservative members of the academy
objected that this question was not one of science or art, with
which alone the academy was competent to deal, but was a purely
administrative question which Congress should settle for itself.
They feared that the academy would be drawn into the arena of
political discussion to an extent detrimental to its future and
welfare and usefulness. Whether the exception was or was not well
taken, it was felt that the academy, the creature of Congress, could
not join issue with the latter as to its functions, nor should an
opportunity of rendering a great service to the government be lost
for such a reason as this.
The plan reported by the academy was radical and comprehensive.
It proposed to abolish all the existing surveys of the territories
except those which, being temporary, were completing their work,
and to substitute for them a single organization which would include
the surveys of the public lands in its scope. The interior work
of the Coast and Geodetic Survey was included in the plan, it being
proposed to transfer this bureau to the Interior Department, with its
functions so extended as to include the entire work of triangulation.
When the proposition came up in Congress at the following session,
it was vigorously fought by the Chief of Engineers of the army,
and by the General Land Office, of which the surveying functions
were practically abolished. The Land Office carried its point,
and was eliminated from the scheme. General Humphreys, the Chief of
Engineers, was a member of the academy, but resigned on the ground
that he could not properly remain a member while contesting the
recommendations of the body. But the academy refused to accept the
resignation, on the very proper ground that no obligation was imposed
on the members to support the views of the academy, besides which,
the work of the latter in the whole matter was terminated when its
report was presented to Congress.
Although this was true of the academy, it was not true of the
individual members who had taken part in constructing the scheme.
They were naturally desirous of seeing the plan made a success, and,
in the face of such vigorous opposition, this required constant
attention. A dexterous movement was that of getting the measure
transferred from one appropriation bill to another when it passed
over to the Senate. The measure at length became a law, and thus
was established the Geological Survey of the United States, which
was to be governed by a Director, appointed by the President, by
and with the advice and consent of the Senate.
Then, on March 4, 1879, an important question arose. The right man
must be placed at the head of the new bureau. Who is he? At first
there seemed to be but one voice on the subject, Professor Hayden had
taken the greatest pains to make known the work of his survey, not
only to Congress, but to every scientific society, small and great,
the world over. Many of these had bestowed their approbation upon it
by electing its director to honorary membership. It has been said,
I do not know how truly, that the number of these testimonials
exceeded that received by any other scientific man in America.
If this were so, they would have to be counted, not weighed. It was,
therefore, not surprising that two thirds of the members of Congress
were said to have sent a recommendation to the President for the
appointment of so able and successful a man to the new position.
The powerful backing of so respectable a citizen as Hon. J. D. Cox,
formerly Secretary of the Interior, was also heartily proffered.
To these forces were added that of a certain number of geologists,
though few or none of them were leaders in the science. Had it not
been for a private intimation conveyed to Secretary Schurz that the
scientific men interested might have something to say on the subject,
Hayden might have been appointed at the very moment the bill was
signed by the President.
Notwithstanding all of Hayden's merits as the energetic head of a
survey, the leaders in the movement considered that Mr. Clarence King
was the better qualified for the duties of the new position. It is
not unlikely that a preference for a different method of influencing
Congress than that which I have described, was one of the reasons in
favor of Mr. King. He was a man of charming personality and great
literary ability. Some one said of him that he could make a more
interesting story out of what he saw during a ride in a street car
than most men could with the best material at their disposal. His
"Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevadas" was as interesting an account
of Western exploration as has ever been published. I understand it
was suppressed by the author because some of the characters described
in it were much hurt by finding themselves painted in the book.
Hopeless though the contest might have seemed, an effort was made
by three or four of the men most interested to secure Mr. King's
appointment. If I wanted to show the fallacy of the common impression
that scientific men are not fitted for practical politics, I could
not do it better than by giving the internal history of the movement.
This I shall attempt only in the briefest way. The movers in the
matter divided up the work, did what they could in the daytime,
and met at night at Wormley's Hotel to compare notes, ascertain the
effect of every shot, and decide where the next one should be fired.
As all the parties concerned in the matter have now passed off the
stage, I shall venture to mention one of these shots. One eminent
geologist, whose support was known to be available, had not been
called in, because an impression had been formed that President
Hayes would not be willing to consider favorably what he might say.
After the matter had been discussed at one or two meetings, one
of the party proposed to sound the President on the subject at his
next interview. So, when the occasion arose, he gently introduced
the name of the gentleman.
"What view does he take?" inquired the President.
"I think he will be favorable to Mr. King," was the reply; "but
would you give great weight to his opinion?"
"I would give great weight to it, very great weight, indeed," was
the reply.
This expression was too decided in its tone to leave any doubt,
and the geologist in question was on his way to Washington as soon
as electricity could tell him that he was wanted. When the time
finally came for a decision, the President asked Secretary Schurz
for his opinion. Both agreed that King was the man, and he was
duly appointed.
The new administration was eminently successful. But King was
not fond of administrative work, and resigned the position at the
end of a year or so. He was succeeded by John W. Powell, under
whom the survey grew with a rapidity which no one had anticipated.
As originally organized, the survey was one of the territories only,
but the question whether it should not be extended to the States as
well, and prepare a topographical atlas of the whole country, was
soon mooted, and decided by Congress in the affirmative. For this
extension, however, the original organizers of the survey were in
no way responsible. It was the act of Congress, pure and simple.
If the success of an organization is to be measured by the public
support which it has commanded, by the extension of its work and
influence, and by the gradual dying out of all opposition, it must be
admitted that the plan of the academy was a brilliant success. It is
true that a serious crisis had once to be met. While Mr. Cleveland
was governor of New York, his experience with the survey of that
State had led him to distrust the methods on which the surveys
of the United States were being conducted. This distrust seems
to have pervaded the various heads of the departments under his
administration, and led to serious charges against the conduct of
both the Coast and Geological surveys. An unfavorable report upon
the administration of the former was made by a committee especially
appointed by the Secretary of the Treasury, and led to the resignation
of its superintendent. But, in the case of the Geological Survey,
the attacks were mostly conducted by the newspapers. At length,
Director Powell asked permission of Secretary Lamar to write him a
letter in reply. His answers were so sweeping, and so conclusive
on every point, that nothing more was heard of the criticisms.
The second great work of the academy for the government was that
of devising a forestry system for the United States. The immediate
occasion for action in this direction was stated by Secretary Hoke
Smith to be the "inadequacy and confusion of existing laws relating
to the public timber lands and consequent absence of an intelligent
policy in their administration, resulting in such conditions as may,
if not speedily stopped, prevent the proper development of a large
part of our country."
Even more than in the case of the Geological Survey might this
work seem to be one of administration rather than of science.
But granting that such was the case, the academy commanded great
advantages in taking up the subject. The commission which it formed
devoted more than a year to the study, not only of the conditions
in our own country, but of the various policies adopted by foreign
countries, especially Germany, and their results. As in the case
of the Geological Survey, a radically new and very complete system
of forestry administration was proposed. Interests having other
objects than the public good were as completely ignored as they had
been before.
The soundness of the conclusions reached by the Academy Commission
were challenged by men wielding great political power in their
respective States. For a time it was feared that the academy would
suffer rather than gain in public opinion by the report it had made.
But the moral force behind it was such that, in the long run, some of
the severest critics saw their error, and a plan was adopted which,
though differing in many details from that proposed, was, in the main,
based on the conclusion of the commission. The Interior department,
the Geological Survey, and the Department of Agriculture all have
their part in the work.
Notwithstanding these signal demonstrations of the valuable service
which the academy may render to the government, the latter has done
nothing for it. The immediate influence of the leading scientific men
in public affairs has perhaps been diminished as much in one direction
as it has been increased in another by the official character of
the organization. The very fact that the members of the academy
belong to a body which is, officially, the scientific adviser of
the government, prevents them from coming forward to exercise that
individual influence which they might exercise were no such body
in existence.
The academy has not even a place of meeting, nor is a repository
for its property and records provided for it. Although it holds
in trust large sums which have been bequeathed from time to time by
its members for promoting scientific investigation, and is, in this
way, rendering an important service to the progress of knowledge,
it has practically no income of its own except the contributions of
its own members, nearly all of whom are in the position described
by the elder Agassiz, of having "no time to make money."
Among the men who have filled the office of president of the academy,
Professor O. C. Marsh was perhaps the one whose activity covered the
widest field. Though long well known in scientific circles, he first
came into public prominence by his exposure of the frauds practiced
by contractors in furnishing supplies for the Indians. This business
had fallen into the hands of a small ring of contractors known as the
"Indian ring," who knew the ropes so well that they could bid below
any competitor and yet manage things so as to gain a handsome profit
out of the contracts. In the course of his explorations Marsh took
pains to investigate the whole matter, and published his conclusions
first in the New York "Tribune," and then more fully in pamphlet
form, taking care to have public attention called to the subject so
widely that the authorities would have to notice it. In doing so,
Mr. Delano, Secretary of the Interior, spoke of them as charges made
by "a Mr. Marsh." This method of designating such a man was made
effective use of by Mr. Delano's opponents in the case.
Although the investigation which followed did not elicit all the
facts, it had the result of calling the attention of succeeding
Secretaries of the Interior to the necessity of keeping the best
outlook on the administration of Indian affairs. What I believe to
have been the final downfall of the ring was not brought about until
Cleveland's first administration. Then it happened in this way.
Mr. Lamar, the Secretary of the Interior, was sharply on the lookout
for frauds of every kind. As usual, the lowest bid for a certain
kind of blanket had been accepted, and the Secretary was determined
to see whether the articles furnished actually corresponded with
the requirements of the contract. It chanced that he had as his
appointment clerk Mr. J. J. S. Hassler, a former manufacturer of
woolen goods. Mr. Hassler was put on the board to inspect the
supplies, and found that the blankets, although to all ordinary
appearance of the kind and quality required, were really of a much
inferior and cheaper material. The result was the enforced failure
of the contractor, and, I believe, the end of the Indian ring.
Marsh's explorations in search of fossil remains of the animals which
once roamed over the western parts of our continent were attended
by adventures of great interest, which he long had the intention of
collecting and publishing in book form. Unfortunately, he never did
it, nor, so far as I am aware, has any connected narrative of his
adventures ever appeared in print. This is more to be regretted,
because they belong to a state of things which is rapidly passing
away, leaving few records of that lifelike sort which make the most
impressive picture.
His guide during his early explorations was a character who
has since become celebrated in America and Europe by the vivid
representations of the "Wild West" with which he has amused and
instructed the dwellers on two continents. Marsh was on his way to
explore the region in the Rocky Mountains where he was to find the
fossils which have since made his work most celebrated. The guide
was burning with curiosity as to the object of the expedition.
One night over the campfire he drew his chief into a conversation on
the subject. The latter told him that there was once a time when the
Rocky Mountains did not exist, and that part of the continent was a
level plain. In the course of long ages mountains rose, and animals
ran over them. Then the mountains split open; the animals died and
left their bones in the clefts. The object of his expedition was
now to search for some of these bones.
The bones were duly discovered, and it was not many years thereafter
before the Wild West Exhibition was seen in the principal Eastern
cities. When it visited New Haven, its conductor naturally renewed
the acquaintance of his former patron and supporter.
"Do you remember, professor," said he, "our talk as we were going on
your expedition to the Rockies,--how you told me about the mountains
rising up and being split open and the bones of animals being lost
in there, and how you were going to get them?"
"Oh, yes," said the other, "I remember it very well."
"Well, professor, do you know, when you told me all that I r'ally
thought you was puttin' up a job on me."
The result was a friendship between the two men, which continued
during Marsh's whole life. When the one felt that he ought no longer
to spend all the money he earned, he consulted Marsh on the subject of
"salting it down," and doubtless got good advice.
As an exposer of humbugs Marsh took a prominent place. One of these
related to the so-called "Cardiff Giant." Sometime in 1869 the
newspapers announced the discovery in northern New York, near the
Canadian border, of an extraordinary fossil man, or colossal statue,
people were not sure which, eight or ten feet high. It was found
several feet below the ground while digging a well. Men of some
scientific repute, including even one so eminent as Professor James
Hall, had endorsed the genuineness of the find, and, on the strength
of this, it was taken around to show the public. In the course of
a journey through New York State, Marsh happened to pass through
the town where the object was on exhibition. His train stopped
forty minutes for dinner, which would give him time to drive to the
place and back, and leave a margin of about fifteen minutes for an
examination of the statue. Hardly more than a glance was necessary
to show its fraudulent character. Inside the ears the marks of a
chisel were still plainly visible, showing that the statue had been
newly cut. One of the most curious features was that the stone
had not been large enough to make the complete statue, so that
the surface was, in one place, still in the rough. The object had
been found in wet ground. Its material was sulphate of lime, the
slight solubility of which would have been sufficient to make it
dissolve entirely away in the course of centuries. The absence of
any degradation showed that the thing was comparatively new. On the
strength of this, Marsh promptly denounced the affair as a humbug.
Only a feeble defense was made for it, and, a year or two later, the
whole story came out. It had been designed and executed somewhere in
the Northwest, transported to the place where discovered, and buried,
to be afterward dug up and reported as a prehistoric wonder.
Only a few years ago the writer had an opportunity of seeing
with what wonderful ease intelligent men can be imposed upon by
these artificial antiquities. The would-be exhibitor of a fossil
woman, found I know not where, appeared in Washington. He had not
discovered the fossil himself, but had purchased it for some such
sum as $100, on the assurance of its genuine character. He seems,
however, to have had some misgivings on the subject, and, being an
honest fellow, invited some Washington scientific men to examine it
in advance of a public exhibition. The first feature to strike the
critical observer was that the arms of the fossil were crossed over
the breast in the most approved undertaker's fashion, showing that
if the woman had ever existed, she had devoted her dying moments to
arranging a pose for the approval of posterity. Little more than a
glance was necessary to show that the fossil was simply baked clay.
Yet the limbs were hard and stiff. One of the spectators therefore
asked permission of the owner to bore with an auger into the leg and
see what was inside. A few moments' work showed that the bone of the
leg was a bar of iron, around which clay had been moulded and baked.
I must do the crestfallen owner the justice to say that his anxiety
to convince the spectators of his own good faith in the matter far
exceeded his regret at the pecuniary loss which he had suffered.
Another amusing experience that Marsh had with a would-be fossil
arose out of the discovery here and there in Connecticut of the
fossil footprints of birds. Shortly after a find of this kind had
been announced, a farmer drove his wagon up in front of the Peabody
Museum, called on the professor, and told him he had dug up something
curious on his farm, and he wished the professor would tell him what
it was. He thought it looked like the footprints of a bird in a
stone, but he was not quite sure.
Marsh went out and looked at the stone. A single glance was enough.
"Oh, I see what they are. They are the footprints of the domestic
turkey. And the oddest part of it is, they are all made with the
right foot."
The simple-minded countryman, in making the prints with the turkey's
foot, had overlooked the difference between the right and left foot,
and the consequent necessity of having the tracks which pertained
to the two feet alternate.
Washington is naturally a centre of information on all subjects
relating to the aboriginal tribes of America and to life on the plains
generally. Besides the Geological Survey, the Bureau of Ethnology
has been an active factor in this line. An official report cannot
properly illustrate life in all its aspects, and therefore should
be supplemented by the experiences of leading explorers. This is
all the more necessary if, as seems to be the case, the peculiar
characteristics of the life in question are being replaced by those
more appropriate to civilization. Yet the researches of the bureau in
question are not carried on in any narrow spirit, and will supply the
future student of humanity with valuable pictures of the most heroic
of all races, and yet doomed, apparently, to ultimate extinction.
I do not think I ever saw a more impressive human figure and face
than those of Chief Joseph as he stood tall, erect, and impassive,
at a President's reception in the winter of 1903. He was attired
in all the brilliancy of his official costume; but not a muscle of
his strongly marked face betrayed the sentiments with which he must
have gazed on the shining uniforms passing before him.
[1] _Men and Measures of Half a Century_, by Hugh McCulloch.
New York: Chas. Scribner's Sons, 1889.
X
SCIENTIFIC ENGLAND
My first trip to Europe, mentioned in the last chapter, was made with
my wife, when the oldest transatlantic line was still the fashionable
one. The passenger on a Cunarder felt himself amply compensated for
poor attendance, coarse food, and bad coffee by learning from the
officers on the promenade deck how far the ships of their line were
superior to all others in strength of hull, ability of captain, and
discipline of crew. Things have changed on both sides since then.
Although the Cunard line has completed its half century without
having lost a passenger, other lines are also carefully navigated,
and the Cunard passenger, so far as I know, fares as well as any
other. Captain McMickan was as perfect a type of the old-fashioned
captain of the best class as I ever saw. His face looked as if the
gentlest zephyr that had ever fanned it was an Atlantic hurricane,
and yet beamed with Hibernian good humor and friendliness. He read
prayers so well on Sunday that a passenger assured him he was born
to be a bishop. One day a ship of the North German Lloyd line was
seen in the offing slowly gaining on us. A passenger called the
captain's attention to the fact that we were being left behind.
"Oh, they're very lightly built, them German ships; built to carry
German dolls and such like cargo."
In London one of the first men we met was Thomas Hughes, of Rugby
fame, who made us feel how worthy he was of the love and esteem
bestowed upon him by Americans. He was able to make our visit
pleasant in more ways than one. Among the men I wanted to see was
Mr. John Stuart Mill, to whom I was attracted not only by his fame
as a philosopher and the interest with which I had read his books,
but also because he was the author of an excellent pamphlet on the
Union side during our civil war.
On my expressing a desire to make Mr. Mill's acquaintance, Mr. Hughes
immediately offered to give me a note of introduction. Mill lived at
Blackheath, which, though in an easterly direction down the Thames,
is one of the prettiest suburbs of the great metropolis. His dwelling
was a very modest one, entered through a passage of trellis-work in a
little garden. He was by no means the grave and distinguished-looking
man I had expected to see. He was small in stature and rather
spare, and did not seem to have markedly intellectual features.
The cordiality of his greeting was more than I could have expected;
and he was much pleased to know that his work in moulding English
sentiment in our favor at the commencement of the civil war was so
well remembered and so highly appreciated across the Atlantic.
As a philosopher, it must be conceded that Mr. Mill lived at an
unfortunate time. While his vigor and independence of thought led
him to break loose from the trammels of the traditional philosophy,
modern scientific generalization had not yet reached a stage favorable
to his becoming a leader in developing the new philosophy. Still,
whatever may be the merits of his philosophic theories, I believe
that up to a quite recent time no work on scientific method appeared
worthy to displace his "System of Logic."
A feature of London life that must strongly impress the scientific
student from our country is the closeness of touch, socially as
well as officially, between the literary and scientific classes on
the one side and the governing classes on the other. Mr. Hughes
invited us to make an evening call with him at the house of a cabinet
minister,--I think it was Mr. Goschen,--where we should find a number
of persons worth seeing. Among those gathered in this casual way
were Mr. Gladstone, Dean Stanley, and our General Burnside, then
grown quite gray. I had never before met General Burnside, but his
published portraits were so characteristic that the man could scarcely
have been mistaken. The only change was in the color of his beard.
Then and later I found that a pleasant feature of these informal
"at homes," so universal in London, is that one meets so many people
he wants to see, and so few he does not want to see.
Congress had made a very liberal appropriation for observations of the
solar eclipse,--the making of which was one object of my visit,--to
be expended under the direction of Professor Peirce, superintendent
of the Coast Survey. Peirce went over in person to take charge
of the arrangements. He arrived in London with several members of
his party a few days before we did, and about the same time came an
independent party of my fellow astronomers from the Naval Observatory,
consisting of Professors Hall, Harkness, and Eastman. The invasion of
their country by such an army of American astronomers quite stirred up
our English colleagues, who sorrowfully contrasted the liberality of
our government with the parsimony of their own, which had, they said,
declined to make any provision for the observations of the eclipse.
Considering that it was visible on their own side of the Atlantic,
they thought their government might take a lesson from ours.
Of course we could not help them directly; and yet I suspect that
our coming, or at least the coming of Peirce, really did help them a
great deal. At any rate, it was a curious coincidence that no sooner
did the American invasion occur than it was semi-officially discovered
that no application of which her Majesty's government could take
cognizance had been made by the scientific authorities for a grant
of money with which to make preparations for observing the eclipse.
That the scientific authorities were not long in catching so broad
a hint as this goes without saying. A little more of the story came
out a few days later in a very unexpected way.
In scientific England, the great social event of the year is the
annual banquet of the Royal Society, held on St. Andrew's day,
the date of the annual meeting of the society, and of the award of
its medals for distinguished work in science. At the banquet the
scientific outlook is discussed not only by members of the society,
but by men high in political and social life. The medalists are
toasted, if they are present; and their praises are sung, if, as is
apt to be the case with foreigners, they are absent. First in rank
is the Copley medal, founded by Sir Godfrey Copley, a contemporary of
Newton. This medal has been awarded annually since 1731, and is now
considered the highest honor that scientific England has to bestow.
The recipient is selected with entire impartiality as to country,
not for any special work published during the year, but in view of
the general merit of all that he has done. Five times in its history
the medal has crossed the Atlantic. It was awarded to Franklin in
1753, Agassiz in 1861, Dana in 1877, and J. Willard Gibbs in 1902.
The long time that elapsed between the first and the second of these
awards affords an illustration of the backwardness of scientific
research in America during the greater part of the first century of
our independence. The year of my visit the medal was awarded to
Mr. Joule, the English physicist, for his work on the relation of
heat and energy.
I was a guest at the banquet, which was the most brilliant function
I had witnessed up to that time. The leaders in English science
and learning sat around the table. Her Majesty's government was
represented by Mr. Gladstone, the Premier, and Mr. Lowe, afterward
Viscount Sherbrooke, Chancellor of the Exchequer. Both replied
to toasts. Mr. Lowe as a speaker was perhaps a little dull, but
not so Mr. Gladstone. There was a charm about the way in which his
talk seemed to display the inner man. It could not be said that he
had either the dry humor of Mr. Evarts or the wit of Mr. Depew; but
these qualities were well replaced by the vivacity of his manner and
the intellectuality of his face. He looked as if he had something
interesting he wanted to tell you; and he proceeded to tell it in
a very felicitous way as regarded both manner and language, but
without anything that savored of eloquence. He was like Carl Schurz
in talking as if he wanted to inform you, and not because he wanted
you to see what a fine speaker he was. With this he impressed one
as having a perfect command of his subject in all its bearings.
I did not for a moment suppose that the Premier of England could have
taken any personal interest in the matter of the eclipse. Great,
therefore, was my surprise when, in speaking of the relations of
the government to science, he began to talk about the coming event.
I quote a passage from memory, after twenty-seven years: "I had the
pleasure of a visit, a few days since, from a very distinguished
American professor, Professor Peirce of Harvard. In the course of
the interview, the learned gentleman expressed his regret that her
Majesty's government had declined to take any measures to promote
observations of the coming eclipse of the sun by British astronomers.
I replied that I was not aware that the government had declined to
take such measures. Indeed, I went further, and assured him that any
application from our astronomers for aid in making these observations
would receive respectful consideration." I felt that there might
be room for some suspicion that this visit of Professor Peirce was a
not unimportant factor in the changed position of affairs as regarded
British observations of the eclipse.
Not only the scene I have described, but subsequent experience, has
impressed me with the high appreciation in which the best scientific
work is held by the leading countries of Europe, especially England
and France, as if the prosecution were something of national
importance which men of the highest rank thought it an honor to
take part in. The Marquis of Salisbury, in an interval between two
terms of service as Premier of England, presided over the British
Association for the Advancement of Science, and delivered an address
showing a wide and careful study of the generalizations of modern
science.
In France, also, one great glory of the nation is felt to be the
works of its scientific and learned men of the past and present.
Membership of one of the five academies of the Institute of France
is counted among the highest honors to which a Frenchman can aspire.
Most remarkable, too, is the extent to which other considerations than
that of merit are set aside in selecting candidates for this honor.
Quite recently a man was elected a member of the Academy of Sciences
who was without either university or official position, and earned a
modest subsistence as a collaborator of the "Revue des Deux Mondes."
But he had found time to make investigations in mathematical astronomy
of such merit that he was considered to have fairly earned this
distinction, and the modesty of his social position did not lie in
his way.
At the time of this visit Lister was an eminent member of the medical
profession, but had not, so far as I am aware, been recognized as
one who was to render incalculable service to suffering humanity.
From a professional point of view there are no two walks in life
having fewer points of contact than those of the surgeon and the
astronomer. It is therefore a remarkable example of the closeness
of touch among eminent Englishmen in every walk of life, that, in
subsequent visits, I was repeatedly thrown into contact with one
who may fairly be recommended as among the greatest benefactors of
the human race that the nineteenth century has given us. This was
partly, but not wholly, due to his being, for several years, the
president of the Royal Society. I would willingly say much more,
but I am unable to write authoritatively upon the life and work of
such a man, and must leave gossip to the daily press.
For the visiting astronomer at London scarcely a place in London has
more attractions than the modest little observatory and dwelling house
on Upper Tulse Hill, in which Sir William Huggins has done so much
to develop the spectroscopy of the fixed stars. The owner of this
charming place was a pioneer in the application of the spectroscope
to the analysis of the light of the heavenly bodies, and after nearly
forty years of work in this field, is still pursuing his researches.
The charm of sentiment is added to the cold atmosphere of science by
the collaboration of Lady Huggins. Almost at the beginning of his
work Mr. Huggins, analyzing the light of the great nebula of Orion,
showed that it must proceed from a mass of gas, and not from solid
matter, thus making the greatest step possible in our knowledge of
these objects. He was also the first to make actual measures of the
motions of bright stars to or from our system by observing the wave
length of the rays of light which they absorbed. Quite recently an
illustrated account of his observatory and its work has appeared in
a splendid folio volume, in which the rigor of science is tempered
with a gentle infusion of art which tempts even the non-scientific
reader to linger over its pages.
In England, the career of Professor Cayley affords an example of the
spirit that impels a scientific worker of the highest class, and of
the extent to which an enlightened community may honor him for what
he is doing. One of the creators of modern mathematics, he never
had any ambition beyond the prosecution of his favorite science.
I first met him at a dinner of the Astronomical Society Club.
As the guests were taking off their wraps and assembling in the
anteroom, I noticed, with some surprise, that one whom I supposed
to be an attendant was talking with them on easy terms. A moment
later the supposed attendant was introduced as Professor Cayley.
His garb set off the seeming haggardness of his keen features so
effectively that I thought him either broken down in health or just
recovering from some protracted illness. The unspoken words on
my lips were, "Why, Professor Cayley, what has happened to you?"
Being now in the confessional, I must own that I did not, at the
moment, recognize the marked intellectuality of a very striking face.
As a representation of a mathematician in the throes of thought,
I know nothing to equal his portrait by Dickenson, which now hangs
in the hall of Trinity College, Cambridge, and is reproduced in the
sixth volume of Cayley's collected works. His life was that of a
man moved to investigation by an uncontrollable impulse; the only
sort of man whose work is destined to be imperishable. Until forty
years of age he was by profession a conveyancer. His ability was
such that he might have gained a fortune by practicing the highest
branch of English law, if his energies had not been diverted in
another direction. The spirit in which he pursued his work may
be judged from an anecdote related by his friend and co-worker,
Sylvester, who, in speaking of Cayley's even and placid temper,
told me that he had never seen him ruffled but once. Entering his
office one morning, intent on some new mathematical thought which
he was discussing with Sylvester, he opened the letter-box in his
door and found a bundle of papers relating to a law case which he
was asked to take up. The interruption was too much. He flung the
papers on the table with remarks more forcible than complimentary
concerning the person who had distracted his attention at such an
inopportune moment. In 1863 he was made a professor at Cambridge,
where, no longer troubled with the intricacies of land tenure, he
published one investigation after another with ceaseless activity,
to the end of his life.
Among my most interesting callers was Professor John C. Adams, of
whom I have spoken as sharing with Leverrier the honor of having
computed the position of the planet Neptune before its existence
was otherwise known. The work of the two men was prosecuted at
almost the same time, but adopting the principle that priority of
publication should be the sole basis of credit, Arago had declared
that no other name than that of Leverrier should even be mentioned
in connection with the work. If repute was correct, Leverrier was
not distinguished for those amiable qualities that commonly mark the
man of science and learning. His attitude toward Adams had always
been hostile. Under these conditions chance afforded the latter
a splendid opportunity of showing his superiority to all personal
feeling. He was president of the Royal Astronomical Society when
its annual medal was awarded to his French rival for his work in
constructing new tables of the sun and planets. It thus became his
duty to deliver the address setting forth the reasons for the award.
He did this with a warmth of praise for Leverrier's works which
could not have been exceeded had the two men been bosom friends.
Adams's intellect was one of the keenest I ever knew. The most
difficult problems of mathematical astronomy and the most recondite
principles that underlie the theory of the celestial motions were
to him but child's play. His works place him among the first
mathematical astronomers of the age, and yet they do not seem to do
his ability entire justice. Indeed, for fifteen years previous to
the time of my visit his published writings had been rather meagre.
But I believe he was justly credited with an elaborate witticism
to the following effect: "In view of the fact that the only human
being ever known to have been killed by a meteorite was a monk, we
may concede that after four hundred years the Pope's bull against
the comet has been justified by the discovery that comets are made
up of meteorites."
Those readers who know on what imperfect data men's impressions are
sometimes founded will not be surprised to learn of my impression
that an Englishman's politics could be inferred from his mental
and social make-up. If all men are born either Aristotelians or
Platonists, then it may be supposed that all Englishmen are born
Conservatives or Liberals.
The utterances of English journalists of the Conservative party about
American affairs during and after our civil war had not impressed
me with the idea that one so unfortunate as to be born in that
party would either take much interest in meeting an American or
be capable of taking an appreciative view of scientific progress.
So confident was I of my theory that I remarked to a friend with
whom I had become somewhat intimate, that no one who knew Mr. Adams
could have much doubt that he was a Liberal in politics.
An embarrassed smile spread over the friend's features. "You would
not make that conclusion known to Mr. Adams, I hope," said he.
"But is he not a Liberal?"
"He is not only a Conservative, but declares himself 'a Tory of
the Tories.'"
I afterward found that he fully justified his own description.
At the university, he was one of the leading opponents of those
measures which freed the academic degrees from religious tests.
He was said to have been among those who objected to Sylvester,
a Jew, receiving a degree.
I had decided to observe the eclipse at Gibraltar. In order that
my results, if I obtained any, might be utilized in the best way, it
was necessary that the longitude of the station should be determined
by telegraph. This had never been done for Gibraltar. How great
the error of the supposed longitude might have been may be inferred
from the fact that a few years later, Captain F. Green of the United
States Navy found the longitude of Lisbon on the Admiralty charts
to be two miles in error. The first arrangements I had to make
in England were directed to this end. Considering the relation
of the world's great fortress to British maritime supremacy, it
does seem as if there were something presumptuous in the coolness
with which I went among the authorities to make arrangements for
the enterprise. Nevertheless, the authorities permitted the work,
with a cordiality which was of itself quite sufficient to remove
any such impression, had it been entertained. The astronomers did,
indeed, profess to feel it humiliating that the longitude of such
a place as Gibraltar should have to be determined from Greenwich by
an American. They did not say "by a foreigner," because they always
protested against Americans looking upon themselves as such. Still,
it would not be an English enterprise if an American carried it out.
I suspect, however, that my proceedings were not looked upon with
entire dissatisfaction even by the astronomers. They might prove
as good a stimulant to their government in showing a little more
enterprise in that direction as the arrival of our eclipse party did.
The longitude work naturally took me to the Royal Observatory which
has made the little town of Greenwich so famous. It is situated some
eight miles east from Charing Cross, on a hill in Greenwich Park,
with a pleasant outlook toward the Thames. From my youth up I had
been working with its observations, and there was no institution
in the world which I had approached, or could approach, with the
interest I felt in ascending the little hill on which it is situated.
When the Calabria was once free from her wharf in New York harbor,
and on her way down the Narrows, the foremost thought was, "Off for
Europe; we shall see Greenwich!" The day of my arrival in London
I had written to Professor Airy, and received an answer the same
evening, inviting us to visit the observatory and spend an afternoon
with him a day or two later.
I was shown around the observatory by an assistant, while my wife
was entertained by Mrs. Airy and the daughters inside the dwelling.
The family dined as soon as the day's work was over, about the middle
of the afternoon. After the meal, we sat over a blazing fire and
discussed our impressions of London.
"What place in London interested you most?" said Airy to my wife.
"The first place I went to see was Cavendish Square."
"What was there in Cavendish Square to interest you?"
"When I was a little girl, my mother once gave me, as a birthday
present, a small volume of poems. The first verse in the book was:--
"'Little Ann and her mother were walking one day
Through London's wide city so fair;
And business obliged them to go by the way
That led them through Cavendish Square.'"
To our astonishment the Astronomer Royal at once took up the thread:--
"'And as they passed by the great house of a lord,
A beautiful chariot there came,
To take some most elegant ladies abroad,
Who straightway got into the same,'"
and went on to the end. I do not know which of the two was more
surprised: Airy, to find an American woman who was interested in his
favorite ballad, or she to find that he could repeat it by heart.
The incident was the commencement of a family friendship which has
outlived both the heads of the Airy family.
We may look back on Airy as the most commanding figure in the
astronomy of our time. He owes this position not only to his
early works in mathematical astronomy, but also to his ability as
an organizer. Before his time the working force of an observatory
generally consisted of individual observers, each of whom worked to a
greater or less extent in his own way. It is true that organization
was not unknown in such institutions. Nominally, at least, the
assistants in a national observatory were supposed to follow the
instructions of a directing head. This was especially the case
at Greenwich. Still, great dependence was placed upon the judgment
and ability of the observer himself, who was generally expected to
be a man well trained in his specialty, and able to carry on good
work without much help. From Airy's point of view, it was seen
that a large part of the work necessary to the attainment of the
traditional end of the Royal Observatory was of a kind that almost
any bright schoolboy could learn to do in a few weeks, and that in
most of the remaining part plodding industry, properly directed, was
more important than scientific training. He could himself work out
all the mathematical formulæ and write all the instructions required
to keep a small army of observers and computers employed, and could
then train in his methods a few able lieutenants, who would see that
all the details were properly executed. Under these lieutenants was a
grade comprising men of sufficient technical education to enable them
to learn how to point the telescope, record a transit, and perform the
other technical operations necessary in an astronomical observation.
A third grade was that of computers: ingenious youth, quick at
figures, ready to work for a compensation which an American laborer
would despise, yet well enough schooled to make simple calculations.
Under the new system they needed to understand only the four rules of
arithmetic; indeed, so far as possible Airy arranged his calculations
in such a way that subtraction and division were rarely required.
His boys had little more to do than add and multiply. Thus, so far
as the doing of work was concerned, he introduced the same sort of
improvement that our times have witnessed in great manufacturing
establishments, where labor is so organized that unskilled men
bring about results that formerly demanded a high grade of technical
ability. He introduced production on a large scale into astronomy.
At the time of my visit, it was much the fashion among astronomers
elsewhere to speak slightingly of the Greenwich system. The
objections to it were, in substance, the same that have been made to
the minute subdivision of labor. The intellect of the individual
was stunted for the benefit of the work. The astronomer became a
mere operative. Yet it must be admitted that the astronomical work
done at Greenwich during the sixty years since Airy introduced his
system has a value and an importance in its specialty that none
done elsewhere can exceed. All future conclusions as to the laws
of motion of the heavenly bodies must depend largely upon it.
The organization of his little army necessarily involved a
corresponding change in the instruments they were to use. Before his
time the trained astronomer worked with instruments of very delicate
construction, so that skill in handling them was one of the requisites
of an observer. Airy made them in the likeness of heavy machinery,
which could suffer no injury from a blow of the head of a careless
observer. Strong and simple, they rarely got out of order. It is
said that an assistant who showed a visiting astronomer the transit
circle some times hit it a good slap to show how solid it was; but
this was not done on the present occasion. The little army had its
weekly marching orders and made daily reports of progress to its
commander, who was thus enabled to control the minutest detail of
every movement.
In the course of the evening Airy gave me a lesson in method, which
was equally instructive and entertaining. In order to determine the
longitude of Gibraltar, it was necessary that time signals should
be sent by telegraph from the Royal Observatory. Our conversation
naturally led us into a discussion of the general subject of such
operations. I told him of the difficulties we had experienced in
determining a telegraphic longitude,--that of the Harvard Observatory
from Washington, for example,--because it was only after a great deal
of talking and arranging on the evening of the observation that the
various telegraph stations between the two points could have their
connections successfully made at the same moment. At the appointed
hour the Washington operator would be talking with the others,
to know if they were ready, and so a general discussion about the
arrangements might go on for half an hour before the connections
were all reported good. If we had such trouble in a land line,
how should we get a connection from London to the Gibraltar cable
through lines in constant use?
"But," said Airy, "I never allow an operator who can speak with the
instruments to take part in determining a telegraphic longitude."
"Then how can you get the connections all made from one end of the
line to the other, at the same moment, if your operators cannot talk
to one another?"
"Nothing is simpler. I fix in advance a moment, say eight
o'clock Greenwich mean time, at which signals are to commence.
Every intermediate office through which the signals are to pass is
instructed to have its wires connected in both directions exactly
at the given hour, and to leave them so connected for ten minutes,
without asking any further instructions. At the end of the line
the instruments must be prepared at the appointed hour to receive
the signals. All I have to do here is to place my clock in the
circuit and send on the signals for ten minutes, commencing at
eight o'clock. They are recorded at the other end of the line
without further trouble."
"But have you never met with a failure to understand the
instructions?"
"No; they are too simple to be mistaken, once it is understood that
no one has anything to do but make his connections at the designated
moment, without asking whether any one else is ready."
Airy was noted not less for his ability as an organizer than for his
methodical habits. The care with which he preserved every record led
Sir William Rowan Hamilton to say that when Airy wiped his pen on a
blotter, he fancied him as always taking a press copy of the mark.
His machinery seemed to work perfectly, whether it was constructed
of flesh or of brass. He could prepare instructions for the most
complicated piece of work with such effective provision against
every accident and such completeness in every detail that the work
would go on for years without further serious attention from him.
The instruments which he designed half a century ago are mostly in
use to this day, with scarcely an alteration.
Yet there is some reason to fear that Airy carried method a little
too far to get the best results. Of late years his system has been
greatly changed, even at Greenwich. It was always questionable
whether so rigid a military routine could accomplish the best that
was possible in astronomy; and Airy himself, during his later years,
modified his plan by trying to secure trained scientific men as his
assistants, giving them liberty to combine independent research, on
their own account, with the work of the establishment. His successor
has gone farther in the same direction, and is now gathering around
him a corps of young university men, from whose ability much may
be expected. Observations with the spectroscope have been pursued,
and the observatory has taken a prominent part in the international
work of making a photographic map of the heavens. Of special
importance are the regular discussions of photographs of the sun,
taken in order to determine the law of the variation of the spots.
The advantage of the regular system which has been followed for
more than fifty years is seen in the meteorological observations;
these disprove some theories of the relation between the sun and
the weather, in a way that no other set of meteorological records
has done. While delicate determinations of the highest precision,
such as those made at Pulkova, are not yet undertaken to any great
extent, a regular even if slow improvement is going on in the general
character of the observations and researches, which must bear fruit
in due time.
One of the curious facts we learned at Greenwich was that astronomy
was still supposed to be astrology by many in England. That a belief
in astrology should survive was perhaps not remarkable, though I
do not remember to have seen any evidence of it in this country.
But applications received at the Royal Observatory, from time to
time, showed a widespread belief among the masses that one of the
functions of the astronomer royal was the casting of horoscopes.
We went to Edinburgh. Our first visit was to the observatory,
then under the direction of Professor C. Piazzi Smyth, who was also
an Egyptologist of repute, having made careful measurements of the
Pyramids, and brought out some new facts regarding their construction.
He was thus led to the conclusion that they bore marks of having been
built by a people of more advanced civilization than was generally
supposed,--so advanced, indeed, that we had not yet caught up to them
in scientific investigation. These views were set forth with great
fullness in his work on "The Antiquity of Intellectual Man," as well
as in other volumes describing his researches. He maintained that the
builders of the Pyramids knew the distance of the sun rather better
than we did, and that the height of the Great Pyramid had been so
arranged that if it was multiplied by a thousand millions we should
get this distance more exactly than we could measure it in these
degenerate days. With him, to believe in the Pyramid was to believe
this, and a great deal more about the civilization which it proved.
So, when he asked me whether I believed in the Pyramid, I told him
that I did not think I would depend wholly upon the Pyramid for the
distance of the sun to be used in astronomy, but should want its
indications at least confirmed by modern researches. The hint was
sufficient, and I was not further pressed for views on this subject.
He introduced us to Lady Hamilton, widow of the celebrated
philosopher, who still held court at Edinburgh. The daughter of the
family was in repute as a metaphysician. This was interesting,
because I had never before heard of a female metaphysician,
although there were several cases of female mathematicians
recorded in history. First among them was Donna Maria Agnesi,
who wrote one of the best eighteenth-century books on the calculus,
and had a special dispensation from the Pope to teach mathematics
at Bologna. We were therefore very glad to accept an invitation
from Lady Hamilton to spend an evening with a few of her friends.
Her rooms were fairly filled with books, the legacy of one of whom
it was said that "scarcely a thought has come down to us through
the ages which he has not mastered and made his own."
The few guests were mostly university people and philosophers.
The most interesting of them was Professor Blackie, the Grecian
scholar, who was the liveliest little man of sixty I ever saw;
amusing us by singing German songs, and dancing about the room like
a sprightly child among its playmates. I talked with Miss Hamilton
about Mill, whose "Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy"
was still fresh in men's minds. Of course she did not believe in this
book, and said that Mill could not understand her father's philosophy.
With all her intellect, she was a fine healthy-looking young lady,
and it was a sad surprise, a few years later, to hear of her death.
Madame Sophie Kovalevsky afterward appeared on the stage as the
first female mathematician of our time, but it may be feared that
the woman philosopher died with Miss Hamilton.
A large party of English astronomers were going to Algeria to observe
the eclipse. The government had fitted up a naval transport for their
use, and as I was arranging for a passage on a ship of the Peninsular
and Oriental Line we received an invitation to become the guests of
the English party. Among those on board were Professor Tyndall;
Mr. Huggins, the spectroscopist; Sir Erastus Ommaney, a retired
English admiral, and a fellow of the Royal Society; Father Perry,
S. J., a well-known astronomer; and Lieutenant Wharton, who afterward
became hydrographer to the Admiralty.
The sprightliest man on board was Professor Tyndall. He made up
for the absence of mountains by climbing to every part of the ship
he could reach. One day he climbed the shrouds to the maintop,
and stood surveying the scene as if looking out from the top of
the Matterhorn. A sailor followed him, and drew a chalk-line around
his feet. I assume the reader knows what this means; if he does not,
he can learn by straying into the sailors' quarters the first time he
is on board an ocean steamer. But the professor absolutely refused
to take the hint.
We had a rather rough passage, from which Father Perry was the
greatest sufferer. One day he heard a laugh from the only lady on
board, who was in the adjoining stateroom. "Who can laugh at such
a time as this!" he exclaimed. He made a vow that he would never
go on the ocean again, even if the sun and moon fought for a month.
But the vows of a seasick passenger are forgotten sooner than any
others I know of; and it was only four years later that Father Perry
made a voyage to Kerguelen Island, in the stormiest ocean on the
globe, to observe a transit of Venus.
Off the coast of Spain, the leading chains of the rudder got loose,
during a gale in the middle of the night, and the steering apparatus
had to be disconnected in order to tighten them. The ship veered
round into the trough of the sea, and rolled so heavily that a table,
twenty or thirty feet long, in the saloon, broke from its fastenings,
and began to dance around the cabin with such a racket that some of
the passengers feared for the safety of the ship.
Just how much of a storm there was I cannot say, believing that it
is never worth while for a passenger to leave his berth, if there
is any danger of a ship foundering in a gale. But in Professor
Tyndall's opinion we had a narrow escape. On arriving at Gibraltar,
he wrote a glowing account of the storm to the London Times, in
which he described the feelings of a philosopher while standing on
the stern of a rolling ship in an ocean storm, without quite knowing
whether she was going to sink or swim. The letter was anonymous,
which gave Admiral Ommaney an excellent opportunity to write as
caustic a reply as he chose, under the signature of "A Naval Officer."
He said that sailor was fortunate who could arrange with the clerk
of the weather never to have a worse storm in crossing the Bay of
Biscay than the one we had experienced.
We touched at Cadiz, and anchored for a few hours, but did not go
ashore. The Brooklyn, an American man-of-war, was in the harbor,
but there was no opportunity to communicate with her, though I knew
a friend of mine was on board.
Gibraltar is the greatest babel in the world, or, at least, the
greatest I know. I wrote home: "The principal languages spoken at
this hotel are English, Spanish, Moorish, French, Italian, German,
and Danish. I do not know what languages they speak at the other
hotels." Moorish and Spanish are the local tongues, and of course
English is the official one; but the traders and commercial travelers
speak nearly every language one ever heard.
I hired a Moor--who bore some title which indicated that he was a
descendant of the Caliphs, and by which he had to be addressed--to do
chores and act as general assistant. One of the first things I did,
the morning after my arrival, was to choose a convenient point on
one of the stone parapets for "taking the sun," in order to test the
running of my chronometer. I had some suspicion as to the result,
but was willing to be amused. A sentinel speedily informed me that
no sights were allowed to be taken on the fortification. I told him
I was taking sights on the sun, not on the fortification. But he was
inexorable; the rule was that no sights of any sort could be taken
without a permit. I soon learned from Mr. Sprague, the American
consul, who the proper officer was to issue the permit, which I
was assured would be granted without the slightest difficulty.
The consul presented me to the military governor of the place,
General Sir Fenwick Williams of Kars. I did not know till long
afterward that he was born very near where I was. He was a man whom
it was very interesting to meet. His heroic defense of the town whose
name was added to his own as a part of his title was still fresh in
men's minds. It had won him the order of the Bath in England, the
Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor and a sword from Napoleon III., and
the usual number of lesser distinctions. The military governor, the
sole authority and viceroy of the Queen in the fortress, is treated
with the deference due to an exalted personage; but this deference
so strengthens the dignity of the position that the holder may be
frank and hearty at his own pleasure, without danger of impairing it.
Certainly, we found Sir Fenwick a most genial and charming gentleman.
The Alabama claims were then in their acute stage, and he expressed
the earnest hope that the two nations would not proceed to cutting
each other's throats over them.
There was no need of troubling the governor with such a detail as
that of a permit to take sights; but the consul ventured to relate
my experience of the morning. He took the information in a way
which showed that England, in making him a general, had lost a
good diplomatist. Instead of treating the matter seriously, which
would have implied that we did not fully understand the situation, he
professed to be greatly amused, and said it reminded him of the case
of an old lady in "Punch" who had to pass a surveyor in the street,
behind a theodolite. "Please, sir, don't shoot till I get past,"
she begged.
Before leaving England, I had made very elaborate arrangements,
both with the Astronomer Royal and with the telegraph companies,
to determine the longitude of Gibraltar by telegraphic signals.
The most difficult part of the operation was the transfer of the
signals from the end of the land line into the cable, which had to
be done by hand, because the cable companies were not willing to
trust to an automatic action of any sort between the land line and
the cable. It was therefore necessary to show the operator at the
point of junction how signals were to be transmitted. This required
a journey to Port Curno, at the very end of the Land's End, several
miles beyond the terminus of the railway. It was the most old-time
place I ever saw; one might have imagined himself thrown back into the
days of the Lancasters. The thatched inn had a hard stone floor, with
a layer of loose sand scattered over it as a carpet in the bedroom.
My linguistic qualities were put to a severe test in talking with
the landlady. But the cable operators were pleasing and intelligent
young gentlemen, and I had no difficulty in making them understand
how the work was to be done.
The manager of the cable was Sir James Anderson, who had formerly
commanded a Cunard steamship from Boston, and was well known to
the Harvard professors, with whom he was a favorite. I had met
him, or at least seen him, at a meeting of the American Academy ten
years before, where he was introduced by one of his Harvard friends.
After commanding the ship that laid the first Atlantic cable, he was
made manager of the cable line from England to Gibraltar. He gave me
a letter to the head operator at Gibraltar, the celebrated de Sauty.
I say "the celebrated," but may it not be that this appellation can
only suggest the vanity of all human greatness? It just occurs to me
that many of the present generation may not even have heard of the--
Whispering Boanerges, son of silent thunder,
Holding talk with nations,
immortalized by Holmes in one of his humorously scientific poems.
During the two short weeks that the first Atlantic cable transmitted
its signals, his fame spread over the land, for the moment obscuring
by its brilliancy that of Thomson, Field, and all others who had
taken part in designing and laying the cable. On the breaking down
of the cable he lapsed into his former obscurity. I asked him if he
had ever seen Holmes's production. He replied that he had received a
copy of "The Atlantic Monthly" containing it from the poet himself,
accompanied by a note saying that he might find in it something
of interest. He had been overwhelmed with invitations to continue
his journey from Newfoundland to the United States and lecture on
the cable, but was sensible enough to decline them.
The rest of the story of the telegraphic longitude is short.
The first news which de Sauty had to give me was that the cable was
broken,--just where, he did not know, and would not be able soon to
discover. After the break was located, an unknown period would be
required to raise the cable, find the place, and repair the breach.
The weather, on the day of the eclipse, was more than half cloudy,
so that I did not succeed in making observations of such value as
would justify my waiting indefinitely for the repair of the cable,
and the project of determining the longitude had to be abandoned.
XI
MEN AND THINGS IN EUROPE
We went from Gibraltar to Berlin in January by way of Italy.
The Mediterranean is a charming sea in summer, but in winter is
a good deal like the Atlantic. The cause of the blueness of its
water is not completely settled; but its sharing this color with
Lake Geneva, which is tinged with detritus from the shore, might
lead one to ascribe it to substances held in solution. The color is
noticeable even in the harbor of Malta, to which we had a pleasant
though not very smooth passage of five days.
Here was our first experience of an Italian town of a generation
ago. I had no sooner started to take a walk than a so-called
guide, who spoke what he thought was English, got on my track,
and insisted on showing me everything. If I started toward a shop,
he ran in before me, invited me in, asked what I would like to buy,
and told the shopman to show the gentleman something. I could not
get rid of him till I returned to the hotel, and then he had the
audacity to want a fee for his services. I do not think he got it.
Everything of interest was easily seen, and we only stopped to take
the first Italian steamer to Messina. We touched at Syracuse and
Catania, but did not land.
Ætna, from the sea, is one of the grandest sights I ever saw.
Its snow-covered cone seems to rise on all sides out of the sea
or the plain, and to penetrate the blue sky. In this it gives an
impression like that of the Weisshorn seen from Randa, but gains by
its isolation.
At Messina, of course, our steamer was visited by a commissionnaire,
who asked me in good English whether I wanted a hotel. I told him
that I had already decided upon a hotel, and therefore did not need
his services. But it turned out that he belonged to the very hotel
I was going to, and was withal an American, a native-born Yankee, in
fact, and so obviously honest that I placed myself unreservedly in
his hands,--something which I never did with one of his profession
before or since. He said the first thing was to get our baggage
through the custom-house, which he could do without any trouble,
at the cost of a franc. He was as good as his word. The Italian
custom-house was marked by primitive rigor, and baggage was commonly
subjected to a very thorough search. But my man was evidently well
known and fully trusted. I was asked to raise the lid of one trunk,
which I did; the official looked at it, with his hands in his pockets,
gave a nod, and the affair was over. My Yankee friend collected one
franc for that part of the business. He told us all about the place,
changed our money so as to take advantage of the premium on gold,
and altogether looked out for our interests in a way to do honor to
his tribe. I thought there might be some curious story of the way
in which a New Englander of such qualities could have dropped into
such a place, but it will have to be left to imagination.
We reached the Bay of Naples in the morning twilight, after making
an unsuccessful attempt to locate Scylla and Charybdis. If they
ever existed, they must have disappeared. Vesuvius was now and
then lighting up the clouds with its intermittent flame. But we
had passed a most uncomfortable night, and the morning was wet and
chilly. A view requires something more than the objective to make
it appreciated, and the effect of a rough voyage and bad weather
was such as to deprive of all its beauty what is considered one of
the finest views in the world. Moreover, the experience made me so
ill-natured that I was determined that the custom-house officer at the
landing should have no fee from me. The only article that could have
been subject to duty was on top of everything in the trunk, except
a single covering of some loose garment, so that only a touch was
necessary to find it. When it came to the examination, the officer
threw the top till contemptuously aside, and devoted himself to a
thorough search of the bottom. The only unusual object he stumbled
upon was a spyglass inclosed in a shield of morocco. Perhaps a
gesture and a remark on my part aroused his suspicions. He opened
the glass, tried to take it to pieces, inspected it inside and out,
and was so disgusted with his failure to find anything contraband
in it that he returned everything to the trunk, and let us off.
It is commonly and quite justly supposed that the more familiar the
traveler is with the language of the place he visits, the better he
will get along. It is a common experience to find that even when
you can pronounce the language, you cannot understand what is said.
But there are exceptions to all rules, and circumstances now and then
occur in which one thus afflicted has an advantage over the native.
You can talk to him, while he cannot talk to you. There was an
amusing case of this kind at Munich. The only train that would take
us to Berlin before nightfall of the same day left at eight o'clock
in the morning, by a certain route. There was at Munich what we
call a union station. I stopped at the first ticket-office where I
saw the word "Berlin" on the glass, asked for a ticket good in the
train that was going to leave at eight o'clock the next morning for
Berlin, and took what the seller gave me. He was a stupid-looking
fellow, so when I got to my hotel I showed the ticket to a friend.
"That is not the ticket that you want at all," said he; "it will
take you by a circuitous route in a train that does not leave until
after nine, and you will not reach Berlin until long after dark."
I went directly back to the station and showed my ticket to the agent.
"I--asked--you--for--a--ticket--good--in--the--train--which--
leaves--at--eight--o'--clock. This--ticket--is--not--good--
in--that--train. Sie--haben--mich--betrügen. I--want--you--
to--take--the--ticket--back--and--return--me--the--money.
What--you--say--can--I--not--understand."
He expostulated, gesticulated, and fumed, but I kept up the
bombardment until he had to surrender. He motioned to me to step
round into the office, where he took the ticket and returned the
money. I mention the matter because taking back a ticket is said
to be quite unusual on a German railway.
At Berlin, the leading astronomers then, as now, were Förster,
director of the observatory, and Auwers, permanent secretary of the
Academy of Sciences. I was especially interested in the latter,
as we had started in life nearly at the same time, and had done
much work on similar lines. It was several days before I made his
acquaintance, as I did not know that the rule on the Continent
is that the visitor must make the first call, or at least make
it known by direct communication that he would be pleased to see
the resident; otherwise it is presumed that he does not wish to
see callers. This is certainly the more logical system, but it is
not so agreeable to the visiting stranger as ours is. The art of
making the latter feel at home is not brought to such perfection on
the Continent as in England; perhaps the French understand it less
than any other people. But none can be pleasanter than the Germans,
when you once make their acquaintance; and we shall always remember
with pleasure the winter we passed in Berlin.
To-day, Auwers stands at the head of German astronomy. In him is
seen the highest type of the scientific investigator of our time,
one perhaps better developed in Germany than in any other country.
The work of men of this type is marked by minute and careful research,
untiring industry in the accumulation of facts, caution in propounding
new theories or explanations, and, above all, the absence of effort
to gain recognition by being the first to make a discovery. When men
are ambitious to figure as Newtons of some great principle, there is
a constant temptation to publish unverified speculations which are
likely rather to impede than to promote the advance of knowledge.
The result of Auwers's conscientiousness is that, notwithstanding
his eminence in his science, there are few astronomers of note whose
works are less fitted for popular exposition than his. His specialty
has been the treatment of all questions concerning the positions and
motions of the stars. This work has required accurate observations
of position, with elaborate and careful investigations of a kind that
offer no feature to attract public attention, and only in exceptional
cases lead to conclusions that would interest the general reader.
He considers no work as ready for publication until it is completed
in every detail.
The old astronomical observations of which I was in quest might
well have been made by other astronomers than those of Paris, so
while awaiting the end of the war I tried to make a thorough search
of the writings of the mediæval astronomers in the Royal Library.
If one knew exactly what books he wanted, and had plenty of time
at his disposal, he would find no difficulty in consulting them
in any of the great Continental libraries. But at the time of my
visit, notwithstanding the cordiality with which all the officials,
from Professor Lepsius down, were disposed to second my efforts,
the process of getting any required book was very elaborate.
Although one could obtain a book on the same day he ordered it,
if he went in good time, it was advisable to leave the order the
day before, if possible. When, as in the present case, one book
only suggests another, this a third, and so on, in an endless chain,
the carrying on of an extended research is very tedious.
One feature of the library strongly impressed me with the
comparatively backward state of mathematical science in our own
country. As is usual in the great European libraries, those books
which are most consulted are placed in the general reading-room, where
any one can have access to them, at any moment. It was surprising to
see amongst these books a set of Crelle's "Journal of Mathematics,"
and to find it well worn by constant use. At that time, so far
as I could learn, there were not more than two or three sets of
the Journal in the United States; and these were almost unused.
Even the Library of Congress did not contain a set. There has
been a great change since that time,--a change in which the Johns
Hopkins University took the lead, by inviting Sylvester to this
country, and starting a mathematical school of the highest grade.
Other universities followed its example to such an extent that,
to-day, an American student need not leave his own country to hear
a master in any branch of mathematics.
I believe it was Dr. B. A. Gould who called the Pulkova Observatory
the astronomical capital of the world. This institution was founded
in 1839 by the Emperor Nicholas, on the initiative of his greatest
astronomer. It is situated some twelve miles south of St. Petersburg,
not far from the railway between that city and Berlin, and gets its
name from a peasant village in the neighborhood. From its foundation
it has taken the lead in exact measurements relating to the motion
of the earth and the positions of the principal stars. An important
part of its equipment is an astronomical library, which is perhaps the
most complete in existence. This, added to all its other attractions,
induced me to pay a visit to Pulkova. Otto Struve, the director,
had been kind enough to send me a message, expressing the hope that
I would pay him a visit, and giving directions about telegraphing
in advance, so as to insure the delivery of the dispatch. The time
from Berlin to St. Petersburg is about forty-eight hours, the only
through train leaving and arriving in the evening. On the morning
of the day that the train was due I sent the dispatch. Early in
the afternoon, as the train was stopping at a way station, I saw
an official running hastily from one car to another, looking into
each with some concern. When he came to my door, he asked if I had
sent a telegram to Estafetta. I told him I had. He then informed
me that Estafetta had not received it. But the train was already
beginning to move, so there was no further chance to get information.
The comical part of the matter was that "Estafetta" merely means a
post or postman, and that the directions, as Struve had given them,
were to have the dispatch sent by postman from the station to Pulkova.
It was late in the evening when the train reached Zarsko-Selo,
the railway station for Pulkova, which is about five miles away.
The station-master told me that no carriage from Pulkova was waiting
for me, which tended to confirm the fear that the dispatch had not
been received. After making known my plight, I took a seat in the
station and awaited the course of events, in some doubt what to do.
Only a few minutes had elapsed when a good-looking peasant, well
wrapped in a fur overcoat, with a whip in his hand, looked in at
the door, and pronounced very distinctly the words, "Observatorio
Pulkova." Ah! this is Struve's driver at last, thought I, and I
followed the man to the door. But when I looked at the conveyance,
doubt once more supervened. It was scarcely more than a sledge,
and was drawn by a single horse, evidently more familiar with hard
work than good feeding. This did not seem exactly the vehicle that
the great Russian observatory would send out to meet a visitor;
yet it was a far country, and I was not acquainted with its customs.
The way in which my doubt was dispelled shows that there is one
subject besides love on which difference of language is no bar to
the communication of ideas. This is the desire of the uncivilized
man for a little coin of the realm. In South Africa, Zulu chiefs,
who do not know one other word of English, can say "shilling" with
unmistakable distinctness. My Russian driver did not know even this
little English word, but he knew enough of the universal language.
When we had made a good start on the snow-covered prairie, he stopped
his horse for a moment, looked round at me inquiringly, raised his
hand, and stretched out two fingers so that I could see them against
the starlit sky.
I nodded assent.
Then he drew his overcoat tightly around him with a gesture of
shivering from the cold, beat his hands upon his breast as if to
warm it, and again looked inquiringly at me.
I nodded again.
The bargain was complete. He was to have two rubles for the drive,
and a little something to warm up his shivering breast. So he could
not be Struve's man.
There is no welcome warmer than a Russian one, and none in any
country warmer than that which the visiting astronomer receives at an
observatory. Great is the contrast between the winter sky of a clear
moonless night and the interior of a dining-room, forty feet square,
with a big blazing fire at one end and a table loaded with eatables
in the middle. The fact that the visitor had never before met one
of his hosts detracted nothing from the warmth of his reception.
The organizer of the observatory, and its first director, was Wilhelm
Struve, father of the one who received me, and equally great as man
and astronomer. Like many other good Russians, he was the father of a
large family. One of his sons was for ten years the Russian minister
at Washington, and as popular a diplomatist as ever lived among us.
The instruments which Struve designed sixty years ago still do as
fine work as any in the world; but one may suspect this to be due more
to the astronomers who handle them than to the instruments themselves.
The air is remarkably clear; the entrance to St. Petersburg, ten or
twelve miles north, is distinctly visible, and Struve told me that
during the Crimean war he could see, through the great telescope,
the men on the decks of the British ships besieging Kronstadt,
thirty miles away.
One drawback from which the astronomers suffer is the isolation of
the place. The village at the foot of the little hill is inhabited
only by peasants, and the astronomers and employees have nearly all
to be housed in the observatory buildings. There is no society but
their own nearer than the capital. At the time of my visit the
scientific staff was almost entirely German or Swedish, by birth
or language. In the state, two opposing parties are the Russian,
which desires the ascendency of the native Muscovites, and the German,
which appreciates the fact that the best and most valuable of the
Tsar's subjects are of German or other foreign descent. During the
past twenty years the Russian party has gradually got the upper hand;
and the result of this ascendency at Pulkova will be looked for with
much solicitude by astronomers everywhere.
Once a year the lonely life of the astronomers is enlivened by a
grand feast--that of the Russian New Year. One object of the great
dining-room which I have mentioned, the largest room, I believe, in
the whole establishment, was to make this feast possible. My visit
took place early in March, so that I did not see the celebration;
but from what I have heard, the little colony does what it can to
make up for a year of ennui. Every twenty-five years it celebrates
a jubilee; the second came off in 1889.
There is much to interest the visitor in a Russian peasant
village, and that of Pulkova has features some of which I have
never seen described. Above the door of each log hut is the name
of the occupant, and below the name is a rude picture of a bucket,
hook, or some other piece of apparatus used in extinguishing fire.
Inside, the furniture is certainly meagre enough, yet one could
not see why the occupants should be otherwise than comfortable.
I know of no good reason why ignorance should imply unhappiness;
altogether, there is some good room for believing that the less
civilized races can enjoy themselves, in their own way, about as
well as we can. What impressed me as the one serious hardship of
the peasantry was their hours of labor. Just how many hours of
the twenty-four these beings find for sleep was not clear to the
visitor; they seemed to be at work all day, and at midnight many of
them had to start on their way to St. Petersburg with a cartload
for the market. A church ornamented with tinsel is a feature of
every Russian village; so also are the priests. The only two I saw
were sitting on a fence, wearing garments that did not give evidence
of having known water since they were made. One great drawback to
the growth of manufactures in Russia is the number of feast days,
on which the native operators must one and all abandon their work,
regardless of consequences.
The astronomical observations made at Pulkova are not published
annually, as are those made at most of the other national
observatories; but a volume relating to one subject is issued whenever
the work is done. When I was there, the volumes containing the
earlier meridian observations were in press. Struve and his chief
assistant, Dr. Wagner, used to pore nightly over the proof sheets,
bestowing on every word and detail a minute attention which less
patient astronomers would have found extremely irksome.
Dr. Wagner was a son-in-law of Hansen, the astronomer of the little
ducal observatory at Gotha, as was also our Bayard Taylor. My first
meeting with Hansen, which occurred after my return to Berlin, was
accompanied with some trepidation. Modest as was the public position
that he held, he may now fairly be considered the greatest master of
celestial mechanics since Laplace. In what order Leverrier, Delaunay,
Adams, and Hill should follow him, it is not necessary to decide.
To many readers it will seem singular to place any name ahead of
that of the master who pointed out the position of Neptune before
a human eye had ever recognized it. But this achievement, great
as it was, was more remarkable for its boldness and brilliancy than
for its inherent difficulty. If the work had to be done over again
to-day, there are a number of young men who would be as successful
as Leverrier; but there are none who would attempt to reinvent
the methods of Hansen, or even to improve radically upon them.
Their main feature is the devising of new and refined methods of
computing the variations in the motions of a planet produced by the
attraction of all the other planets. As Laplace left this subject,
the general character of these variations could be determined without
difficulty, but the computations could not be made with mathematical
exactness. Hansen's methods led to results so precise that, if they
were fully carried out, it is doubtful whether any deviation between
the predicted and the observed motions of a planet could be detected
by the most refined observation.
At the time of my visit Mrs. Wagner was suffering from a severe
illness, of which the crisis passed while I was at Pulkova, and
left her, as was supposed, on the road to recovery. I was, of
course, very desirous of meeting so famous a man as Hansen. He was
expected to preside at a session of the German commission on the
transit of Venus, which was to be held in Berlin about the time of
my return thither from Pulkova. The opportunity was therefore open
of bringing a message of good news from his daughter. Apart from
this, the prospect of the meeting might have been embarrassing.
The fact is that I was at odds with him on a scientific question,
and he was a man who did not take a charitable view of those who
differed from him in opinion.
He was the author of a theory, current thirty or forty years ago,
that the farther side of the moon is composed of denser materials
than the side turned toward us. As a result of this, the centre
of gravity of the moon was supposed to be farther from us than the
actual centre of her globe. It followed that, although neither
atmosphere nor water existed on our side of the moon, the other
side might have both. Here was a very tempting field into which
astronomical speculators stepped, to clothe the invisible hemisphere
of the moon with a beautiful terrestrial landscape, and people it as
densely as they pleased with beings like ourselves. If these beings
should ever attempt to explore the other half of their own globe,
they would find themselves ascending to a height completely above
the limits of their atmosphere. Hansen himself never countenanced
such speculations as these, but confined his claims to the simple
facts he supposed proven.
In 1868 I had published a little paper showing what I thought a
fatal defect, a vicious circle in fact, in Hansen's reasoning on
this subject. Not long before my visit, Delaunay had made this paper
the basis of a communication to the French Academy of Sciences, in
which he not only indorsed my views, but sought to show the extreme
improbability of Hansen's theory on other grounds.
When I first reached Germany, on my way from Italy, I noticed
copies of a blue pamphlet lying on the tables of the astronomers.
Apparently, the paper had been plentifully distributed; but it was
not until I reached Berlin that I found it was Hansen's defense
against my strictures,--a defense in which mathematics were not
unmixed with seething sarcasm at the expense of both Delaunay
and myself. The case brought to mind a warm discussion between
Hansen and Encke, in the pages of a scientific journal, some fifteen
years before. At the time it had seemed intensely comical to see two
enraged combatants--for so I amused myself by fancying them--hurling
algebraic formulæ, of frightful complexity, at each other's heads.
I did not then dream that I should live to be an object of the same
sort of attack, and that from Hansen himself.
To be revised, pulled to pieces, or superseded, as science advances,
is the common fate of most astronomical work, even the best.
It does not follow that it has been done in vain; if good, it
forms a foundation on which others will build. But not every great
investigator can look on with philosophic calm when he sees his work
thus treated, and Hansen was among the last who could. Under these
circumstances, it was a serious question what sort of reception Hansen
would accord to a reviser of his conclusions who should venture to
approach him. I determined to assume an attitude that would show
no consciousness of offense, and was quite successful. Our meeting
was not attended by any explosion; I gave him the pleasant message
with which I was charged from his daughter, and, a few days later,
sat by his side at a dinner of the German commission on the coming
transit of Venus.
As Hansen was Germany's greatest master in mathematical astronomy,
so was the venerable Argelander in the observational side of the
science. He was of the same age as the newly crowned Emperor,
and the two were playmates at the time Germany was being overrun
by the armies of Napoleon. He was held in love and respect by the
entire generation of young astronomers, both Germans and foreigners,
many of whom were proud to have had him as their preceptor. Among
these was Dr. B. A. Gould, who frequently related a story of the
astronomer's wit. When with him as a student, Gould was beardless,
but had a good head of hair. Returning some years later, he had
become bald, but had made up for it by having a full, long beard.
He entered Argelander's study unannounced. At first the astronomer
did not recognize him.
"Do you not know me, Herr Professor?"
The astronomer looked more closely. "Mine Gott! It is Gould mit
his hair struck through!"
Argelander was more than any one else the founder of that branch of
his science which treats of variable stars. His methods have been
followed by his successors to the present time. It was his policy
to make the best use he could of the instruments at his disposal,
rather than to invent new ones that might prove of doubtful utility.
The results of his work seem to justify this policy.
We passed the last month of the winter in Berlin waiting for the
war to close, so that we could visit Paris. Poor France had at
length to succumb, and in the latter part of March, we took almost
the first train that passed the lines.
Delaunay was then director of the Paris Observatory, having succeeded
Leverrier when the emperor petulantly removed the latter from his
position. I had for some time kept up an occasional correspondence
with Delaunay, and while in England, the autumn before, had forwarded
a message to him, through the Prussian lines, by the good offices
of the London legation and Mr. Washburn. He was therefore quite
prepared for our arrival. The evacuation of a country by a hostile
army is rather a slow process, so that the German troops were met
everywhere on the road, even in France. They had left Paris just
before we arrived; but the French national army was not there,
the Communists having taken possession of the city as fast as the
Germans withdrew. As we passed out of the station, the first object
to strike our eyes was a flaming poster addressed to "Citoyens,"
and containing one of the manifestoes which the Communist government
was continually issuing.
Of course we made an early call on Mr. Washburn. His career in
Paris was one of the triumphs of diplomacy; he had cared for the
interests of German subjects in Paris in such a way as to earn the
warm recognition both of the emperor and of Bismarck, and at the
same time had kept on such good terms with the French as to be not
less esteemed by them. He was surprised that we had chosen such a
time to visit Paris; but I told him the situation, the necessity
of my early return home, and my desire to make a careful search
in the records of the Paris Observatory for observations made two
centuries ago. He advised us to take up our quarters as near to
the observatory as convenient, in order that we might not have to
pass through the portions of the city which were likely to be the
scenes of disturbance.
We were received at the observatory with a warmth of welcome that
might be expected to accompany the greeting of the first foreign
visitor, after a siege of six months. Yet a tinge of sadness in
the meeting was unavoidable. Delaunay immediately began lamenting
the condition of his poor ruined country, despoiled of two of its
provinces by a foreign foe, condemned to pay an enormous subsidy
in addition, and now the scene of an internal conflict the end of
which no one could foresee.
While I was mousing among the old records of the Paris Observatory,
the city was under the reign of the Commune and besieged by the
national forces. The studies had to be made within hearing of
the besieging guns; and I could sometimes go to a window and see
flashes of artillery from one of the fortifications to the south.
Nearly every day I took a walk through the town, occasionally as
far as the Arc de Triomphe. The story of the Commune has been so
often written that I cannot hope to add anything to it, so far as the
main course of events is concerned. Looking back on a sojourn at so
interesting a period, one cannot but feel that a golden opportunity
to make observations of historic value was lost. The fact is,
however, that I was prevented from making such observations not only
by my complete absorption in my work, but by the consideration that,
being in what might be described as a semi-official capacity, I did
not want to get into any difficulty that would have compromised
the position of an official visitor. I should not deem what we
saw worthy of special mention, were it not that it materially
modifies the impressions commonly given by writers on the history
of the Commune. What an historian says may be quite true, so far
as it goes, and yet may be so far from the whole truth as to give
the reader an incorrect impression of the actual course of events.
The violence and disease which prevail in the most civilized country
in the world may be described in such terms as to give the impression
of a barbarous community. The murder of the Archbishop of Paris and
of the hostages show how desperate were the men who had seized power,
yet the acts of these men constitute but a small part of the history
of Paris during that critical period.
What one writes at the time is free from the suspicion that may
attach to statements not recorded till many years after the events
to which they relate. The following extract from a letter which I
wrote to a friend, the day after my arrival, may therefore be taken
to show how things actually looked to a spectator:--
Dear Charlie,--Here we are, on this slumbering volcano.
Perhaps you will hear of the burst-up long before you get
this. We have seen historic objects which fall not to the
lot of every generation, the barricades of the Paris streets.
As we were walking out this morning, the pavement along one
side of the street was torn up for some distance, and used
to build a temporary fort. Said fort would be quite strong
against musketry or the bayonet; but with heavy shot against
it, I should think it would be far worse than nothing,
for the flying stones would kill more than the balls.
The streets are placarded at every turn with all sorts of
inflammatory appeals, and general orders of the Comité
Central or of the Commune. One of the first things I
saw last night was a large placard beginning "Citoyens!"
Among the orders is one forbidding any one from placarding
any orders of the Versailles government under the severest
penalties; and another threatening with instant dismissal
any official who shall recognize any order issuing from
the said government.
I must do all hands the justice to say that they are all
very well behaved. There is nothing like a mob anywhere, so
far as I can find. I consulted my map this morning, right
alongside the barricade and in full view of the builders,
without being molested, and wife and I walked through the
insurrectionary districts without being troubled or seeing
the slightest symptoms of disturbance. The stores are all
open, and every one seems to be buying and selling as usual.
In all the cafés I have seen, the habitués seem to be
drinking their wine just as coolly as if they had nothing
unusual on their minds.
From this date to that of our departure I saw nothing suggestive
of violence within the limited range of my daily walks, which were
mostly within the region including the Arc de Triomphe, the Hôtel
de Ville, and the observatory; the latter being about half a mile
south of the Luxembourg. The nearest approach to a mob that I
ever noticed was a drill of young recruits of the National Guard,
or a crowd in the court of the Louvre being harangued by an orator.
With due allowance for the excitability of the French nature,
the crowd was comparatively as peaceable as that which we may see
surrounding a gospel wagon in one of our own cities. A drill-ground
for the recruits happened to be selected opposite our first lodgings,
beside the gates of the Luxembourg. This was so disagreeable that we
were glad to accept an invitation from Delaunay to be his guests at
the observatory, during the remainder of our stay. We had not been
there long before the spacious yard of the observatory was also used
as a drill-ground; and yet later, two or three men were given _billets
de logement_ upon the observatory; but I should not have known of the
latter occurrence, had not Delaunay told me. I believe he bought
the men off, much as one pays an organ-grinder to move on. In one
of our walks we entered the barricade around the Hôtel de Ville, and
were beginning to make a close examination of a mitrailleuse, when a
soldier (beg his pardon, _un citoyen membre de la Garde Nationale_)
warned us away from the weapon. The densest crowd of Communists was
along the Rue de Rivoli and in the region of the Colonne Vendôme,
where some of the principal barricades were being erected. But even
here, not only were the stores open as usual, but the military were
doing their work in the midst of piles of trinkets exposed for sale
on the pavement by the shopwomen. The order to destroy the Column
was issued before we left, but not executed until later. I have no
reason to suppose that the shopwomen were any more concerned while
the Column was being undermined than they were before. To complete
the picture, not a policeman did we see in Paris; in fact, I was
told that one of the first acts of the Commune had been to drive
the police away, so that not one dared to show himself.
An interesting feature of the sad spectacle was the stream of
proclamations poured forth by the Communist authorities. They
comprised not only decrees, but sensational stories of victories over
the Versailles troops, denunciations of the Versailles government,
and even elaborate legal arguments, including a not intemperate
discussion of the ethical question whether citizens who were not
adherents of the Commune should be entitled to the right of suffrage.
The conclusion was that they should not. The lack of humor on the
part of the authorities was shown by their commencing one of a rapid
succession of battle stories with the words, "Citoyens! Vous avez
soif de la vérité!" The most amusing decree I noticed ran thus:--
"Article I. All conscription is abolished.
"Article II. No troops shall hereafter be allowed in Paris, except
the National Guard.
"Article III. Every citizen is a member of the National Guard."
We were in daily expectation and hope of the capture of the city,
little imagining by what scenes it would be accompanied. It did not
seem to my unmilitary eye that two or three batteries of artillery
could have any trouble in demolishing all the defenses, since a
wall of paving-stones, four or five feet high, could hardly resist
solid shot, or prove anything but a source of destruction to those
behind it if attacked by artillery. But the capture was not so easy
a matter as I had supposed.
We took leave of our friend and host on May 5, three weeks before
the final catastrophe, of which he wrote me a graphic description.
As the barricades were stormed by MacMahon, the Communist line of
retreat was through the region of the observatory. The walls of
the building and of the yard were so massive that the place was
occupied as a fort by the retreating forces, so that the situation
of the few non-combatants who remained was extremely critical.
They were exposed to the fire of their friends, the national troops,
from without, while enraged men were threatening their lives within.
So hot was the fusillade that, going into the great dome after the
battle, the astronomer could imagine all the constellations of the
sky depicted by the bullet-holes. When retreat became inevitable,
the Communists tried to set the building on fire, but did not succeed.
Then, in their desperation, arrangements were made for blowing it up;
but the most violent man among them was killed by a providential
bullet, as he was on the point of doing his work. The remainder
fled, the place was speedily occupied by the national troops, and
the observatory with its precious contents was saved.
The Academy of Sciences had met regularly through the entire Prussian
siege. The legal quorum being three, this did not imply a large
attendance. The reason humorously assigned for this number was that,
on opening a session, the presiding officer must say, _Messieurs,
la séance est ouverte_, and he cannot say _Messieurs_ unless there
are at least two to address. At the time of my visit a score of
members were in the city. Among them were Elie de Beaumont, the
geologist; Milne-Edwards, the zoölogist; and Chevreul, the chemist.
I was surprised to learn that the latter was in his eighty-fifth
year; he seemed a man of seventy or less, mentally and physically.
Yet we little thought that he would be the longest-lived man of equal
eminence that our age has known. When he died, in 1889, he was nearly
one hundred and three years old. Born in 1786, he had lived through
the whole French Revolution, and was seven years old at the time of
the Terror. His scientific activity, from beginning to end, extended
over some eighty years. When I saw him, he was still very indignant
at a bombardment of the Jardin des Plantes by the German besiegers.
He had made a formal statement of this outrage to the Academy of
Sciences, in order that posterity might know what kind of men were
besieging Paris. I suggested that the shells might have fallen in
the place by accident; but he maintained that it was not the case,
and that the bombardment was intentional.
The most execrated man in the scientific circle at this time was
Leverrier. He had left Paris before the Prussian siege began, and had
not returned. Delaunay assured me that this was a wise precaution
on his part; for had he ventured into the city he would have been
mobbed, or the Communists would have killed him as soon as caught.
Just why the mob should have been so incensed against one whose
life was spent in the serenest fields of astronomical science was
not fully explained. The fact that he had been a senator, and was
politically obnoxious, was looked on as an all-sufficient indictment.
Even members of the Academy could not suppress their detestation
of him. Their language seemed not to have words that would fully
express their sense of his despicable meanness, not to say turpitude.
Four years later I was again in Paris, and attended a meeting of
the Academy of Sciences. In the course of the session a rustle
of attention spread over the room, as all eyes were turned upon
a member who was entering rather late. Looking toward the door,
I saw a man of sixty, a decided blond, with light chestnut hair
turning gray, slender form, shaven face, rather pale and thin, but
very attractive, and extremely intellectual features. As he passed
to his seat hands were stretched out on all sides to greet him, and
not until he sat down did the bustle caused by his entrance subside.
He was evidently a notable.
"Who is that?" I said to my neighbor.
"Leverrier."
Delaunay was one of the most kindly and attractive men I ever met.
We spent our evenings walking in the grounds of the observatory,
discussing French science in all its aspects. His investigation
of the moon's motion is one of the most extraordinary pieces of
mathematical work ever turned out by a single person. It fills two
quarto volumes, and the reader who attempts to go through any part
of the calculations will wonder how one man could do the work in
a lifetime. His habit was to commence early in the morning, and
work with but little interruption until noon. He never worked in
the evening, and generally retired at nine. I felt some qualms of
conscience at the frequency with which I kept him up till nearly ten.
I found it hopeless to expect that he would ever visit America,
because he assured me that he did not dare to venture on the ocean.
The only voyage he had ever made was across the Channel, to receive
the gold medal of the Royal Astronomical Society for his work.
Two of his relatives--his father and, I believe, his brother--had
been drowned, and this fact gave him a horror of the water.
He seemed to feel somewhat like the clients of the astrologists,
who, having been told from what agencies they were to die, took every
precaution to avoid them. I remember, as a boy, reading a history of
astrology, in which a great many cases of this sort were described;
the peculiarity being that the very measures which the victim took
to avoid the decree of fate became the engines that executed it.
The death of Delaunay was not exactly a case of this kind, yet it
could not but bring it to mind. He was at Cherbourg in the autumn
of 1872. As he was walking on the beach with a relative, a couple
of boatmen invited them to take a sail. Through what inducement
Delaunay was led to forget his fears will never be known. All we
know is that he and his friend entered the boat, that it was struck
by a sudden squall when at some distance from the land, and that
the whole party were drowned.
There was no opposition to the reappointment of Leverrier to his old
place. In fact, at the time of my visit, Delaunay said that President
Thiers was on terms of intimate friendship with the former director,
and he thought it not at all unlikely that the latter would succeed
in being restored. He kept the position with general approval till
his death in 1877.
The only occasion on which I met Leverrier was after the incident
I have mentioned, in the Academy of Sciences. I had been told that
he was incensed against me on account of an unfortunate remark I had
made in speaking of his work which led to the discovery of Neptune.
I had heard this in Germany as well as in France, yet the matter was
so insignificant that I could hardly conceive of a man of philosophic
mind taking any notice of it. I determined to meet him, as I had
met Hansen, with entire unconsciousness of offense. So I called
on him at the observatory, and was received with courtesy, but no
particular warmth. I suggested to him that now, as he had nearly
completed his work on the tables of the planets, the question of
the moon's motion would be the next object worthy of his attention.
He replied that it was too large a subject for him to take up.
To Leverrier belongs the credit of having been the real organizer of
the Paris Observatory. His work there was not dissimilar to that
of Airy at Greenwich; but he had a much more difficult task before
him, and was less fitted to grapple with it. When founded by Louis
XIV. the establishment was simply a place where astronomers of the
Academy of Sciences could go to make their observations. There was
no titular director, every man working on his own account and in
his own way. Cassini, an Italian by birth, was the best known of
the astronomers, and, in consequence, posterity has very generally
supposed he was the director. That he failed to secure that honor
was not from any want of astuteness. It is related that the monarch
once visited the observatory to see a newly discovered comet through
the telescope. He inquired in what direction the comet was going to
move. This was a question it was impossible to answer at the moment,
because both observations and computations would be necessary before
the orbit could be worked out. But Cassini reflected that the king
would not look at the comet again, and would very soon forget what
was told him; so he described its future path in the heavens quite
at random, with entire confidence that any deviation of the actual
motion from his prediction would never be noted by his royal patron.
One of the results of this lack of organization has been that the
Paris Observatory does not hold an historic rank correspondent to
the magnificence of the establishment. The go-as-you-please system
works no better in a national observatory than it would in a business
institution. Up to the end of the last century, the observations
made there were too irregular to be of any special importance.
To remedy this state of things, Arago was appointed director early in
the present century; but he was more eminent in experimental physics
than in astronomy, and had no great astronomical problem to solve.
The result was that while he did much to promote the reputation of
the observatory in the direction of physical investigation, he did
not organize any well-planned system of regular astronomical work.
When Leverrier succeeded Arago, in 1853, he had an extremely difficult
problem before him. By a custom extending through two centuries,
each astronomer was to a large extent the master of his own work.
Leverrier undertook to change all this in a twinkling, and, if reports
are true, without much regard to the feelings of the astronomers.
Those who refused to fall into line either resigned or were driven
away, and their places were filled with men willing to work under the
direction of their chief. Yet his methods were not up to the times;
and the work of the Paris Observatory, so far as observations of
precision go, falls markedly behind that of Greenwich and Pulkova.
In recent times the institution has been marked by an energy and a
progressiveness that go far to atone for its former deficiencies.
The successors of Leverrier have known where to draw the line
between routine, on the one side, and initiative on the part of the
assistants, on the other. Probably no other observatory in the world
has so many able and well-trained young men, who work partly on their
own account, and partly in a regular routine. In the direction of
physical astronomy the observatory is especially active, and it may
be expected in the future to justify its historic reputation.
XII
THE OLD AND THE NEW WASHINGTON
A few features of Washington as it appeared during the civil war
are indelibly fixed in my memory. An endless train of army wagons
ploughed its streets with their heavy wheels. Almost the entire
southwestern region, between the War Department and the Potomac,
extending west on the river to the neighborhood of the observatory,
was occupied by the Quartermaster's and Subsistence Departments for
storehouses. Among these the astronomers had to walk by day and
night, in going to and from their work. After a rain, especially
during winter and spring, some of the streets were much like shallow
canals. Under the attrition of the iron-bound wheels the water
and clay were ground into mud, which was at first almost liquid.
It grew thicker as it dried up, until perhaps another rainstorm
reduced it once more to a liquid condition. In trying first one
street and then another to see which offered the fewest obstacles
to his passage, the wayfarer was reminded of the assurance given
by a bright boy to a traveler who wanted to know the best road to
a certain place: "Whichever road you take, before you get halfway
there you'll wish you had taken t' other." By night swarms of rats,
of a size proportional to their ample food supply, disputed the
right of way with the pedestrian.
Across the Potomac, Arlington Heights were whitened by the tents of
soldiers, from which the discharges of artillery or the sound of the
fife and drum became so familiar that the dweller almost ceased to
notice it. The city was defended by a row of earthworks, generally
not far inside the boundary line of the District of Columbia,
say five or six miles from the central portions of the city.
One of the circumstances connected with their plans strikingly
illustrates the exactness which the science or art of military
engineering had reached. Of course the erection of fortifications
was one of the first tasks to be undertaken by the War Department.
Plans showing the proposed location and arrangements of the several
forts were drawn up by a board of army engineers, at whose head,
then or afterward, stood General John G. Barnard. When the plans
were complete, it was thought advisable to test them by calling in the
advice of Professor D. H. Mahan of the Military Academy at West Point.
He came to Washington, made a careful study of the maps and plans,
and was then driven around the region of the lines to be defended
to supplement his knowledge by personal inspection. Then he laid
down his ideas as to the location of the forts. There were but
two variations from the plans proposed by the Board of Engineers,
and these were not of fundamental importance.
Willard's Hotel, then the only considerable one in the neighborhood of
the executive offices, was a sort of headquarters for arriving army
officers, as well as for the thousands of civilians who had business
with the government, and for gossip generally. Inside its crowded
entrance one could hear every sort of story, of victory or disaster,
generally the latter, though very little truth was ever to be gleaned.
The newsboy flourished. He was a bright fellow too, and may have
developed into a man of business, a reporter, or even an editor.
"Another great battle!" was his constant cry. But the purchaser of
his paper would commonly read of nothing but a skirmish or some fresh
account of a battle fought several days before--perhaps not even this.
On one occasion an officer in uniform, finding nothing in his paper
to justify the cry, turned upon the boy with the remark,--
"Look here, boy, I don't see any battle here."
"No," was the reply, "nor you won't see one as long as you hang around
Washington. If you want to see a battle you must go to the front."
The officer thought it unprofitable to continue the conversation,
and beat a retreat amid the smiles of the bystanders. This story,
I may remark, is quite authentic, which is more than one can say
of the report that a stick thrown by a boy at a dog in front of
Willard's Hotel struck twelve brigadier generals during its flight.
The presiding genius of the whole was Mr. Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary
of War. Before the actual outbreak of the conflict he had been,
I believe, at least a Democrat, and, perhaps, to a certain extent,
a Southern sympathizer so far as the slavery question was concerned.
But when it came to blows, he espoused the side of the Union, and
after being made Secretary of War he conducted military operations
with a tireless energy, which made him seem the impersonation of
the god of war. Ordinarily his character seemed almost savage
when he was dealing with military matters. He had no mercy on
inefficiency or lukewarmness. But his sympathetic attention, when
a case called for it, is strikingly shown in the following letter,
of which I became possessed by mere accident. At the beginning of
the war Mr. Charles Ellet, an eminent engineer, then resident near
Washington, tendered his services to the government, and equipped
a fleet of small river steamers on the Mississippi under the War
Department. In the battle of June 6, 1862, he received a wound from
which he died some two weeks later. His widow sold or leased his
house on Georgetown Heights, and I boarded in it shortly afterward.
Amongst some loose rubbish and old papers lying around in one of
the rooms I picked up the letter which follows.
War Department,
Washington City, D. C., June 9, 1862.
Dear Madam,--I understand from Mr. Ellet's dispatch to you
that as he will be unfit for duty for some time it will be
agreeable to him for you to visit him, traveling slowly so
as not to expose your own health.
With this view I will afford you every facility within
the control of the Department, by way of Pittsburg and
Cincinnati to Cairo, where he will probably meet you.
Yours truly,
Edwin M. Stanton,
_Secretary of War._
The interesting feature of this letter is that it is entirely in the
writer's autograph, and bears no mark of having been press copied.
I infer that it was written out of office hours, after all the clerks
had left the Department, perhaps late at night, while the secretary
was taking advantage of the stillness of the hour to examine papers
and plans.
Only once did I come into personal contact with Mr. Stanton.
A portrait of Ferdinand R. Hassler, first superintendent of the
Coast Survey, had been painted about 1840 by Captain Williams of the
Corps of Engineers, U. S. A., a son-in-law of Mr. G. W. P. Custis,
and therefore a brother-in-law of General Lee. The picture at the
Arlington house was given to Mrs. Colonel Abert, who loaned it to
Mr. Custis. When the civil war began she verbally donated it to
my wife, who was Mr. Hassler's grand-daughter, and was therefore
considered the most appropriate depositary of it, asking her to get
it if she could. But before she got actual possession of it, the
Arlington house was occupied by our troops and Mr. Stanton ordered the
picture to be presented to Professor Agassiz for the National Academy
of Sciences. On hearing of this, I ventured to mention the matter
to Mr. Stanton, with a brief statement of our claims upon the picture.
"Sir," said he, "that picture was found in the house of a rebel
in arms [General Robert E. Lee], and was justly a prize of war.
I therefore made what I considered the most appropriate disposition
of it, by presenting it to the National Academy of Sciences."
The expression "house of a rebel in arms" was uttered with such
emphasis that I almost felt like one under suspicion of relations
with the enemy in pretending to claim the object in question.
It was clearly useless to pursue the matter any further at that time.
Some years later, when the laws were no longer silent, the National
Academy decided that whoever might be the legal owner of the picture,
the Academy could have no claim upon it, and therefore suffered it
to pass into the possession of the only claimant.
Among the notable episodes of the civil war was the so-called raid
of the Confederate general, Early, in July, 1864. He had entered
Maryland and defeated General Lew Wallace. This left nothing but
the well-designed earthworks around Washington between his army
and our capital. Some have thought that, had he immediately made
a rapid dash, the city might have fallen into his hands.
All in the service of the War and Navy departments who were supposed
capable of rendering efficient help, were ordered out to take part
in the defense of the city, among them the younger professors of the
observatory. By order of Captain Gilliss I became a member of a naval
brigade, organized in the most hurried manner by Admiral Goldsborough,
and including in it several officers of high and low rank. The rank
and file was formed of the workmen in the Navy Yard, most of whom
were said to have seen military service of one kind or another.
The brigade formed at the Navy Yard about the middle of the afternoon,
and was ordered to march out to Fort Lincoln, a strong earthwork built
on a prominent hill, half a mile southwest of the station now known
as Rives. The Reform School of the District of Columbia now stands
on the site of the fort. The position certainly looked very strong.
On the right the fort was flanked by a deep intrenchment running along
the brow of the hill, and the whole line would include in the sweep
of its fire the region which an army would have to cross in order
to enter the city. The naval brigade occupied the trench, while
the army force, which seemed very small in numbers, manned the front.
I was not assigned to any particular duty, and simply walked round the
place in readiness to act whenever called upon. I supposed the first
thing to be done was to have the men in the trench go through some
sort of drill, in order to assure their directing the most effective
fire on the enemy should he appear. The trench was perhaps six feet
deep; along its bottom ran a little ledge on which the men had to
step in order to deliver their fire, stepping back into the lower
depth to load again. Along the edge was a sort of rail fence, the
bottom rail of which rested on the ground. In order to fire on an
enemy coming up the hill, it would be necessary to rest the weapon
on this bottom rail. It was quite evident to me that a man not
above the usual height, standing on the ledge, would have to stand
on tiptoe in order to get the muzzle of his gun properly directed
down the slope. If he were at all flurried he would be likely to
fire over the head of the enemy. I called attention to this state
of things, but did not seem to make any impression on the officers,
who replied that the men had seen service and knew what to do.
We bivouacked that night, and remained all the next day and the night
following awaiting the attack of the enemy, who was supposed to be
approaching Fort Stevens on the Seventh Street road. At the critical
moment, General H. G. Wright arrived from Fort Monroe with his
army corps. He and General A. McD. McCook both took their stations
at Fort Lincoln, which it was supposed would be the point of attack.
A quarter or half a mile down the hill was the mansion of the Rives
family, which a passenger on the Baltimore and Ohio Railway can
readily see at the station of that name. A squad of men was detailed
to go to this house and destroy it, in case the enemy should appear.
The attack was expected at daybreak, but General Early, doubtless
hearing of the arrival of reinforcements, abandoned any project
he might have entertained and had beat a retreat the day before.
Whether the supposition that he could have taken the city with great
celerity has any foundation, I cannot say; I should certainly greatly
doubt it, remembering the large loss of life generally suffered
during the civil war by troops trying to storm intrenchments or
defenses of any sort, even with greatly superior force.
I was surprised to find how quickly one could acquire the stolidity
of the soldier. During the march from the Navy Yard to the fort
I felt extremely depressed, as one can well imagine, in view of
the suddenness with which I had to take leave of my family and
the uncertainty of the situation, as well as its extreme gravity.
But this depression wore off the next day, and I do not think I
ever had a sounder night's sleep in my life than when I lay down on
the grass, with only a blanket between myself and the sky, with the
expectation of being awakened by the rattle of musketry at daybreak.
I remember well how kindly we were treated by the army.
The acquaintance of Generals Wright and McCook, made under such
circumstances, was productive of a feeling which has never worn off.
It has always been a matter of sorrow to me that the Washington of
to-day does not show a more lively consciousness of what it owes to
these men.
One of the entertainments of Washington during the early years of
the civil war was offered by President Lincoln's public receptions.
We used to go there simply to see the people and the costumes, the
latter being of a variety which I do not think was ever known on
such occasions before or since. Well-dressed and refined ladies and
gentlemen, men in their working clothes, women arrayed in costumes
fanciful in cut and brilliant in color, mixed together in a way
that suggested a convention of the human race. Just where the
oddly dressed people came from, or what notion took them at this
particular time to don an attire like that of a fancy-dress ball,
no one seemed to know.
Among the never-to-be-forgotten scenes was that following the news of
the fall of Richmond. If I described it from memory, a question would
perhaps arise in the reader's mind as to how much fancy might have
added to the picture in the course of nearly forty years. I shall
therefore quote a letter written to Chauncey Wright immediately
afterwards, of which I preserved a press copy.
Observatory, April 7, 1865.
Dear Wright,--Yours of the 5th just received. I heartily
reciprocate your congratulations on the fall of Richmond
and the prospective disappearance of the S. C. alias C. S.
You ought to have been here Monday. The observatory is half
a mile to a mile from the thickly settled part of the city.
At 11 A. M. we were put upon the qui vive by an unprecedented
commotion in the city. From the barracks near us rose a
continuous stream of cheers, and in the city was a hubbub
such as we had never before heard. We thought it must be
Petersburg or Richmond, but hardly dared to hope which.
Miss Gilliss sent us word that it was really Richmond.
I went down to the city. All the bedlams in creation broken
loose could not have made such a scene. The stores were
half closed, the clerks given a holiday, the streets
crowded, every other man drunk, and drums were beating
and men shouting and flags waving in every direction.
I never felt prouder of my country than then, as I compared
our present position with our position in the numerous dark
days of the contest, and was almost ashamed to think that
I had ever said that any act of the government was not the
best possible.
Not many days after this outburst, the city was pervaded by an equally
intense and yet deeper feeling of an opposite kind. Probably no
event in its history caused such a wave of sadness and sympathy as
the assassination of President Lincoln, especially during the few
days while bands of men were scouring the country in search of the
assassin. One could not walk the streets without seeing evidence of
this at every turn. The slightest bustle, perhaps even the running
away of a dog, caused a tremor.
I paid one short visit to the military court which was trying
the conspirators. The court itself was listening with silence and
gravity to the reading of the testimony taken on the day previous.
General Wallace produced on the spectators an impression a little
different from the other members, by exhibiting an artistic
propensity, which subsequently took a different direction in
"Ben Hur." The most impressive sight was that of the conspirators,
all heavily manacled; even Mrs. Surratt, who kept her irons partly
concealed in the folds of her gown. Payne, the would-be assassin of
Seward, was a powerful-looking man, with a face that showed him ready
for anything; but the other two conspirators were such simple-minded,
mild-looking youths, that it seemed hardly possible they could have
been active agents in such a crime, or capable of any proceeding
requiring physical or mental force.
The impression which I gained at the time from the evidence and
all the circumstances, was that the purpose of the original plot
was not the assassination of the President, but his abduction and
transportation to Richmond or some other point within the Confederate
lines. While Booth himself may have meditated assassination from the
beginning, it does not seem likely that he made this purpose known
to his fellows until they were ready to act. Then Payne alone had
the courage to attempt the execution of the programme.
Two facts show that a military court, sitting under such
circumstances, must not be expected to reach exactly the verdict that
a jury would after the public excitement had died away. Among the
prisoners was the man whose business it was to assist in arranging the
scenery on the stage of the theatre where the assassination occurred.
The only evidence against him was that he had not taken advantage
of his opportunity to arrest Booth as the latter was leaving,
and for this he was sentenced to twenty years penal servitude.
He was pardoned out before a great while.
The other circumstance was the arrest of Surratt, who was supposed
to stand next to Booth in the conspiracy, but who escaped from the
country and was not discovered until a year or so later, when he
was found to have enlisted in the papal guards at Rome. He was
brought home and tried twice. On the first trial, notwithstanding
the adverse rulings and charge of the judge, only a minority of
the jury were convinced of his guilt. On the second trial he was,
I think, acquitted.
One aftermath of the civil war was the influx of crowds of the
newly freed slaves to Washington, in search of food and shelter.
With a little training they made fair servants if only their pilfering
propensities could be restrained. But religious fervor did not ensure
obedience to the eighth commandment. "The good Lord ain't goin'
to be hard on a poor darky just for takin' a chicken now and then,"
said a wench to a preacher who had asked her how she could reconcile
her religion with her indifference as to the ownership of poultry.
In the seventies I had an eight-year-old boy as help in my family.
He had that beauty of face very common in young negroes who have an
admixture of white blood, added to which were eyes of such depth and
clearness that, but for his color, he would have made a first-class
angel for a mediæval painter.
One evening my little daughters had a children's party, and Zeke
was placed as attendant in charge of the room in which the little
company met. Here he was for some time left alone. Next morning a
gold pen was missing from its case in a drawer. Suspicion rested on
Zeke as the only person who could possibly have taken it, but there
was no positive proof. I thought so small and innocent-looking a
boy could be easily cowed into confessing his guilt; so next morning
I said to him very solemnly,--
"Zeke, come upstairs with me."
He obeyed with alacrity, following me up to the room.
"Zeke, come into this room."
He did so.
"Now, Zeke," I said sternly, "look here and see what I do."
I opened the drawer, took out the empty case, opened it, and showed
it to him.
"Zeke, look into my eyes!"
He neither blinked nor showed the slightest abashment or hesitation
as his soft eyes looked steadily into mine with all the innocence
of an angel.
"Zeke, where is the pen out of that case?"
"Missr Newcomb," he said quietly, "I don't know nothin' about it."
I repeated the question, looking into his face as sternly as I could.
As he repeated the answer with the innocence of childhood, "Deed,
Missr Newcomb, I don't know what was in it," I felt almost like a
brute in pressing him with such severity. Threats were of no avail,
and I had to give the matter up as a failure.
On coming home in the afternoon, the first news was that the pen had
been found by Zeke's mother hidden in one corner of her room at home,
where the little thief had taken it. She, being an honest woman,
and suspecting where it had come from, had brought it back.
There was a vigorous movement, having its origin in New England,
for the education of the freedmen. This movement was animated by
the most philanthropic views. Here were several millions of blacks
of all ages, suddenly made citizens, or eligible to citizenship,
and yet savage so far as any education was concerned. A small army
of teachers, many, perhaps most of them, young women, were sent south
to organize schools for the blacks. It may be feared that there was
little adaptation of the teaching to the circumstances of the case.
But one method of instruction widely adopted was, so far as I can
learn, quite unique. It was the "loud method" of teaching reading
and spelling. The whole school spelled in unison. The passer-by
on the street would hear in chorus from the inside of the building,
"B-R-E-A-D--BREAD!" all at the top of the voice of the speakers.
Schools in which this method was adopted were known as "loud schools."
A queer result of this movement once fell under my notice. I called
at a friend's house in Georgetown. In the course of the conversation,
it came out that the sable youngster who opened the door for me
filled the double office of scullion to the household and tutor in
Latin to the little boy of the family.
Probably the Senate of the United States never had a member more
conscientious in the discharge of his duties than Charles Sumner.
He went little into society outside the circles of the diplomatic
corps, with which his position as chairman of the Foreign Affairs
Committee placed him in intimate relations. My acquaintance with
him arose from the accident of his living for some time almost
opposite me. I was making a study of some historic subject,
pertaining to the feeling in South Carolina before the civil war,
and called at his rooms to see if he would favor me with the loan of
a book, which I was sure he possessed. He received me so pleasantly
that I was, for some time, an occasional visitor. He kept bachelor
quarters on a second floor, lived quite alone, and was accessible
to all comers without the slightest ceremony.
One day, while I was talking with him, shortly after the surrender
of Lee, a young man in the garb of a soldier, evidently fresh from
the field, was shown into the room by the housemaid, unannounced,
as usual. Very naturally, he was timid and diffident in approaching
so great a man, and the latter showed no disposition to say anything
that would reassure him. He ventured to tell the senator that he
had come to see if he could recommend him for some public employment.
I shall never forget the tone of the reply.
"But _I_ do not know _you_." The poor fellow was completely
dumfounded, and tried to make some excuses, but the only reply he
got was, "I cannot do it; I do not know you at all." The visitor
had nothing to do but turn round and leave.
At the time I felt some sympathy with the poor fellow. He had
probably come, thinking that the great philanthropist was quite ready
to become a friend to a Union soldier without much inquiry into his
personality and antecedents, and now he met with a stinging rebuff.
But it must be confessed that subsequent experience has diminished
my sympathy for him, and probably it would be better for the country
if the innovation were introduced of having every senator of the
United States dispose of such callers in the same way.
Foreign men of letters, with whom Sumner's acquaintance was very
wide, were always among his most valued guests. A story is told
of Thackeray's visit to Washington, which I distrust only for the
reason that my ideas of Sumner's make-up do not assign him the
special kind of humor which the story brings out. He was, however,
quoted as saying, "Thackeray is one of the most perfect gentlemen
I ever knew. I had a striking illustration of that this morning.
We went out for a walk together and, thoughtlessly, I took him
through Lafayette Square. Shortly after we entered it, I realized
with alarm that we were going directly toward the Jackson statue.
It was too late to retrace our steps, and I wondered what Thackeray
would say when he saw the object. But he passed straight by without
seeming to see it at all, and did not say one word about it."
Sumner was the one man in the Senate whose seat was scarcely ever
vacant during a session. He gave the closest attention to every
subject as it arose. One instance of this is quite in the line of the
present book. About 1867, an association was organized in Washington
under the name of the "American Union Academy of Literature, Science,
and Art." Its projectors were known to few, or none, but themselves.
A number of prominent citizens in various walks of life had been
asked to join it, and several consented without knowing much about
the association. It soon became evident that the academy was desirous
of securing as much publicity as possible through the newspapers
and elsewhere. It was reported that the Secretary of the Treasury
had asked its opinion on some instrument or appliance connected
with the work of his department. Congress was applied to for an
act of incorporation, recognizing it as a scientific adviser of the
government by providing that it should report on subjects submitted
to it by the governmental departments, the intent evidently being
that it should supplant the National Academy of Sciences.
The application to Congress satisfied the two requirements most
essential to favorable consideration. These are that several
respectable citizens want something done, and that there is no one to
come forward and say that he does not want it done. Such being the
case, the act passed the House of Representatives without opposition,
came to the Senate, and was referred to the appropriate committee,
that on education, I believe. It was favorably reported from the
committee and placed on its passage. Up to this point no objection
seems to have been made to it in any quarter. Now, it was challenged
by Mr. Sumner.
The ground taken by the Massachusetts senator was comprehensive
and simple, though possibly somewhat novel. It was, in substance,
that an academy of literature, science, and art, national in its
character, and incorporated by special act of Congress, ought to be
composed of men eminent in the branches to which the academy related.
He thought a body of men consisting very largely of local lawyers,
with scarcely a man of prominence in either of the three branches to
which the academy was devoted, was not the one that should receive
such sanction from the national legislature.
Mr. J. W. Patterson, of New Hampshire, was the principal advocate
of the measure. He claimed that the proposed incorporators were
not all unscientific men, and cited as a single example the name of
O. M. Poe, which appeared among them. This man, he said, was a very
distinguished meteorologist.
This example was rather unfortunate. The fact is, the name in
question was that of a well-known officer of engineers in the
army, then on duty at Washington, who had been invited to join the
academy, and had consented out of good nature without, it seems,
much if any inquiry. It happened that Senator Patterson had, some
time during the winter, made the acquaintance of a West Indian
meteorologist named Poey, who chanced to be spending some time in
Washington, and got him mixed up with the officer of engineers.
The senator also intimated that the gentleman from Massachusetts had
been approached on the subject and was acting under the influence
of others. This suggestion Mr. Sumner repelled, stating that no one
had spoken to him on the subject, that he knew nothing of it until
he saw the bill before them, which seemed to him to be objectionable
for the very reasons set forth. On his motion the bill was laid on
the table, and thus disposed of for good. The academy held meetings
for some time after this failure, but soon disappeared from view,
and was never again heard of.
In the year 1862, a fine-looking young general from the West became
a boarder in the house where I lived, and sat opposite me at table.
His name was James A. Garfield. I believe he had come to Washington
as a member of the court in the case of General Fitz John Porter.
He left after a short time and had, I supposed, quite forgotten
me. But, after his election to Congress, he one evening visited
the observatory, stepped into my room, and recalled our former
acquaintance.
I soon found him to be a man of classical culture, refined tastes,
and unsurpassed eloquence,--altogether, one of the most attractive of
men. On one occasion he told me one of his experiences in the State
legislature of Ohio, of which he was a member before the civil war.
A bill was before the House enacting certain provisions respecting
a depository. He moved, as an amendment, to strike out the word
"depository" and insert "depositary." Supposing the amendment to
be merely one of spelling, there was a general laugh over the house,
with a cry of "Here comes the schoolmaster!" But he insisted on his
point, and sent for a copy of Webster's Dictionary in order that the
two words might be compared. When the definitions were read, the
importance of right spelling became evident, and the laughing stopped.
It has always seemed to me that a rank injustice was done to Garfield
on the occasion of the Credit Mobilier scandal of 1873, which came
near costing him his position in public life. The evidence was of
so indefinite and flimsy a nature that the credence given to the
conclusion from it can only illustrate how little a subject or a
document is exposed to searching analysis outside the precincts of a
law court. When he was nominated for the presidency this scandal was
naturally raked up and much made of it. I was so strongly impressed
with the injustice as to write for a New York newspaper, anonymously
of course, a careful analysis of the evidence, with a demonstration
of its total weakness. Whether the article was widely circulated,
or whether Garfield ever heard of it, I do not know; but it was
amusing, a few days after it appeared, to see a paragraph in an
opposition paper claiming that its contemporary had gone to the
trouble of hiring a lawyer to defend Garfield.
No man better qualified as a legislator ever occupied a seat in
Congress. A man cast in the largest mould, and incapable of a petty
sentiment, his grasp of public affairs was rarely equaled, and his
insight into the effects of legislation was of the deepest. But on
what the author of the Autocrat calls the arithmetical side,--in
the power of judging particular men and not general principles; in
deciding who were the good men and who were not, he fell short of the
ideal suggested by his legislative career. The brief months during
which he administered the highest of offices were stormy enough,
perhaps stormier than any president before him had ever experienced,
and they would probably have been outdone by the years following,
had he lived. But I believe that, had he remained in the Senate,
his name would have gone into history among those of the greatest
of legislators.
Sixteen years after the death of Lincoln public feeling was again
moved to its depth by the assassination of Garfield. The cry
seemed to pass from mouth to mouth through the streets faster than
a messenger could carry the news, "The President has been shot."
It chanced to reach me just as I was entering my office. I at once
summoned my messenger and directed him to go over to the White House,
and see if anything unusual had happened, but gave him no intimation
of my fears. He promptly returned with the confirmation of the
report. The following are extracts from my journal at the time:--
"July 2, Saturday: At 9.20 this morning President Garfield
was shot by a miserable fellow named Guiteau, as he was
passing through the Baltimore and Potomac R. R. station to
leave Washington. One ball went through the upper arm,
making a flesh wound, the other entered the right side
on the back and cannot be found; supposed to have lodged
in the liver. In the course of the day President rapidly
weakened, and supposed to be dying from hemorrhage."
"Sunday morning: President still living and rallied during
the day. Small chance of recovery. At night alarming
symptoms of inflammation were exhibited, and at midnight
his case seemed almost hopeless."
"Monday: President slightly better this morning, improving
throughout the day."
"July 6. This P. M. sought an interview with Dr. Woodward
at the White House, to talk of an apparatus for locating
the ball by its action in retarding a rapidly revolving
el. magnet. I hardly think the plan more than theoretically
practical, owing to the minuteness of the action."
"The President still improving, but great dangers are yet
to come, and nothing has been found of the ball, which
is supposed to have stayed in the liver because, were it
anywhere else, symptoms of irritation by its presence would
have been shown."
"July 9. This is Saturday evening. Met Major Powell at
the Cosmos Club, who told me that they would like to have
me look at the air-cooling projects at the White House.
Published statement that the physicians desired some way to
cool the air of the President's room had brought a crowd of
projects and machines of all kinds. Among other things,
a Mr. Dorsey had got from New York an air compressor such
as is used in the Virginia mines for transferring power,
and was erecting machinery enough for a steamship at the
east end of the house in order to run it."
Dr. Woodward was a surgeon of the army, who had been on duty at
Washington since the civil war, in charge of the Army Medical Museum.
Among his varied works here, that in micro-photography, in which
he was a pioneer, gave him a wide reputation. His high standing
led to his being selected as one of the President's physicians.
To him I wrote a note, offering to be of any use I could in the
matter of cooling the air of the President's chamber. He promptly
replied with a request to visit the place, and see what was being
done and what suggestions I could make. Mr. Dorsey's engine at the
east end was dispensed with after a long discussion, owing to the
noise it would make and the amount of work necessary to its final
installation and operation.
Among the problems with which the surgeons had to wrestle was that
of locating the ball. The question occurred to me whether it was
not possible to do so by the influence produced by the action of
a metallic conductor in retarding the motion of a rapidly revolving
magnet, but the effect would be so small, and the apparatus to be made
so delicate, that I was very doubtful about the matter. If there
was any one able to take hold of the project successfully, I knew
it would be Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the telephone.
When I approached him on the subject, he suggested that the idea
of locating the ball had also occurred to him, and that he thought
the best apparatus for the purpose was a telephonic one which had
been recently developed by Mr. Hughes. As there could be no doubt
of the superiority of his project, I dropped mine, and he went
forward with his. In a few days an opportunity was given him for
actually trying it. The result, though rather doubtful, seemed to
be that the ball was located where the surgeons supposed it to be.
When the autopsy showed that their judgment had been at fault,
Mr. Bell admitted his error to Dr. Woodward, adding some suggestion
as to its cause. "Expectant attention," was Woodward's reply.
I found in the basement of the house an apparatus which had been
brought over by a Mr. Jennings from Baltimore, which was designed
to cool the air of dairies or apartments. It consisted of an iron
box, two or three feet square, and some five feet long. In this
box were suspended cloths, kept cool and damp by the water from
melting ice contained in a compartment on top of the box. The air
was driven through the box by a blower, and cooled by contact with
the wet cloths. But no effect was being produced on the temperature
of the room.
One conversant with physics will see one fatal defect in this
appliance. The cold of the ice, if I may use so unscientific an
expression, went pretty much to waste. The air was in contact,
not with the ice, as it should have been, but with ice-water, which
had already absorbed the latent heat of melting.
Evidently the air should be passed over the unmelted ice.
The question was how much ice would be required to produce the
necessary cooling? To settle this, I instituted an experiment.
A block of ice was placed in an adjoining room in a current of
air with such an arrangement that, as it melted, the water would
trickle into a vessel below. After a certain number of minutes
the melted water was measured, then a simple computation led to a
knowledge of how much heat was absorbed from the air per minute by
a square foot of the surface of the ice. From this it was easy to
calculate from the known thermal capacity of air, and the quantity
of the latter necessary per minute, how many feet of cooling surface
must be exposed. I was quite surprised at the result. A case of
ice nearly as long as an ordinary room, and large enough for men
to walk about in it, must be provided. This was speedily done,
supports were erected for the blocks of ice, the case was placed at
the end of Mr. Jennings's box, and everything gotten in readiness
for directing the air current through the receptacle, and into the
room through tubes which had already been prepared.
It happened that Mr. Jennings's box was on the line along which the
air was being conducted, and I was going to get it out of the way.
The owner implored that it should be allowed to remain, suggesting
that the air might just as well as not continue to pass through it.
The surroundings were those in which one may be excused for not
being harsh. Such an outpouring of sympathy on the part of the
public had never been seen in Washington since the assassination
of Lincoln. Those in charge were overwhelmed with every sort of
contrivance for relieving the sufferings of the illustrious patient.
Such disinterested efforts in behalf of a public and patriotic
object had never been seen. Mr. Jennings had gone to the trouble
and expense of bringing his apparatus all the way from Baltimore to
Washington in order to do what in him lay toward the end for which all
were striving. To leave his box in place could not do the slightest
harm, and would be a gratification to him. So I let it stand,
and the air continued to pass through it on its way to the ice chest.
While these arrangements were in progress three officers of engineers
of the navy reported under orders at the White House, to do what
they could toward the cooling of the air. They were Messrs. William
L. Baillie, Richard Inch, and W. S. Moore. All four of us coöperated
in the work in a most friendly way, and when we got through we made
our reports to the Navy Department. A few weeks later these reports
were printed in a pamphlet, partly to correct a wrong impression
about the Jennings cold-box. Regular statements had appeared in the
local evening paper that the air was being cooled by this useless
contrivance. Their significance first came out several months
later, on the occasion of an exhibition of mechanical or industrial
implements at Boston. Among these was Mr. Jennings's cold-box,
which was exhibited as the instrument that had cooled the air of
President Garfield's chamber.
More light yet was thrown on the case when the question of rewarding
those who had taken part in treating the President, or alleviating
his sufferings in any way, came before Congress. Mr. Jennings was,
I believe, among the claimants. Congress found the task of making
the proper awards to each individual to be quite beyond its power
at the time, so a lump sum was appropriated, to be divided by the
Treasury Department according to its findings in each particular case.
Before the work of making the awards was completed, I left on the
expedition to the Cape of Good Hope to observe the transit of Venus,
and never learned what had been done with the claims of Mr. Jennings.
It might naturally be supposed that when an official report to
the Navy Department showed that he had no claims whatever except
those of a patriotic citizen who had done his best, which was just
nothing at all, to promote the common end, the claim would have
received little attention. Possibly this may have been the case.
But I do not know what the outcome of the matter was.
Shortly after the death of the President, I had a visit from an
inventor who had patented a method of cooling the air of a room
by ice. He claimed that our work at the Executive Mansion was an
infringement on his patent. I replied that I could not see how
any infringement was possible, because we had gone to work in the
most natural way, without consulting any previous process whatever,
or even knowing of the existence of a patent. Surely the operation
of passing air over ice to cool it could not be patentable.
He invited me to read over the statement of his claims. I found that
although this process was not patented in terms, it was practically
patented by claiming about every possible way in which ice could be
arranged for cooling purposes. Placing the ice on supports was one
of his claims; this we had undoubtedly done, because otherwise the
process could not have been carried out. In a word, the impression
I got was that the only sure way of avoiding an infringement would
have been to blindfold the men who put the ice in the box, and ask
them to throw it in pellmell. Every method of using judgment in
arranging the blocks of ice he had patented.
I had to acknowledge that his claim of infringement might have
some foundation, and inquired what he proposed to do in the case.
He replied that he did not wish to do more than have his priority
recognized in the matter. I replied that I had no objection to his
doing this in any way he could, and he took his leave. Nothing more,
so far as I am aware, was done in his case. But I was much impressed
by this as by other examples I have had of the same kind, of the
loose way in which our Patent Office sometimes grants patents.
I do not think the history of any modern municipality can show an
episode more extraordinary or, taken in connection with its results,
more instructive than what is known as the "Shepherd régime" in
Washington. What is especially interesting about it is the opposite
views that can be taken of the same facts. As to the latter there
is no dispute. Yet, from one point of view, Shepherd made one of
the most disastrous failures on record in attempting to carry out
great works, while, from another point of view, he is the author of
the beautiful Washington of to-day, and entitled to a public statue
in recognition of his services. As I was a resident of the city
and lived in my own house, I was greatly interested in the proposed
improvements, especially of the particular street on which I lived.
I was also an eye-witness to so much of the whole history as the
public was cognizant of. The essential facts of the case, from the
two, opposing points of view, are exceedingly simple.
One fact is the discreditable condition of the streets of Washington
during and after the civil war. The care of these was left entirely
to the local municipality. Congress, so far as I know, gave no aid
except by paying its share of street improvements in front of the
public buildings. It was quite out of the power of the residents,
who had but few men of wealth among them, to make the city what it
ought to be. Congress showed no disposition to come to the help of
the citizens in this task.
In 1871, however, some public-spirited citizens took the matter in
hand and succeeded in having a new government established, which
was modeled after that of the territories of the United States.
There was a governor, a legislature, and a board of public works.
The latter was charged with the improvements of the streets, and
the governor was _ex officio_ its president. The first governor was
Henry D. Cooke, the banker, and Mr. Shepherd was vice-president of
the board of public works and its leading member. Mr. Cooke resigned
after a short term, and Mr. Shepherd was promoted to his place.
He was a plumber and gas-fitter by trade, and managed the leading
business in his line in Washington. Through the two or three years
of his administration the city directory still contained the entry--
Shepherd, Alex. R. & Co., plumbers and gas-fitters, 910 Pa. Ave. N. W.
In recent years he had added to his plumbing business that of erecting
houses for sale. He had had no experience in the conduct of public
business, and, of course, was neither an engineer nor a financier.
But such was the energy of his character and his personal influence,
that he soon became practically the whole government, which he ran in
his own way, as if it were simply his own business enlarged. Of the
conditions which the law imposes on contracts, of the numerous and
complicated problems of engineering involved in the drainage and
street systems of a great city, of the precautions to be taken in
preparing plans for so immense a work, and of the legal restraints
under which it should be conducted, he had no special knowledge.
But he had in the highest degree a quality which will bear different
designations according to the point of view. His opponents would call
it unparalleled recklessness; his supporters, boldness and enterprise.
Such were the preliminaries. Three years later the results of his
efforts were made known by an investigating committee of Congress,
with Senator Allison, a political friend, at its head. It was
found that with authority to expend $6,000,000 in the improvement
of the streets, there was an actual or supposed expenditure of
more than $18,000,000, and a crowd of additional claims which no
man could estimate, based on the work of more than one thousand
principal contractors and an unknown number of purchasers and
sub-contractors. Chaos reigned supreme. Some streets were still
torn up and impassable; others completely paved, but done so badly
that the pavements were beginning to rot almost before being pressed
by a carriage. A debt had been incurred which it was impossible
for the local municipality to carry and which was still piling up.
For all this Congress was responsible, and manfully shouldered
its responsibility. Mr. Shepherd was legislated out of office as
an act of extreme necessity, by the organization of a government
at the head of which were three commissioners. The feeling on the
subject may be inferred from the result when President Grant, who
had given Shepherd his powerful support all through, nominated him as
one of the three commissioners. The Senate rejected the nomination,
with only some half dozen favorable votes.
The three commissioners took up the work and carried it on in a
conservative way. Congress came to the help of the municipality by
bearing one half the taxation of the District, on the very sound
basis that, as it owned about one half of the property, it should
pay one half the taxes.
The spirit of the time is illustrated by two little episodes.
The reservation on which the public library founded by Mr. Carnegie
is now built, was then occupied by the Northern Liberties Market,
one of the three principal markets of the city. Being a public
reservation, it had no right to remain there except during the
pleasure of the authorities. Due notice was given to the marketmen
to remove the structures. The owners were dilatory in doing so, and
probably could not see why they should be removed when the ground was
not wanted for any other purpose, and before they had time to find
a new location. It was understood that, if an attempt was made to
remove the buildings, the marketmen would apply to the courts for
an injunction. To prevent this, an arrangement was made by which
the destruction of the buildings was to commence at dinner-time.
At the same time, according to current report, it was specially
arranged that all the judges to whom an application could be made
should be invited out to dinner. However this may have been, a large
body of men appeared upon the scene in the course of the evening
and spent the night in destroying the buildings. With such energy
was the work carried on that one marketman was killed and another
either wounded or seriously injured in trying to save their wares
from destruction. The indignation against Shepherd was such that
his life was threatened, and it was even said that a body-guard of
soldiers had to be supplied by the War Department for his protection.
The other event was as comical as this was tragic. It occurred
while the investigating committee of Congress was at its work.
The principal actors in the case were Mr. Harrington, secretary
of the local government and one of Mr. Shepherd's assistants, the
chief of police, and a burglar. Harrington produced an anonymous
letter, warning him that an attempt would be made in the course of
a certain night to purloin from the safe in which they were kept,
certain government papers, which the prosecutors of the case against
Shepherd were anxious to get hold of. He showed this letter to
the chief of police, who was disposed to make light of the matter.
But on Harrington's urgent insistence the two men kept watch about the
premises on the night in question. They were in the room adjoining
that in which the records were kept, and through which the robber
would have to pass. In due time the latter appeared, passed through
the room and proceeded to break into the safe. The chief wanted to
arrest him immediately, but Harrington asked him to wait, in order
that they might see what the man was after, and especially what he
did with the books. So they left and took their stations outside
the door. The burglar left the building with the books in a satchel,
and, stepping outside, was confronted by the two men.
I believe every burglar of whom history or fiction has kept any
record, whether before or after this eventful night, when he broke
open a safe and, emerging with his booty, found himself confronted by
a policeman, took to his heels. Not so this burglar. He walked up
to the two men, and with the utmost unconcern asked if they could
tell him where Mr. Columbus Alexander lived. Mr. Alexander, it
should be said, was the head man in the prosecution. The desired
information being conveyed to the burglar, he went on his way
to Mr. Alexander's house, followed by the two agents of the law.
Arriving there, he rang the bell.
In the ordinary course of events, Mr. Alexander or some member of his
family would have come to the door and been informed that the caller
had a bundle for him. A man just awakened from a sound sleep and
coming downstairs rubbing his eyes, would not be likely to ask any
questions of such a messenger, but would accept the bundle and lock
the door again. Then what a mess the prosecution would have been in!
Its principal promoter detected in collusion with a burglar in order
to get possession of the documents necessary to carry on his case!
It happened, however, that Mr. Alexander and the members of his
household all slept the sleep of the just and did not hear the bell.
The patience of the policeman was exhausted and the burglar was
arrested and lodged in jail, where he was kept for several months.
Public curiosity to hear the burglar's story was brought to a
high pitch, but never gratified. Before the case came to trial
the prisoner was released on straw bail and never again found.
I do not think the bottom facts, especially those connected with
the anonymous letter, were ever brought to light. So every one
was left to form his own theory of what has since been known as the
"Safe Burglary Conspiracy."
What seems at present the fashionable way of looking at the facts
is this: Shepherd was the man who planned the beautiful Washington
of to-day, and who carried out his project with unexampled energy
until he was stopped through the clamor of citizens who did not
want to see things go ahead so fast. Other people took the work up,
but they only carried out Shepherd's ideas. The latter, therefore,
should have all the credit due to the founder of the new Washington.
The story has always seemed to me most interesting as an example
of the way in which public judgment of men and things is likely to
be influenced. Public sentiment during the thirty years which have
since elapsed has undergone such a revolution in favor of Shepherd
that a very likely outcome will be a monument to commemorate his work.
But it is worth while to notice the mental processes by which the
public now reaches this conclusion. It is the familiar and ordinarily
correct method of putting this and that together.
_This_ is one of the most beautiful cities in the United States,
of which Americans generally are proud when they pay it a visit.
_That_ is the recollection of the man who commenced the work of
transforming an unsightly, straggling, primitive town into the
present Washington, and was condemned for what he did.
These two considerations form the basis of the conclusion, all
intermediate details dropping out of sight and memory. The reckless
maladministration of the epoch, making it absolutely necessary to
introduce a new system, has no place in the picture.
There is also a moral to the story, which is more instructive
than pleasant. The actors in the case no doubt believed that if
they set about their work in a conservative and law-abiding way,
spending only as much money as could be raised, Congress would
never come to their help. So they determined to force the game,
by creating a situation which would speedily lead to the correct
solution of the problem. I do not think any observant person will
contest the proposition that had Shepherd gone about his work and
carried it to a successful conclusion in a peaceable and law-abiding
way,--had he done nothing to excite public attention except wisely
and successfully to administer a great public work,--his name would
now have been as little remembered in connection with what he did as
we remember those of Ketchem, Phelps, and the other men who repaired
the wreck he left and made the city what it is to-day.
In my mind one question dominates all others growing out of the
case: What will be the moral effect on our children of holding up
for their imitation such methods as I have described?
XIII
MISCELLANEA
If the "Great Star-Catalogue Case" is not surrounded with such mystery
as would entitle it to a place among _causes célèbres_, it may well
be so classed on account of the novelty of the questions at issue.
It affords an instructive example of the possibility of cases in
which strict justice cannot be done through the established forms
of legal procedure. It is also of scientific interest because,
although the question was a novel one to come before a court, it
belongs to a class which every leader in scientific investigation
must constantly encounter in meting out due credit to his assistants.
The plaintiff, Christian H. F. Peters, was a Dane by birth, and
graduated at the University of Berlin in 1836. During the earlier
years of his manhood he was engaged in the trigonometrical survey
of the kingdom of Naples, where, for a time, he had charge of an
observatory or some other astronomical station. It is said that, like
many other able European youth of the period, he was implicated in
the revolution of 1848, and had to flee the kingdom in consequence.
Five years later, he came to the United States. Here his first
patron was Dr. B. A. Gould, who procured for him first a position
on the Coast Survey, and then one as his assistant at the Dudley
Observatory in Albany. He was soon afterward appointed professor
of astronomy and director of the Litchfield Observatory at Hamilton
College, where he spent the remaining thirty years of his life.
He was a man of great learning, not only in subjects pertaining
to astronomy, but in ancient and modern languages. The means at
his disposal were naturally of the slenderest kind; but he was the
discoverer of some forty asteroids, and devoted himself to various
astronomical works and researches with great ability.
Of his personality it may be said that it was extremely agreeable so
long as no important differences arose. What it would be in such a
case can be judged by what follows. Those traits of character which
in men like him may be smoothed down to a greater or less extent
by marital discipline were, in the absence of any such agency,
maintained in all their strength to his latest years.
The defendant, Charles A. Borst, was a graduate of the college and had
been a favorite pupil of Peters. He was a man of extraordinary energy
and working capacity, ready to take hold in a business-like way of
any problem presented to him, but not an adept at making problems for
himself. His power of assimilating learning was unusually developed;
and this, combined with orderly business habits, made him a most
effective and valuable assistant. The terms of his employment were
of the first importance in the case. Mr. Litchfield of New York was
the patron of the observatory; he had given the trustees of Hamilton
College a capital for its support, which sufficed to pay the small
salary of the director and some current expenses, and he also, when
the latter needed an assistant, made provision for his employment.
It appears that, in the case of Borst, Peters frequently paid his
salary for considerable periods at a time, which sums were afterward
reimbursed to him by Mr. Litchfield.
I shall endeavor to state the most essential facts involved as they
appear from a combination of the sometimes widely different claims
of the two parties, with the hope of showing fairly what they were,
but without expecting to satisfy a partisan of either side. Where an
important difference of statement is irreconcilable, I shall point
it out.
In his observations of asteroids Peters was continually obliged to
search through the pages of astronomical literature to find whether
the stars he was using in observation had ever been catalogued.
He long thought that it would be a good piece of work to search
all the astronomical journals and miscellaneous collections of
observations with a view of making a complete catalogue of the
positions of the thousands of stars which they contained, and
publishing it in a single volume for the use of astronomers situated
as he was. The work of doing this was little more than one of routine
search and calculation, which any well-trained youth could take up;
but it was naturally quite without the power of Peters to carry it
through with his own hand. He had employed at least one former
assistant on the work, Professor John G. Porter, but very little
progress was made. Now, however, he had a man with the persistence
and working capacity necessary to carry out the plan.
There was an irreconcilable difference between the two parties as
to the terms on which Borst went to work. According to the latter,
Peters suggested to him the credit which a young man would gain as
one of the motives for taking up the job. But plaintiff denied
that he had done anything more than order him to do it. He did
not, however, make it clear why an assistant at the Litchfield
Observatory should be officially ordered to do a piece of work for
the use of astronomy generally, and having no special connection
with the Litchfield Observatory.
However this may be, Borst went vigorously to work, repeating all the
calculations which had been made by Peters and former assistants,
with a view of detecting errors, and took the work home with him
in order that his sisters might make a great mass of supplementary
calculations which, though not involved in the original plan,
would be very conducive to the usefulness of the result. One or
two of these bright young ladies worked for about a year at the job.
How far Peters was privy to what they did was not clear; according
to his claim he did not authorize their employment to do anything
but copy the catalogue.
By the joint efforts of the assistant and his two sisters,
working mostly or entirely at their own home, the work was
brought substantially to a conclusion about the beginning of 1888.
Borst then reported the completion to his chief and submitted a
proposed title-page, which represented that the work was performed
by Charles A. Borst under the direction of Christian H. F. Peters,
Professor of Astronomy, etc. According to Borst's account, Peters
tore up the paper, opened the stove door, put the fragments into
the fire, and then turned on the assistant with the simple order,
"Bring me the catalogue!"
This was refused, and a suit in replevin was immediately instituted
by Peters. The ablest counsel were engaged on both sides. That of
the plaintiff was Mr. Elihu Root, of New York, afterward Secretary of
War, one of the leading members of the New York bar, and well known
as an active member of the reform branch of the Republican party of
that city. For the defendant was the law firm of an ex-senator of
the United States, the Messrs. Kernan of Utica.
I think the taking of evidence and the hearing of arguments occupied
more than a week. One claim of the defendant would, if accepted,
have brought the suit to a speedy end. Peters was an employee
of the corporation of Hamilton College, and by the terms of his
appointment all his work at the Litchfield Observatory belonged to
that institution. Borst was summoned into the case as an official
employee of the Litchfield Observatory. Therefore the corporation of
the college was the only authority which had power to bring the suit.
But this point was disposed of by a decision of the judge that it was
not reasonable, in view of the low salary received by the plaintiff,
to deprive him of the right to the creations of his own talent.
He did not, however, apply this principle of legal interpretation to
the case of the defendant, and not only found for the plaintiff, but
awarded damages based on the supposed value of the work, including,
if I understand the case aright, the value of the work done by the
young ladies. It would seem, however, that in officially perfecting
the details of his decision he left it a little indefinite as to
what papers the plaintiff was entitled to, it being very difficult
to describe in detail papers many of which he had never seen.
Altogether it may be feared that the decision treated the catalogue
much as the infant was treated by the decision of Solomon.
However this might he, the decision completely denied any right of
the defendant in the work. This feature of it I thought very unjust,
and published in a Utica paper a review of the case in terms not quite
so judicial as I ought to have chosen. I should have thought such a
criticism quite a breach of propriety, and therefore would never have
ventured upon it but for an eminent example then fresh in my mind.
Shortly after the Supreme Court of the United States uttered its
celebrated decision upholding the constitutionality of the Legal
Tender Act, I happened to be conversing at an afternoon reception
with one of the judges, Gray, who had sustained the decision.
Mr. George Bancroft, the historian, stepped up, and quite surprised
me by expressing to the judge in quite vigorous language his strong
dissent from the decision. He soon afterward published a pamphlet
reviewing it adversely. I supposed that what Mr. Bancroft might do
with a decision of the Supreme Court of the United States, a humbler
individual might be allowed to do with the decision of a local New
York judge.
The defense appealed the case to a higher court of three judges,
where the finding of the lower court was sustained by a majority
of two to one. It was then carried to the Court of Appeals, the
highest in the State. Here the decision was set aside on what
seemed to me the common sense ground that the court had ignored
the rights of the defendant in the case, who certainly had some,
and it must therefore be remanded for a new trial.
Meantime Peters had died; and it is painful to think that his death
may have been accelerated by the annoyances growing out of the suit.
One morning, in the summer of 1890, he was found dead on the steps of
his little dwelling, having apparently fallen in a fit of apoplexy
or heart failure as he was on his way to the observatory the night
before. His heirs had no possible object in pushing the suit;
probably his entire little fortune was absorbed in the attendant
expenses.
When the difference with Borst was first heard of it was, I think,
proposed to Peters by several of his friends, including myself, that
the matter should be submitted to an arbitration of astronomers.
But he would listen to nothing of the sort. He was determined to
enforce his legal rights by legal measures. A court of law was,
in such a case, at an enormous disadvantage, as compared with
an astronomical board of arbitration. To the latter all the
circumstances would have been familiar and simple, while the
voluminous evidence, elucidated as it was by the arguments of
counsel on the two sides, failed to completely enlighten the court
on the points at issue. One circumstance will illustrate this.
Some allusion was made during the trial to Peters's work while he was
abroad, in investigating the various manuscripts of the Almagest of
Ptolemy and preparing a commentary and revised edition of Ptolemy's
Catalogue of Stars. This would have been an extremely important and
original work, most valuable in the history of ancient astronomy.
But the judge got it mixed up in his mind with the work before the
court, and actually supposed that Peters spent his time in Europe
in searching ancient manuscripts to get material for the catalogue
in question. He also attributed great importance to the conception of
the catalogue, forgetting that, to use the simile of a writer in the
"New York Evening Post," such a conception was of no more value than
the conception of a railroad from one town to another by a man who
had no capital to build it. No original investigation was required
on one side or the other. It was simply a huge piece of work done
by a young man with help from his sisters, suggested by Peters,
and now and then revised by him in its details. It seemed to me
that the solution offered by Borst was eminently proper, and I was
willing to say so, probably at the expense of Peters's friendship,
on which I set a high value.
I have always regarded the work on Ptolemy's catalogue of stars,
to which allusion has just been made, as the most important Peters
ever undertook. It comprised a critical examination and comparison
of all the manuscripts of the Almagest in the libraries of Europe,
or elsewhere, whether in Arabic or other languages, with a view
of learning what light might be thrown on the doubtful questions
growing out of Ptolemy's work. At the Litchfield Observatory I
had an opportunity of examining the work, especially the extended
commentaries on special points, and was so impressed by the learning
shown in the research as to express a desire for its speedy completion
and publication. In fact, Peters had already made one or more
communications to the National Academy of Sciences on the subject,
which were supposed to be equivalent to presenting the work to the
academy for publication. But before the academy put in any claim for
the manuscript, Mr. E. B. Knobel of London, a well-known member of
the Royal Astronomical Society, wrote to Peters's executors, stating
that he was a collaborator with Peters in preparing the work, and
as such had a claim to it, and wished to complete it. He therefore
asked that the papers should be sent to him. This was done, but
during the twelve years which have since elapsed, nothing more has
been heard of the work. No one, so far as I know, ever heard of
Peters's making any allusion to Mr. Knobel or any other collaborator.
He seems to have always spoken of the work as exclusively his own.
Among the psychological phenomena I have witnessed, none has appeared
to me more curious than a susceptibility of certain minds to become
imbued with a violent antipathy to the theory of gravitation.
The anti-gravitation crank, as he is commonly called, is a regular
part of the astronomer's experience. He is, however, only one of a
large and varied class who occupy themselves with what an architect
might consider the drawing up of plans and specifications for a
universe. This is, no doubt, quite a harmless occupation; but the
queer part of it is the seeming belief of the architects that the
actual universe has been built on their plans, and runs according to
the laws which they prescribe for it. Ether, atoms, and nebulæ are
the raw material of their trade. Men of otherwise sound intellect,
even college graduates and lawyers, sometimes engage in this business.
I have often wondered whether any of these men proved that, in all
the common schools of New York, the power which conjugates the verbs
comes, through some invisible conduit in the earth, from the falls
of Niagara. This would be quite like many of the theories propounded.
Babbage's "Budget of Paradoxes" is a goodly volume descriptive of
efforts of this sort. It was supplemented a year or two ago by
a most excellent and readable article on eccentric literature, by
Mr. John Fiske, which appeared in the "Atlantic Monthly." Here the
author discussed the subject so well that I do not feel like saying
much about it, beyond giving a little of my own experience.
Naturally the Smithsonian Institution was, and I presume still is,
the great authority to which these men send their productions.
It was generally a rule of Professor Henry always to notice
these communications and try to convince the correspondents of
their fallacies. Many of the papers were referred to me; but a
little experience showed that it was absolutely useless to explain
anything to these "paradoxers." Generally their first communication
was exceedingly modest in style, being evidently designed to lead on
the unwary person to whom it was addressed. Moved to sympathy with
so well-meaning but erring an inquirer, I would point out wherein
his reasoning was deficient or his facts at fault. Back would come
a thunderbolt demonstrating my incapacity to deal with the subject
in terms so strong that I could not have another word to say.
The American Association for the Advancement of Science was another
attraction for such men. About thirty years ago there appeared at
one of its meetings a man from New Jersey who was as much incensed
against the theory of gravitation as if it had been the source of
all human woe. He got admission to the meetings, as almost any one
can, but the paper he proposed to read was refused by the committee.
He watched his chance, however, and when discussion on some paper was
invited, he got up and began with the words, "It seems to me that
the astronomers of the present day have gravitation on the brain."
This was the beginning of an impassioned oration which went on in an
unbroken torrent until he was put down by a call for the next paper.
But he got his chance at last. A meeting of Section Q was called;
what this section was the older members will recall and the reader
may be left to guess. A programme of papers had been prepared,
and on it appeared Mr. Joseph Treat, on Gravitation. Mr. Treat got
up with great alacrity, and, amid the astonishment and laughter of
all proceeded to read his paper with the utmost seriousness.
I remember a visit from one of these men with great satisfaction,
because, apparently, he was an exception to the rule in being
amenable to reason. I was sitting in my office one morning when a
modest-looking gentleman opened the door and looked in.
"I would like to see Professor Newcomb."
"Well, here he is."
"You Professor Newcomb?"
"Yes."
"Professor, I have called to tell you that I don't believe in Sir
Isaac Newton's theory of gravitation!"
"Don't believe in gravitation! Suppose you jump out of that window
and see whether there is any gravitation or not."
"But I don't mean that. I mean"--
"But that is all there is in the theory of gravitation; if you jump
out of the window you'll fall to the ground."
"I don't mean that. What I mean is I don't believe in the Newtonian
theory that gravitation goes up to the moon. It does n't extend
above the air."
"Have you ever been up there to see?"
There was an embarrassing pause, during which the visitor began to
look a little sheepish.
"N-no-o," he at length replied.
"Well, I have n't been there either, and until one of us can get up
there to try the experiment, I don't believe we shall ever agree on
the subject."
He took his leave without another word.
The idea that the facts of nature are to be brought out by
observation is one which is singularly foreign not only to people
of this class, but even to many sensible men. When the great comet
of 1882 was discovered in the neighborhood of the sun, the fact was
telegraphed that it might be seen with the naked eye, even in the
sun's neighborhood. A news reporter came to my office with this
statement, and wanted to know if it was really true that a comet
could be seen with the naked eye right alongside the sun.
"I don't know," I replied; "suppose you go out and look for yourself;
that is the best way to settle the question."
The idea seemed to him to be equally amusing and strange, and on
the basis of that and a few other insipid remarks, he got up an
interview for the "National Republican" of about a column in length.
I think there still exists somewhere in the Northwest a communistic
society presided over by a genius whose official name is Koresh,
and of which the religious creed has quite a scientific turn.
Its fundamental doctrine is that the surface of the earth on which
we live is the inside of a hollow sphere, and therefore concave,
instead of convex, as generally supposed. The oddest feature of
the doctrine is that Koresh professes to have proved it by a method
which, so far as the geometry of it goes, is more rigorous than any
other that science has ever applied. The usual argument by which we
prove to our children the earth's rotundity is not purely geometric.
When, standing on the seashore, we see the sails of a ship on
the sea horizon, her hull being hidden because it is below, the
inference that this is due to the convexity of the surface is based
on the idea that light moves in a straight line. If a ray of light
is curved toward the surface, we should have the same appearance,
although the earth might be perfectly flat. So the Koresh people
professed to have determined the figure of the earth's surface by
the purely geometric method of taking long, broad planks, perfectly
squared at the two ends, and using them as a geodicist uses his base
apparatus. They were mounted on wooden supports and placed end to
end, so as to join perfectly. Then, geometrically, the two would
be in a straight line. Then the first plank was picked up, carried
forward, and its end so placed against that of the second as to fit
perfectly; thus the continuation of a straight line was assured.
So the operation was repeated by continually alternating the planks.
Recognizing the fact that the ends might not be perfectly square,
the planks were turned upside down in alternate settings, so that
any defect of this sort would be neutralized. The result was that,
after they had measured along a mile or two, the plank was found to
be gradually approaching the sea sand until it touched the ground.
This quasi-geometric proof was to the mind of Koresh positive.
A horizontal straight line continued does not leave the earth's
surface, but gradually approaches it. It does not seem that the
measurers were psychologists enough to guard against the effect of
preconceived notions in the process of applying their method.
It is rather odd that pure geometry has its full share of paradoxers.
Runkle's "Mathematical Monthly" received a very fine octavo volume,
the printing of which must have been expensive, by Mr. James Smith,
a respectable merchant of Liverpool. This gentleman maintained that
the circumference of a circle was exactly 3 1/5 times its diameter.
He had pestered the British Association with his theory, and come
into collision with an eminent mathematician whose name he did
not give, but who was very likely Professor DeMorgan. The latter
undertook the desperate task of explaining to Mr. Smith his error,
but the other evaded him at every point, much as a supple lad might
avoid the blows of a prize-fighter. As in many cases of this kind,
the reasoning was enveloped in a mass of verbiage which it was very
difficult to strip off so as to see the real framework of the logic.
When this was done, the syllogism would be found to take this very
simple form:--
The ratio of the circumference to the diameter is the same in all
circles. Now, take a diameter of 1 and draw round it a circumference
of 3 1/5. In that circle the ratio is 3 1/5; therefore, by the
major premise, that is the ratio for all circles.
The three famous problems of antiquity, the duplication of the cube,
the quadrature of the circle, and the trisection of the angle, have
all been proved by modern mathematics to be insoluble by the rule
and compass, which are the instruments assumed in the postulates
of Euclid. Yet the problem of the trisection is frequently attacked
by men of some mathematical education. I think it was about 1870
that I received from Professor Henry a communication coming from
some institution of learning in Louisiana or Texas. The writer
was sure he had solved the problem, and asked that it might receive
the prize supposed to be awarded by governments for the solution.
The construction was very complicated, and I went over the whole
demonstration without being able at first to detect any error.
So it was necessary to examine it yet more completely and take it
up point by point. At length I found the fallacy to be that three
lines which, as drawn, intersected in what was to the eye the same
point on the paper, were assumed to intersect mathematically in
one and the same point. Except for the complexity of the work,
the supposed construction would have been worthy of preservation.
Some years later I received, from a teacher, I think, a supposed
construction, with the statement that he had gone over it very
carefully and could find no error. He therefore requested me to
examine it and see whether there was anything wrong. I told him in
reply that his work showed that he was quite capable of appreciating
a geometric demonstration; that there was surely something wrong in
it, because the problem was known to be insoluble, and I would like
him to try again to see if he could not find his error. As I never
again heard from him, I suppose he succeeded.
One of the most curious of these cases was that of a student, I am not
sure but a graduate, of the University of Virginia, who claimed that
geometers were in error in assuming that a line had no thickness.
He published a school geometry based on his views, which received
the endorsement of a well-known New York school official and, on
the basis of this, was actually endorsed, or came very near being
endorsed, as a text-book in the public schools of New York.
From my correspondence, I judge that every civilized country has
its share of these paradoxers. I am almost constantly in receipt
of letters not only from America, but from Europe and Asia, setting
forth their views. The following are a few of these productions
which arrived in the course of a single season.
Baltimore, Sept. 29, 1897.
104 Collington Ave.
Prof. Simon Newcomb:
_Dear Sir_,--Though a stranger to you, Sir, I take the liberty
to enlist your interest in a Cause,--so grand, so beautiful,
as to eclipse anything ever presented to the highest tribunal
of human intellect and intuition.
Trusting you to be of liberal mind, Sir, I have mailed you
specimen copy of the "Banner of Light," which will prove
somewhat explanatory of my previous remarks.
Being a student of Nature and her wonderful laws, as they
operate in that subtle realm of human life,--the soul,
for some years, I feel well prepared to answer inquiries
pertaining to this almost unknown field of scientific
research, and would do so with much pleasure, as I am
desirous to contribute my mite to the enlightenment of
mankind upon this most important of all subjects.
Yours very truly, ------ ------
P. S.--Would be pleased to hear from you, Sir.
Mexico, 16 Oct. 1897.
Dear Sir,--I beg to inform you that I have forwarded by to
days mail to your adress a copy of my 20th Century planetary
spectacle with a clipping of a german newspaper here.
Thirty hours for 3000 years is to day better accepted than
it was 6 years ago when I wrote it, although it called even
then for some newspaper comment, especially after President
Cleveland's election, whose likeness has been recognized on
the back cover, so has been my comet, which was duly anounced
by an Italian astronomer 48 hours before said election.
A hint of Jupiters fifth satelite and Mars satelites is
also to be found in my planetary spectacle but the most
striking feature of such a profetic play is undoubtedly
the Allegory of the Paris fire my entire Mercury scene and
next to it is the Mars scene with the wholesale retreat of
the greecs that is just now puzzling some advanced minds.
Of cours the musical satelites represent at the same time the
european concert with the disgusted halfuroons face in one
corner and Egypt next to it and there can be no doubt that
the world is now about getting ready to applaud such a grand
realistic play on the stage after even the school children
of Chicago adopted a great part of my moral scuol-club
(act II) as I see from the Times Herald Oct. 3d. and they
did certainly better than the Mars Fools did in N. Y. 4
years ago with that Dire play, A trip to Mars. The only
question now is to find an enterprising scientist to not
only recomend my play but put some 1500$ up for to stage
it at once perhaps you would be able to do so.
Yours truly
G. A. Kastelic, Hotel Buenavista.
In the following Dr. Diaforus of the _Malade Imaginaire_ seems to
have a formidable rival.
Chicago, Oct. 31, 1897.
Mr. Newcombe:
_Dear Sir_,--I forwarded you photographs of several
designs which demonstrate by illustrations in physics,
metaphysics, phrenology, mechanics, Theology, Law magnetism
Astronomy etc--the only true form and principles of universal
government, and the greatest life sustaining forces in this
universe, I would like to explain to you and to some of the
expert government detectives every thing in connection with
those illustrations since 1881; I have traveled over this
continent; for many years I have been persecuted. my object
in sending you those illustrations is to see if you could
influence some Journalist in this City, or in Washington to
illustrate and write up the interpretation of those designs,
and present them to the public through the press.
You know that very few men can grasp or comprehend in what
relation a plumb line stands to the sciences, or to the
nations of this earth, at the present time, by giving the
correct interpretation of Christian, Hebrew, & Mohammedian
prophesy, this work presents a system of international law
which is destined to create harmony peace and prosperity.
sincerely yours
------ ------
1035 Monadnock Bld
Chicago Ill
C/o L. L. Smith.
P. S. The very law that moulds a tear; and bids it trickel
from its source; that law preserves this earth a sphere,
and guides the planets in their course.
Ord Neb Nove 18, 1897.
Professor Simon Newcomb
Washington D C
_Dear Sir_,--As your labors have enabled me to protect my
honor And prove the Copernican Newton Keplar and Gallileo
theories false I solicit transportation to your department
so that I can come and explain the whole of Nature and so
enable you to obtain the true value of the Moon from both
latitudes at the same instant.
My method of working does not accord with yours Hence will
require more time to comprehend I have asked Professor
James E Keeler to examine the work and forward his report
with this application for transportation
Yours truly ------ ------
One day in July, 1895, I was perplexed by the receipt of a cable
dispatch from Paris in the following terms:--
Will you act? Consult Gould. Furber.
The dispatch was accompanied by the statement that an immediate answer
was requested and prepaid. Dr. Gould being in Cambridge, and I in
Washington, it was not possible to consult him immediately as to what
was meant. After consultation with an official of the Coast Survey,
I reached the conclusion that the request had something to do with
the International Metric Commission, of which Dr. Gould was a member,
and that I was desired to act on some committee. As there could be no
doubt of my willingness to do this, I returned an affirmative answer,
and wrote to Dr. Gould to know exactly what was required. Great was
my surprise to receive an answer stating that he knew nothing of
the subject, and could not imagine what was meant. The mystery
was dispelled a few days later by a visit from Dr. E. R. L. Gould,
the well-known professor of economics, who soon after extended his
activities into the more practical line of the presidency of the
Suburban Homes and Improvement Company of New York. He had just
arrived from Paris, where a movement was on foot to induce the French
government to make such modifications in the regulations governing
the instruction and the degrees at the French universities as would
make them more attractive to American students, who had hitherto
frequented the German universities to the almost entire exclusion
of those of France. It was desired by the movers in the affair to
organize an American committee to act with one already formed at
Paris; and it was desired that I should undertake this work.
I at first demurred on two grounds. I could not see how, with
propriety, Americans could appear as petitioners to the French
government to modify its educational system for their benefit.
Moreover, I did not want to take any position which would involve me
in an effort to draw American students from the German universities.
He replied that neither objection could be urged in the case.
The American committee would act only as an adviser to the French
committee, and its sole purpose was to make known to the latter
what arrangements as regarded studies, examinations, and degrees
would be best adapted to meet the views and satisfy the needs of
American students. There was, moreover, no desire to draw American
students from the German universities; it was only desired to give
them greater facilities in Paris.
The case was fortified by a letter from M. Michel Bréal, member of
the Institute of France, and head of the Franco-American committee,
as it was called in Paris, expressing a very flattering desire that
I should act.
I soon gave my consent, and wrote to the presidents of eight or
ten of our leading universities and several Washington officials
interested in education, to secure their adhesion. With a single
exception, the responses were unanimous in the affirmative, and
I think the exception was due to a misapprehension of the objects
of the movement. The views of all the adhering Americans were then
requested, and a formal meeting was held, at which they were put into
shape. It is quite foreign to my present object to go into details,
as everything of interest in connection with the matter will be
found in educational journals. One point may, however, be mentioned.
The French committee was assured that whatever system of instruction
and of degrees was offered, it must be one in which no distinction
was made between French and foreigners. American students would
not strive for a degree which was especially arranged for them alone.
I soon found that the movement was a much more complex one than it
appeared at first sight, and that all the parties interested in Paris
did not belong to one and the same committee. Not long after we had
put our suggestions into shape, I was gratified by a visit from Dom
de la Tremblay, prior of the Benedictine Convent of Santa Maria, in
Paris, a most philanthropic and attractive gentleman, who desired to
promote the object by establishing a home for the American students
when they should come. Knowing the temptations to which visiting
youth would be exposed, he was desirous of founding an establishment
where they could live in the best and most attractive surroundings.
He confidently hoped to receive the active support of men of wealth
in this country in carrying out his object.
It was a somewhat difficult and delicate matter to explain to the
philanthropic gentleman that American students were not likely to
collect in a home specially provided for them, but would prefer
to find their own home in their own way. I tried to do it with
as little throwing of cold water as was possible, but, I fear,
succeeded only gradually. But after two or three visits to New York
and Washington, it became evident to him that the funds necessary
for his plan could not be raised.
The inception of the affair was still not clear to me. I learned
it in Paris the year following. Then I found that the movement
was started by Mr. Furber, the sender of the telegram, a citizen of
Chicago, who had scarcely attained the prime of life, but was gifted
with that indomitable spirit of enterprise which characterizes
the metropolis of the West. What he saw of the educational
institutions of Paris imbued him with a high sense of their value,
and he was desirous that his fellow-countrymen should share in the
advantages which they offered. To induce them to do this, it was only
necessary that some changes should be made in the degrees and in the
examinations, the latter being too numerous and the degrees bearing no
resemblance to those of Germany and the United States. He therefore
addressed a memorial to the Minister of Public Instruction, who was
much impressed by the view of the case presented to him, and actively
favored the formation of a Franco-American committee to carry out
the object. Everything was gotten ready for action, and it only
remained that the prime mover should submit evidence that educators in
America desired the proposed change, and make known what was wanted.
Why I should have been selected to do this I do not know, but suppose
it may have been because I had just been elected a foreign associate
of the Institute, and was free from trammels which might have hindered
the action of men who held official positions in the government or
at the heads of universities. The final outcome of the affair was
the establishment in the universities of France of the degree of
Doctor of the University, which might be given either in letters
or in science, and which was expected to correspond as nearly as
possible to the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Germany and America.
One feature of the case was brought out which may be worthy of
attention from educators. In a general way it may be said that our
Bachelor's degree does not correspond to any well-defined stage of
education, implying, as it does, something more than that foundation
of a general liberal education which the degree implies in Europe, and
not quite so much as the Doctor's degree. I found it very difficult,
if not impossible, to make our French friends understand that our
American Bachelor's degree was something materially higher than the
Baccalaureate of the French Lycée, which is conferred at the end of
a course midway between our high school and our college.
From education at the Sorbonne I pass to the other extreme.
During a stay in Harper's Ferry in the autumn of 1887, I had an
object lesson in the state of primary education in the mountain
regions of the South. Accompanied by a lady friend, who, like
myself, was fond of climbing the hills, I walked over the Loudon
heights into a sequestered valley, out of direct communication with
the great world. After visiting one or two of the farmhouses, we
came across a school by the roadside. It was the hour of recess,
and the teacher was taking an active part in promoting the games
in which the children were engaged. It was suggested by one of us
that it would be of interest to see the methods of this school; so
we approached the teacher on the subject, who very kindly offered
to call his pupils together and show us his teaching.
First, however, we began to question him as to the subjects of
instruction. The curriculum seemed rather meagre, as he went over it.
I do not think it went beyond the three R's.
"But do you not teach grammar as well as reading?" I asked.
"No, I am sorry to say, I do not. I did want to teach grammar,
but the people all said that they had not been taught grammar, and
had got along very well without it, and did not see why the time of
the children should be taken up by it."
"If you do not teach grammar from the book, you could at least teach
it by practice in composition. Do you not exercise them in writing
compositions?"
"I did try that once, and let me tell you how it turned out. They got
up a story that I was teaching the children to write love letters,
and made such a clamor about it that I had to stop."
He then kindly offered to show us what he did teach. The school was
called together and words to spell were given out from a dictionary.
They had got as far as "patrimony," and went on from that word to a
dozen or so that followed it. The words were spelled by the children
in turn, but nothing was said about the definition or meaning of
the word. He did not explain whether, in the opinion of the parents,
it was feared that disastrous events might follow if the children
knew what a "patrimony" was, but it seems that no objections were
raised to their knowing how to spell it.
We thanked him and took our leave, feeling that we were well repaid
for our visit, however it might have been with the teacher and
his school.
I have never been able to confine my attention to astronomy with
that exclusiveness which is commonly considered necessary to the
highest success in any profession. The lawyer finds almost every
branch of human knowledge to be not only of interest, but of actual
professional value, but one can hardly imagine why an astronomer
should concern himself with things mundane, and especially with
sociological subjects. But there is very high precedent for such
a practice. Quite recently the fact has been brought to light that
the great founder of modern astronomy once prepared for the government
of his native land a very remarkable paper on the habit of debasing
the currency, which was so prevalent during the Middle Ages. [1] The
paper of Copernicus is, I believe, one of the strongest expositions
of the evil of a debased currency that had ever appeared. Its tenor
may be judged by the opening sentence, of which the following is a
free translation:--
Innumerable though the evils are with which kingdoms,
principalities, and republics are troubled, there are four
which in my opinion outweigh all others,--war, death, famine,
and debasement of money. The three first are so evident that
no one denies them, but it is not thus with the fourth.
A certain interest in political economy dates with me from the age of
nineteen, when I read Say's work on the subject, which was at that
time in very wide circulation. The question of protection and free
trade was then, as always, an attractive one. I inclined towards
the free trade view, but still felt that there might be another
side to the question which I found myself unable fully to grasp.
I remember thinking it quite possible that Smith's "Wealth of Nations"
might be supplemented by a similar work on the strength of nations,
in which not merely wealth, but everything that conduces to national
power should be considered, and that the result of the inquiry
might lead to practical conclusions different from those of Smith.
Very able writers, among them Henry C. Carey, had espoused the side
of protection, but for some years I had not time to read their works,
and therefore reserved my judgment until more light should appear.
Thus the matter stood until an accident impelled me to look into
the subject. About 1862 or 1863 President Thomas Hill, of Harvard
University, paid a visit to Washington. I held him in very high
esteem. He was a mathematician, and had been the favorite student of
Professor Benjamin Peirce; but I did not know that he had interested
himself in political economy until, on the occasion in question, I
passed an evening with him at the house where he was a guest. Here he
told me that in a public lecture at Philadelphia, a few evenings
before, he had informed his hearers that they had amongst them one
of the greatest philosophers of the time, Henry C. Carey. He spoke
of his works in such enthusiastic terms, describing especially his
law of the tendency of mankind to be attracted towards the great
capitals or other centres of population, that I lost no time in
carefully reading Carey's "Principles of Social Science."
The result was much like a slap in the face. With every possible
predisposition to look favorably on its teachings, I was unable to
find anything in them but the prejudiced judgments of a one-sided
thinker, fond of brilliant general propositions which really had
nothing serious to rest upon either in fact or reason. The following
parody on his method occurred to me:--
The physicians say that quinine tends to cure intermittent fever.
If this be the case, then where people use most quinine, they
will have least intermittent fever. But the facts are exactly
the opposite. Along the borders of the lower Mississippi, where
people take most quinine, they suffer most from fever; therefore
the effect of quinine is the opposite of that alleged.
I earnestly wished for an opportunity to discuss the matter further
with Mr. Hill, but it was never offered.
During the early years of the civil war, when the country was flooded
with an irredeemable currency, I was so much disturbed by what
seemed to me the unwisdom of our financial policy, that I positively
envied the people who thought it all right, and therefore were free
from mental perturbation on the subject. I at length felt that I
could keep silent no longer, and as the civil war was closing, I
devoted much time to writing a little book, "Critical Examination
of Our Financial Policy during the Southern Rebellion." I got
this published by the Appletons, but had to pay for the production.
It never yielded enough to pay the cost of printing, as is very apt
to be the case with such a hook when it is on the unpopular side
and by an unknown author. It had, however, the pleasant result of
bringing me into friendly relations with two of the most eminent
financiers of the country, Mr. Hugh McCulloch and Mr. George S. Coe,
the latter president of one of the principal banks of New York.
The compliments which these men paid to the book were the only
compensation I got for the time and money expended upon it.
In 1876 the "North American Review" published a centennial number
devoted to articles upon our national progress during the first
century of our existence. I contributed the discussion of our
work in exact science. Natural science had been cultivated among
us with great success, but I was obliged to point out our backward
condition in every branch of exact science, which was more marked
the more mathematical the character of the scientific work. In pure
mathematics we seemed hopelessly behind in the race.
I suppose that every writer who discusses a subject with a view
of influencing the thought of the public, must be more or less
discouraged by the small amount of attention the best he can say is
likely to receive from his fellow-men. No matter what his own opinion
of the importance of the matters he discusses, and the results that
might grow out of them if men would only give them due attention,
they are lost in the cataract of utterances poured forth from the
daily, weekly, and monthly press. I was therefore much pleased,
soon after the article appeared, to be honored with a visit from
President Gilman, who had been impressed with my views, and wished
to discuss the practicability of the Johns Hopkins University, which
was now being organized, doing something to promote the higher forms
of investigation among us.
One of the most remarkable mathematicians of the age, Professor
J. J. Sylvester, had recently severed his connection with the Royal
Military Academy at Woolich, and it had been decided to invite him
to the chair of mathematics at the new university. It was considered
desirable to have men of similar world-wide eminence in charge of the
other departments in science. But this was found to be impracticable,
and the policy adopted was to find young men whose reputation was
yet to be made, and who would be the leading men of the future,
instead of belonging to the past.
All my experience would lead me to say that the selection of the
coming man in science is almost as difficult as the selection of
youth who are to become senators of the United States. The success
of the university in finding the young men it wanted, has been one
of the most remarkable features in the history of the Johns Hopkins
University. Of this the lamented Rowland affords the most striking,
but by no means the only instance. Few could have anticipated
that the modest and scarcely known youth selected for the chair of
physics would not only become the leading man of his profession in
our country, but one of the chief promoters of scientific research
among us. Mathematical study and research of the highest order
now commenced, not only at Baltimore, but at Harvard, Columbia,
and other centres of learning, until, to-day, we are scarcely behind
any nation in our contributions to the subject.
The development of economic study in our country during the last
quarter of the last century is hardly less remarkable than that of
mathematical science. A great impulse in this direction was given
by Professor R. T. Ely, who, when the Johns Hopkins University was
organized, became its leading teacher in economics. He had recently
come from Germany, where he had imbibed what was supposed to be
a new gospel in economics, and he now appeared as the evangelist
of what was termed the historical school. My own studies were of
course too far removed from this school to be a factor in it. But,
so far as I was able, I fought the idea of there being two schools,
or of any necessary antagonism between the results of the two methods.
It was true that there was a marked difference in form between them.
Some men preferred to reach conclusions by careful analysis of human
nature and study of the acts to which men were led in seeking to
carry out their own ends. This was called the old-school method.
Others preferred to study the problem on a large scale, especially
as shown in the economic development of the country. But there
could be no necessary difference between the conclusions thus reached.
One curious fact, which has always been overlooked in the history
of economics in our country, shows how purely partisan was the idea
of a separation of the two schools. The fact is that the founder of
the historic school among us, the man who first introduced the idea,
was not Ely, but David A. Wells. Up to the outbreak of the civil
war, Mr. Wells had been a writer on scientific subjects without any
special known leaning toward economies; but after it broke out he
published a most noteworthy pamphlet, setting forth the resources of
our country for carrying on war and paying a debt, in terms so strong
as to command more attention than any similar utterance at the time.
This led to his appointment as Special Commissioner of Revenue,
with the duty of collecting information devising the best methods of
raising revenue. His studies in this line were very exhaustive, and
were carried on by the methods of the historic school of economics.
I was almost annoyed to find that, if any economic question was
presented to him, he rushed off to the experience of some particular
people or nation--it might be Sweden or Australia--instead of going
down to fundamental principles. But I could never get him interested
in this kind of analysis.
One of Professor Ely's early movements resulted in the organization of
the American Economic Association. His original plan was that this
society should have something like a creed to which its members were
expected to subscribe. A discussion of the whole subject appeared
in the pages of "Science," a number of the leading economists of
the country being contributors to it. The outcome of the whole
matter has been a triumph for what most men will now consider reason
and good sense. The Economic Association was scarcely more than
organized when it broke loose from all creeds and admitted into
its ranks investigators of the subject belonging to every class.
I think the last discussion on the question of two schools occurred
at the New York meeting, about 1895, after which the whole matter
was dropped and the association worked together as a unit.
As Professor Ely is still a leader on the stage, I desire to do him
justice in one point. I am able to do so because of what I have
always regarded as one of the best features of the Johns Hopkins
University--the unity of action which pervaded its work. There is
a tendency in such institutions to be divided up into departments,
not only independent of each other, but with little mutual help
or sympathy. Of course every department has the best wishes of
every other, and its coöperation when necessary, but the tendency
is to have nothing more than this. In 1884, after the resignation
of Professor Sylvester, I was invited by President Gilman to act as
head of the department of mathematics. I could not figure as the
successor of Sylvester, and therefore suggested that my title should
be professor of mathematics and astronomy. The examinations of
students for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy were then, as now,
all conducted by a single "Board of University Studies," in which
all had equal powers, although of course no member of the board took
an active part in cases which lay entirely outside of his field.
But the general idea was that of mutual coöperation and criticism
all through. Each professor was a factor in the department of
another in a helpful and not an antagonistic way, and all held
counsel on subjects where the knowledge of all was helpful to each.
I cannot but think that the wonderful success of the Johns Hopkins
University is largely due to this feature of its activity, which
tended to broaden both professors and students alike.
In pursuance of this system I for several years took part in the
examinations of students of economics for their degrees. I found that
Professor Ely's men were always well grounded in those principles
of economic theory which seemed to me essential to a comprehension
of the subject on its scientific side.
Being sometimes looked upon as an economist, I deem it not improper
to disclaim any part in the economic research of to-day. What I have
done has been prompted by the conviction that the greatest social want
of the age is the introduction of sound thinking on economic subjects
among the masses, not only of our own, but of every other country.
This kind of thinking I have tried to promote in our own country
by such books as "A Plain Man's Talk on the Labor Question," and
"Principles of Political Economy."
My talks with Professor Henry used to cover a wide field in scientific
philosophy. Adherence to the Presbyterian church did not prevent his
being as uncompromising an upholder of modern scientific views of the
universe as I ever knew. He was especially severe on the delusions
of spiritualism. To a friend who once told him that he had seen a
"medium" waft himself through a window, he replied, "Judge, you never
saw that; and if you think you did, you are in a dangerous mental
condition and need the utmost care of your family and your physician."
Among the experiences which I heard him relate more than once,
I think, was one with a noted medium. Henry was quite intimate
with President Lincoln, who, though not a believer in spiritualism,
was from time to time deeply impressed by the extraordinary feats
of spiritualistic performers, and naturally looked to Professor
Henry for his views and advice on the subject. Quite early in his
administration one of these men showed his wonderful powers to the
President, who asked him to show Professor Henry his feats.
Although the latter generally avoided all contact with such men,
he consented to receive him at the Smithsonian Institution.
Among the acts proposed was that of making sounds in various
quarters of the room. This was something which the keen senses
and ready experimental faculty of the professor were well qualified
to investigate. He turned his head in various positions while the
sounds were being emitted. He then turned toward the man with the
utmost firmness and said, "I do not know how you make the sounds,
but this I perceive very clearly: they do not come from the room but
from your person." It was in vain that the operator protested that
they did not, and that he had no knowledge how they were produced.
The keen ear of his examiner could not be deceived.
Sometime afterward the professor was traveling in the east, and
took a seat in a railway car beside a young man who, finding who
his companion was, entered into conversation with him, and informed
him that he was a maker of telegraph and electrical instruments.
His advances were received in so friendly a manner that he went
further yet, and confided to Henry that his ingenuity had been called
into requisition by spiritual mediums, to whom he furnished the
apparatus necessary for the manifestations. Henry asked him by what
mediums he had been engaged, and was surprised to find that among
them was the very man he had met at the Smithsonian. The sounds
which the medium had emitted were then described to the young man,
who in reply explained the structure of the apparatus by which they
were produced, which apparatus had been constructed by himself.
It was fastened around the muscular part of the upper arm, and was
so arranged that clicks would be produced by a simple contraction
of the muscle, unaccompanied by any motion of the joints of the arm,
and entirely invisible to a bystander.
During the Philadelphia meeting of the American Association for the
Advancement of Science, held in 1884, a few members were invited by
one of the foreign visitors, Professor Fitzgerald of Dublin, I think,
to a conference on the subject of psychical research. The English
society on this subject had been organized a few years before, and the
question now was whether there was interest enough among us to lead
to the organization of an American Society for Psychical Research.
This was decided in the affirmative; the society was soon after
formed, with headquarters in Boston, and I was elected its first
president, a choice which Powell, of Washington, declared to be
ridiculous in the highest degree.
On accepting this position, my first duty was to make a careful study
of the publications of the parent society in England, with a view
of learning their discoveries. The result was far from hopeful.
I found that the phenomena brought out lacked that coherence
and definiteness which is characteristic of scientific truths.
Remarkable effects had been witnessed; but it was impossible to say,
Do so and so, and you will get such an effect. The best that could
be said was, perhaps you will get an effect, but more likely you
will not. I could not feel any assurance that the society, with
all its diligence, had done more than add to the mass of mistakes,
misapprehensions of fact, exaggerations, illusions, tricks, and
coincidences, of which human experience is full. In the course of a
year or two I delivered a presidential address, in which I pointed
out the difficulties of the case and the inconclusiveness of the
supposed facts gathered. I suggested further experimentation, and
called upon the English society to learn, by trials, whether the
mental influences which they had observed to pass from mind to mind
under specially arranged conditions, would still pass when a curtain
or a door separated the parties. Fifteen years have since elapsed,
and neither they nor any one else has settled this most elementary
of all the questions involved. The only conclusion seems to be that
only in exceptional cases does any effect pass at all; and when it
does, it is just as likely to be felt halfway round the world as
behind a curtain in the same room.
Shortly after the conference in Philadelphia I had a long wished-for
opportunity to witness and investigate what, from the descriptions,
was a wonder as great as anything recorded in the history of psychic
research or spiritualism. Early in 1885 a tall and well-built young
woman named Lulu Hurst, also known as the "Georgia magnetic girl,"
gave exhibitions in the eastern cities which equaled or exceeded the
greatest feats of the Spiritualists. On her arrival in Washington
invitations were sent to a number of our prominent scientific men to
witness a private exhibition which she gave in advance of her public
appearance. I was not present, but some who attended were so struck
by her performance that they arranged to have another exhibition
in Dr. Graham Bell's laboratory. I can give the best idea of the
case if I begin with an account of the performance as given by the
eye-witnesses at the first trial. We must remember that this was not
the account of mere wonder-seekers, but of trained scientific men.
Their account was in substance this:--
A light rod was firmly held in the hands of the tallest and most
muscular of the spectators. Miss Lulu had only to touch the
rod with her fingers when it would begin to go through the most
extraordinary manoeuvres. It jerked the holder around the room with
a power he was unable to resist, and finally threw him down into a
corner completely discomfited. Another spectator was then asked to
take hold of the rod, and Miss Lulu extended her arms and touched
each end with the tip of her finger. Immediately the rod began to
whirl around on its central axis with such force that the skin was
nearly taken off the holder's hands in his efforts to stop it.
A heavy man being seated in a chair, man and chair were lifted
up by the fair performer placing her hands against the sides.
To substantiate the claim that she herself exerted no force, chair and
man were lifted without her touching the chair at all. The sitter
was asked to put his hands under the chair; the performer put her
hands around and under his in such a way that it was impossible
for her to exert any force on the chair except through his hands.
The chair at once lifted him up without her exerting any pressure
other than the touch upon his hands.
Several men were then invited to hold the chair still. The performer
then began to deftly touch it with her finger, when the chair again
began to jump about in spite of the efforts of three or four men to
hold it down.
A straw hat being laid upon a table crown downwards, she laid her
extended hands over it. It was lifted up by what seemed an attractive
force similar to that of a magnet upon an armature, and was in danger
of being torn to pieces in the effort of any one holding it to keep it
down, though she could not possibly have had any hold upon the object.
Among the spectators were physicians, one or more of whom grasped
Miss Lulu's arms while the motions were going on, without finding
any symptoms of strong muscular action. Her pulse remained normal
throughout. The objects which she touched seemed endowed with a
force which was wholly new to science.
So much for the story. Now for the reality. The party appeared at
the Volta Laboratory, according to arrangement. Those having the
matter in charge were not professional mystifiers of the public,
and showed no desire to conceal anything. There was no darkening of
rooms, no putting of hands under tables, no fear that spirits would
refuse to act because of the presence of some skeptic, no trickery
of any sort.
We got up such arrangements as we could for a scientific investigation
of the movements. One of these was a rolling platform on which
Miss Lulu was requested to stand while the forces were exerted.
Another device was to seat her on a platform scale while the chair
was lifting itself.
These several experiments were tried in the order in which I have
mentioned them. I took the wonderful staff in my hands, and Miss Lulu
placed the palms of her hands and extended them against the staff near
the ends, while I firmly grasped it with my two hands in the middle.
Of course this gave her a great advantage in the leverage. I was then
asked to resist the staff with all my force, with the added assurance
from Mrs. Hurst, the mother, that the resistance would be in vain.
Although the performer began with a delicate touch of the staff,
I noticed that she changed the position of her hands every moment,
sometimes seizing the staff with a firm grip, and that it never
moved in any direction unless her hands pressed it in that direction.
As nearly as I could estimate, the force which she exerted might have
been equal to forty pounds, and this exerted first in one way and
then in another was enough to upset the equilibrium of any ordinary
man, especially when the jerks were so sudden and unexpected that
it was impossible for one to brace himself against them. After a
scene of rather undignified contortion I was finally compelled to
retire in defeat, but without the slightest evidence of any other
force than that exerted by a strong, muscular young woman. I asked
that the rod might be made to whirl in my hands in the manner which
has been described, but there was clearly some mistake in this whirl,
for Miss Lulu knew nothing on the subject.
Then we proceeded to the chair performance, which was repeated a
number of times. I noticed that although, at the beginning, the
sitter held his fingers between the chair and the fingers of the
performer, the chair would not move until Miss Lulu had the ball
of her hand firmly in connection with it. Even then it did not
actually lift the sitter from the ground, but was merely raised up
behind, the front legs resting on the ground, whereupon the sitter
was compelled to get out. This performance was repeated a number
of times without anything but what was commonplace.
In order to see whether, as claimed, no force was exerted on the
chair, the performer was invited to stand on the platform of the
scales while making the chair move. The weights had been so adjusted
as to balance a weight of forty pounds above her own. The result was
that after some general attempts to make the chair move the lever
clicked, showing that a lifting force exceeding forty pounds was
being exerted by the young woman on the platform. The click seemed
to demoralize the operator, who became unable to continue her efforts.
The experiment of raising a hat turned out equally simple, and the
result of all the trials was only to increase my skepticism as to the
whole doctrine of unknown forces and media of communication between
one mind and another. I am now likely to remain a skeptic as to
every branch of "occult science" until I find some manifestation of
its reality more conclusive than any I have yet been able to find.
[1] Prowe: Nicolaus Copernicus, Bd. ii. (Berlin, 1884), p. 33.
INDEX
Absence of mind, examples of, 73, 169.
Academy of Science, a would-be, 351.
Academy of Sciences, Paris, 327.
Adams, Prof. John C., 220; intellectual capacity, 282; politics, 283.
Agnesi, Donna Maria, 294.
Agassiz, Louis, discusses Origin of Species, 70.
Airy, Sir George B., Observations of Transit of Venus, 166;
hospitality, 285; poetic taste, 286; executive ability, 286;
methods of works, 289.
Alexander, Columbus, 368.
Anderson, Sir James, 300.
Angle, trisection of, 387.
Argelander, Prof., master of observational astronomy, 318, 319.
Atlantic Cable, the first, 300.
Auwers, the great astronomer, 306.
Bacon, Mr., teacher at Bedeque, 9.
Baillie, William, U. S. engineer, 361.
Baird, Spencer F., 240.
Bancroft, George, reviews judicial decision of Star Catalogue case,
378.
Barnard, E. E., 190.
Barnard, Gen. John G., 335.
Bartlett, William P. G., 83.
Belknap, Admiral G. H., 228.
Bell, Alexander Graham, tries to locate ball in Garfield's body, 358.
Black, Jeremiah, 168, 169.
Blackie, Prof. J. S., 294.
Bond, George P., 250.
Booth, Edwin, 157.
Borst, Charles A., 373.
Boss, Prof. Lewis, 124, 230.
Bowditch, Nathaniel, 1.
Bradford, Isaac, 74.
Brewster, Elder, 3.
Brown, Prof. S. J., 125.
Burnham, S. W., 188.
Campbell, William W., 190.
Carey, Henry C., 400.
Cassey, Thomas L., Jr., 174.
Casserly, Eugene, 128.
Cassini, astronomer, of Paris Observatory, 331.
Cayley, Prof. Arthur, 280.
Chandler, Captain Ralph, U. S. N., 171.
Chandler, W. E., 126.
Chauvenet, William, 111.
Chevreul, M., his remarkable age, 327.
Circle, quadrature of, 387.
Clark, Alvan, 129, 144.
Clark, Alvan, & Sons, character of the firm, 147.
Cleveland, Keith, 224.
Cobbett, William, 7, 53.
Coe, George S., financier, 402.
Coffin, J. H. C., 111.
Combe, George, 4, 16.
Commune of Paris, 321-326.
Comstock, G. C., 126.
Cooke, Thomas, & Sons, 133.
Cox, Jacob D., 258.
Crank, the anti-gravitation, 381; a reasonable, 383.
Cranks, specimen letters from, 389.
Darwin's "Origin of Species," discussion of, 70.
Dawes, Henry L., 82.
Dawes, Rev. W. R., 148.
Davis, Charles H., 63; becomes superintendent at Naval Observatory,
107.
Dayton, A. G., 126.
Delaunay, Charles, indorses Prof. Newcomb, 317; director of Paris
Observatory, 319; attractive personality, 329, 330.
Draper, Dr. Henry, expert in astronomical photography, 171, 223.
Draper, Dr. John W., 250.
Dudley Observatory troubles, 80.
Early, Gen. Jubal A., raid of, 339.
Eastman, John R., 107, 274.
Eclipse, solar, of 1860, journey to observe, 88.
Economics, studies in, 399; alleged schools of, 405.
Education in mountain regions of South, 397.
Eggleston, Edward, 89.
Eliot, Charles W., 74.
Elkin, Dr. W. L., 176.
Elliot, Benjamin S., 50.
Ely, Prof. R. T., as economist, 404; organizes American Economic
Association, 406; merits as a teacher, 408.
Evarts, William M., 241.
Eveleth, G. W., 55.
Feil, maker of optical discs, 185.
Ferguson, James, 111.
Ferrell, William, 72, 88.
Field, Cyrus W., 128.
Fiske, John, on eccentric literature, 382.
Fixed stars, Paris conference regarding, 230.
Floyd, Richard S., 186.
France, universities of, 392.
Franklin, Admiral, 122.
Furber, Mr., starts movement for admission of American students
in French universities, 396.
Garfield, James A., first acquaintance with, 353; his early life,
354; injustice done him, 354; his intellectual gifts, 355;
assassination of, 356.
Geological Survey, circumstances leading to origin of, 252-255;
attacks on, 261.
Gibraltar, determination of the longitude of, 284, 299.
Gill, Sir David, 176.
Gillis, Capt. J. M., superintendent of Naval Observatory, 99;
obtains new transit circle, 105.
Gilman, Daniel C., 403.
Gladstone, William Ewart, meeting with, 273, 276.
Glaisher, J. W. L., 72.
Goldsborough, Admiral, 340.
Gould, Benjamin A., personality, 78; Dudley Observatory directorship,
80; candidate for Naval Observatory director, 111.
Gould, Dr. E. R. L., 393.
Gravitation, detestable to some minds, 381.
Green, Capt. F. M., 284.
Greenwich Observatory, situation, 285; value of observations at, 288.
Grubb, Sir Howard J., 156, 185.
Hagar, Judge, 189.
Hale, Eugene P., 123.
Hale, George E., 126.
Hall, Asaph, 107; discovers satellites of Mars, 141.
Hamlin, Hannibal, 128.
Harkness, William, appointed to Naval Observatory, 107; shares honor
of discovering brightest line in spectrum of sun's corona, 113;
director of Observatory, 180.
Harrington, attorney, 367.
Harvard Observatory, Prof. Newcomb called to directorship of, 211;
Pickering's directorship, 212.
Hassler, J. J. S., 264.
Hansen, Prof., greatest master of celestial mechanics, 315, 316.
Hayden, Prof. F. V., 253.
Hayes, Rutherford B., 242, 259.
Hedrick, Prof., 73.
Hell, Father Maximilian, his alleged forgery, 154.
Henry, Prof. Joseph, Prof. Newcomb's relations with, 1, 54, 58, 161;
characteristics, 234-237; on spiritualism, 408.
Herbert, Hilary A., 231.
Hewitt, A. S., 255.
Hilgard, J. E., 1, 59; in charge of Coast Survey, 65, 128.
Hill, George W., 218, 219, 221.
Hill, Thomas Prescott, 400.
Holcombe, Lieut. J. H. L., 174.
Holden, Prof. E. S., 184-194.
Horsford, E. N., 74.
Hubbard, Prof. J. S., head astronomer of Naval Observatory, 98;
in charge of mural circle, 102.
Huggins, Sir William, 279.
Hughes, Thomas, 272.
Humphreys, Gen., chief of engineers, 256.
Hurst, Lulu, the "Georgia magnetic girl," exhibitions of, 412-416.
Illusion, an astronomical, 137.
Inch, Richard, United States engineer, 361.
Jennings, Mr., cooling device of, 358.
Jewett, C. C., 237.
Keeler, James E., 191.
Kelvin, Lord, 248.
Kerr, Prof., 73.
King, Clarence, 258, 259.
Knobel, E. B., 380.
Koresh, his theory, 385.
Lamar, Judge Lucius, 264.
Langley, Prof. Samuel P., 240.
Language, advantage of not knowing a, 306.
Laplace, the "Mécanique Céleste" of, 1.
Lardner's "Popular Lectures on Science and Art," 19.
Lawrence, Prof. Smith J., 56.
Lee, Gen. Robert E., 339.
Lee's "Tables and Formulæ," 56.
Leverrier, M., two views of, 328; meeting with, 330; his merits, 331.
Leverrier and Hansen's systems of planetary computation, 219.
Lick, James, 182.
Lick Observatory, origin of, 182; location discussed, 187; telescope
at, 185; Holden's administration, 192; Keeler's administration,
194; Campbell's administration, 194.
Lincoln, Pres., his war-time receptions, 342; assassination of, 344;
trial of assassins, 345.
Lister, Lord, 278.
Litchfield Observatory, founder of, 374.
Loomis, E. J., 74.
Lowe, Mr. (Viscount Sherbrooke), 276.
Mahan, Prof. D. H., 335.
Mars, discovery of the satellites of, 141.
Marsh, Prof. O. C., exposure of Indian ring, 263; relation to "Wild
West," 265; exposure of Cardiff giant, 266; his modern fossil, 269.
Maskelyne, Rev. Nevil, 152.
"Mathematical Monthly," foundation of, 84.
Mathematics and exact sciences, state of, in America, 402.
Maury, Matthew F., work of, 103.
McCook, Gen. A. D., 341.
McCormick, L. J., 132.
McCulloch, Hugh, 244, 402.
McMickan, Captain, of Cunard Line, 271.
McTavish, Governor, 91.
"Mécanique Céleste," first sight of, 56.
Meier, John, 223.
Meridian conference of 1884, 226.
Mill, John Stuart, 272.
Mills, D. O., 183.
Miner and Tully's "Fevers of the Connecticut Valley," 33.
Monroe, Rev. Alexander H., 36 n.
Moore, Capt. W. S., 361.
Moore's Navigator, 17.
Morrill, Justin S., 124.
National Academy of Science, early proceedings, 251; report of
Geological Survey, 255; report of Forestry System, 261.
"National Intelligencer," letter in, 55.
Natural Philosophy, Mrs. Marcet's Conversations on, 18.
Nautical Almanac, assistants on, 66; in charge of, 120.
Naval Observatory, early history of, 102; work at, 109; conditions
at, 110; civilian head proposed, 111; views of administration in
regard to, 112; reports of eclipse of 1870, 113; visit of Emperor
Dom Pedro, 117; efforts to improve, 122; Board of Visitors
appointed, 126; telescope of, 128; Congressional action regarding
new telescope, 131; observations of satellites of Neptune, 136,
141; search for companion of Procyon, 138.
Negro, characteristics of, 346; education of, 348.
Neptune, observation of the satellites of, 136, 141.
Newall, R. S., 133.
Newcomb, John, father of Simon, characteristics and marriage, 4.
Newcomb, Simon, the first, 2.
Newcomb, Judge Simon B., 2.
Newcomb, Prof. Simon, ancestry, 2, 3; parentage, 6; early education
at Bedeque, 9; begins study of arithmetic, 10; influence of books,
14-22; winter spent with farmer Jefferson, 18; residence at
Yarmouth, 23; ancestral home, 23; begins study of medicine, 27;
manufacture of botanic medicine under Dr. Foshay, 31, 32; joins
temperance lodge, 37; intimacy with Parkin family, 39; first sight
of Smithsonian, 52; reading in political economy, 53; study of
Newton's "Principia," 54; first attempt at mathematical paper, 54;
letter in "National Intelligencer," 55; Colonel Abert sends Lee's
"Tables and Formulæ," 56; letter from Prof. L. J. Smith, 56;
teaching in a planter's family, 56; first sight of "Mécanique
Céleste," 56; assistant on staff of Nautical Almanac, 66;
discussion of Darwin's "Origin of Species," 70; student in Lawrence
Scientific School, 74; acquaintance with Dr. B. A. Gould, 78;
friendship with William P. G. Bartlett, 83; journey in 1860 to
observe solar eclipse, 88; meets Governor Ramsey and Edward
Eggleston, 89; received by Governor McTavish, 91; Saskatchewan
journey, 92; candidate for professorship in Washington University,
95; application for professorship in Naval Observatory, 97; early
experience at Observatory, 101; edits Yarnall's observations, 105;
in charge of mural circle, 107; journey to observe 1869 eclipse,
113; new transit circle, 114; investigation of moon's motion, 115;
visit of Dom Pedro to Observatory, 117; assumes charge of Nautical
Almanac Office, 120; verification of satellites of Mars, 141;
transit of Venus expedition to Europe, 167; expedition to Cape of
Good Hope, 174; agent of Lick Observatory trustees, 184; first
meeting with Schaeberle, 190; study of orbits of asteroids, 195;
problems of astronomy, 198; motion of moon, 202; occultations of
stars, 207; offered Harvard Observatory directorship, 211; head of
Nautical Almanac Office, 214; policy of office, 216, 233;
computations for Planet Tables, 216; assistants, 218; suggestions
to Meridian Conference, 226; computations regarding fixed stars,
230; member Yale Alumni Association, 241; member Washington
Scientific Club, 244; first trip to Europe, 271; meets Thomas
Hughes, 272; John Stuart Mill, 272; William Ewart Gladstone, 273;
General Burnside, 273; attends banquet of Royal Society, 276; visit
to Lord Lister, 278; meets Prof. Cayley, 280; Prof. J. C. Adams
calls, 281; determination of Gibraltar longitude, 284; visits
Greenwich, 285; friendship with Sir George Airy, 285-289; visits
Edinburgh, 292; meets Prof. Blackie, 294; joins party of English
astronomers bound for Algeria, 295; stormy voyage, 296; at
Gibraltar, 297; Sir James Anderson, an old acquaintance, 300;
Mediterranean trip, 302-305; Wilhelm Förster, a Berlin acquaintance,
306; meets great astronomer Auwers, 306; visits Pulkova Observatory,
309; winter ride in Russia, 310; first meeting with Hansen, 315;
arrives in Paris during German evacuation, 319; visits Paris
Observatory, 321; meets Leverrier, 330; Washington during Civil War
and after, 334-371; two days military service, 339; assassination
of Lincoln, 344; attends trial of conspirators, 345; acquaintance
with Sumner, 349; with President Garfield, 353; asked to device
means for cooling his sick chamber, 357; suggestions for location
of bullet, 358; experience with eccentric theorists, 381-389;
assists in obtaining entrance of American students to French
universities, 396; object lesson in regard to education in mountain
regions of South, 397; studies in economics, 399; publishes
"Critical Examination of our Financial Policy during the Southern
Rebellion," 402; contribution to "North American Review," 402;
conference with Prof. Daniel C. Gilman, 403; contributions to
economic literature: "A Plain Man's Talk on the Labor Question,"
"Principles of Political Economy," 408; "Psychical Research,"
410-412.
Nixon, Thomas, 37, 41.
Occultism, 93.
Old Peake, janitor of the Smithsonian, 58.
Oldright, Mr., 53.
Oliver, James E., 72.
Ommaney, Sir Erastus, 295.
Paine, Thomas, 3.
Paradoxers, experience with, 382.
Paris Conference, conclusions of, 230; attacked by Prof. Boss and
S. C. Chandler, 230.
Paris Observatory, 321, 332.
Parkin, George R., 39.
Patent claim, a curious, 361.
Patterson, J. W., 352.
Peirce, Benjamin professor of mathematics, 75; personality, 77, 78;
chairman of committee on methods of observing transit of Venus,
161; director of solar eclipse expedition, 274; presence in England
valuable to British astronomers, 277.
Peters, C. H. F., heads Transit of Venus expedition, 139; Star
Catalogue Case, 372; work on Ptolemy's Catalogue, 380.
Photoheliograph, horizontal 164.
Phrenology, study of, 14, 34.
Pickering, E. C., 126.
Pistor and Martin's transit circle, 105.
Poe, Gen. O. M., 352.
Powell, John W., 240; during Garfield's illness, 357.
"Principia," Newton's, 54.
Procyon, search for companion of, 138; at Lick Observatory, 140.
Professors in Navy, origin of corps of, 101.
"Psychical Research," 410.
Ptolemy's Star Catalogue, Peter's work on, 380.
Pulkova Observatory, object glass made by Alvan Clark & Sons, 144,
145; foundation and situation, 309-313.
Reed, Thomas B., 125.
Rhodes scholarships, 37.
Rodgers, Admiral John, 120.
Rogers, William B., 250.
Royal Society, banquet of, 275.
Runkle, John D., 1, 66.
Safe burglary conspiracy, 367.
Safford, Truman H., 67.
Sampson, Admiral W. T., 121.
Sands, Admiral, superintendent of Naval Observatory, 112; retirement,
116; assists in obtaining new telescope, 130.
Sauty, de, cable operator at Gibraltar, 300.
Schaeberle, assistant to Prof. Holden, 190.
Schofield, J. M., 96.
Schurman, Caleb, 11.
Schurman, Jacob Gould, 11 n.
Scientific Club, 244.
Scudder, Samuel H., 88.
Shepherd, Alexander H., career, 364-371.
Sherman, Gen. W. T., 243.
Sibley, J. Langdon, 76.
Smith, James, circle squarer, 387.
Smithson, James, 235.
Smithsonian Institution, policy of, 235, 236; difficulties in
administration, 237; expansion of scope, 240.
Smyth, Prof. C. Piazzi, 293.
Smyth, Admiral, W. H., 152.
Sophocles, Evangelinus Apostolides, 75.
Standard time, adoption of, 225, 226.
Stanton, Edwin M., 336; his tireless energy, 337; his law of war, 338.
Star Catalogue case, the great, 372.
Steeves, Isaac, 38.
Struve, Otto, 144, 309.
Struve, Wilhelm, 312.
Struve, Russian minister at Washington, 312.
Sudler, Dr. Arthur E., 50.
Sumner, Charles, characteristics, 349, 350; kills an incipient
"Academy," 352.
Sylvester, Prof. J. J., 403.
Telescope, horizontal, planned by Prof. Winlock, 163.
Thomson, Sir William, 248.
Tilley, Sir Leonard, 40.
Tracy, Benjamin, 123.
Transit of Venus, early observations of, 151; observed by Mason
and Dixon, 153; Hell's alleged forgeries, 157; preparation for
observation of, 160; Committee of National Academy of Sciences to
consider subject, 161; transit commission, 163; appropriation for
observation station, 170, 171, 174; value of observations, 173;
observations at Cape Town, 177; publication of observations, 178.
Tremblay, Dom de la, 395.
Tuttle, H. P., 192.
Tyndall, Prof., 296.
Van Vleck, Prof., 73.
Wagner, Dr., 315.
Wallace, Gen. Lew, 339.
Washburn, Mr., minister to Paris, 320.
Washington, during the civil war, 334; newsboys of, 336; Early's raid
on, 339; after the fall of Richmond, 343; Shepherd régime, 363;
the new city, 366.
Weiss, director of Vienna Observatory, 157.
Welles, Gideon, 111.
Wells, David A., 405.
White House, incidents at, during Garfield's illness, 357.
Whitney, William C., 123.
Williams, Sir Fenwick, 298.
Wilson, Henry, 250.
Winlock, Prof. Joseph, superintendent Nautical Almanac, 59, 61;
personality, 65; constructs instrument for astronomical
photography, 163.
Wolf, Prof. Charles, 144.
Woodward, Dr. J. J., 357.
Wright, Chauncey, 70.
Wright, Gen. H. G., 341.
Yale Alumni Association, 241.
Yarnall, Prof. M., characteristics, 101; observations of, 105. | 132,939 | common-pile/project_gutenberg_filtered | 19309 | project gutenberg | project_gutenberg-dolma-0001.json.gz:3861 | https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19309.txt.utf-8 |
dxSXK1N--HhkigOx | Fertilizer experiments with greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes / by J.W. Lloyd. | The person charging this material is responsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
SUMMARY
The experiments in the production of greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes reported in this bulletin were designed primarily to test the effectiveness of various forms of commercial fertilizer as supplements to a soil mixture of 4 parts brown silt loam, 2 parts rotted manure, and 1 part sand. However, for purposes of comparison two other soil mixtures were used, and also the effect of steam sterilization of greenhouse soil was tested. Four crops of lettuce and one crop of tomatoes were grown each year.
The 4-2-1 soil mixture supplemented with nitrate of soda or with dried blood produced better average yields of lettuce than the untreated 4-4-1 soil mixture (4 parts brown silt loam, 4 parts rotted manure, 1 part sand) , and fully as good average yields of tomatoes.
The addition of acid phosphate to the nitrate treatment reduced the yields of lettuce but increased the yields of tomatoes. However, when lime was added to the nitrate and acid phosphate in treating the 4-2-1 soil mixture, the detrimental effect of the acid phosphate on the lettuce was overcome and the high yield of tomatoes maintained.
Another way in which the detrimental effect of acid phosphate on the lettuce was avoided was by using nitrate alone on the 4-2-1 soil mixture for producing the lettuce, and then applying a top-dressing of acid phosphate for the tomatoes after the lettuce was harvested. This treatment produced considerably higher average yields in both lettuce and tomatoes than the 4-4-1 soil mixture without commercial fertilizer, andjnearly as high a combined yield of lettuce and tomatoes as the 4-4-1 soil mixture treated with nitrate for the lettuce and acid phosphate and potassium sulfate for the tomatoes.
Steam sterilization of the 4-4-1 soil mixture increased the yield of lettuce but so decreased the yield of tomatoes that the combined yield of the two crops was considerably less than from the unsterilized soil of the same composition, and also much less than from the 4-2-1 mixture treated with nitrate alone.
In the light of these experiments it is recommended that in growing a combined crop of greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes on brown silt loam in raised benches, a 4-2-1 soil mixture be employed, and that this soil be fertilized by using nitrate of soda (approximately .86 of a pound per 100 square feet of bench space) before planting each crop of lettuce, and by applying a top-dressing of acid phosphate (approximately 2.3 pounds per 100 square feet of bench space) for the tomatoes after the last crop of lettuce for the season has been harvested.
By J. W. LLOYD, Chief in Olericulture
Greenhouse vegetable growers in Illinois have in the past depended upon stable manure almost entirely as a fertilizer for lettuce and tomatoes. During the last few years, however, it has become more and more difficult to get supplies of manure, and growers have been looking for a method of producing these crops without the use of as large quantities as formerly.
A previous experiment at the Illinois Station,1 in which garden loam (brown silt loam), rotted manure, and sand were combined in different proportions for the growing of greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes, had shown that with every increase in the proportion of manure in the soil mixture there was an increase in yield. However, the soil composed of 4 parts garden loam, 2 parts rotted manure, and 1 part sand (by volume) gave good yields and contained sufficient humus to be fairly friable and retentive of moisture.
The essential physical conditions for good growth of crops apparC ently being supplied by this amount of manure, the problem became one of ascertaining whether the plant-food materials in the mixture might be satisfactorily supplemented by commercial fertilizing materials so as to provide for the needs of maximum crops. Taking the 4-2-1 soil mixture as standard, therefore, commercial fertilizing materials containing nitrogen, potassium, and phosphorus were applied to different greenhouse plots and the yields resulting from the different treatments recorded.
A comparison was also made between soil mixtures containing different proportions of manure, both with and without commercial fertilizers, and a test was included to determine the effect of sterilizing a greenhouse soil with steam previous to the planting of each crop of lettuce. The steam sterilization was originally planned to aid in disease control, but as there was very little damage from disease in any of the plots, its effect on the yields of lettuce was of more significance.
The first series of experiments in using commercial supplements to manure for the growing of greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes were conducted for three years. The results, reported on pages 317 to 328, indicated that certain treatments favorable to the production of large yields of tomatoes were detrimental to the lettuce crop, while other treatments favorable to lettuce were unfavorable to tomatoes. There-
fore, further tests were planned with a view to finding, if possible, a combination of treatments that would be effective in producing large yields of both crops. These are reported in the last section of the bulletin, on pages 328 to 336.
METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXPERIMENTS
The tests were made in the west greenhouse of the vegetable range at this Station. The house, which is 28 by 50 feet, is provided with both ridge and side ventilation and equipped with four benches. Three of the benches were used for the different soil treatments, while part of the fourth was employed for growing the young plants preparatory
With both lettuce and tomatoes, the seed was sown in flats and the young seedlings shifted to 2V2-inch pots as soon as the plants were large enough to handle. The soil used in the pots was in all cases a mixture of 4 parts garden loam, 2 parts manure, and 1 part sand.
to setting them in the differently treated soil mixtures. The benches were 47 inches wide, inside measure, and were divided by cross partitions into sections 6 feet long, so that the area of each section was approximately 24 square feet. The depth of the benches was 6% inches.
In preparing the soil mixture, garden loam and rotted manure were pulverized by passing the loam thru a half-inch screen and the manure thru a manure shredder. The loam, manure, and sand were then thoroly mixed by repeated shoveling, and the mixture was placed in the benches, which were filled slightly above the level of the sides. The soil was smoothed off with a straight edge without being compacted. After being wet down and prepared for planting, the top of the soil was slightly below the edge of the bench, thus leaving sufficient space for watering.
EXPERIMENTS WITH GREENHOUSE LETTUCE AND TOMATOES
Each season four crops of Grand Rapids lettuce and a spring crop of tomatoes were grown. At the close of the tomato harvest each year the benches were cleaned out completely and an entirely new lot of soil put in for the next season's work.
Method of Applying Fertilizers.— In applying the fertilizer the ingredients for each section were weighed separately, ground in a mortar, and sprinkled carefully by hand over the surface of the soil in the given section of bench. The material was then thoroly mixed with the
fate, and acid phosphate were used.
With the exception of the nitrate, only one application was made for the season's cropping, which consisted of four crops of lettuce and one crop of tomatoes. In the case of the nitrate the quantity specified was usually applied previous to the planting of each lettuce crop, so that the application for the entire season ordinarily consisted of four times the quantity here shown.
soil by means of trowels. The fertilizer, except the nitrate of soda, was usually applied and worked into the soil several days before the planting was to be done. The nitrate ordinarily was applied not more than 24 hours before the planting. As soon as one crop of lettuce was harvested, the soil was dug up with a hoe and leveled with a rake, the nitrate applied, and another crop started if the plants were large enough for setting. Occasionally it was necessary to wait a few days for the plants to develop to the proper size and condition for setting. Usually, however, very little time was lost between the harvesting of one lettuce crop and the planting of another.
house, the following schedule of temperatures was maintained in the lettuce house until the third crop was harvested: night, 50° F.; cloudy day, 55° F.; clear day, 60-65° F. When the fourth crop of lettuce, which was interplanted with tomatoes, was put on the benches, the temperature was raised 5 degrees. After the fourth crop of lettuce was harvested and the tomatoes occupied the benches alone, the tem-
The lettuce was harvested when the most advanced plants had reached prime condition for market. All the harvesting was done in the morning, and whenever possible on a cloudy day, in order to lessen the variation in weights caused by differences in turgidity of lettuce harvested at different hours of the day and at different temperatures.
Growing the Seedling Plants. — For growing the plants of both lettuce and tomatoes, the seed was sown in flats and the young seedlings were shifted to 2% -inch pots as soon as the plants were large enough to handle. The potting soil used was in all cases the 4-2-1 mixture described on page 311. The pots were plunged to their rims in the soil of a greenhouse bench. The lettuce plants were transplanted from the 2l/2 -inch pots to the benches, but the tomato plants were shifted to 4-inch pots before being benched. When conditions were favorable, the seed for the first crop of lettuce was sown from August 19 to 25. For the succeeding crops a new batch of seed was sown at about the time the plants of the preceding crop were placed on the benches. The tomato seed was sown at or about the same date as the lettuce for the fourth crop.
Distance of Planting. — The soil of each section was marked off in checks 8 inches apart, and a lettuce plant was placed at each intersection. Each section thus accommodated six rows of 9 plants each, or a total of 54 plants. When the tomatoes were interplanted in the lettuce, 4 lettuce plants were omitted from the second row and 4 from the fifth row, and tomato plants were substituted for them. Thus for the fourth crop there were 46 lettuce plants and 8 tomato plants in each section.
After the lettuce had begun to
cover the benches, the hose was handled in a manner to avoid wetting the leaves. Fumigation for the control of aphids and white fly was resorted to whenever conditions demanded it.
The tomatoes were pruned to
single stems, and were trained to perpendicular cords fastened to wire loops that extended thru the cracks between the bottom boards of the benches, where they were
anchored by means of small wooden blocks. The tops were tied to horizontal wires supported by the framework of the house. The vines were tied to the upright cords by means of soft twine. Hand pollination was resorted to in order to insure setting of the fruit.
Harvesting. — When the most advanced lettuce had reached prime condition for market, the entire crop was harvested. The plants were cut off at the surface of the ground, and any dried or yellow leaves were removed. The net trimmed lettuce from each section was weighed separately and the yield recorded. The weights of the four crops from a given plot were added to determine the yield for the season.
The harvesting was invariably done in the morning, and whenever possible a cloudy day was chosen, so that there might be less variation in weights due to differences in the turgidity of lettuce at different hours of the day and at different temperatures.
planted from the 2^inch pots to the benches, but the tomato plants were shifted to 4-inch pots before being benched.
The tomatoes were harvested twice a week, beginning as soon as there were any ripe fruits and continuing as long as there were any fruits of marketable quality. After each picking they were graded
77 days
into No. 1's, No. 2's, and culls, consideration being given to size, shape, and smoothness. The No. 1's and No. 2's were marketed together as a single grade, and met with ready sale in the local market.
TO MANURE
In the following analysis of the results obtained in the first three years of these fertilizer tests, the yields for the lettuce crops and for the tomato crops are given separately. As previously stated, some treatments proved of benefit for one crop but detrimental to the other, and it is worth while to see just what these results were before considering the later tests designed to discover combination treatments beneficial to both crops.
TESTED SINGLY AND IN COMBINATION
The results of supplementing the 4-2-1 soil mixture with a single fertilizing element are shown in Table 5, which gives the total yields of lettuce from certain plots each year, together with the three-year average. The addition of nitrate of soda invariably increased the season's yield; and the addition of dried blood gave a marked increase
Acid phosphate, potassium sulfate, nitrate
JIn this indication of the soil mixture the first figure refers to the proportion of garden loam, the second to the proportion of manure, and the last to the proportion of sand. These proportions were determined by volume rather than by weight.
in yield two seasons and a very slight decrease the third, with an average increase of 7% pounds. On the other hand, the addition of acid phosphate or potassium sulfate resulted in a lower average yield.
When nitrogen was added as one of two fertilizing elements to the 4-2-1 soil mixture, the average yield for the three years was slightly increased, altho not so much as when nitrogen alone was used (Table
6). The use of a combination of acid phosphate and potassium sulfate resulted in a slightly larger yield one year and a very slightly larger three-year average. The complete fertilizer, composed of acid
phosphate, potassium sulfate, and nitrate of soda, gave a marked increase in yield one year but such small yields the other two years that the three-year average was below that of the check.
LIME COUNTERACTS INJURIOUS EFFECT OF ACID PHOSPHATE
Since it was conceivable that acid phosphate might render the soil too acid for the best growing conditions for the lettuce, one plot was treated with lime in addition to the acid phosphate in order to compare the yields with those from the plot treated with acid phos-
phate alone. The plot to which lime was added outyielded the plain acid-phosphate plot every year (Table 7) , and as an average for the three years showed more than 5 pounds increase in yield. It was also distinctly superior to the check plot, while the plot receiving the acid phosphate alone showed a lower average yield than the check.
most of the tests.
The double nitrate treatment gave lower yields than the normal nitrate treatment every year (Table 8), and as an average for the three years showed a decreased yield of nearly 11 pounds. The average yield from the double nitrate plot was lower than from the check plot.
The double application of acid phosphate gave a slightly lower three-year average yield than the normal application; and both these treatments resulted in lower average yields than the check.
Doubling the quantity of the complete fertilizer (acid phosphate, potassium sulfate, and sodium nitrate), whether used on a soil containing manure or without manure, decreased the average yield as compared with the corresponding plots treated with the normal quantities of the same ingredients.
COMPARISON OF THE THREE SOIL MIXTURES
The basic soil mixture used in most of the plots was composed of 4 parts garden loam, 2 parts rotted manure, and 1 part sand. However, three plots were included in which no manure was added to the
mixture of garden loam and sand, the formula being 4-0-1. A few plots also were included in which the soil mixture was composed of 4 parts garden loam, 4 parts rotted manure, and 1 part sand. For each of these soil mixtures there was an untreated check plot and a corresponding plot treated with acid phosphate, potassium sulfate, and sodium nitrate. In the case of the 4-2-1 mixture and also the 4-0-1 mixture, there was likewise a plot receiving a double treatment of these fertilizing materials. The yields from these various plots are given in Table 9.
Of the check plots the one with the 4-4-1 mixture gave a distinctly larger yield than the 4-2-1 mixture in two of the three years, and as a three-year average showed nearly 4 pounds greater yield. The untreated 4-0-1 mixture showed an average yield which was approximately 19 pounds less than the 4-4-1 mixture and 15 pounds less than the 4-2-1 mixture.
Treatment with the complete fertilizer failed to increase the average yields from the 4-2-1 mixture and from the 4-4-1 mixture. However, the addition of a normal quantity of the complete fertilizer to the 4-0-1 mixture increased the yield every year, and showed a gain of more than 11 pounds as a three-year average.
The double quantity of complete fertilizer applied to the 4-0-1 mixture gave an increased yield two years of the three and an increase of approximately 7 pounds as a three-year average. However,
the 4-0-1 mixture with a complete fertilizer added, yielded less than the untreated 4-2-1 mixture or the untreated 4-4-1 mixture. Furthermore, the lettuce produced on the 4-0-1 mixture was of inferior quality, being of small size and tough in texture.
STEAM STERILIZATION INCREASES YIELDS OF SECOND AND THIRD CROPS
Marked increases in yield were secured two years out of three from a plot of the 4-4-1 soil mixture which was sterilized1 with steam before the planting of each crop of lettuce, that is, four times during each cropping season (Table 10.) The three-year average yield from
the sterilized plot was 4 pounds 10 ounces greater than from the corresponding unsterilized plot. The heavy crops of lettuce in the sterilized plots were distinctly different in appearance from any other lettuce in the house; the leaves were larger, coarser, and darker colored than the foliage of the other lettuce.
The increased yield from the sterilized plot was due largely to the especially heavy yields in the second and third crops each season. The fourth crop of the season was sometimes very light and disappointing. The repeated sterilizing seemed to render the plant food in the manure more quickly available, so that the supply was considerably depleted by the time the fourth crop was reached. However, the sterilizing did not, on the average, increase the yield in the first crop; the principal effect was on the second and third crops of the season.
EFFECT OF TREATMENTS ON YIELDS OF TOMATOES
During the harvesting period the tomatoes were picked twice each week. Except in 1920, when a late start was secured on account of delay with the first crop of lettuce the fall before, the harvesting of the greenhouse tomatoes was completed by the time the main crop of outdoor tomatoes became abundant. The total yields of marketable
*The method of sterilization was as follows: A galvanized iron pan was inverted over the section of the bench to be sterilized, and live steam at a pressure of about 5 pounds was introduced under the pan by means of a rubber hose connected with a steam pipe in the heating system of the greenhouse. The treatment was continued for two hours.
The plot treated with nitrate of soda and the one treated with dried blood invariably gave larger yields than the untreated plot, the average increase apparently due to the nitrate treatment amounting to approximately 6% pounds to the plot of 8 plants, and the increase in yield apparently due to the dried blood amounting to almost 9 pounds to the plot. The two plots receiving acid phosphate and potassium sulfate respectively showed increased yields two years out of the three, and increases also as an average for the three years.
The effects on the yields of greenhouse tomatoes obtained by adding more than one fertilizing element to the 4-2-1 soil mixture are indicated in Table 12. Wherever nitrogen was included in the fertilizer mixture, the average yields were markedly increased ; and where nitro-
gen was omitted, the average yield was slightly lowered. A comparison with the yields given in Table 11 shows also that the nitrate of soda used in conjunction with acid phosphate or potassium sulfate gave larger average yields of tomatoes than when nitrate of soda was used alone.
ADDING LIME GIVES NO MATERIAL INCREASE IN YIELD
The addition of lime to the soil treated with acid phosphate did not materially increase the average yield of tomatoes as compared with the yield from the plot treated with acid phosphate alone (Table
DOUBLING THE QUANTITY OF FERTILIZER LOWERS YIELDS
A comparison of the yields of tomatoes from plots where the regular quantities of the fertilizing materials were used, with those from plots receiving double those quantities, is shown in Table 14. In no case was the average yield increased by doubling the quantity of fertilizer; in fact, it was distinctly smaller in three cases and slightly smaller in the other than the yield from the corresponding normally treated plot. The decrease in yield apparently due to the heavy fertilizing was especially marked in the case of the soil mixture which contained no manure.
The check plots of the three different soil mixtures showed marked differences in yields of tomatoes, the increase in yield following the increase in the proportion of manure in the mixture (Table 15). The untreated 4-2-1 mixture gave an average yield of over 11 pounds more than the 4-0-1 mixture, while the 4-4-1 mixture gave an average of nearly 10 pounds more than the 4-2-1 mixture. The differ-
ence in average yield between the 4-0-1 mixture and the 4-4-1 mixture was 21 pounds and 8 ounces per plot, or more than 2% pounds per plant. In other words, the heavily manured plot yielded over 50 percent more than the plot without manure.
When a complete fertilizer was added in normal amount, the response to the fertilizer treatment was greatest in the case of the soil without manure, on which the increase in average yield apparently due to the commercial fertilizers was nearly 13 pounds to the plot. The
increase in average yield in the 4-2-1 mixture, apparently due to the same fertilizer treatment, was only 6 pounds and 9 ounces, or approximately half as much as in the case of the soil without manure. The commercial fertilizer gave a still smaller increase when added to the 4-4-1 mixture, the difference in average yield evidently due to the fertilizer treatment being only 4 pounds and 14 ounces for the plot.
FOUR CROPS OF LETTUCE
The yield of tomatoes from the sterilized plot was invariably lower than that from the unsterilized plot, the three-year average showing a difference of more than 15 pounds in favor of the unsterilized plot (Table 16). As mentioned in the discussion regarding the
lettuce on the sterilized plot, this treatment seemed to render the plant food in the soil mixture more quickly available, so that it was drawn upon very heavily by the second and third crops of lettuce. This sometimes left little available plant food for the fourth crop of lettuce and the crop of tomatoes following the lettuce on the sterilized plot.
COMBINED YIELDS OF LETTUCE AND TOMATOES
Since it is desirable to know the total yield of greenhouse crops from a given bench area during the greenhouse cropping season, the average yields of lettuce and marketable tomatoes per season from each plot or bench section have been calculated in terms of pounds per square foot of bench area (Table 17). The average total yield of lettuce and tomatoes combined is also given.
The lettuce and tomatoes were sold at wholesale to merchants in Champaign and Urbana. The price received for the lettuce ranged from 12% to 25 cents a pound, averaging slightly over 20 cents. Twenty cents a pound was approximately the average price received for the tomatoes also; they sold at 25 cents a pound early in the season, 20 cents later on, and finally at 15 cents after the local early outdoor crop was supplying the market. COGO t^
dollar for each square foot of bench space, and the fifth plot yielded almost one dollar a square foot, while the poorest plot (the check plot without manure or fertilizer) yielded products worth only a fraction more than 66 cents a square foot.
The lettuce and tomatoes did not respond equally well to the same fertilizer treatment (Table 17). The lettuce responded especially well to nitrogen alone, whether it was supplied by means of sodium nitrate, dried blood, heavy manuring, or steaming of the heavily manured soil. Acid phosphate seemed to be detrimental to the lettuce crop unless supplemented by lime or sodium nitrate; and even then the yields were less than from the use of nitrate alone. The complete fertilizer, consisting of acid phosphate, potassium sulfate, and sodium nitrate, apparently reduced the yields of lettuce, except on the soil which contained no manure.
On the other hand, the tomatoes, while responding quite favorably to the nitrogen treatment, gave considerably higher yields where the nitrate was supplemented with acid phosphate, and the highest yield of all where the complete fertilizer was used on the plot already heavily manured. Reasonable quantities of acid phosphate, whether used alone or in combination, apparently were not detrimental to the tomato crop.
It would appear from these results that no acid phosphate should be used for the lettuce crop, except possibly in combination with lime, and that acid phosphate used with plenty of nitrogen is a very desirable combination for the production of good crops of greenhouse tomatoes. In view of these circumstances, additional tests were planned for the purpose of finding, if possible, a method of fertilizing that would be highly beneficial to both crops. These further tests are discussed in the following pages.
To obviate the harmful effect of acid phosphate on lettuce noted in the preceding experiments, and yet furnish phosphorus for the succeeding tomato crop, three methods of supplying this plant food were compared: (1) lime was applied along with the acid phosphate; (2) steamed bone meal was substituted for acid phosphate; and (3) acid phosphate was applied as a top-dressing to the tomatoes after the last crop of lettuce was harvested.
In the earlier tests steam sterilization of the soil, while resulting in heavy initial crops of lettuce, seemed to effect such depletion of the soil that the fourth crop of lettuce and the crop of tomatoes were sometimes greatly reduced. An effort was made to overcome this dif-
A mixture of acid phosphate and potassium sulfate also was tested as a top-dressing for the tomato crop. Other tests were included to compare further nitrate of soda and dried blood as sources of nitrogen for the crops in question.
tomatoes
The initial applications of fertilizer and the top-dressings of nitrate were made in the same manner as in the preceding tests. The top-dressings for the tomatoes (acid phosphate, and acid phosphate and potassium sulfate) were made immediately after the fourth crop of lettuce was harvested from among the tomato plants. The materials were sprinkled over the surface of the soil and worked in lightly by means of a hand weeder. Care was taken to avoid letting any of the fertilizers come in direct contact with the stems or roots of the plants.
EFFECT OF DIFFERENT METHODS OF APPLYING PHOSPHORUS
The combination of steamed bone and nitrate did not result in as high yields of lettuce as an average for the three years as the acid phosphate with nitrate and lime (Table 19). The latter combination gave slightly better yields than the average of the three nitrate plots,
than the yields from the plots treated with nitrate alone.
The combined treatment of acid phosphate, lime, and nitrate gave much better average yields of tomatoes than the lime and acid phosphate (Table 20) . The top-dressing of acid phosphate to the tomatoes, following nitrate treatment for the lettuce, gave still better results. Where dried blood had been used as a source of nitrogen for the lettuce, the top-dressing of acid phosphate for the tomatoes did not appear to be effective.
The highest yield of tomatoes, as an average for the three years, was secured from the plot treated with steamed bone and nitrate for the lettuce, with no additional treatment for the tomatoes. The addition of potassium sulfate as a top-dressing along with the acid phosphate seemed to reduce the yield.
FROM STEAM STERILIZATION
In the previous tests steam sterilization of the soil before the planting of each lettuce crop seemed to result in such depletion of the soil as to reduce the fourth crop of lettuce and the crop of tomatoes following. A test was therefore made to determine the effect of the addition of nitrate to the sterilized soil just before planting the fourth crop, and of acid phosphate following the harvest of the lettuce.
Steam sterilization distinctly increased the total yield of lettuce each year, and in two years out of the three the application of nitrate of soda for the fourth crop made a slight additional increase (Table 21). Each year the fourth crop was slightly larger from the plot that was treated with nitrate preceding the planting of that crop. However, the fourth crop of lettuce was not reduced by the sterilization of the soil, as it wras in the preceding test.
The depleting effect of steam sterilization on the soil during the production of the four lettuce crops was apparent in the tomato crop following the lettuce (Table 22). The sterilized plot without supple-
mentary treatment yielded a much smaller crop of tomatoes, as an average for three years, than the untreated plot. Top-dressings of sodium nitrate applied before the last crop of lettuce, and of acid phosphate to the tomatoes, partially overcame this depleted condition, but still the average yield of the plot so treated was less than the yield of the check plot.
Top-dressings of acid phosphate and potassium sulfate applied to the unsterilized soil of the same composition, following treatment with nitrate of soda for the lettuce, gave a decided increase in yield.
AS SOURCES OF NITROGEN FOR LETTUCE
Each year both sodium nitrate used alone and dried blood used alone gave distinct increases in yields of lettuce, as compared with the check plot (Table 23). While the average yields from the plots treated
with blood were slightly higher for the three-year period than those from plots treated with nitrate, the data in Table 5 indicate that for the preceding three-year period the average yields were slightly better from the nitrated plot. If a six-year average is taken, the yields are approximately the same from the plots treated with nitrate and from those treated with dried blood.
Two SOIL MIXTURES COMPARED, WITH AND WITHOUT NITRATE
The 4-4-1 soil mixture (4 parts each of loam and manure and 1 part sand) gave larger yields of lettuce every year than the 4-2-1 mixture, when neither soil was supplemented with additional nitrogen
(Table 24) . The addition of nitrate to both soils distinctly increased the yields, the 4-2-1 mixture with the addition of nitrate giving larger yields than the 4-4-1 mixture without nitrate. However, the largest yields of all were secured from the 4-4-1 mixture treated with nitrate. These results emphasize the importance of liberal supplies of nitrogen for the lettuce crop.
In order to determine the total yield of lettuce and tomatoes for the greenhouse cropping season, the yields have been reduced to terms of pounds per square foot of bench space (Table 25).
The products from the greenhouse in 1921 to 1924 were sold at wholesale to merchants in Champaign and Urbana. The price of lettuce varied from 12% to 23 cents a pound, and the tomatoes were sold at 15 to 20 cents a pound. The value of the crops per square foot of bench space has been calculated on the basis of 18 cents a pound (Table 25).
The value of the combined crop averaged more than one dollar per square foot of bench space for the highest yielding plot, in spite of the lower price of products in this period as compared with the preceding three-year period. Several other plots produced crops to the value of almost one dollar per square foot of bench space.
On the 4-2-1 soil mixture acid phosphate and lime used with nitrate produced a satisfactory crop of lettuce and a good crop of tomatoes. Slightly better results in combined yields of the two crops, however, were secured when the nitrate was used alone for the lettuce and the acid phosphate applied as a top-dressing for the tomatoes after the last crop of lettuce was harvested. The use of steamed bone with nitrate resulted in the largest crop of tomatoes, but was less favorable to the production of lettuce than the nitrate and acid phosphate.
Sterilization of the 4-4-1 soil mixture resulted in the heaviest crops of lettuce, but so depleted the soil that, in spite of the top-dressings of sodium nitrate and acid phosphate, the yields of tomatoes were much reduced. The unsterilized 4-4-1 mixture treated with nitrate for the lettuce and supplemented with a top-dressing of acid phosphate and potassium sulfate for the tomatoes, produced a large crop of tomatoes and the largest combined yield of tomatoes and lettuce.
COST OF FERTILIZER RELATIVELY SMALL
The question of the relative costs of the different fertilizer treatments, so far as the commercial fertilizers are concerned, is unimportant, for at the prices of fertilizing materials in 1924, the cost of the most expensive treatment was less than l/2 cent a square foot. The expense for commercial fertilizer, therefore, is almost negligible as a factor in the cost of producing greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes, when the original cost of the greenhouse and equipment, the upkeep of the plant, and the fuel and labor involved in producing the crop are considered.
Less than % cent for supplementary fertilizer for a crop that will probably be worth nearly a dollar is a very small item in the cost of production, and the relative costs of different commercial fertilizers need not be considered in comparing their merits.
CONCLUSIONS
1. It does not seem feasible to grow greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes on raised benches of brown silt loam without the use of manure. Not only are the yields light, but the quality of lettuce is poor where no manure is used.
2. Satisfactory crops of greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes may be grown in a soil mixture of 4 parts brown silt loam, 2 parts rotted manure, and 1 part sand by properly supplementing this mixture with commercial fertilizers.
3. Greenhouse lettuce responds readily to nitrogen treatment. Nitrate of soda or dried blood will give excellent results in supplementing the plant-food materials in a 4-2-1 soil mixture. Nitrate will even increase the yield of lettuce on a rich soil mixture composed of 4 parts loam, 4 parts rotted manure, and 1 part sand.
336 BULLETIN No. 286
4. When used on a 4-2-1 soil mixture, acid phosphate is detrimental to the lettuce crop unless it is used in combination with lime, but is beneficial to the tomato crop, especially when used in combination with nitrate. The beneficial effect on the tomatoes may be secured without danger of detriment to the lettuce by applying the acid phosphate as a top-dressing for the tomatoes after the last crop of lettuce has been harvested. Such fertilization, combined with the use of sodium nitrate in the production of the lettuce, results in conditions favorable for the production of both crops.
5. Potassium sulfate appears to be of no particular importance in the fertilizing of greenhouse lettuce, but may be of some benefit to greenhouse tomatoes, when used in combination with sodium nitrate or nitrate and acid phosphate.
yields of both lettuce and tomatoes are likely to be reduced.
7. Since the cost of commercial fertilizer is an insignificant item in the cost of production of greenhouse lettuce and tomatoes, the use of such materials as will increase the yields is fully warranted.
8. Sterilizing a heavily manured soil by the use of steam before each crop of lettuce is planted stimulates an enormous growth of lettuce, especially in the second and third crops, but results in such exhaustion of the soil that the succeeding crop of tomatoes is likely to be small.
| 8,109 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | fertilizerexperim00lloy | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0019.json.gz:2291 | https://archive.org/download/fertilizerexperim00lloy/fertilizerexperim00lloy_djvu.txt |
VeQarpxn8C5ied3a | Scientific American Supplement, No. 623, December 10, 1887 | Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at www.pgdp.net.
SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN SUPPLEMENT NO. 623
NEW YORK, DECEMBER 10, 1887
Scientific American Supplement. Vol. XXIV., No. 623.
Scientific American established 1845
Scientific American Supplement, $5 a year.
Scientific American and Supplement, $7 a year.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
I. ARCHITECTURE.--Notes on the Construction of a Distillery
Chimney--A new method of building lofty shafts, including a
metallic frame and brick lining--3 illustrations. 9949
The Commercial Exchange, Paris--The new Paris exchange now
in process of erection.--Present state of operations--1
illustration. 9954
II. ASTRONOMY.--The Yale College Measurement of the Pleiades.--
Dr. Elkin's work with the Repsold heliometer at Yale College. 9957
III. CHEMISTRY--New Method for the Quantitative Determination
of Starch.--By A.N. ASBOTH--Determination of starch by its
barium compound. 9956
Synthesis of the Alkaloids--A retrospect of the field of
work so far traveled over by synthetical chemists, and
future prospects. 9956
The Chemical Basis of Plant Forms--By HELEN C. DE S. ABBOTT
--Continuation of this important contribution to plant
chemistry, one of the most valuable of recent chemical
monographs. 9955
IV. ELECTRICITY.--An Electrical Governor--A new apparatus for
preserving a constant electromotive force with varying
dynamo speed--1 illustration. 9952
Electric Launch--A French government launch with Krebs
electric motor. 9954
The electric current as a means of increasing the tractive
adhesion of railway motors and other rolling contacts.--By
ELIAS E. RIES--A full review of this important subject, with
accounts of its experimental examination. 9953
V. ENGINEERING--Benier's Hot Air Engine--A new caloric engine
very fully illustrated and described--8 illustrations. 9943
Heating Marine Boilers with Liquid Fuel--A simple apparatus
and recent experiments with the same.--3 illustrations. 9945
The Change of Gauge of Southern Railroads in 1886--By C.H.
HUDSON.--The conclusion of the account of this great
engineering feat, with tables of statistics and data--16
illustrations. 9946
Your Future Problems--By CHAS. E. EMERY--An address to
the graduating class of the Stevens Institute, N.J.--A
practical view of the engineering profession. 9943
VI. MISCELLANEOUS--A Group of Hampshire Downs--A typical
breed of sheep, their qualities and habits.--1 illustration. 9957
VII. NAVAL ENGINEERING--The Spanish Cruiser Reina Regente--A
further description of this celebrated vessel--4
illustrations. 9948
Torpedo Boats for Spain--The Azor and Halcon, two Yarrow
torpedo boats, described and illustrated--7 illustrations. 9947
VIII. PHOTOGRAPHY--How Different Tones in Gelatino-chloride Prints
may be Varied by Developers.--Twenty different formulæ for
the above purpose. 9949
Film Negatives--Eastman stripping films, their manipulation
and development. 9949
IX. SANITATION--French Disinfecting Apparatus--A portable
apparatus for disinfecting clothes and similar objects--1
illustration. 9952
X. TECHNOLOGY.--The Manufacture of Cocaine--The extraction
of cocaine with alkali and petroleum, with statement of
percentage yielded by various leaves. 9954
The Production of Oxygen by Brin's Process--The commercial
manufacture of oxygen by means of baryta--3 illustrations. 9950
#Transcriber's Note: Following entry not in original table of contents#
Deep Sea Dredgings: Examination Of Sea Bottoms. By THOMAS 9958
T.P. BRUCE WARREN.
BENIER'S HOT AIR ENGINE.
The hot air engine, although theoretically recognized for some time
past as the most economical means of converting heat into motive
power, has up to the present met with little success. This is due to
the fact that the arrangement of the motors of this class that have
hitherto been constructed has been such as to render them but slightly
practical. In the Benier hot air engine (illustrated herewith),
however, obstacles that were once considered insurmountable have been
overcome, and the motor presents many advantages over all the types
that have preceded it. Among such advantages we shall cite the
possibility of utilizing air at a high temperature (1,200 or 1,500
degrees), while the rubbing surfaces remain at a moderate temperature
(60 or 80 degrees). The fire grate is placed in the interior of the
cylinder, and is traversed by the cold air forced by a pump. The
expanded hot gases fill the cylinder and act against the piston
directly above the grate.
The type herewith illustrated is of 6 horse power. The motive
cylinder, CC', is bolted to the extremity of the frame, A. Upon this
latter is fixed a column, B, which carries a working beam, E. This
latter transmits the motion of the piston, P, to the shaft, D. A pump,
G, placed within the frame, forces a certain quantity of cold air at
every revolution into the driving cylinder. The piston of this pump is
actuated by the connecting rod, G', jointed to the lever, F', which
receives its motion from the rod, F. A slide valve, _b'_, actuated by
a cam, regulates the entrance of the cold air into the pump during
suction, as well as its introduction into the cylinder. There is a
thrust upon the piston during its upward travel, and an escape of hot
gas through the eduction valve, _h_, during the downward travel.
The cylinder is in two parts, C and C'. The piston, which is very
long, rubs at its upper end against the sides of the cylinder, C. The
lower end is of smaller diameter, and leaves an annular space between
it and the cylinder. The grate is at the bottom of the cylinder, C'.
The sides of the cylinder at the level of the fire box are protected
with a lining of plumbago. When the piston is at the bottom of its
travel, the eduction valve closes. The slide valve, _b'_, establishes
a communication between the pump chamber and the cylinder. The air
contained in the pump is already compressed in the latter to a
pressure of nearly a kilogramme at the moment of the communication.
This air enters the cylinder, and the communication between the latter
and the pump continues until all the air is forced into the driving
cylinder, the piston of the pump being at the bottom of its travel,
and that of the cylinder about midway.
[Illustration: BENIER'S HOT AIR ENGINE.]
The air forced by the pump piston enters the cylinder through two
conduits, one of which leads a portion of it toward the top of the
cylinder, and the other toward the bottom. The lower conduit debouches
under the grate, and the air that passes through it traverses the fire
box, and the hot gas fills the cylinder. The conduit that runs to the
top debouches in the cylinder, C, at the lower limit of the surface
rubbed by the piston. The air that traverses this conduit is
distributed through the annular space between the piston and cylinder.
The hot gas derived from combustion can therefore never introduce
itself into this annular space, and consequently cannot come into
contact with the rubbing surfaces of the cylinder and piston.
As the quantity of air introduced at every stroke is constant, the
work developed at every stroke is varied by regulating the temperature
of the gas that fills the cylinder. When the temperature falls, the
pressure, and consequently the work developed, diminishes. This result
is obtained by varying the respective quantities of air that pass
through the fire box and around the piston. In measure as less air
passes through the fire box, the quantity that passes around the
piston augments by just so much, and the pressure diminishes. A valve,
_n'_, in the conduit that runs to the fire box is controlled by the
regulator, L', in the interior of the column. When the work to be
transmitted diminishes, the regulator closes the valve more or less,
and the work developed diminishes.
The coke is put by shovelfuls into a hopper, I. Four buckets mounted
upon the periphery of a wheel, I', traverse the coke, and, taking up a
piece of it, let it fall upon the cover, J, of the slide valve, _j_,
whence it falls into the cavity of the latter when it is uncovered,
and from thence into the conduit, _c'_, of the box, _j'_, when the
cavity of the valve is opposite the conduit. From the conduit, _c'_,
the coke falls upon the grate.
A small sight hole covered with glass, in the cover, J, permits the
grate to be seen when the cavity of the valve is opposite _c'_.
As in gas engines, a current of water is made to flow around the
cylinder, C', in order to keep the sides from getting too hot.
In order to set the engine in motion, we begin by opening the bottom,
C, of the cylinder, C', to clean the grate. This done, we close C and
introduce lighted charcoal through the conduit, _c'_ (the valve being
open). The valve is put in place, two or three revolutions are given
to the fly wheel, and the motor starts. The feeding is afterward done
with coke.
The parts that transmit motion operate under conditions analogous to
those under which the same parts of a steam engine do. The air pump
sucks and forces nothing but cold air, and nothing but cold air passes
through the distributing slide valve. The pump and valve are therefore
rendered very durable. The piston and cylinder, at the points where
friction exists, are at a temperature of 60 or 80 degrees. These
surfaces are protected against hot gas charged with dust.
The hot gas, which escapes from the cylinder through a valve, has
previously been cooled by contact with the sides of the cylinder and
by expansion. The eduction valve just mentioned works about like that
of a steam engine, and it is only necessary to polish it now and then
in order to keep it in good condition.--_Annales Industrielles._
YOUR FUTURE PROBLEMS.[1]
[Footnote 1: An address to the graduating class, Stevens
Institute, Hoboken, N.J., 1887.]
By CHARLES E. EMERY.
_Mr. President and Ladies and Gentlemen:_ It has not been considered
the duty of the speaker, in addressing the graduating class, to dwell
on the triumphs of science or the advantage of a liberal education.
These subjects have already been discussed, in connection with the
regular courses of study, better, and more at length, than he could
do. We propose rather to try and prepare the minds of the graduates
for the practical problems before them.
All young men are impressed with the consciousness of higher powers as
they increase their stores of knowledge, and this feeling perhaps
reaches its maximum with those who have made a specialty of the
investigation and application of physical laws. Young men who have
learned how to harness the powers of nature and guide them to do their
will are apt to belittle the difficulties they have yet to overcome,
and have a false impression of the problems of life. This feeling is
shown to a minimum extent by graduates of the Stevens Institute, on
account of their careful practical training, in connection with the
thorough study of principles; but it has been thought best for one
from the outside world to supplement such teaching by calling to mind
instances which may have a useful counteracting effect, and, like
parables, serve the purpose of illustrative instruction.
_Gentlemen of the Class of '87_: It was the pleasure of the speaker to
address the class of '79, under the title of "How to Succeed," some
words of counsel and warning, which, if they left an impression of
severity at the time, were apparently so well received afterward that
he has been tempted to continue the general subject, with the title of
"Your Future Problems." The notation of your future problems will not
be found at once among the known quantities, but with _x_, _y_, and
_z_, at the other end of the alphabet. Often word symbols will be
applicable, expressing at times disappointment and pain, at other
times renewed effort, and finally the active phases of individual
thought and exertion.
The first serious problem with many of you will be to secure
satisfactory engagements. This problem cannot be illustrated by
parables. It needs, in general, patient, unremitting, and frequently
long continued effort. It may be that the fame of some of you, that
have already acquired the happy faculty of making yourselves
immediately useful, has already gone abroad and the coveted positions
been already assured. To be frank, we cannot promise you even a bed of
roses. We have in mind an instance where a superior authority in a
large business enterprise who had great respect, as he should have,
for the attainments of young gentlemen who have had the opportunities
of a technical education, deliberately ordered out a competent
mechanical engineer, familiar with the designs required in a large
repair shop, and sent in his place a young gentleman fresh from school
and flushed with hope, but who from the very nature of the case could
know little or nothing of his duties at that particular place. He was
practically alone in the drawing room, and did not know where to find
such drawings as were required, and candor requires it to be said that
he desired to ask many questions about those he did find. The
superintendent unfortunately had nothing to do with his appointment,
and rather resented it. So he did not trust any of his work, and the
new comer was obliged to learn his practical experience at that
establishment, where he was known as the mechanical engineer, by
having all his work done over by the pattern maker or others, under
the eye of the superintendent or master mechanic, and be subjected all
the time to the jealousies and annoyances incident to such a method of
introduction.
His practical experience was certainly learned under difficulties
which I trust none of you may experience. This statement is made that
those of you who have not yet obtained positions may not envy those
who have, and that each and all of you may be careful not to take a
position so far above your experience, if not your capacity, as to
become unpleasantly situated in the beginning. The educational
facilities you have enjoyed are of such great value in some
exceptional cases that the parties thus benefited may do you an injury
by leading others to expect that you will be equally valuable in
performing duties which require much more practical experience and
knowledge of detail than it is possible that you could have obtained
in the time you have been here.
The incident is ripe with suggestions. No matter how humble a position
you may take in the beginning, you will be embarrassed in much the
same way as the young gentleman in question, though it is hoped in a
less degree. Your course of action should be first to learn to do as
you are told, no matter what you think of it. And above everything
keep your eyes and ears open to obtain practical knowledge of all that
is going on about you. Let nothing escape you of an engineering
nature, though it has connection with the business in hand. It may be
your business the next day, and if you have taken advantage of the
various opportunities to know all about that particular matter in
every detail, you can intelligently act in relation to it, without
embarrassment to yourself and with satisfaction to your superior.
Above all, avoid conflict with the practical force of the
establishment into which you are introduced. It is better, as we have
at another time advised, to establish friendly relations with the
workmen and practical men with whom you have to do.
You are to be spared this evening any direct references to the
"conceit of learning," but you are asked and advised to bear with the
_conceit of ignorance_. You will find that practical men will be
jealous of you on account of your opportunities, and at the same time
jealous of their own practical information and experience, and that
they may take some pains to hinder rather than aid you in your
attempts to actively learn the practical details of the business. The
most disagreeable man about the establishment to persons like you, who
perhaps goes out of his way to insult you, and yet should be respected
for his age, may be one who can be of greatest use to you. Cultivate
his acquaintance. A kind word will generally be the best response to
an offensive remark, though gentlemanly words of resentment may be
necessary when others are present. Sometimes it will be sufficient to
say, "I wish a little talk with you by yourself," which will put the
bystanders at a distance and enable you to mature your plans.
Ascertain as soon as possible that man's tastes; what he reads and
what he delights in. Approach him as if you had no resentment and talk
on his favorite topic. If rebuffed, tell a pleasant story, and persist
from time to time in the attempt to please, until his hardened nature
relaxes and he begins to feel and perhaps speaks to others favorably
of you. St. Paul has said: "For though I be free from all men, yet
have I made myself servant of all that I might gain the more." This is
the keynote of policy, and though in humbling yourself you control and
hide your true feelings, recollect that all your faculties are given
you for proper use.
We have referred to some who have acquired the happy faculty of making
themselves immediately useful. This is a much more difficult matter
than the words imply. If one of you should be so fortunate as to be
ordered to make certain tests almost like those you have already
conducted here, or to tabulate the results of tests as you have done
it here, or to make inspections akin to those which have been fully
explained here, there is every probability the work would be done
satisfactorily in the first instance. But let a much _simpler_ case
arise, for instance, if a superior hand one of you a letter with the
simple instructions, "Get me the facts on that," you may be very much
puzzled to know what is to be done and how to do it. It may be that
the letter is a request for information in regard to certain work that
was carried on in the past, in which case it will be necessary for you
to hunt through old records, copy books, engineering notes, drawings,
and the like, and get a list of all referring to the subject; to make
an abstract of the letters and notes if they are at all complicated;
and finally to lay the whole before the overworked superior in a
business manner, that he largely from recollection, aided by the
references and notes, can write an intelligent answer in a very brief
period. The way not to do it would be to say, "Yes, sir," very
promptly, go off and not more than half read the letter, do something
and be back in five minutes with some question or ill-digested answer;
then upon receiving a polite hint as to the method to be employed, go
off and repeat the operation the next five minutes; then on receiving
a short reply, in what appeared to be an unnecessary tone of voice,
get a little flurried perhaps, do worse next time, and in the end feel
very unpleasant without having accomplished much, and make the
gentleman seeking assistance lament the difficulty in teaching young
men practical work.
It is possible, on the contrary, for a young man to exceed his
instructions and volunteer advice that has not been asked. If he has
unfortunately gone too far for some time and been sharply spoken to,
he may fail the next in not fully doing the work intended. Simply
putting down a column of figures would not necessarily mean tabulating
facts. The arrangement and rearrangement of the columns aid in
classifying such facts, so that the results shown by them will be
readily seen and a great deal of labor saved in examination. A good
rule in a case of this kind is to try and find some work done by other
parties of a similar nature, and thereby ascertain what is needed and
expected. Reasonable questions to ascertain, where records are to be
found and the kind of records accessible, are always proper if made at
the proper time without interrupting an immediate train of thought;
and with such information as a start, if a young man will endeavor to
imagine himself in a place like that of the one who has finally to
decide, and try to ascertain just what information will probably be
required, then patiently go to work to find and present it in
condensed shape, he from that moment really begins to be useful and
his services will be rapidly appreciated. It is a good rule always to
keep the memoranda obtained in accomplishing a result of this kind; so
that if further information is required, the whole investigation need
not be made over.
This remark suggests another line of thought. Some young men with
quick perceptions get in the way at school of trusting their memories,
and omit making complete notes of lectures or of the various tests
illustrating their studies. This carelessness follows them into after
life, and there are instances where young men, who can make certain
kinds of investigations much better than their fellows, and promptly
give a statement of the general nature of the results, have, when
called on afterward for the details, forgotten then entirely, and
their notes and memoranda, if preserved, being of little use, the
labor is entirely lost. Such men necessarily have to learn more
careful ways in after life. It is a good rule in this, as in the
previous case, to make and copy complete records of everything in such
shape that they may be convenient for reference and criticism
afterward.
One of the important problems with which you will have to deal in the
future is the labor question, and it is probable that your very first
experience with it may be in direct antagonism with the opinions of
many with whom you have heretofore been associated. It is an honor to
the feelings of those who stand outside and witness this so-called
struggle now in progress between capital and labor, that they believe
the whole question can be settled by kindly treatment and reasonable
argument. There are some cases that will yield to such treatment, and
one's whole duty is not performed till all possible, reasonable, and
humanitarian methods are adopted. There has been an excuse for the
organization of labor, and it, to some small extent, still exists.
Time was that the surplus of unskilled labor was used on a mercantile
basis to reduce wages to such an extent that it was almost impossible
to rear a well nurtured, much less a well educated and well dressed
family, and, moreover, the hours of labor in some branches of business
were so long as to shorten the lives of operatives and make
self-improvement impossible. The natural progress of civilizing
influence did much to abate many of these evils, but the organization
of labor removed sores that had not and perhaps could not have been
reached in other ways. Having then an excuse for organization, and
supported by the success made in directions where public sympathy was
with them, is it to be wondered that they have gone too far in very
many cases, and that the leadership of such organization has in many
instances been captured by designing men, who control the masses to
accomplish selfish ends? Whatever may have been the method of
evolution, it is certain that the manufacturing operations of the
present day have to meet with elements entirely antagonistic to their
interests, and in very many ways antagonistic to the interests of the
workingman. The members of many organizations, even of intelligent
men, are blindly led by chiefs of various titles, of which perhaps the
walking delegate is the most offensive one to reasonable people. This
class of men claim the right to intrude themselves into the
establishments owned by others, and on the most trivial grounds make
demands more or less unreasonable, and order strikes and otherwise
interfere with the work of manufacturers, much in the way that we have
an idea that the agents of the barbarbous chieftains, feudal lords,
and semi-civilized rulers collected taxes and laid burdens in earlier
historical times. Necessarily these men must use their power so as to
insure its permanency. If strikes are popular, strikes must be
ordered. If funds run low, excuses for strikes, it is believed, in
many cases are sought, so as to stir the pulses of those who
sympathize with the labor cause.
Co-operation has been suggested as a cure for the evil, and there are
cases where it has apparently succeeded, in connection with the
earlier forms of labor organization. The ambition of later labor
leaders almost prevents this remedy being of effect. It may be
possible still with very intelligent workmen, isolated from the large
mass of workmen in the country towns, to feel an interest in
co-operation; but such inducements, or the higher ones of personal
kindness to employes or their families, are not of much effect in
large manufacturing centers. As soon as dissatisfaction exists in one
mill or manufactory, all similar employes are ordered out. The final
result will be that combinations of employers must follow the
combination of employes, and those who have always been strong in the
past will be stronger in the future, as has appeared to be the case in
many contests that have already taken place. If there are any real
abuses of power by the employers, such as requiring work for unusual
hours or at less than living rates, the first thing to do is to
correct these abuses, so that complaints will not be upon a sound
foundation. Some men, when the labor epidemic strikes their places,
have sufficient force of character and influence with their men to
avert the blow for some time. Others find it is policy to compromise
with the representatives until a plan of action, conciliatory,
offensive, or defensive, can be determined upon. The whole matter must
be considered one of policy rather than of principles. The class of
men to be dealt with do not talk principles except as an excuse to
secure their ends.
In spite of everything, there will be times when no compromise is
possible and you will be called upon to take part in defending your
employers' interests against what is called a "strike." You can do so
with heart when you know the employes are all well paid, and
particularly, as is frequently the case, when the labor organizers and
walking delegates claim that some old, tried foreman shall be
dismissed because they do like him, really because he has not been a
tool in carrying out their plans, and they defiantly acknowledge that
their war is against non-union labor, and that they have organized
your men and forced a strike to require your establishment to become
as it is called a "union shop." If your deluded employes were
permitted simply to go away and let you alone, and you were permitted
to employ others at the reasonable wages you were paying, the problem
would be a simple one. The principal labor organizations claim that
everything they do is by peaceable methods, but this, like many things
said, is simply to deceive, for if you attempt to employ other
assistants and carry on your business independently, you will surely
find that well known roughs are assembled who never do anything
without they are paid for it by somebody, that your men are assaulted
by such persons, and while the labor organizers talk about peaceable
methods and urge them aloud in public, in case one of the roughs is
arrested, the loud talkers are the first to go bail for the defender,
and you will feel morally sure that the sympathizing crowd with the
roughs who make the assaults are all part of or tools of the
organization.
At such times, you will find your old employes standing around the
street corners, persuading other men not to go to work and thus
interfere with what are called the true interests of labor. Any new
employe who has to go in the street will be first met with inducements
of other employment, with offers of money, afterward with threats,
and, if opportunity occurs, with direct assault. All the features of
persuasion, intimidation, and violence will be carried out as
demanded, and strangers to everybody in the vicinity, but well known
as experienced leaders in this kind of work in other places, be
brought in to endeavor to make the strike a success. Then, young men,
is the time to show your pluck, and our experience is that educated
young men will do so every time. They can be depended upon to go
straight ahead with duty through every danger, bearing patiently
everything that may be said, defending themselves with nature's
weapons as long as possible, and without fear using reserve weapons in
case real danger of life is imminent.
In carrying through a very important strike against a mere desire to
control and not to correct abuses, your speaker desires to pay the
highest tribute to a number of educated young men, mostly from the
technical schools, who fearlessly faced every danger, and by their
example stimulated others to do their duty, and all participated in
the results obtained by a great success.
We would not by such references fire your hearts to a desire to
participate in such an unpleasant contest. It is the duty of all to
study this problem intelligently and earnestly, with a view of
overcoming the difficulties and permitting the prosperity of the
country to go on. While conciliation may be best at some times, policy
at another, and resistance at another, we must also be thinking of the
best means to prevent further outbreaks. It would seem to be true
policy not to interfere with organization, but to try and direct it
into higher channels. Those of the humanitarians who claim that the
disease will be rooted out eventually by a more general and better
education are undoubtedly largely in the right, notwithstanding that
some fairly educated men have acted against their best interests in
affiliating with the labor organizations. It seems to the speaker that
enough instances can be collected to show the utter folly of the
present selfish system, based, as it is, entirely on getting all that
is possible, independent of right in the matter, and by demanding
equal wages for all men, tending to lower all to one common
degradation, instead of rewarding industry and ability and advancing
the cause of civilization.
Labor should not be organized for selfish ends, but for its own good,
_so as to secure steady and permanent employment_, rather than prevent
it by impracticable schemes and unwise methods, which will cripple
manufacturers and all kinds of industry. The men should organize under
the general laws of the State, so that their leaders will be
responsible to the laws and can be indicted, tried, and punished in
case they misappropriate funds or commit any breach of trust; and such
laws should be amended if necessary, so that wise, responsible leaders
of the organizations can contract to furnish labor for a certain time
at a fixed price, when manufacturers can make calculations ahead as to
the cost of labor the same as for the cost of material, and have such
confidence that they will use all their energies to do a larger amount
of business and benefit the workingman as well as themselves by
furnishing steady employment. Such a plan as is here outlined can
readily be carried into effect by selecting better men as leaders. It
is well known how well the organization known as the locomotive
brotherhood is conducted, and it should be an example to others. It
has had its day of dissensions, when the best counsels did not
prevail, which shows that any organization of the kind, no matter how
well conducted, may be diverted by its leaders into improper channels.
When organized under the laws of the State and under by-laws designed
to secure steady employment, rather than any artificial condition of
things in regard to pay hours, and continuance of labor, the true
interests of the workman will be advanced. It may be that some one of
you will develop a talent in the direction of organization and be the
means of aiding in the solution of this great problem. Please think of
the matter seriously, watch the law of evolution while you are
advancing your professional knowledge, and if the opportunity offers,
do all you can to aid in a cause so important and beneficent.
One writer has criticised the technical schools because they do not
teach mechanical intuition. The schools have enough to do in the time
available if they teach principles and sufficient practice to enable
the principles to be understood. The aptitude to design, which must be
what is meant by mechanical intuition, requires very considerable
practical experience, which you will readily learn if you do not keep
yourself above it. If you have used your leisure hours to study why a
certain piece of mechanism was made in a certain way rather than in
another; if you have wondered why one part is thick in one place
rather than in another, apparently in defiance of all rules of the
strength of material; if you have endeavored to ascertain why a
particular device is used rather than another more evident one; if you
have thought and studied why a boss is thrown in here and there in
designs to receive bolts or to lengthen a journal, and if you have in
your mind, by repeated observation, a fair idea of how work is
designed by other people, the so-called _mechanical intuition_ will be
learned and found to be the _combination of common sense and good
practice_.
You will observe that some details have been copied for years and
years, although thoughtful men would say they are not the best, simply
because they are adapted to a large amount of work already done. This
is particularly true of the rolling stock on railroads. The cost of a
change in starting in a new country might be warranted, but it
practically cannot be done when the parts must interchange with so
much work done in other parts of the country. You will find in other
cases that the direct strain to which a piece of mechanism is
subjected is only one of the strains which occur in practice. A piece
of metal may have been thickened where it customarily broke, and you
may possibly surmise that certain jars took place that caused such
breakages, or that particular point was where the abuse of the
attendant was customarily applied.
Wherever you go you will find matters of this kind affecting designs
staring you in the face, and you will soon see why a man who has
learned his trade in the shop, and from there worked into the drawing
room with much less technical information than you have, can get along
as well as he does. Reserve your strength, however. Your time will
come. Whenever there is a new departure to be taken, and matters to be
worked out from the solid which require close computation of strains
or the application of any principles, your education will put you far
ahead, and if you have, during the period of what may be called your
post-graduate course, which occurs during your early introduction into
practical life, been careful to keep your eyes and ears open so as to
learn all that a man in practical life has done, you will soon stand
far ahead.
Reference was made to the use of leisure hours. Leisure hours can be
spent in various ways. For instance, in studying the composition and
resolution of forces and the laws of elasticity in a billiard room,
the poetry of motion, etc., in a ball room, and the chemical
properties of various malt and vinous extracts in another room; but
the philosophical reason why certain engineering work is done in the
way it is, and the proper way in which new work shall be done of a
similar character and original work of any kind carried on, can only
be learned by cultivating your powers of observation and ruminating on
the facts collected in the privacy of one's own room, away from the
allurements provided for those who have nothing to do. No one would
recommend you to so separate yourself from the world as to sacrifice
health and strength, or to become a recluse, even if you did learn all
about a certain thing.
Remember, however, that the men who have accomplished most in this
world worked the longest hours, and any one with a regular occupation
must utilize his leisure hours to obtain prestige. The difference
between one man and another of the same natural ability lies entirely
in the amount of his information and the facility with which he can
use it. Life is short, and you must realize that now is your
opportunity. If any diversion in the way of pleasure or even certain
kinds of congenial work is offered, consider it in connection with the
question, "Will this be conducive to my higher aim?" This implies that
you have a higher aim; and if you have it, and weigh everything in
this way, you will find that every moment of exertion adds something
to your storehouse of information and brings you nearer to the
accomplishment of that higher aim.
In closing, we thank the ladies and gentlemen present for their close
attention to details of special interest only to those engaged in
technical study or practice.
We congratulate you, young gentlemen of the class of '87, for the
success you have thus far obtained, and trust that you will persevere
in well doing and win greater success in the future. We need hardly
state that all that has been said was in a spirit of kindness, and we
feel assured that much of it has been seconded by your parents, to
whom no less than to all parents here present off or on the stage, the
speaker not excepted, a serious, thoughtful problem has been, still
is, and will continue to be to many, "What shall we do with our
boys."--_Stevens Indicator._
HEATING MARINE BOILERS WITH LIQUID FUEL.
We were recently witness of an experiment made at Eragny Conflans on
the steam yacht Flamboyante. It was a question of testing a new
vaporizer or burner for liquid fuel. The experiment was a repetition
of the one that the inventor, Mr. G. Dietrich, recently performed with
success in the presence of Admirals Cloue and Miot.
The Flamboyante is 58 ft. in length, 9 ft. in width, draws 5 ft. of
water, and has a displacement of 10 tons. She is provided with a
double vertical engine supplied by a Belleville boiler that develops
28 horse power. The screw makes 200 revolutions per minute, and gives
the yacht a speed of 6½ knots.
Mr. Dietrich's vaporizer appears to be very simple, and has given so
good results that we have thought it of interest to give our readers a
succinct description of it. In this apparatus, the inventor has
endeavored to obtain an easy regulation of the two essential
elements--naphtha and steam.
Fig. 1 represents the apparatus in section. The steam enters through
the tubulure, A, and finds its way around the periphery of a tuyere,
D. It escapes with great velocity, carries along the petroleum that
runs from two lateral tubulures, B (Fig. 2), and throws it in a fine
spray into the fireplace, through the nozzle, C (Fig. 1), which is
flattened into the shape of a fan opened out horizontally. The mixture
at once ignites in contact with the hot gases, and gives a beautiful,
long, clear flame. The air necessary for the combustion is sucked
through the interior of the nozzle, H, which is in front of the
tuyere. It will be seen that the current of steam can be regulated by
moving the tuyere, D, from or toward the eduction orifice. This is
effected through a maneuver of the hand wheel, F. In the second place,
the flow of the petroleum is made regular by revolving the hand wheel,
G, which gives the piston, O, a to and fro motion in the tuyere, D.
[Illustration: FIG. 1--THE DIETRICH PETROLEUM BURNER.]
The regulation may be performed with the greatest ease. It is possible
to instantly vary, together or separately, the steam and the
petroleum. Under such circumstances, choking is not to be feared at
the petroleum orifice, where, according to experiment, the thickness
of the substance to be vaporized should not be less than 0.04 of an
inch.
The petroleum might evidently be made to enter at A and the steam at
B; but one of the conclusions of the experiments cited is that the
performance is better when the jet of steam surrounds the petroleum.
It will be understood, in fact, that by this means not a particle of
the liquid can escape vaporization and, consequently, combustion.
Moreover, as the jet of petroleum is completely surrounded by steam
its flow can be increased within the widest limits, and this, in
certain cases, may prevent an obstruction without much diminishing the
useful effect of the burner.
The apparatus is easily and rapidly taken apart. It it is only
necessary to remove the nozzle, C, in order to partially clean it. It
would even seem that the cleaning might be done automatically by
occasionally reversing the flow of the steam and petroleum. However
efficacious such a method might prove, the apparatus as we have
described it can be very easily applied to any generator. Fig. 2
represents it as applied to the front of a furnace provided with two
doors. A metallic box, with two compartments, is placed on one side of
the furnace, and is provided with two stuffing boxes that are capable
of revolving around the steam and petroleum pipes. The latter thus
form the pivots of the hinge that allows of the play of the vaporizers
and piping.
[Illustration: FIG. 2--THE BURNER APPLIED TO THE FURNACE OF A BOILER.]
It was in this way that Mr. Dietrich arranged his apparatus in an
experiment made upon a stationary boiler belonging to a Mr. Corpet.
The experiment was satisfactory and led to the adoption of the
arrangement shown in Fig. 3. The fire bridge is constructed of
refractory bricks, and the majority of the grate bars are filled in
with brick. The few free bars permit of the firing of the boiler and
of access of air to the interior of the fire box. Under such
circumstances, the combustion is very regular, the furnace does not
roar, and the smoke-consuming qualities are perfect.
[Illustration: FIG. 3--APPLICATION OF THE BURNER TO A RETURN FLAME
BOILER.]
In the experiment on the Flamboyante, the boiler was provided with but
one apparatus, and the grate remained covered with a layer of ignited
coal that had been used for firing up in order to obtain the necessary
pressure of steam to set the vaporizer in operation. This ignited coal
appeared to very advantageously replace the refractory bricks, the
role of which it exactly fulfilled. It has been found well, moreover,
to break the flames by a few piles of bricks in the furnace, in order
to obtain as intimate a mixture as possible of the inflammable gases.
It is to be remarked that firing up in order to obtain the necessary
steam at first is a drawback that might be surmounted by using at the
beginning of the operation a very small auxiliary boiler. The main
furnace would then be fired by means of say a wad of cotton. But, in
current practice, if a grate and fire be retained, the firing will
perhaps be simpler.
With but one apparatus, the pressure in the Flamboyante's boiler rose
in a few minutes from 6 to 25 pounds, and about a quarter of an hour
after leaving the wharf the apparatus had been so regulated that there
was no sign of smoke. This property of the Dietrich burner proceeds
naturally from the use of a jet of steam to carry along the petroleum
and air necessary for combustion. It is, in fact, an Orvis smoke
consumer transformed, and applied in a special way.
It must be added that the regulating requires a certain amount of
practice and even a certain amount of time at every change in the
boat's running. So it is well to use two, and even three, apparatus,
of a size adapted to that of the boiler. The regulation of the furnace
temperature is then effected by extinguishing one or two, or even
three, of the apparatus, according as it is desired to slow up more or
less or to come to a standstill.
The oil used by Mr. De Dosme on his yacht comes from Comaille, near
Antun. The price of it is quite low, and, seeing the feeble
consumption (from 33 to 45 lb. for the yacht's boiler), it competes
advantageously with the coal that Mr. De Dosme was formerly obliged to
use.--_La Nature._
[Continued from SUPPLEMENT, No. 622, page 9935.]
THE CHANGE OF GAUGE OF SOUTHERN RAILROADS IN 1886.[1]
[Footnote 1: A paper read before the Western Society of Engineers,
June 7, 1887.]
By C.H. HUDSON.
Many of the wheels that were still in use with the long hub were put
into a lathe, and a groove was cut an inch and a half back from the
face, leaving our cast collar, which was easily split off as before.
(Fig. 24.)
With tender wheels, as with our car wheels, the case was different.
Originally, the axle for the 5 ft. gauge was longer than for the 4 ft.
9 in.; but latterly the 5 ft. roads had used a great many master car
builders' axles for the 4 ft. 9 in. gauge, namely, 6 ft. 11¼ in. over
all, thus making the width of the truck the same as for 4 ft. 9 in.
gauge. To do this a dished wheel, or rather a wheel with a greater
dish by 1½ in. than previously used, was needed, so that the tread of
the wheel could be at its proper place. (See Fig. 25.) There were, of
course, many of the wheels with small dish and long axles still in
use. Their treatment, however, when the day of change came, did not
vary from that of the short axle.
[Illustration: FIG. 24 and FIG. 25]
It had been the rule for some years that all axles should be turned
back 1½ in. further than needed; but unfortunately the rule had not
been closely followed, and many were found not to be so turned. To
make the matter worse, quite a number of the wheels were found to have
been counterbored about ½ in. deep at the back end, and the axle
turned up to fit this counterbore; a good idea to prevent the running
in, in case the wheel worked loose, but bad from the standpoint of a
change of gauge. In such cases the wheels had to be started off before
the axle could be turned back, so that the wheels could be pushed on
in their proper position. (Fig. 26.)
[Illustration: FIG. 26]
If the work was done where they had a lathe large enough to swing a
pair of wheels, they were pressed off but half an inch, the wheels
swung in the lathe, the axles turned back 1½ in., and the wheels then
pressed on 2 in. or 1½ in. inside of their first position.
Where no large lathe was in use, the wheels came entirely off before
the axles could be turned back. The work in the former case was both
the quicker and the cheaper. Where the large lathes were used they
were either set down into the floor, so a pair of wheels would easily
roll into place, or a raised platform was put before the lathe, with
an incline up which the wheels were rolled and then taken to the
lathe. These arrangements were found much quicker and cheaper than to
hoist the wheels up, as is usually done.
In pressing the wheels on, where the axles had previously been turned
back, much trouble was at first experienced because of the rust that
had gathered upon the turned part behind the wheel, forming a ridge
over or upon which the wheel must be pushed. Some of the roads, at the
start, burst 10 or 15 per cent. of the wheels so pressed on. By
saturating this surface with coal oil, however, it was found that the
rust was easily removed and little trouble was had. It was found,
sometimes, that upon axles newly turned back a careless workman would
leave a ridge at the starting point of the turning. Frequently also
the axles were a little sprung, so that the new turning would be a
little scant upon one side when compared with the old surface, and
upon the opposite side a little full. As an indication that these
difficulties were overcome as they appeared, I will say that upon our
line only 202 wheels burst out of nearly 27,000 pressed on--an
exceedingly small percentage.
After the change upon the early roads they were troubled for weeks
with hot boxes, caused, as we believed, by the changing of brasses. A
brass once fitted to a journal will work upon it without trouble, but
when placed upon some other journal will probably not fit. If the
journal had been worn hollow (and it was surprising to see how many
were so worn), the brass would be found worn down to fit it. (See Fig.
27. Exaggerated, of course.)
[Illustration: FIG. 27 and FIG. 28]
The next wheel may have an axle worn little or none. (See Fig. 28)
Now, if these brasses are exchanged, we have the conditions as shown
in Figs. 29 and 30, and we must expect they will heat. The remedy was
simply to keep each brass upon its own journal. To do this the brasses
were fastened to the axle by a piece of small wire, and went with it
to the lathe and press. When its truck was reached, the brass was
there with its journal. Worn-out brasses, of course, could not be put
in, and new ones were substituted. The little trouble from that source
that followed the change showed the efficacy of the remedy.
[Illustration: FIG. 29 and FIG. 30]
The manner in which the tires of engines were to be changed, when the
final day came, was a serious question. The old-fashioned fire upon
the ground could not be thought of. The M. & O. had used a fire of
pine under the wheel, which was covered by a box of sheet iron, so
arranged that the flame and heat would be conveyed around the tire,
and out at an aperture at the top. (Fig. 31.) Many thought this
perfect, while others were not satisfied, and began experiments for
something better. A device for using gas had been patented, but it was
somewhat complicated, as well as expensive, and did not meet with
general favor. A very simple device was soon hit upon. A two inch pipe
was bent around in a circle a little larger than the outer rim of the
wheel. Holes 1/10 in. in diameter and 3 or 4 in. apart were drilled
through the pipe on the inside of the circle. To this pipe was
fastened another with a branch or fork upon it. To one branch or fork
was connected a gas pipe from the meter, while to the other was
connected a pipe from an air pump. With the ordinary pressure of city
gas upon this pipe it was found that the air pump must keep an air
pressure of 40 pounds, that the air and gas might mix properly at the
branch or fork, so we could get the best combustion and most heat from
our "blowpipe," for such it was. (Fig. 32.)
[Illustration: FIG. 31 and FIG. 32]
We were able to heat a tire so it could be moved in ten to twenty
minutes, and the machine may be said to have been satisfactory.
Gas, however, was not to be had at all places where it would be
necessary to change tires, and the item of cost was considerable.
To reach a result as good, if possible, experiments were begun with
coal oil (headlight oil). They were crude and unsatisfactory at first,
but soon success was reached.
A pipe was bent to fit the lower half of a wheel pretty closely and
then turned back under itself about the diameter of the pipe distant
from it. This under part had holes 1/10 in. diameter and 3 or 4 in.
apart drilled upon its upper side or under the upper pipe. Connected
with the upper pipe at its center was a pipe which ran to one side and
up to the can containing the kerosene. Between the can and the pipe
under the wheel was a stop cock, by which the flow of oil could be
controlled.
[Illustration: FIG. 33]
To use the device, open the cock and let a small amount of oil flow;
apply fire to the pipe under the wheel, and the oil in the upper pipe
is converted into gas, which flows out of the small holes in the lower
pipe, takes fire, and heats not only the tire, but the upper pipe,
thus converting more oil into gas. We had here a lot of blue flame
jets and the same result as with gas, but at less cost. We had also a
machine that was inexpensive and easily handled anywhere. Boxes were
placed over the upper parts of the wheels, that the heat might pass
closely to the tire. This device was extensively used by our people,
and with great satisfaction. In one way care had to be taken, viz.:
That in starting the fire it did not smoke and cover the tire with
carbon or "lampblack," which is a non-conductor of heat.
Experiments were made with air forced through gasoline, and with oil
heated in a can to form gas. There was more danger in either of these
than with our blowpipe device, and no better results were obtained,
though the cost was greater.
With the change of the wheels, the brakes had to be changed the same
amount, that is, each one set in 1½ in. This it was thought would
either require new hangers or a change in the head or shoe in some
way. We found that the hangers could easily be bent without removal.
Fig. 34 shows three hangers after passing through the bending process.
A short lever arranged to clasp the hanger just below the point, A,
was the instrument; a forked "shore" is now placed, with the fork,
against the point, A, and the other end against the car sill; press
down on the lever and you bend the hanger at A; lower the lever to a
point just below B, reverse the process, and you have the bend at B;
the whole thing taking less than two minutes per hanger. A new bolt
hole, of course, has been bored in the brake beam 1½ in. inside the
old hole. It takes but a short time after this to change the position
of the head and shoe.
[Illustration: FIG. 34]
Before the day of change, a portion of the spikes were drawn from the
inside of the rail to be moved, and spike set 3 in. inside of the
rail. As a rule two spikes were drawn and the third left. At least
every third spike was set for the new gauge, and in some cases every
other one.
There were several devices with which to set the spike. A small piece
of iron 3 in. wide was common, and answered the purpose well. This had
a handle, sometimes small, just large enough for the hand to clasp,
while others had a handle long enough for a man to use it without
stooping down. (See Figs. 35 and 36.) Another device is shown in Fig.
37, so arranged that the measurements were made from the head of the
other rail. This was liked best, and, it is thought, gave the best
results, as the moved rail was more likely to be in good line than
when the measurements were taken from the flange.
[Illustration: FIG. 35, FIG. 36 and FIG. 37]
It was intended that great care should be taken in driving the spikes,
that they were in the proper place, square with the rail, and left
sticking up about an inch.
The ties, of course, were all adzed down before the day of change.
"Handspikes" were originally used to throw the rails, as were lining
bars.
We found, however, that small "cant hooks" were more easily handled
and did better work. The first were made like Fig. 38, with a spike in
the end of a stick, while the hook was fastened with a bolt about 10
or 12 inches above the foot.
[Illustration: FIG. 38 and FIG. 39]
We afterward made them of a 1¼ in. rod, 3½ ft. long, pointed at one
end, with a ring shrunk on 1 ft. from the bottom. Then the hook was
made with an eye, as shown in Fig. 39, which slipped down over the top
of the main rod. This was simple and cheap, and the iron was to be
used for repair purposes when this work was done.
Upon the system with which the writer was connected we had some
branches where we could experiment upon the moving of the rail.
Between Selma and Lauderdale the traffic was light, and at Lauderdale
it connected with the Mobile & Ohio Railroad, which was narrow, and to
which all freight had to be transferred, either by hoisting the cars
or by handling through the house. By changing our gauge we would
simply change the point of transfer to Selma. Here was a chance to
experiment upon one hundred miles and cause little trouble to traffic.
We could see the practical workings of our plans, and, at the same
time, leave less to do on the final day. Upon the 20th of April we did
this work. It had been our plan to do it somewhat earlier, but floods
prevented.
Most of the rail was old chair iron, short, and consequently more time
was used in making the change than would have been required had our
work been on fishplate rail. Our sections here were about eight miles
long, and we arranged our men on the basis blocked out by the
committee, viz., 24 to 26 men to the section, consisting of 6 spike
pullers, 4 throwing rails, 12 spikers, 2 to push the cars and carry
water.
We soon found 5 ft. cars useless, and threw them into the ditch to be
picked up at some future time.
The men were spread out so as not to be in each other's way, and when
the organization was understood and conformed to, it worked well. One
gang changed 5 miles in 5 hours and 10 minutes, including a number of
switches. We found, however, and it was demonstrated still more
strongly on later work, that after 5 or 6 miles the men began to lag.
We believed we had the best results when we had sections of about that
length.
It was arranged that two sections, alternately, commenced work
together at one point, working from each other and continuing until
the force of another section was met, working from the opposite
direction.
The foreman in charge was expected to examine the work and know that
all was right. The push car which followed was a good test as to
gauge.
A work train was started from each end with a small force (20 or 25
men) to run over the changed track. This train, of course, had been
changed on a previous day to be ready for this work.
If a force was overtaken by this train with its work not done, the men
on the train were at once spread out to aid in its completion. This
done, the train ran on.
Not until this was done was a traffic train allowed to pass over the
track. The same rule was followed upon all the work.
Upon the final day it was required that upon all high trestles and in
tunnels the track should be full-spiked before being left or a train
let over. This took extra time and labor, and possibly was not
necessary; but it was a precaution on the side of safety.
Upon the day of the change of the Alabama Central Division (Selma to
Lauderdale), superintendents of other divisions, with their road
masters, supervisors, master mechanics and many section foremen, were
sent over to see the organization and work and the preparations that
had been made. Many of them lent a helping hand in the work. They saw
here in practice what had only been theory before.
About a week before the general change that portion of the road
between Rome, Ga., and Selma, Ala., about 200 miles, was changed, and
again men from other divisions were sent to see and aid in the work.
So when the final day came, the largest possible number of men were
able to work understandingly.
On the last day of May the Memphis & Charleston, Knoxville & Ohio, and
North Carolina branch were changed, and on June 1 the line from
Bristol to Chattanooga and Brunswick.
Other roads changed their branch lines a day or two before the 1st of
June; but the main lines, as a rule, were changed on that day.
It was a small matter to take care of the cars and arrange the train
service so there should be no hitches. It was not expected that
connections would move freight during the 48 hours prior to the
change, and these days were spent in clearing the road of everything,
and taking the cars to the points of rendezvous. All scheduled freight
trains were abandoned on the day prior to the change, and only trains
run _to_ such points.
Upon the East Tennessee system these points were Knoxville, Rome,
Atlanta, Macon, Huntsville, and Memphis, and to these points all cars
must go, loaded or empty, and there they were parked upon the tracks
prepared for the purpose. Passenger trains were run to points where it
had been arranged to change them, generally to the general changing
point.
Most of the Southern roads have double daily passenger service. Upon
all roads one of these trains, upon the day of change, was abandoned,
and upon some all. Some, even, did not run till next day.
We were able to start the day trains out by 10 or 11 o'clock A.M., and
put them through in fair time. Of course, no freights were run that
day, and the next day was used in getting the cars which had been
changed out of the parks and into line. So our freight traffic over
the entire South was suspended practically three days.
The work of changing was to commence at 3:30 A.M., but many of the men
were in position at an earlier hour, and did commence work as soon as
the last train was over, or an hour or so before the fixed time.
Half-past three A.M., however, can be set down as the general hour of
commencement.
For five or six hours in the cool morning the work went on briskly,
the men working with much more than ordinary enthusiasm. But the day
was warm, and after 9 or 10 A.M. it began to lag. All was done,
however, before the day was over, and safe, so that trains could pass
at full speed.
The men all received $1.50 for the work, whether it was finished early
or late in the day, and were paid that afternoon as soon as the work
was done. Tickets were given the men, which the nearest agent paid,
remitting as cash to the treasurer.
On some lines it was deemed best to offer prizes to those who got
through first.
Reports showed some very early finishes. But the facts seem to have
been that under such encouragement the men were apt to pull _too many_
spikes before the change and put _too few_ in while changing. They
were thus reported through early, but their work was not done, and
they took great chances.
It was by most considered unwise to offer such prizes, preferring to
have a little more time taken and be sure that all was safe. Such
lines seemed to get their trains in motion with as much promptness as
others. This, with freedom from accident, was the end sought.
It was found after the work had been done that there had been little
inaccuracies in driving the gauge spike, to which the rail was thrown,
probably from various causes. The rail to be moved may not always have
been exactly in its proper place, and then the template in the hurry
may not have been accurately placed, or the spike may have turned or
twisted.
Whatever was the cause, it was found that frequently the line on the
moved side was not perfect, and, of course, many spikes had to be
drawn and the rail lined up and respiked. The more careful the work
had been done, the less of this there was to do afterward. With rough
track this was least seen. The nearer perfect, the more noticeable it
was.
Of course, we all planned to get foreign cars home and have ours sent
to us. But when the interchange stopped, we found we had many foreign
cars, which, of course, had to be changed. This subject had come up in
convention and it had been voted to charge three dollars per car when
axles did not need turning, and five dollars where they did. By
comparison with the cost of changing, as shown in this paper, it will
be seen that to our company, at least, there was no loss at these
figures.
The following tables will explain the work done upon the Louisville &
Nashville and East Tennessee, Virginia & Georgia systems.
It is to be regretted that the writer has not at hand information
regarding other roads, that fuller statements and comparisons might be
made and the showings be of greater value.
The figures of the Mobile & Ohio are added, having been compiled from
the annual report of that road.
MOBILE & OHIO RAILROAD.
(_Compiled from Annual Report._)
| | | | | |
| Number | Cost of | Cost of | Total |Average|
|Changed.| Labor. | Material | Cost. | Cost. |
|________|__________|__________|__________|_______|
| | | | | |
Engines and tenders. | 47 |$ 8,031.42|$ 7,276.86|$15,308.28|$325.70|
Pass., bag., ex. cars.| 55 | 439.37| 104.25| 542.62| 9.87|
Freight cars, 1,361. }|1,468½ | 5,719.03| 739.57| 6,458.60| 4.40|
Freight trucks, 107½.}| | | | | |
Lever and push cars. | 143 | 1,427.55| 476.93| 1,904.48| 13.32|
| | | | | |
| Miles. | | | | |
Track (inc. sidings). | 583.5 | 17,109.53| 7,275.14| 24,384.87| 41.79|
Bridges. | 583.5 | 1,896.60| 190.00| 2,086.60| 3.58|
Track tools. | 583.5 | 170.72| 1,405.74| 1,576.46| 2.70|
Shop tools. | 583.5 | 419.70| 2,982.90| 3,402.60| 5.83|
Temp. side tracks. | 12.09| 1,958.94| 372.37| 2,331.31| 192.83|
Switching cars. | | 1,398.18| 16.50| 1,414.68| |
Car hoists. | | 2,499.38| 4,419.34| 6,918.72| |
|________|__________|__________|__________|_______|
| | | | | |
Total cost. | |$41,069.42|$25,259.60|$66,329.02| |
Total average cost | | | | | |
per mile. | | | | |$113.68|
______________________|________|__________|__________|__________|_______|
LOUISVILLE & NASHVILLE RAILROAD.
(_Compiled from Annual Report._)
Miles of track--Main line 1,893.7
--Side track 196.3
------- 2,090.0
Cost
Track. Total. per Mile.
Section labor--Before day of change $28,106.60
--On day of change 20,090.42
--After day of change 19,713.19
---------- $67,910.21 $32.49
Carpenter labor 3,799.19 1.82
Spikes 20,873.70 9.99
Switches 6,331.85 3.03
Tools 2,749.50 1.31
Hand cars and sundries 5,691.39 2.72
----------- ------
Total $107,855.84 $51.36
_Equipment._
Average
Number. Total. Cost.
Locomotives 264 $53,480.98 $202.58
Cars (300 of these passenger--3.5%) 8,537 49,577.20 5.81
----------- --------
Total cost $210,414.02
Total average cost per mile $100.67
EAST TENNESSEE, VIRGINIA & GEORGIA SYSTEM.
__________________________________________________________________________
| | | | | |
| Number | Cost of | Cost of | Total |Average|
| Changed.| Labor. | Material | Cost. | Cost. |
|_________|__________|__________|___________|_______|
| | | | | |
Engines and tenders. | 180 |$ 8,227.47|$ 2,904.30|$ 11,131.77|$ 61.82|
Pass., bag., and mail | | | | | |
cars. | 168 | 734.93| 59.67| 794.60| 4.73|
Freight cars and | | | | | |
cabooses. | 5,175 | 17,425.57| 1,224.08| 18,649.65| 3.60|
M. of W. cars. | 439 | 2,038.44| 549.47| 2,587.91| 5.89|
| Miles | | | | |
| Track. | | | | |
Track (inc. sidings). | 1,532.7 | 27,718.17| 40,912.09| 68,630.26| 44.78|
Bridges. | 1,532.7 | 1,808.57| 200.00| 2,008.57| 1.31|
Track tools. | 1,532.7 | 194.48| 2,573.83| 2,768.31| 1.80|
Storage tracks, inc. | | | | | |
taking up. | 37.02| 9,825.41| 1,481.59| 11,307.00| 305.44|
Shop tools. | | 472.20| 2,728.30| 3,200.50| |
|_________|__________|__________|___________|_______|
| | | | | |
Total cost. | |$68,445.24|$52.633.33|$121,078.57| |
Total average cost | | | | | |
per mile. | | | | |$ 79.06|
______________________|_________|__________|__________|___________|_______|
Axles condemned 577
Wheels condemned 754
Wheels burst 202
New axles used 1,102
New wheels used 2,783
Axles turned back 8,316
Wheels pressed on without turning axle 23,952
New brasses used 10,723
Cars narrowed (not including lever or push cars) 5,343
Engines narrowed 180
Average cost of new centers and crank pins, etc $264.46
Average cost of cutting off hub and pressing wheels and new pins 130.67
Average cost of pressing old tires on old centers 29.08
Average cost of pressing old tires on broad centers 31.83
Average cost of labor putting on new tires 22.94
COMPARATIVE STATEMENT OF AVERAGE COST OF VARIOUS ITEMS OF WORK.
__________________________________________________________________________
| | | | |
| M. & | L. & | E.T., V.|Average. |
| O. R.R. | N. R.R. |& G. R.R.| |
|_________|_________|_________|_________|
| | | | |
Engines and tenders--per engine | $325.70 | $202.58 | $61.82 | $196.70 |
Pass., bag., and ex. cars--per car| 9.87 |[2] 5.81 | 4.73 | 6.80 |
Freight cars, per car | 4.40 |[3] 5.81 | 3.60 | 4.60 |
M. of W. cars, per car | 13.32 | 2.72 | 5.89 | 7.31 |
Track (inc. sidings bridges, | | | | |
etc.), per mile | 45.37 | 47.83 | 46.09 | 46.26 |
Track tools, per mile | 2.70 | 1.31 | 1.80 | 1.94 |
Temporary side tracks, per mile | 192.83 | | 305.44 | 249.13 |
|_________|_________|_________|_________|
Total per mile of track, inc. | | | | |
sidings | $113.68 | $100.67 | $ 79.06 | $ 97.80 |
__________________________________|_________|_________|_________|_________|
[Footnote 2: Expense not divided as between passenger and freight
cars.]
[Footnote 3: 3.5 per cent. passenger, baggage, and express cars,
96.5 per cent. freight cars.]
NOTE--Since the preparation of this paper the general manager of the
Norfolk & Western Railroad has kindly furnished the following items of
expense for that line:
___________________________________________________________________
| | | |
| No. | Cost. | Average |
| | | Cost. |
|_________|____________|_________|
| | | |
Engines and tenders | 95 | $37,730.00 | $397.16 |
Cars (all kinds) | 3,615 | 37,994.65 | 10.51 |
Track, miles (including sidings) | 597.5 | | |
Labor | | 25,296.96 | |
Tools and supplies | | 3,531.12 | |
Changing M. of W. equipment | | 813.13 | |
Switches | | 571.67 | |
Spikes | | 8,508.22 | |
| | ---------- | |
Total track | | $38,721,10 | 64.80 |
| | ========== | |
Total | |$114,445.75 |---------|
Total average cost per mile | | | $191.53 |
__________________________________|_________|____________|_________|
And the superintendent of the S.F. & W. R.R. has also furnished the
expenses for that road:
___________________________________________________________________
| | |
| No. | Average |
| | Cost. |
|__________|_________|
| | |
Engines and tenders | 75 | $76.31 |
Cars (passenger) | 95 | 4.67 |
Cars (freight) | 1,133 | 3.88 |
Track, including sidings | 601.76 | 44.49 |
______________________________________________|__________|_________|
Nothing was said about shop or other tools, storage tracks, or
changing of maintenance of way equipment.
COMPARATIVE STATEMENT OF AVERAGE COST OF
LABOR OF VARIOUS ITEMS OF WORK.
_________________________________________________________________
| M. & | L. & | E.T., V. | |
| O. R.R. | N. R.R.| & G. R.R.| Average|
|_________|________|__________|________|
| | | | |
Engines and tenders. | $170.88}| | {$45.71 | $108.29|
Pass., bag., and ex cars | 7.97}| Not | { 4.38 | 6.17|
Freight cars | 3.89}| divided| { 3.36 | 3.62|
M. of W. cars | 9.98}| | { 4.64 | 7.31|
Miles track (including | | | | |
sidings, bridges, etc.) | 32.57 | $34.31| 19.26 | 28.71|
Track tools, per mile | .30 | Not | .13 | .21|
Temporary tracks | 162.03 | divided| 265.40 | 213.71|
|_________|________|__________|________|
| | Not | | |
Total per mile of track | $70.38 | divided| $44.72 | $57.55|
__________________________|_________|________|__________|________|
COMPARATIVE STATEMENT OF AVERAGE COST OF
MATERIAL OF VARIOUS ITEMS OF WORK.
_________________________________________________________________
| M. & | L. & | E.T., V. | |
| O. R.R. | N. R.R.| & G. R.R.| Average|
|_________|________|__________|________|
| | | | |
Engines and tenders. | $154.82}| | { $16.11 | $85.46|
Pass., bag., and ex cars | 1.90}| Not | { .35 | 1.12|
Freight cars | .51}| divided| { .24 | .37|
M. of W. cars | 3.34}| | { 1.25 | 2.30|
Miles track (including | | | | |
sidings, bridges, etc.) | 12.80 | $13.02| 26.88 | 17.55|
Track tools, per mile | 2.40 | Not | 1.67 | 2.03|
Temporary tracks | 162.03 | divided| 40.04 | 101.03|
__________________________|_________|________|__________|________|
| | Not | | |
Total per mile of track | $43.30 | divided| $34.34 | $38.82|
__________________________|_________|________|__________|________|
SUMMARY OF STATEMENTS OF L.& N. AND E.T.,
V.& G. RAILWAYS.
The mileage changed of the L&N. and E.T., V.& G.
systems combined aggregates 3,622 miles.
The total cost of these two roads. $331,492.59
Or an average per mile of 91.52
Total miles changed was about 14,500 miles.
Which would give total cost, at same rate. $1,327,040
We should really add to this a large sum for the great number of new
locomotives which were purchased to replace old ones, that could not
be changed, except at large cost, and which, when done, would have
been light and undesirable.
Upon the basis of the work done upon the L. & N. and E.T., V. & G.
systems, which, combined, cover about one-fourth the mileage changed,
we have made the following estimates, which will, perhaps, convey a
better idea of the extent of the work than can be obtained in any
other way:
Miles of track changed, about 14,500
Locomotives changed, about 1,800
Cars (pass, and freight) changed, about 45,000
New axles used, about 9,000
New wheels used, about 20,000
Axles turned back, about 75,000
Wheels pressed on without turning axles, about 220,000
New brasses used, about 90,000
Kegs of spikes used, about 50,000
Cost of material used, about $600,000
Cost of labor, about 730,000
Total cost of work, about 1,330,000
Amount expended on equipment, about 650,000
Amount expended on track, about 680,000
Amount expended on track on day of change in labor, about 140,000
The work was done economically, and so quietly that the public hardly
realized it was in progress. To the casual observer it was an every
day transaction. It was, however, a work of great magnitude, requiring
much thought and mechanical ability.
That it was ably handled is evidenced by the uniform success attained,
the prompt changing at the agreed time, and the trifling inconvenience
to the public.--_Jour. Assn. Engineering Societies._
TORPEDO BOATS FOR SPAIN.
In our present issue, on page 9948, we give illustrations of two
torpedo boats, the Azor and Halcon, which have lately been constructed
by Messrs Yarrow & Co., of Poplar, for the Spanish government. They
are 135 ft. in length by 14 ft. beam, being of the same dimensions as
No. 80 torpedo boat, lately completed by the above firm for the
Admiralty, which is the largest and fastest torpedo-boat in the
British navy.
[Illustration: TORPEDO BOATS FOR THE SPANISH GOVERNMENT.]
The general arrangement of these torpedo boats is sufficiently clear
from the illustrations to need but little description. Suffice it to
say that the engines are of the triple compound type, capable of
indicating 1,550 horse power, steam being supplied by one large
locomotive boiler, which our readers are already aware is in
accordance with the usual practice of the makers, as, by using a
single boiler, great simplification of the machinery takes place, and
considerably less room is occupied than if two boilers were adopted.
It is worthy of record that although in some torpedo boats, and indeed
in a great number of them, trouble has been found with the locomotive
type of boiler, still we have no hesitation in saying that this is due
either to defective design or bad workmanship, and that, if properly
designed and constructed, such difficulty does not occur. And it is a
fact that Messrs. Yarrow & Co. have already constructed a great number
of locomotive boilers of the exceptional size adopted in these two
Spanish boats, and they have turned out in every respect, after actual
service, perfectly satisfactory.
The forward part of the boat is provided with two torpedo-ejecting
tubes, as usual, and near the stern, on deck, it is proposed to place
turntables, with two torpedo guns for firing over the sides, as
already adopted by several governments. The trials of the Azor took
place about two months since, giving a speed during a run of two hours
and three quarters, carrying a load of 17 tons, of 24 knots (over 27½
miles) per hour. Since her trial she has steamed out to Spain, having
encountered, during a portion of the voyage very bad weather, when her
sea going qualities were found to be admirable.
The Halcon, whose official trials took place lately, obtained a speed
of 23.5 knots, carrying a load of 17 tons. It may be remarked that a
speed of 24 knots, in a boat only 135 ft in length, under the Spanish
conditions of trial, is by far the best result that has ever been
obtained in a vessel of these dimensions There is, however, no doubt
that had the length of the boat been greater, a still higher speed
would have been obtained But it was desired by the authorities to keep
within the smallest possible dimensions, so as to expose as little
area as practicable to the fire of the enemy, it being clearly evident
that this is a consideration of the first importance in an unprotected
war vessel.
In conclusion, we would add that the hulls of these two Spanish boats
are of much greater strength of construction than is usually adopted
in torpedo boats, it having been found that for the sake of obtaining
exceptional speeds, strength sufficient for actual service has often
been injudiciously sacrificed And, judging from the numerous accidents
which took place at the recent trials off Portland, we have no doubt
that in the future naval authorities will be quite ready and willing
to sacrifice a little speed so as to obtain vessels which are more
trustworthy. The necessity for this, we feel convinced, will be
conclusively shown if ever torpedo boats are engaged in actual
warfare, and this not only as regards strength of hull, but also as
regards the machinery, which at present is only capable of being
handled successfully by men of exceptional training, who in times of
war would not be readily procured--_The Engineer._
THE SPANISH CRUISER REINA REGENTE
In our SUPPLEMENT, No. 620 we gave an illustration of this ship, with
some particulars. The interest expressed in naval circles for further
information induces us to give still further engravings of this
remarkable vessel, with additional information, for which we are
indebted to the _Engineer_.
[Illustration: THE NEW SPANISH WAR SHIP REINA REGENTE.]
We gave recently a short account of two of the trials of this vessel,
and we are, by the courtesy of the builders--Messrs. Thomson, of
Clydebank--enabled to lay further particulars before our readers this
week. We give herewith engravings of the vessel, which will illustrate
her salient points. The principal dimensions are as follows.
Length on water line, 317 ft., breadth, 50 ft. 7 in., depth moulded,
32 ft. 6 in., normal displacement, 4,800 tons, deep load displacement,
5,600 tons. We have before informed our readers that this vessel was
designed by Messrs. Thomson, in competition with several other
shipbuilding firms of this and other countries, in reply to an
invitation of the Spanish government for a cruiser of the first class.
The design submitted by the builders of the Reina Regente was
accepted, and the vessel was contracted to be built in June of last
year. The principal conditions of the contract were as follows.
The ship to steam at a speed of 20½ knots for four runs on the mile
and for two hours continuously afterward. She was further to be
capable of steaming for six hours continuously at a speed of 18½
knots, without any artificial means of producing draught. She was also
to be capable of steaming a distance of at least 5,700 knots for 500
tons of coal, at some speed over 10 knots, to be chosen by the
builders. Over the length of her machinery and magazine spaces she was
to have a sloping deck extending to 6 ft. below the water line at the
side, and formed of plates 4¾ in. thick. This deck was to extend to
about 1 ft. above the water line, and the flat part to be 3-1/8 in.
thick. Beyond the machinery and magazine spaces, the deck was to be
gradually reduced to 3 in. thick at the ends. This deck is intended to
protect the vitals of the ship, such as boilers, engines, powder
magazines, steering gear, etc., from the effects of shot and shell,
but the floating and stability maintaining power of the ship was to be
dependent upon a similar structure raised above this protective deck
to a height of about 5 ft. above the water.
This structure is covered by a water tight deck known as the main deck
of the ship, on which the cabins and living spaces are arranged. The
space between the main and protective deck is divided, as may be seen
by reference to the protective deck plan, into many strong, water
tight spaces, most of which are not more than about 500 cubic feet
capacity. The spaces next to the ship's side are principally coal
bunkers, and may, therefore, exclude largely any water that should
enter. The first line of defense is formed inside these coal bunkers
by a complete girdle of coffer dams, which can be worked from the main
deck. These it is intended to fill with water and cellulose material,
and as they are also minutely subdivided, the effects of damage by
shot and consequent flooding may be localized to a considerable
extent. The guns of the ship are to consist of four 20 centimeter
Hontorio breech loading guns on Vavasseur carriages, six 12 centimeter
guns, eight 6 pounder rapid firing, and eight or ten small guns for
boats and mitrailleuse purposes, four of which are in the crow's nests
at the top of the two masts of the ship. We may remark in passing that
the builders saw their way at an early period of the construction to
suggest an addition to the weight of the large sized guns, and there
will actually be on the ship four 24 centimeter guns, instead of four
20 centimeter. The vessel was to carry five torpedo tubes, two forward
in the bow, one in each broadside, and one aft. All these tubes to be
fixed. To fulfill the speed condition, four boilers were necessary and
two sets of triple expansion engines, capable of developing in all
12,000 horse power.
[Illustration: PROTECTIVE DECK PLAN.]
Now that the vessel has been completely tried, the promises by the
builders may be compared with the results determined by the commission
of Spanish officers appointed by the government of Spain to say
whether the vessel fulfilled in all respects the conditions laid down
in the contract. The mean speed attained for the two hours' run was
20.6 knots, as compared with 20.5 guaranteed, but this speed was
obtained with 11,500 horse power instead of the 12,000 which the
machinery is capable of developing. The officers of the Spanish
commission were anxious not to have the vessel's machinery pressed
beyond what was necessary to fulfill the speed conditions of the
contract; but they saw enough to warrant them in expressing their
belief that the vessel can easily do twenty-one knots when required,
and she actually did this for some time during the trial.
During the natural draught trial the vessel obtained a mean speed of
18.68 knots, on an average of 94¾ revolutions--the forced draught
having been done on an average of 105½ revolutions. The consumption
trial, which lasted twelve hours, was made to determine the radius of
action, when the ship showed that at a speed of 11.6 knots she could
steam a distance of 5,900 knots. Further trials took place to test the
evolutionary powers of the vessel, though these trials were not
specified in the contract.
The vessel, as may be seen from the engravings, is fitted with a
rudder of a new type, known as Thomson & Biles' rudder, with which it
is claimed that all the advantage of a balanced rudder is obtained,
while the ship loses the length due to the adoption of such a rudder.
It is formed in the shape of the hull of the vessel, and as the
partial balance of the lower foreside gradually reduces the strains,
the rudder head may be made of very great service. As a matter of
fact, this rudder is 230 ft. in area, and is probably the largest
rudder fitted to a warship. The efficiency of it was shown in the
turning trials, by its being able to bring the vessel round, when
going at about nineteen knots, in half a circle in one minute
twenty-three seconds, and a complete circle in two minutes fifty-eight
seconds, the diameter of the circle being 350 yards. This result, we
believe, is unrivaled, and makes this vessel equal in turning
capabilities to many recent warships not much more than half her
length.
FILM NEGATIVES.[1]
[Footnote 1: A communication to the Birmingham Photographic
Society.]
Having had a certain measure of success with Eastman stripping films,
I have been requested by your council to give a paper this evening
dealing with the subject, and particularly with the method of working
which my experience has found most successful. In according to their
request, I feel I have imposed upon myself a somewhat difficult task.
There is, undoubtedly, a strong prejudice in the minds of most
photographers, both amateur and professional, against a negative in
which paper is used as a permanent support, on account of the
inseparable "grain" and lack of brilliancy in the resulting prints;
and the idea of the paper being used only as a temporary support does
not seem to convey to their mind a correct impression of the true
position of the matter.
It may be as well before entering into the technical details of the
manipulation to consider briefly the advantages to be derived--which
will be better appreciated after an actual trial.
My experience (which is at present limited) is that they are far
superior to glass for all purposes except portraiture of the human
form or instantaneous pictures where extreme rapidity is necessary,
but for all ordinary cases of rapid exposure they are sufficiently
quick. The first advantage, which I soon discovered, is their entire
freedom from halation. This, with glass plates, is inseparable, and
even when much labor has been bestowed on backing them, the halation
is painfully apparent.
These films never frill, being made of emulsion which has been made
insoluble. Compare the respective weights of the two substances--one
plate weighing more than a dozen films of the same size.
Again, on comparing a stripping film negative with one on glass of the
same exposure and subject, it will be found there is a greater
sharpness or clearness in the detail, owing, I am of opinion, to the
paper absorbing the light immediately it has penetrated the emulsion,
the result being a brilliant negative. Landscapes on stripped films
can be retouched or printed from on either side, and the advantage in
this respect for carbon or mechanical printing is enormous. Now,
imagine the tourist working with glass, and compare him to another
working with films. The one works in harness, tugging, probably, a
half hundredweight of glass with him from place to place, paying extra
carriage, extra tips, and in a continual state of anxiety as to
possible breakage, difficulty of packing, and having to be continually
on the lookout for a dark place to change the plates, and, perhaps, on
his return finds numbers of his plates damaged owing to friction on
the surface; while the disciple of _films_, lightly burdened with only
camera and slide, and his (say two hundred) films in his pockets, for
they lie so compact together. Then the advantages to the tourists
abroad, their name is "legion," not the least being the ease of
guarding your exposed pictures from the custom house officials, who
almost always seek to make matters disagreeable in this respect, and
lastly, though not least, the ease with which the negatives can be
stowed away in envelopes or albums, etc., when reference to them is
easy in the extreme.
Now, having come (rightly, I think, you will admit) to the conclusion
that films have these advantages, you naturally ask, What are their
disadvantages? Remembering, then, that I am only advocating stripping
films, I consider they have but two disadvantages: First, they entail
some additional outlay in the way of apparatus, etc. Second, they are
a little more trouble to finish than the glass negatives, which sink
into insignificance when the manifold advantages are considered.
In order to deal effectively with the second objection I mentioned,
viz., the extra trouble and perseverance, I propose, with your
permission, to carry a negative through the different stages from
exposure to completion, and in so doing I shall endeavor to make the
process clear to you, and hope to enlist your attention.
The developer I use is slightly different to that of the Eastman
company, and is as follows:
A.
Sulphite of soda. 4 ounces.
To be dissolved in 8 ounces of hot distilled water, then rendered
slightly acid with citric acid, then add--
Pyrogallic acid. 1 ounce.
Water to make up to 10 ounces.
B.
Pure carbonate of soda. 1 ounce.
Water to make up in all to 10 ounces.
C.
Pure carbonate of potash. 1 ounce.
Water to make up to 10 ounces.
D.
Bromide of potassium. 1 ounce.
Water to make up to 10 ounces.
I have here two half-plate films exposed at 8:30 A.M. to-day, one with
five and one with six seconds' exposure, subject chiefly middle
distance. I take 90 minims A, 10 minims D, and 90 minims B, and make
up to 2 ounces water. I do not soak the films in water. There is no
need for it. In fact, it is prejudicial to do so. I place the films
face uppermost in the dish, and pour on the developer on the center of
the films. You will observe they lie perfectly flat, and are free from
air bubbles. Rock the dish continually during development, and when
the high lights are out add from 10 to 90 minims C, and finish
development and fix. The negatives being complete, I ask you to
observe that both are of equal quality, proving the latitude of
exposure permissible.
I now coat a piece of glass half an inch larger all round than the
negative with India rubber solution (see Eastman formula), and
squeegee the negative face downward upon the rubber, interposing a
sheet of blotting paper and oilskin between the negative and squeegee
to prevent injury to the exposed rubber surface, and then place the
negative under pressure with blotting paper interposed until
moderately dry only.
I then pour hot water upon it, and, gently rocking the dish, you see
the paper floats from the film without the necessity for pulling it
with a pin, leaving the film negative on the glass. Now, the
instructions say remove the remaining soluble gelatine with camel's
hair brush, but, unless it requires intensifying, which no properly
developed negative should require, you need not do so, but simply pour
on the gelatine solution (see Eastman formula), well covering the
edges of the film, and put on a level shelf to dry.
I will now take up a negative in this state on the glass, but dry, and
carefully cut round the edges of the film, and you see I can readily
pull off the film with its gelatine support. Having now passed through
the whole of the process, it behooves us to consider for a few minutes
the causes of failure in the hands of beginners and their remedies: 1.
The rubber will not flow over glass? Solution too thick, glass greasy.
2. Rubber peels off on drying? Dirty glass. 3. Negative not dense
enough? Use more bromide and longer development. 4. Gelatine cracks on
being pulled off? Add more glycerine. 5. Gelatine not thick enough?
Gelatine varnish too thin, not strong enough. 6. Does not dry
sufficiently hard? Too much glycerine.--_E.H. Jaques, Reported in Br.
Jour. of Photography._
HOW DIFFERENT TONES IN GELATINO-CHLORIDE PRINTS MAY BE VARIED BY
DEVELOPERS.
The following formulæ are for use with gelatino-chloride paper or
plates. The quantities are in each case calculated for one ounce,
three parts of each of the following solutions being employed and
added to one part of solution of protosulphate of iron. Strength, 140
grains to the ounce.
_Slaty Blue._
1.--One part of the above solution
to three parts of a solution of citrate of ammonia.
_Greenish Brown._
2.--Citric acid. 180 grains
Carbonate of ammonia. 50 "
3.--Citrate of ammonia. 250 grains.
Chloride of sodium. 2 "
4.--Citrate of ammonia. 250 grains.
Chloride of sodium. 4 "
_Sepia Brown._
5.--Citrate of ammonia. 250 grains.
Chloride of sodium. 8 "
_Clear Red Brown._
6.--Citric acid. 120 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 76 "
_Warm Gray Brown._
7.--Citric acid. 120 grains.
Carbonate of soda. 205 "
_Deep Red Brown._
8.--Citric acid. 120 grains.
Carbonate of potash. 117 "
_Green Blue._
9.--Citric acid. 90 grains.
Carbonate of soda. 154 "
Citrate of potash. 24 "
Oxalate of potash. 6 "
_Sepia Red._
10.--Citric acid. 80 grains.
Carbonate of soda. 135 "
Citrate of potash. 12 "
Oxalate of potash. 3 "
11.--Citric acid. 108 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 68 "
Carbonate of potash. 12 "
Oxalate of potash. 3 "
_Sepia Yellow._
12.--Citric acid. 40 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 25 "
Citrate of ammonia. 166 "
13.--Citric acid. 120 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 72 "
Carbonate of ammonia. 72 "
Chloride of sodium. 8 "
_Blue Black._
14.--Citric acid. 120 grains.
Carbonate of ammonia. 70 "
Carbonate of magnesia. 15 "
15.--Citric acid. 120 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 38 "
Carbonate of ammonia. 44 "
16.--Citric acid. 90 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 57 "
Citrate of potash. 54 "
Oxlate of potash. 18 "
17.--Citric acid. 72 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 45 "
Citrate of potash. 54 "
Oxalate of potash. 18 "
18.--Citric acid. 60 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 38 "
Citrate of potash. 68 "
Oxalate of potash. 22 "
_A more Intense Blue Black._
19.--Citric acid. 30 grains.
Carbonate of magnesia. 18 "
Citrate of potash. 100 "
Oxalate of potash. 33 "
_A Clearer Blue._
20.--Citrate of potash. 136 grains.
Oxalate of potash. 44 "
In the photographic exhibition at Florence, the firm of Corvan[1]
places on view a frame containing twenty proofs produced by the
foregoing twenty formulæ, in such a way that the observer can compare
the value of each tone and select that which pleases him best.--_Le
Moniteur de la Photographie, translated by British Jour. of Photo._
[Footnote 1: Does this mean Mr. A. Cowan?--_Translator._]
NOTE ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF A DISTILLERY CHIMNEY.
At a recent meeting of the Industrial Society of Amiens, Mr. Schmidt,
engineer of the Steam Users' Association, read a paper in which he
described the process employed in the construction of a large chimney
of peculiar character for the Rocourt distillery, at St. Quentin.
[Illustration: FIG. 1--ELEVATION.]
This chimney, which is cylindrical in form, is 140 feet in height, and
has an internal diameter of 8½ feet from base to summit. The coal
consumed for the nine generators varies between 860 and 1,200 pounds
per hour and per 10 square feet of section.
The ground that was to support this chimney consisted of very
aquiferous, cracked beds of marl, disintegrated by infiltrations of
water from the distillery, and alternating with strata of clay. It
became necessary, therefore, to build as light a chimney as possible.
The problem was solved as follows, by Mr. Guendt, who was then
superintendent of the Rocourt establishment.
Upon a wide concrete foundation a pedestal was built, in which were
united the various smoke conduits, and upon this pedestal were erected
four lattice girders, C, connected with each other by St. Andrew's
crosses. The internal surface of these girders is vertical and the
external is inclined. Within the framework there was built a five-inch
thick masonry wall of bricks, made especially for the purpose. The
masonry was then strengthened and its contact with the girders assured
by numerous hoops, especially at the lower part; some of them
internal, others external, to the surface of the girders, and others
of angle irons, all in four parts.
[Illustration: FIG. 2--HORIZONTAL SECTION.]
The anchors rest upon a cast iron foundation plate connected, through
strong bolts embedded in the pedestal, with a second plate resting
upon the concrete.
As the metallic framework was calculated for resisting the wind, the
brick lining does not rest against it permanently above. The weight of
the chimney is 1,112,200 pounds, and the foundation is about 515
square feet in area; and, consequently, the pressure upon the ground
is about 900 pounds to the square inch. The cost was $3,840.
[Illustration: FIG. 3--VERTICAL SECTION OF THE CHIMNEY.]
The chimney was built six years ago, and has withstood the most
violent hurricanes.
The mounting of the iron framework was effected by means of a motor
and two men, and took a month. The brick lining was built up in eight
days by a mason and his assistant.
A chimney of the same size, all of brick, erected on the same
foundation, would have weighed 2,459,600 pounds (say a load of 3,070
pounds to the square inch), and would have cost about $2,860.
The chimney of the Rocourt distillery is, therefore, lighter by half,
and cost about a third more, than one of brick; but, at the present
price of metal, the difference would be slight.--_Annales
Industrielles._
THE PRODUCTION OF OXYGEN BY BRIN'S PROCESS.
Considerable interest has been aroused lately in scientific and
industrial circles by a report that separation of the oxygen and
nitrogen of the air was being effected on a large scale in London by a
process which promises to render the gases available for general
application in the arts. The cheap manufacture of the compounds of
nitrogen from the gas itself is still a dream of chemical enthusiasts;
and though the pure gas is now available, the methods of making its
compounds have yet to be devised. But the industrial processes which
already depend directly or indirectly on the chemical union of bodies
with atmospheric oxygen are innumerable.
In all these processes the action of the gas is impeded by the bulky
presence of its fellow constituent of air, nitrogen. We may say, for
instance, in homely phrase, that whenever a fire burns there are four
volumes of nitrogen tending to extinguish it for every volume of
oxygen supporting its combustion, and to the same degree the nitrogen
interferes with all other processes of atmospheric oxidation, of which
most metallurgical operations may be given as instances. If, then, it
has become possible to remove this diluent gas simply and cheaply in
order to give the oxygen free play in its various applications, we are
doubtless on the eve of a revolution among some of the most extensive
and familiar of the world's industries.
A series of chemical reactions has long been known by means of which
oxygen could be separated out of air in the laboratory, and at various
times processes based on these reactions have been patented for the
production of oxygen on a large scale. Until recently, however, none
of these methods gave sufficiently satisfactory results. The simplest
and perhaps the best of them was based on the fact first noticed by
Boussingault, that when baryta (BaO) is heated to low redness in a
current of air, it takes up oxygen and becomes barium dioxide
(BaO_{2}), and that this dioxide at a higher temperature is
reconverted into free oxygen and baryta, the latter being ready for
use again. For many years it was assumed, however, by chemists that
this ideally simple reaction was inapplicable on a commercial scale,
owing to the gradual loss of power to absorb oxygen which was always
found to take place in the baryta after a certain number of
operations. About eight years ago Messrs. A. & L. Brin, who had
studied chemistry under Boussingault, undertook experiments with the
view of determining why the baryta lost its power of absorbing oxygen.
They found that it was owing to molecular and physical changes caused
in it by impurities in the air used and by the high temperature
employed for decomposing the dioxide. They discovered that by heating
the dioxide in a partial vacuum the temperature necessary to drive off
its oxygen was much reduced. They also found that by supplying the air
to the baryta under a moderate pressure, its absorption of oxygen was
greatly assisted. Under these conditions, and by carefully purifying
the air before use, they found that it became possible to use the
baryta an indefinite number of times. Thus the process became
practically, as it was theoretically, continuous.
After securing patent protection for their process, Messrs. Brin
erected a small producer in Paris, and successfully worked it for
nearly three years without finding a renewal of the original charge of
baryta once necessary. This producer was exhibited at the Inventions
Exhibition in London, in 1885. Subsequently an English company was
formed, and in the autumn of last year Brin's Oxygen Company began
operations in Horseferry Road, Westminster, where a large and complete
demonstration plant was erected, and the work commenced of developing
the production and application of oxygen in the industrial world.
[Illustration: APPARATUS FOR MAKING OXYGEN.]
We give herewith details of the plant now working at Westminster. It
is exceedingly simple. On the left of the side elevation and plan are
shown the retorts, on the right is an arrangement of pumps for
alternately supplying air under pressure and exhausting the oxygen
from the retorts. As is shown in the plan, two sets of apparatus are
worked side by side at Westminster, the seventy-two retorts shown in
the drawings being divided into two systems of thirty-six. Each system
is fed by the two pumps on the corresponding side of the boiler. Each
set of retorts consists of six rows of six retorts each, one row above
the other. They are heated by a small Wilson's producer, so that the
attendant can easily regulate the supply of heat and obtain complete
control over the temperature of the retorts. The retorts, A, are made
of wrought iron and are about 10 ft long and 8 in. diameter.
Experience, however, goes to prove that there is a limit to the
diameter of the retorts beyond which the results become less
satisfactory. This limit is probably somewhat under 8 in. Each retort
is closely packed with baryta in lumps about the size of a walnut. The
baryta is a heavy grayish porous substance prepared by carefully
igniting the nitrate of barium; and of this each retort having the
above dimensions holds about 125 lb. The retorts so charged are closed
at each end by a gun metal lid riveted on so as to be air tight. From
the center of each lid a bent gun metal pipe, B, connects each retort
with the next of its series, so that air introduced into the end
retort of any row may pass through the whole series of six retorts.
Suppose now that the operations are to commence.
The retorts are first heated to a temperature of about 600° C. or
faint redness, then the air pumps, C C, are started. Air is drawn by
them through the purifier, D, where it is freed from carbon dioxide
and moisture by the layers of quicklime and caustic soda with which
the purifier is charged. The air is then forced along the pipe, E,
into the small air vessel, F, which acts as a sort of cushion to
prevent the baryta in the retorts being disturbed by the pulsation of
the pumps. From this vessel the air passes by the pipe, G, and is
distributed in the retorts as rapidly as possible at such a pressure
that the nitrogen which passes out unabsorbed at the outlet registers
about 15 lb. to the square inch. With the baryta so disposed in the
retorts as to present as large a superficies as possible to the action
of the air, it is found that in 1½ to 2 hours--during which time about
12,000 cub. ft of air have been passed through the retorts--the gas at
the outlet fails to extinguish a glowing chip, indicating that oxygen
is no longer being absorbed. The pumping now ceases, and the
temperature of the retorts is raised to about 800° C. The workman is
able to judge the temperature with sufficient accuracy by means of the
small inspection holes, H, fitted with panes of mica, through which
the color of the heat in the furnace can be distinguished. The pumps
are now reversed and the process of exhaustion begins. At Westminster
the pressure in the retorts is reduced to about 1½ in. of mercury. In
this partial vacuum the oxygen is given off rapidly, and if forced by
the pumps through another pipe and away into an ordinary gas holder,
where it is stored for use. With powerful pumps such as are used in
the plant under notice the whole of the oxygen can be drawn off in an
hour, and from one charge a yield of about 2,000 cub. ft. is obtained.
With a less perfect vacuum the time is longer--even as much as four
hours. The whole operation of charging and exhausting the retorts can
be completed in from three to four hours. As soon as the evolution of
oxygen is finished, the doors, K, and ventilators, L, may be opened
and the retorts cooled for recharging.
The cost of producing oxygen at Westminster, under specially expensive
conditions, is high--about 12s. per 1,000 cub. ft. When we consider,
however, that the cost should only embrace attendance, fuel, wear and
tear, and a little lime and soda for the purifiers, that the
consumption of fuel is small, the wear and tear light, and that the
raw material--air--is obtained for nothing, it ought to be possible to
produce the gas for a third or fourth of this amount in most of our
great manufacturing centers, where the price of fuel is but a third of
that demanded in London, and where provision could be made for
economizing the waste heat, which is entirely lost in the Westminster
installation. Moreover, in estimating this cost all the charges are
thrown on the oxygen; were there any means of utilizing the 4,000 cub.
ft. of nitrogen at present blown away as waste for every thousand
cubic feet of oxygen produced, the nitrogen would of course bear its
share of the cost.
The question of the application of the oxygen is one which must be
determined in its manifold bearings mainly by the experiments of
chemists and scientific men engaged in industrial work. Having
ascertained the method by which and the limit of cost within which it
is possible to use oxygen in their work, it can be seen whether by
Brin's process the gas can be obtained within that limit.
Mr. S.R. Ogden, the manager of the corporation gasworks at Blackburn,
has already made interesting experiments on the application of oxygen
in the manufacture of illuminating gas. In order to purify coal gas
from compounds of sulphur, it is passed through purifiers charged with
layers of oxide of iron. When the oxide of iron has absorbed as much
sulphur as it can combine with, it is described as "foul." It is then
discharged and spread out in the open air, when, under the influence
of the atmospheric oxygen, it is rapidly decomposed, the sulphur is
separated out in the free state, and oxide of iron is reformed ready
for use again in the purifiers. This process is called revivification,
and it is repeated until the accumulation of sulphur in the oxide is
so great (45 to 55 per cent.) that it can be profitably sold to the
vitriol maker. Hawkins discovered that by introducing about 3 per
cent. of air into the gas before passing it through the purifiers, the
oxygen of the air introduced set free the sulphur from the iron as
fast as it was absorbed. Thus the process of revivification could be
carried on in the purifiers themselves simultaneously with the
absorption of the sulphur impurities in the gas.
A great saving of labor was thus effected, and also an economy in the
use of the iron oxide, which in this way could be left in the
purifiers until charged with 75 per cent. of sulphur. Unfortunately it
was found that this introduction of air for the sake of its oxygen
meant also the introduction of much useless nitrogen, which materially
reduced the illuminating power of the gas. To restore this
illuminating power the gas had to be recarbureted, and this again
meant cost in labor and material. Now, Mr. Ogden has found by a series
of conclusive experiments made during a period of seventy-eight days
upon a quantity of about 4,000,000 cub. ft. of gas, that by
introducing 1 per cent. of oxygen into the gas instead of 3 per cent.
of air, not only is the revivification _in situ_ effected more
satisfactorily than with air, but at the same time the illuminating
power of the gas, so far from being decreased, is actually increased
by one candle unit.
[Illustration: THE PRODUCTION OF OXYGEN BY BRIN'S PROCESS.]
So satisfied is he with his results that he has recommended the
corporation to erect a plant for the production of oxygen at the
Blackburn gas works, by which he estimates that the saving to the town
on the year's make of gas will be something like £2,500. The practical
observations of Mr. Ogden are being followed up by a series of
exhaustive experiments by Mr. Valon, A.M. Inst. C.E., also a gas
engineer. The make of an entire works at Westgate is being treated by
him with oxygen. Mr. Valon has not yet published his report, as the
experiments are not quite complete; but we understand that his results
are even more satisfactory than those obtained at Blackburn.
In conclusion we may indicate a few other of the numerous possible
applications of cheap oxygen which might be realized in the near
future. The greatest illuminating effect from a given bulk of gas is
obtained by mixing it with the requisite proportion of oxygen, and
holding in the flame of the burning mixture a piece of some solid
infusible and non-volatile substance, such as lime. This becomes
heated to whiteness, and emits an intense light know as the Drummond
light, used already for special purposes of illumination. By supplying
oxygen in pipes laid by the side of the ordinary gas mains, it would
be possible to fix small Drummond lights in place of the gas burners
now used in houses; this would greatly reduce the consumption of gas
and increase the light obtained, or even render possible the
employment of cheap non-illuminating combustible gases other than coal
gas for the purpose.
Two obstacles at present lie in the way of this consummation--the cost
of the oxygen and the want of a convenient and completely refractory
material to take the place of the lime. Messrs. Brin believe they have
overcome the first obstacle, and are addressing themselves, we
believe, to the removal of the second. Again, the intense heat which
the combustion of carbon in cheap oxygen will place at the disposal of
the metallurgist cannot fail to play an important part in his
operations. There are many processes, too, of metal refining which
ought to be facilitated by the use of the gas. Then the production of
pure metallic oxides for the manufacture of paints, the bleaching of
oils and fats, the reduction of refractory ores of the precious metals
on a large scale, the conversion of iron into steel, and numberless
other processes familiar to the specialists whose walk is in the
byways of applied chemistry, should all profit by the employment of
this energetic agent. Doubtless, too, the investigation into methods
of producing the compounds of nitrogen so indispensable as plant
foods, and for which we are now dependent on the supplies of the
mineral world, may be stimulated by the fact that there is available
by Brin's process a cheap and inexhaustible supply of pure
nitrogen.--_Industries._
FRENCH DISINFECTING APPARATUS.
[Illustration: IMPROVED DISINFECTING APPARATUS.]
We represent herewith a sanitary train that was very successfully used
during the prevalence of an epidemic of _sudor Anglicus_ in Poitou
this year. It consisted of a movable stove and a boiler. In reality,
to save time, such agricultural locomotives as could be found were
utilized; but hereafter, apparatus like those shown in the engraving,
and which are specially constructed to accompany the stoves, will be
employed. We shall quote from a communication made by Prof. Brouardel
to the Academy of Medicine on this subject, at its session of
September 13:
In the country we can never think of disinfecting houses with
sulphurous acid, as the peasants often have but a single room, in
which the beds of the entire family are congregated. Every one knows
that the agglomerations that compose the same department are often
distant from each other and the chief town by from two to three miles
or more. This is usually the case in the departments of Vienne, Haute
Vienne, Indre, etc. To find a disinfecting place in the chief town of
the department is still difficult, and to find one in each of the
hamlets is absolutely impossible. Families in which there are invalids
are obliged to carry clothing and bedding to the chief town to be
disinfected, and to go after them after the expiration of twenty-four
hours. This is not an easy thing to do.
It is easy to understand what difficulties must be met with in many
cases, and so one has to be content to prescribe merely washing, and
bleaching with lime--something that is simple and everywhere accepted,
but insufficient. So, then, disinfection with sulphurous acid, which
is easy in large cities, as was taught by the cholera epidemics of
last year, is often difficult in the country. The objection has always
be made to it, too, that it is of doubtful efficacy. It is not for us
to examine this question here, but there is no doubt that damp steam
alone, under pressure, effects a perfect disinfection, and that if
this mode of disinfection could be applied in the rural districts (as
it can be easily done in cities), the public health would be better
protected in case of an epidemic.
In cities one or more stationary steam stoves can always be arranged;
but in the country movable ones are necessary. From instructions given
by Prof. Brouardel, Messrs. Geneste & Herscher have solved the problem
of constructing such stoves in a few days, and four have been put at
the disposal of the mission.
Dr. Thoinot, who directed this mission, in order to make an experiment
with these apparatus, selected two points in which cases of _sudor_
were still numerous, and in which the conditions were entirely
different, and permitted of studying the working of the service and
apparatus under various phases. One of these points was Dorat, chief
town of Haute Vienne, a locality with a crowded population and
presenting every desirable resource; and the other was the commune of
Mauvieres, in Indre, where the population was scattered through
several hamlets.
The first stove was operated at Dorat, on the 29th of June, and the
second at Mauvieres, on the 1st of July. A gendarme accompanied the
stove in all its movements and remained with it during the
disinfecting experiments. The Dorat stove was operated on the 29th of
June and the 1st, 2d, and 3d of July. On the 30th of June it proceeded
to disinfect the commune of Darnac. The Mauvieres stove, in the first
place, disinfected the chief town of this commune on the 1st of July,
and on the next day it was taken to Poulets, a small hamlet, and a
dependent of the commune of Mauvieres. All the linen and all the
clothing of the sick of this locality, which had been the seat of
_sudor_, especially infantile, was disinfected. On the 4th of July,
the stove went to Concremiers, a commune about three miles distant,
and there finished up the disinfection that until then had been
performed in the ordinary way.
The epidemic was almost everywhere on the wane at this epoch; but we
judge that the test of the stoves was sufficient.
We are able to advance the following statement boldly: For the
application of disinfection in the rural districts, the movable stove
is the most practical thing that we know of. It is easily used, can be
taken to the smallest hamlets, and can be transported over the
roughest roads. It inspires peasants with no distrust. The first
repugnance is easily overcome, and every one, upon seeing that objects
come from the stove unharmed, soon hastens to bring to it all the
contaminated linen, etc., that he has in the house.
Further, we may add that the disinfection is accomplished in a quarter
of an hour, and that it therefore keeps the peasant but a very short
time from his work--an advantage that is greatly appreciated. Finally,
a day well employed suffices to disinfect a small settlement
completely. Upon the whole, disinfection by the stove under
consideration is the only method that can always and everywhere be
carried out.
We believe that it is called upon to render the greatest services in
the future.
The movable stove, regarding which Prof. Brouardel expresses himself
in the above terms, consists of a cylindrical chamber, 3½ feet in
internal diameter and 5 feet in length, closed in front by a
hermetically jointed door. This cylinder, which constitutes the
disinfection chamber, is mounted upon wheels and is provided with
shafts, so that it can easily be hauled by a horse or mule. The
cylinder is of riveted iron plate, and is covered with a wooden
jacket. The door is provided with a flange that enters a rubber lined
groove in the cylinder, and to it are riveted wrought iron forks that
receive the nuts of hinged bolts fixed upon the cylinder. The nuts are
screwed up tight, and the flange of the door, compressing the rubber
lining, renders the joint hermetical. The door, which is hinged, is
provided with a handle, which, when the stove is closed, slides over
an inclined plane fixed to the cylinder.
The steam enters a cast iron box in the stove through a rubber tube
provided with a threaded coupling. The entrance of the steam is
regulated by a cock. The box is provided with a safety and pressure
gauge and a small pinge cock. In the interior of the stove the
entrance of the steam is masked by a large tinned copper screen, which
is situated at the upper part and preserves the objects under
treatment from drops of water of condensation. These latter fall here
and there from the screen, follow the sides of the cylinder, and
collect at the bottom, from whence they are drawn off through a cock
placed in the rear.
The sides are lined internally with wood, which prevents the objects
to be infected from coming into contact with the metal. The objects to
be treated are placed upon wire cloth shelves. The pinge cock likewise
serves for drawing off the air or steam contained in the apparatus.
The stove is supported upon an axle through the intermedium of two
angle irons riveted longitudinally upon the cylinder. The axle is
cranked, and its wheels, which are of wood, are 4½ feet in diameter.
The shafts are fixed to the angle irons. The apparatus is, in
addition, provided with a seat, a brake, and prop rods before and
behind to keep it horizontal when in operation.
The boiler that supplies this stove is vertical and is mounted upon
four wheels. It is jacketed with wood, and is provided with a water
level, two gauge cocks, a pressure gauge, two spring safety valves, a
steam cock provided with a rubber tube that connects with that of the
stove, an ash pan, and a smoke stack. In the rear there are two
cylindrical water reservoirs that communicate with each other, and are
designed to feed the boiler through an injector. Beneath these
reservoirs there is a fuel box. In front there is a seat whose box
serves to hold tools and various other objects.--_La Nature._
AN ELECTRICAL GOVERNOR.
We abstract the following from a paper on electric lighting by Prof.
J.A. Fleeming, read before the Iron and Steel Institute, Manchester.
The illustration is from _Engineering_.
[Illustration: ELECTRICAL GOVERNOR.]
One of the questions which most frequently occurs in reference to mill
and factory lighting is whether the factory engines can be used to run
the dynamo. As a broad, general rule, there can be no question that
the best results are obtained by using a separate dynamo engine,
controlled by a good governor, set apart for that purpose. With an
ordinary shunt dynamo, the speed ought not to vary more than 2 or 3
per cent. of its normal value on either side of that value. Hence, if
a dynamo has a normal speed of 1,000, it should certainly not vary
over a greater range than from 970 to 980 to 1,020 to 1,030. In many
cases there may be shafting from which the necessary power can be
taken, and of which the speed is variable only within these limits.
There are several devices by which it has been found possible to
enable a dynamo to maintain a constant electromotive force, even if
the speed of rotation varies over considerable limits. One of these is
that (see illustration) due to Messrs. Trotter & Ravenshaw, and
applicable to shunt or series machines.
In the circuit of the field magnet is placed a variable resistance.
This resistance is thrown in or out by means of a motor device
actuated by an electromotive force indicator. A plunger of soft iron
is suspended from a spring, and hangs within a solenoid of wire, which
solenoid is in connection with the terminals of the dynamo. Any
increase or diminution of the electromotive force causes this iron to
move in or out of the core, and its movement is made to connect or
disconnect the gearing which throws in the field magnet resistance
with a shaft driven by the engine itself. The principle of the
apparatus is therefore that small variations of electromotive force
are made to vary inversely the strength of the magnetic field through
the intervention of a relay mechanism in which the power required to
effect the movement is tapped from the engine.
With the aid of such a governor it is possible to drive a dynamo from
a mill shaft providing the requisite power, but of which the speed of
rotation is not sufficiently uniform to secure alone efficient
regulation of electromotive force. Another device, patented by Mr.
Crompton, is a modification of that method of field magnet winding
commonly known as compound winding. The field magnets are wound over
with two wires, one of which has a high resistance and is arranged as
a shunt, and the other of which has a low resistance and is arranged
in series. Instead, however, of the magnetizing powers of these coils
being united in the same direction as an ordinary compound winding,
they are opposed to one another. That is to say, the current in the
shunt wire tends to magnetize the iron of the field magnets in an
opposite direction to that of the series wire. It results from this
that any slight increase of speed diminishes the strength of the
magnetic field, and _vice versa_. Accordingly, within certain limits,
the electromotive force of the dynamo is independent of the speed of
rotation.
THE ELECTRIC CURRENT AS A MEANS OF INCREASING THE TRACTIVE ADHESION OF
RAILWAY MOTORS AND OTHER ROLLING CONTACTS.[1]
[Footnote 1: Read before the American Association for the
Advancement of Science. New York meeting, 1887.]
By ELIAS E. RIES.
The object of this paper is to lay before you the results of some
recent experiments in a comparatively new field of operation, but one
that, judging from the results already attained, is destined to become
of great importance and value in its practical application to various
branches of industry.
I say "comparatively new" because the underlying principles involved
in the experiments referred to have, to a certain extent, been
employed (in, however, a somewhat restricted sense) for purposes
analogous to those that form the basis of this communication.
As indicated by the title, the subject that will now occupy our
attention is the use of the electric current as a means of increasing
and varying the frictional adhesion of rolling contacts and other
rubbing surfaces, and it is proposed to show how this effect may be
produced, both by means of the direct action of the current itself and
by its indirect action through the agency of electro-magnetism.
Probably the first instance in which the electric current was directly
employed to vary the amount of friction between two rubbing surfaces
was exemplified in Edison's electro-motograph, in which the variations
in the strength of a telephonic current caused corresponding
variations in friction between a revolving cylinder of moistened chalk
and the free end of an adjustable contact arm whose opposite extremity
was attached to the diaphragm of the receiving telephone. This device
was extremely sensitive to the least changes in current strength, and
if it were not for the complication introduced by the revolving
cylinder, it is very likely that it would to-day be more generally
used.
It has also been discovered more recently that in the operation of
electric railways in which the track rails form part of the circuit, a
considerable increase in the tractive adhesion of the driving wheels
is manifested, due to the passage of the return current from the
wheels into the track. In the Baltimore and Hampden electric railway,
using the Daft "third rail" system, this increased tractive adhesion
enables the motors to ascend without slipping a long grade of 350 feet
to the mile, drawing two heavily loaded cars, which result, it is
claimed, is not attainable by steam or other self-propelling motors of
similar weight. In the two instances just cited the conditions are
widely different, as regards the nature of the current employed, the
mechanical properties of the surfaces in contact, and the electrical
resistance and the working conditions of the respective circuits. In
both, however, as clearly demonstrated by the experiments hereinafter
referred to, the cause of the increased friction is substantially the
same.
In order to ascertain the practical value of the electric current as a
means of increasing mechanical friction, and, if possible, render it
commercially and practically useful wherever such additional friction
might be desirable, as for example in the transmission of power, etc.,
a series of experiments were entered into by the author, which, though
not yet fully completed, are sufficiently advanced to show that an
electric current, when properly applied, is capable of very materially
increasing the mechanical friction of rotating bodies, in some cases
as much as from 50 to 100 per cent., with a very economical
expenditure of current; this increase depending upon the nature of the
substances in contact and being capable of being raised by an
increased flow of current.
Before entering into a description of the means by which this result
is produced, and how it is proposed to apply this method practically
to railway and other purposes, it may be well to give a general
outline of what has so far been determined. These experiments have
shown that the coefficient of friction between two conducting surfaces
is very much increased by the passage therethrough of an electric
current of _low electromotive force and large volume_, and this is
especially noticeable between two rolling surfaces in peripheral
contact with each other, or between a rolling and a stationary
surface, as in the case of a driving wheel running upon a railway
rail. This effect increases with the number of amperes of current
flowing through the circuit, of which the two surfaces form part, and
is not materially affected by the electromotive force, so long as the
latter is sufficient to overcome the electrical resistance of the
circuit. This increase in frictional adhesion is principally
noticeable in iron, steel, and other metallic bodies, and is due to a
molecular change in the conducting substances at their point of
contact (which is also the point of greatest resistance in the
circuit), caused by the heat developed at that point. This heat is
ordinarily imperceptible, and becomes apparent only when the current
strength is largely augmented. It is therefore probable that a portion
of this increased tractive adhesion is due directly to the current
itself aside from its heating effect, although I have not as yet been
able to ascertain this definitely. The most economical and efficient
results have been obtained by the employment of a transformed current
of extremely low electromotive force (between ½ and 1 volt), but of
very large volume or quantity, this latter being variable at will, so
as to obtain different degrees of frictional resistance in the
substances under observation.
These experiments were originally directed mainly toward an endeavor
to increase the tractive adhesion of the driving wheels of locomotives
and other vehicles, and to utilize the electric current for this
purpose in such a manner as to render it entirely safe, practical, and
economical. It will be apparent at once that a method of increasing
the tractive power of the present steam locomotives by more than 50
per cent. without adding to their weight and without injury to the
roadbed and wheel tires, such as is caused by the sand now commonly
used, would prove of considerable value, and the same holds true with
respect to electrically propelled street cars, especially as it has
been found exceedingly difficult to secure sufficient tractive
adhesion on street railways during the winter season, as well as at
other times, on roads having grades of more than ordinary steepness.
As this, therefore, is probably the most important use for this
application of the electric current, it has been selected for
illustrating this paper.
I have here a model car and track arranged to show the equipment and
operation of the system as applied to railway motors. The current in
the present instance is one of alternating polarity which is converted
by this transformer into one having the required volume. The
electromotive force of this secondary current is somewhat higher than
is necessary. In practice it would be about half a volt. You will
notice upon a closer inspection that one of the forward driving wheels
is insulated from its axle, and the transformed current, after passing
to a regulating switch under the control of the engineer or driver,
goes to this insulated wheel, from which it enters the track rail,
then through the rear pair of driving wheels and axles to the opposite
rail, and then flows up through the forward uninsulated wheel, from
the axle of which it returns by way of a contact brush to the opposite
terminal of the secondary coil of the transformer. Thus the current is
made to flow _seriatim_ through all four of the driving wheels,
completing its circuit through that portion of the rails lying between
the two axles, and generating a sufficient amount of heat at each
point of contact to produce the molecular change before referred to.
By means of the regulating switch the engineer can control the amount
of current flowing at any time, and can even increase its strength to
such an extent, in wet or slippery weather, as to _evaporate any
moisture_ that may adhere to the surface of the rails at the point of
contact with the wheels while the locomotive or motor car is under
full speed.
It will be apparent that inasmuch as the "traction circuit" moves
along with the locomotive, and is complete through its driving wheel
base, the track rails in front and rear of the same are at all times
entirely free from current, _and no danger whatever can occur by
coming in contact with the rails between successive motors_. Moreover,
the potential used in the present arrangement, while sufficient to
overcome the extremely low resistance of the moving circuit, is too
small to cause an appreciable loss of current from that portion of the
rails in circuit, even under the most unfavorable conditions of the
weather. In practice the primary current necessary is preferably
generated by a small high speed alternating dynamo on the locomotive,
the current being converted by means of an inductional transformer. To
avoid the necessity for electrically bridging the rail joints, a
modified arrangement may be employed, in which the electrical
connection is made directly with a fixed collar on the forward and
rear driving axles, the current dividing itself in parallel between
the two rails in such a manner that, if a defective joint exists in
the rail at one side, the circuit is still complete through the rail
on the other; and as the rails usually break joints on opposite sides,
this arrangement is found very effective. The insulation of the
driving wheels is very easily effected in either case.
As the amount of additional tractive adhesion produced depends upon
the _quantity_ of current flowing rather than upon its pressure, the
reason for transforming the current as described will be apparent, and
its advantages over a direct current of higher tension and less
quantity, both from an economical and practical standpoint, will for
this reason be clear. The amount of heat produced at the point of
contact between the wheels and rails is never large enough to injure
or otherwise affect them, although it may be quite possible to
increase the current sufficiently to produce a very considerable
heating effect. The amount of current sent through the traction
circuit will of course vary with the requirements, and as the extent
to which the resistance to slipping may be increased is very great,
this method is likely to prove of considerable value. While in some
cases the use of such a method of increasing the tractive power of
locomotives would be confined to ascending gradients and the movement
of exceptionally heavy loads, in others it would prove useful as a
_constant_ factor in the work of transportation. In cases like that of
the New York elevated railway system, where the traffic during certain
hours is much beyond the capacity of the trains, and the structure
unable to support the weight of heavier engines, a system like that
just described would prove of very great benefit, as it would easily
enable the present engines to draw two or three additional cars with
far less slipping and lost motion than is the case with mechanical
friction alone, at a cost for tractive current that is insignificant
compared to the advantages gained. Other cases may be cited in which
this method of increasing friction will probably be found useful,
aside from its application to railway purposes, but these will
naturally suggest themselves and need not be further dwelt upon.
In the course of the experiments above described, another and somewhat
different method of increasing the traction of railway motors has been
devised, which is more particularly adapted to electric motors for
street railways, and is intended to be used in connection with a
system of electric street railways now being developed by the author.
In this system _electro-magnetism_ provides the means whereby the
increase in tractive adhesion is produced, and this result is attained
in an entirely novel manner. Several attempts have heretofore been
made to utilize magnetism for this purpose, but apparently without
success, chiefly because of the crude and imperfect manner in which
most of these attempts have been carried out.
The present system owes its efficiency to the formation of _a complete
and constantly closed magnetic circuit_, moving with the vehicle and
completed through the two driving axles, wheels, and that portion of
the track rails lying between the two pairs of wheels, in a manner
similar to that employed in the electrical method before shown. We
have here a model of a second motor car equipped with the apparatus,
mounted on a section of track and provided with means for measuring
the amount of tractive force exerted both with and without the passage
of the current.
You will notice that each axle of the motor car is wound with a helix
of insulated wire, the helices in the present instance being divided
to permit the attachment to the axles of the motor connections. The
helices on both axles are so connected that, when energized, they
induce magnetic lines of force that flow in the same direction through
the magnetic circuit. There are, therefore, four points at which the
circuit is maintained closed by the rolling wheels, and as the
resistance to the flow of the lines of force is greatest at these
points, the magnetic saturation there is more intense, and produces
the most effective result just where it is most required. Now, when
the battery circuit is closed through the helices, it will be observed
that the torque, or pull, exerted by the motor car is fully twice that
exerted by the motor with the traction circuit open, and, by
increasing the battery current until the saturation point of the iron
is reached, the tractive force is _increased nearly 200 per cent._, as
shown by the dynamometer. A large portion of this resistance to the
slipping or skidding of the driving wheels is undoubtedly due to
direct magnetic attraction between the wheels and track, this
attraction depending upon the degree of magnetic saturation and the
relative mass of metal involved.
But by far the greatest proportion of the increased friction is purely
the result of the change in position of the iron molecules due to the
well known action of magnetism, which causes a direct and close
_interlocking action_, so to speak, between the molecules of the two
surfaces in contact. This may be illustrated by drawing a very thin
knife blade over the poles of an ordinary electro-magnet, first with
the current on and then off.
In the model before you, the helices are fixed firmly to, and revolve
with, the axles, the connections being maintained by brushes bearing
upon contact rings at each end of the helices. If desired, however,
the axles may revolve loosely within the helices, and instead of the
latter being connected for cumulative effects, they may be arranged in
other ways so as to produce either subsequent or opposing magnetic
forces, leaving certain portions of the circuit neutral and
concentrating the lines of force wherever they maybe most desirable.
Such a disposition will prove of advantage in some cases.
The amount of current required to obtain this increased adhesion in
practice is extremely small, and may be entirely neglected when
compared to the great benefits derived. The system is very simple and
inexpensive, and the amount of traction secured is entirely within the
control of the motor man, as in the electric system. It will be seen
that the car here will not, with the traction circuit open, propel
itself up hill when one end of the track is raised more than 5 inches
above the table; but with the circuit energized it will readily ascend
the track as you now see it, with one end about 13½, inches above the
other in a length of three feet, _or the equivalent of a 40 per cent.
grade_; and this could be increased still further if the motor had
power enough to propel itself against the force of gravity on a
steeper incline. As you will notice, the motor adheres very firmly to
the track and requires a considerable push to force it down this 40
per cent. grade, whereas with the traction circuit open it slips down
in very short order, notwithstanding the efforts of the driving
mechanism to propel it up.
The resistance of the helices on this model is less than two ohms, and
this will scarcely be exceeded when applied to a full sized car, the
current from two or three cells of secondary batteries being probably
sufficient to energize them.
The revolution of the driving axles and wheels is not interfered with
in the slightest, because in the former the axle boxes are outside the
path of the lines of force, and in the case of the latter because each
wheel practically forms a single pole piece, and in revolving presents
continuously a new point of contact, of the same polarity, to the
rail; the flow of the lines of force being most intense through the
lower half of the wheels, and on a perpendicular line connecting the
center of the axle with the rail. In winter all that is necessary is
to provide each motor car with a suitable brush for cleaning the track
rails sufficiently to enable the wheels to make good contact
therewith, and any tendency to slipping or skidding may be effectually
checked. By this means it is easily possible to increase the tractive
adhesion of an ordinary railway motor from 50 to 100 per cent.,
without any increase in the load or weight upon the track; for it must
be remembered that even that portion of the increased friction due to
direct attraction does not increase the weight upon the roadbed, as
this attraction is mutual between the wheels and track rails; and if
this car and track were placed upon a scale and the circuit closed, it
would not weigh a single ounce more than with the circuit open.
It is obvious that this increase in friction between two moving
surfaces can also be applied to _check_, as well as augment, the
tractive power of a car or train of cars, and I have shown in
connection with this model a system of braking that is intended to be
used in conjunction with the electro-magnetic traction system just
described. You will have noticed that in the experiments with the
traction circuit the brake shoes here have remained idle; that is to
say, they have not been attracted to the magnetized wheels. This is
because a portion of the traction current has been circulating around
this coil on the iron brake beam, inducing in the brake shoes
magnetism of like polarity to that in the wheels to which they apply.
They have therefore been _repelled_ from the wheel tires instead of
being attracted to them. Suppose now that it is desired to stop the
motor car; instead of opening the traction circuit, the current
flowing through the helices is simply reversed by means of this pole
changing switch, whereupon the axles are magnetized in the opposite
direction and the brake shoes are instantly drawn to the wheels with a
very great pressure, as the current in the helices and brake coil now
assist each other in setting up a very strong magnetic flow,
sufficient to bring the motor car almost to an instant stop, if
desired.
The same tractive force that has previously been applied to increase
the tractive adhesion now exercises its influence upon the brake shoes
and wheels, with the result of not only causing a very powerful
pressure between the two surfaces due to the magnetic attraction, but
offering an extremely large frictional resistance in virtue of the
molecular interlocking action before referred to. As shown in the
present instance, a portion of the current still flows through the
traction circuit and prevents the skidding of the wheels.
The method thus described is equally applicable to increase the
coefficient of friction in apparatus for the transmission of power,
its chief advantage for this purpose being the ease and facility with
which the amount of friction between the wheels can be varied to suit
different requirements, or increased and diminished (either
automatically or manually) according to the nature of the work being
done. With soft iron contact surfaces the variation in friction is
very rapid and sensitive to slight changes in current strength, and
this fact may prove of value in connection with its application to
regulating and measuring apparatus. In all cases the point to be
observed is to maintain a closed magnetic circuit of low resistance
through the two or more surfaces the friction of which it is desired
to increase, and the same rule holds good with respect to the electric
system, except that in the latter case the best effects are obtained
when the area of surface in contact is smallest.
For large contact areas the magnetic system is found to be most
economical, and this system might possibly be used to advantage to
prevent slipping of short wire ropes and belts upon their driving
pulleys, in cases where longer belts are inapplicable as in the
driving of dynamos and other machinery. Experiments have also been,
and are still being, made with the object of increasing friction by
means of permanent magnetism, and also with a view to _diminishing_
the friction of revolving and other moving surfaces, the results of
which will probably form the subject matter of a subsequent paper.
Enough has been said to indicate that the development of these two
methods of increasing mechanical friction opens up a new and extensive
field of operation, and enables electricity to score another important
point in the present age of progress. The great range and flexibility
of this method peculiarly adapt it to the purposes we have considered
and to numerous others that will doubtless suggest themselves to you.
Its application to the increase of the tractive adhesion of railway
motors is probably its most prominent and valuable feature at present,
and is calculated to act as an important stimulus to the practical
introduction of electric railways on our city streets, inasmuch as the
claims heretofore made for cable traction in this respect are now no
longer exclusively its own. On trunk line railways the use of sand and
other objectionable traction-increasing appliances will be entirely
dispensed with, and locomotives will be enabled to run at greater
speed with less slipping of the wheels and less danger of derailment.
Their tractive power can be nearly doubled without any increase in
weight, enabling them to draw heavier trains and surmount steeper
grades without imposing additional weight or strain upon bridges and
other parts of the roadbed. Inertia of heavy trains can be more
readily overcome, loss of time due to slippery tracks obviated, and
the momentum of the train at full speed almost instantly checked by
_one and the same means_.
ELECTRIC LAUNCH.
Trials have been made at Havre with an electric launch built to the
order of the French government by the Forges et Chantiers de la
Mediterranée. The vessel, which has rather full lines, measures 28 ft.
between perpendiculars and 9 ft. beam, and is 5 tons register.
The electromotor is the invention of Captain Krebs, who is already
well known on account of his experiments in connection with navigable
balloons, and of M. De Zédé, naval architect. The propeller shaft is
not directly coupled with the spindle of the motor, but is geared to
it by spur wheels in the ratio of 1 to 3, in order to allow of the
employment of a light high-speed motor. The latter makes 850
revolutions per minute, and develops 12 horse power when driving the
screw at 280 revolutions. Current is supplied by a new type of
accumulators made by Messrs. Commelin & Desmazures. One hundred and
thirty two of these accumulators are fitted in the bottom of the boat,
the total weight being about 2 tons.
In ordering this boat the French government stipulated a speed of 6
knots to be maintained during three hours with an expenditure of 10
horse power. The result of the trials gave a speed of 6½ knots during
five hours with 12 horse power, and sufficient charge was left in the
accumulators to allow the boat to travel on the following day for four
hours. This performance is exceedingly good, since it shows that one
horse power hour has been obtained with less than 60 lb. of total
weight of battery.
THE COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE, PARIS.
Leveling the ground, pulling down old buildings, and distributing
light and air through her wide streets, Paris is slowly and
continuously pursuing her transformation. At this moment it is an
entire district, and not one of the least curious ones, that is
disappearing, leaving no other trace of its existence than the
circular walls that once inclosed the wheat market.
It is this building that, metamorphosed, is to become the Commercial
Exchange that has been so earnestly demanded since 1880 by the
commerce of Paris. The question, which was simple in the first place,
and consisted in the conversion of the wheat market into a commercial
exchange, became complicated by a project of enlarging the markets. It
therefore became necessary to take possession, on the one hand, of
sixty seven estates, of a total area of 116,715 square feet, to clear
the exchange, and, on the other, of 49,965 square feet to clear the
central markets. In other words, out of $5,000,000 voted by the common
council for this work, $2,800,000 are devoted to the dispossessions
necessitated by the new exchange, $1,800,000 to those necessitated by
the markets, and $400,000 are appropriated to the wheat market.
The work of demolition began last spring, and the odd number side of
Orleans street, Deux-Ecus street, from this latter to J.J. Rousseau
street, Babille street, Mercier street, and Sortine street, now no
longer exist. All this part is to-day but a desert, in whose center
stands the iron trussing of the wheat market cupola. It is on these
grounds that will be laid out the prolongation of Louvre street in a
straight line to Coquilliere street.
Our engraving shows the present state of the work. What is seen of the
wheat market will be preserved and utilized by Mr. Blondeau, the
architect, who has obtained a grant from the commercial exchange to
construct two edifices on two plots of an area of 32,220 square feet,
fronting on Louvre street, and which will bring the city an annual
rent of $60,000.
[Illustration: THE NEW COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE, PARIS.]
Around the rotunda that still exists there was a circular wall 6½ feet
in thickness. Mr. Blondeau has torn this down, and is now building
another one appropriate to the new destination of the acquired
estates. As for the trussing of the cupola, that is considered as a
work of art, and care has been taken not to touch it. It was
constructed at the beginning of this century, at an epoch when nothing
but rudimentary tools were to be had for working iron, and it was, so
to speak, forged. All the pieces were made with the hammer and were
added one to the other in succession. This cupola will be glazed at
the upper part, while the lower part will be covered with zinc. In the
interior this part will be decorated with allegorical paintings
representing the five divisions of the globe, with their commercial
and industrial attributes. It was feared at one time that the hall, to
which admission will be free, would not afford sufficient space, and
the halls of the Bordeaux and Havre exchanges were cited. It is true
that the hall of the wheat market has an area of but 11,825 square
feet, but on utilizing the 5,000 feet of the circular gallery, which
will not be occupied, it will reach 16,825 feet.
As for the tower which stands at one side of the edifice, that was
built by Marie de Medici for the astrologer whom she brought with her
to Paris from Florence. On account of its historic interest, this
structure will be preserved. On either side of this tower, overlooking
the roofs of the neighboring dwellings, are perceived the summit of a
tower of St. Eustache church and a campanile of a pavilion of the
markets.--_L'Illustration._
THE MANUFACTURE OF COCAINE.
Cocaine is manufactured from the dry leaves of the _Erythroxylon
coca_, which grows in the valleys of the East Cordilleras of South
America--i.e., in the interior of Peru and Bolivia. The fresh leaves
contain 0.003 to 0.006 per cent of cocaine, which percentage decreases
considerably if the leaves are stored any length of time before being
worked up. On the other hand, the alkaloid can be transported and kept
without decomposition. This circumstance caused the author to devise a
simple process for the manufacture of crude cocaine on the spot,
neither Peru nor Bolivia being suitable countries for complicated
chemical operations. After many experiments, he hit upon the following
plan: The disintegrated coca leaves are digested at 70° C. in closed
vessels for two hours, with a very weak solution of sodium hydrate and
petroleum (boiling between 200° and 250° C). The mass is filtered,
pressed while still tepid, and the filtrate allowed to stand until the
oil has completely separated from the aqueous solution. The oil is
drawn off and carefully neutralized with very weak hydrochloric acid.
A white bulky precipitate of cocaine hydrochloride is obtained,
together with an aqueous solution of the same compound, while the
petroleum is free from the alkaloid and may be used for the extraction
of a fresh batch of leaves. The precipitate is dried, and by
concentrating the aqueous solution a further quantity of the
hydrochloride is obtained. Both can be shipped without risk of
decomposition. The product is not quite pure, but contains some
hygrine, traces of gum and other matters. Its percentage of alkaloid
is 75 per cent., while chemically pure cocaine hydrochloride
(C_{17}H_{21}NO_{4}.2HCl) contains 80.6 per cent. of the alkaloid. The
sodium hydrate solution cannot be replaced by milk of lime, nor can
any other acid be used for neutralization. Alcohol or ether are not
suitable for extraction. A repetition of the process with
once-extracted coca leaves gave no further quantity of cocaine,
proving that all the cocaine goes into solution by one treatment. The
same process serves on the small scale for the valuation of coca
leaves. 100 grms. of coca leaves are digested in a flask with 400 c.c.
of water, 50 c.c. of 1/10 NaOH (10 grms. of NaOH in 100 c.c.) and 250
c.c. of petroleum. The flask is loosely covered and warmed on the
water bath for two hours, shaking it from to time. The mass is then
filtered, the residue pressed, and the filtrate allowed to separate in
two layers. The oil layer is run into a bottle and titrated back with
1/100 HCl (1 grm. of HCl in 100 c.c.) until exactly neutral. The
number of c.c. of hydrochloric acid required for titrating back
multiplied by 0.42 gives the percentage of cocaine in the sample. The
following are some of the results with different samples of coca
leaves of various age:
Contained per cent.
of Cocaine.
Coca leaves from Mapiri, 1 month old 0.5% \
" " " Yungas " " 0.5% |
" " " Mapiri and Yungas |
6 months old 0.4% | Of the
" " " Cuzco (Peru) |_ weight of
6 months old 0.3% | the dry
" " " Mapiri and Yungas | leaves.
1 year old 0.3% |
" " " Cuzco " " " 0.2% |
" " " Mapiri and Yungas |
2 years old 0.15%/
Coca leaves from Yungas and Cuzco, three years old, contained no trace
of the alkaloid, whereas fresh green leaves from Yungas contained 0.7
per cent. of the weight of the dry leaves. The same process is also
applicable for the manufacture of quinine from poor quinine bark, with
the single alteration that weak sulphuric acid must be used for the
neutralization of the alkaline petroleum extract.--_H.T. Pfeiffer,
Chem. Zeit. 11._
[Continued from SUPPLEMENT, No. 622, page 9941.]
THE CHEMICAL BASIS OF PLANT FORMS.[1]
By HELEN C. DE S. ABBOTT.
The succession of plants from the lower to the higher forms will be
reviewed superficially, and chemical compounds noted where they
appear.
When the germinating spores of the fungi, _myxomycetes_, rupture their
walls and become masses of naked protoplasm, they are known as
plasmodia. The plasmodium _Æthalium septicum_ occurs in moist places,
on heaps of tan or decaying barks. It is a soft, gelatinous mass of
yellowish color, sometimes measuring several inches in length.
The plasmodium[2] has been chemically analyzed, though not in a state
of absolute purity. The table of Reinke and Rodewold gives an idea of
its proximate constitution.
Many of the constituents given are always present in the living cells
of higher plants. It cannot be too emphatically stated that where
"biotic" force is manifested, these colloidal or albuminous compounds
are found.
The simplest form of plant life is an undifferentiated individual, all
of its functions being performed indifferently by all parts of its
protoplasm.
The chemical basis of plasmodium is almost entirely composed of
complex albuminous substances, and correlated with this structureless
body are other compounds derived from them. Aside from the chemical
substances which are always present in living matter, and are
essential properties of protoplasm, we find no other compounds. In the
higher organisms, where these functions are not performed
indifferently, specialization of tissues is accompanied by many other
kinds of bodies.
The algæ are a stage higher in the evolutionary scale than the
undifferentiated noncellular plasmodium. The simple _Alga
protococcus_[3] may be regarded as a simple cell. All higher plants
are masses of cells, varying in form, function, and chemical
composition.
A typical living cell may be described as composed of a cell wall and
contents. The cell wall is a firm, elastic membrane closed on all
sides, and consists mainly of cellulose, water, and inorganic
constituents. The contents consist of a semi-fluid colloidal
substance, lying in contact with the inner surface of the membrane,
and, like it, closed on all sides. This always is composed of
albuminous substances. In the higher plants, at least, a nucleus
occurs embedded in it; a watery liquid holding salts and saccharine
substances in solution fills the space called the vacuole, inclosed by
the protoplasm.
These simple plants may be seen as actively moving cells or as
non-motile cells. The former consist of a minute mass of protoplasm,
granular and mostly colored green, but clear and colorless at the more
pointed end, and where it is prolonged into two delicate filaments
called cilia. After moving actively for a time they come to rest,
acquire a spherical form, and invest themselves with a firm membrane
of cellulose. This firm, outer membrane of the _Protococcus_
accompanies a higher differentiation of tissue and localization of
function than is found in the plasmodium.
_Hæatococcus_ and plasmodium come under the classes algæ and fungi of
the Thallothyta group. The division[4] of this group into two classes
is based upon the presence of chlorophyl in algæ and its absence in
fungi. Gelatinous starch is found in the algæ; the fungi contain a
starchy substance called glycogen, which also occurs in the liver and
muscles of animals. Structureless bodies, as _æthalium_, contain no
true sugar. Stratified starch[5] first appears in the phanerogams.
Alkaloids have been found in fungi, and owe their presence doubtless
to the richness of these plants in nitrogenous bodies.
In addition to the green coloring matter in algæ are found other
coloring matters.[6] The nature[7] of these coloring matters is
usually the same through whole families, which also resemble each
other in their modes of reproduction.
In form, the algæ differ greatly from filaments or masses of cells;
they live in the water and cover damp surfaces of rocks and wood. In
these they are remarkable for their ramifications and colors and grow
to a gigantic size.
The physiological functions of algæ and fungi depend upon their
chemical differences.
These facts have been offered, simple as they are, as striking
examples of chemical and structural opposition.
The fungi include very simple organisms, as well as others of
tolerably high development, of most varied form, from the simple
bacillus and yeast to the truffle, lichens, and mushrooms.
The cell membrane of this class contains no pure cellulose, but a
modification called fungus cellulose. The membrane also contains an
amyloid substance, amylomycin.[8] Many of the chemical constituents
found in the entire class are given in _Die Pflanzenstoffe_.[9]
Under the _Schizomycetes_ to which the _Micrococcus_ and
_Bacterium_[10] belong are found minute organisms differing much in
form and in the coloring[11] matters they produce, as that causing the
red color of mouldy bread.
The class of lichens[12] contains a number of different coloring
substances, whose chemical composition has been examined. These
substances are found separately in individuals differing in form. In
the _Polyporus_[13] an acid has been found peculiar to it, as in many
plants special compounds are found. In the agariceæ the different
kinds of vellum distinguish between species, and the color of the
conidia is also of differential importance. In all cases of distinct
characteristic habits of reproduction and form, one or more different
chemical compounds is found.
In the next group of the musiceæ, or mosses, is an absence of some
chemical compounds that were characteristic of the classes just
described. Many of the albuminous substances are present. Starch[14]
is found often in large quantities, and also oily fats, which are
contained in the oil bodies of the liverworts; wax,[15] organic acids,
including aconitic acid, and tannin, which is found for the first time
at this evolutionary stage of the plant kingdom.
The vascular cryptogams are especially characterized by their mineral
composition.[16] The ash is extraordinarily rich in silicic acid and
alumina.
Equisetum[17]..........silicic acid 60 per cent.
Aspidium............... " " 13
Asplenium.............. " " 35
Osmunda................ " " 53
Lycopodium[18]......... " " 14
" ........ alumina 26 to 27
" ........ manganese 2 to 2.5
These various plants contain acids and compounds peculiar to
themselves.
As we ascend in the plant scale, we reach the phanerogams. These
plants are characterized by the production of true seeds, and many
chemical compounds not found in lower plants.
It will be convenient in speaking of these higher groups to follow M.
Heckel's[19] scheme of plant evolution. All these plants are grouped
under three main divisions: apetalous, monocotyledonous, and
dicotyledonous; and these main divisions are further subdivided.
It will be observed that these three main parallel columns are divided
into three general horizontal planes.
On plane 1 are all plants of simplicity of floral elements, or parts;
for example, the black walnut, with the simple flower contained in a
catkin.
On plane 2 plants which have a multiplicity of floral elements, as the
many petals and stamens of the rose; and finally, the higher plants,
the orchids among the monocotyledons and the composite among the
dicotyledonous plants, come under the third division of condensation
of floral elements.
It will be impossible to take up in order for chemical consideration
all these groups, and I shall restrict myself to pointing out the
occurrence of certain constituents.
I desire now to call attention to chemical groups under the apetalous
plants having simplicity of floral elements.
_Cassuarina equisetifolia_[20] possibly contains tannin, since it is
used for curing hides. The bark contains a dye. It is said to resemble
_Equisetum_[21] in appearance, and in this latter plant a yellow dye
is found.
The _Myrica_[22] contains ethereal oil, wax, resin, balsam, in all
parts of the plant. The root contains in addition fats, tannin, and
starch, also myricinic acid.
In the willow and poplar,[23] a crystalline, bitter substance, salicin
or populin, is found. This may be considered as the first appearance
of a real glucoside, if tannin be excluded from the list.
The oak, walnut, beech, alder, and birch contain tannin in large
quantities; in the case of the oak, ten to twelve per cent. Oak galls
yield as much as seventy per cent.[24]
The numerous genera of pine and fir trees are remarkable for ethereal
oil, resin, and camphor.
The plane[25] trees contain caoutchouc and gum; peppers,[26] ethereal
oils, alkaloids, piperin, white resin, and malic acid. _Datisca
cannabina_[27] contains a coloring matter and another substance
peculiar to itself, datiscin, a kind of starch, or allied to the
glucosides.
Upon the same evolutionary plane among the monocotyledons, the dates
and palms[28] contain in large quantities special starches, and this
is in harmony with the principles of the theory. Alkaloids and
glucosides have not yet been discovered in them.
Other monocotyledonous groups with simplicity of floral elements, such
as the typhaceæ, contain large quantities of starch; in the case of
_Typha latifolia_[29] 12.5 per cent., and 1.5 per cent. gum. In the
pollen of this same plant, 2.08 per cent. starch has been found.
Under the dicotyledonous groups, there are no plants with simplicity
of floral elements.
Returning, now, to apetalous plants of multiplicity and simplification
of floral elements, we find that the urticaceæ[30] contain free formic
acid; the hemp[31] contains alkaloids; the hop,[32] ethereal oil and
resin; the rhubarb,[33] crysophonic acid; and the begonias,[34]
chicarin and lapacho dyes. The highest apetalous plants contain
camphors and oils; the highest of the monocotyledons contain a
mucilage and oils; and the highest dicotyledons contain oils and
special acids.
The trees yielding common camphor and borneol are from genera of the
lauraceæ family; also sassafras camphor is from the same family. Small
quantities of stereoptenes are widely distributed through the plant
kingdom.
The gramineæ, or grasses, are especially characterized by the large
quantities of sugar and silica they contain. The ash of the rice hull,
for example, contains ninety eight per cent. silica.
The ranunculaceæ contain many plants which yield alkaloids, as
_Hydrastia canadensis_, or Indian hemp, _Helleborus_, _Delphinum_,
_Aconitum_, and the alkaloid berberine has been obtained from genera
of this family.
The alkaloid[35] furnishing families belong, with few exceptions, to
the dicotyledons. The colchiceæ, from which is obtained veratrine,
form an exception among the monocotyledons. The alkaloids of the
fungus have already been noted.
[36]Among the greater number of plant families, no alkaloids have been
found. In the labiatæ none has been discovered, nor in the compositæ
among the highest plants.
One alkaloid is found in many genera of the loganiaceæ; berberine in
genera of the berberidaceæ, ranunculaceæ, menispermaceæ, rutaceæ,
papaveraceæ, anonaceæ.
Waxes are widely distributed in plants. They occur in quantities in
some closely related families.
Ethereal oils occur in many families, in the bark, root, wood, leaf,
flower, and fruit; particularly in myrtaceæ, laurineæ, cyperaceæ,
crucifereæ, aurantiaceæ, labiatæ, and umbelliferæ.
Resins are found in most of the higher plants. Tropical plants are
richer in resins than those of cold climates.
Chemical resemblance between groups, as indicating morphological
relations, has been well shown. For example: the similarity[37] of the
viscid juices, and a like taste and smell, among cactaceæ and
portulaceæ, indicate a closer relationship between these two orders
than botanical classification would perhaps allow. This fact was
corroborated by the discovery of irritable stamens in _Portulaca_ and
_Opuntia_, and other genera of cactaceæ.
Darwin[38] states that in the compositæ the ray florets are more
poisonous than the disk florets, in the ratio of about 3 to 2.
Comparing the cycadeæ and palmæ, the former are differently placed by
different botanists, but the general resemblance is remarkable, and
they both yield sago.
Chemical constituents of plants are found in varying quantities during
stated periods of the year. Certain compounds present at one stage of
growth are absent at another. Many facts could be brought forward to
show the different chemical composition of plants in different stages
of growth. The _Thuja occidentalis_[39] in the juvenescent and adult
form, offers an example where morphological and chemical differences
go hand in hand. Analyses of this plant under both conditions show a
striking difference.
Different parts of plants may contain distinct chemical compounds, and
the comparative chemical study of plant orders comprises the analysis
of all parts of plants of different species.
For example; four portions of the _Yucca angustifolia_[40] were
examined chemically; the bark and wood of the root and the base and
blades of the leaves. Fixed oils were separated from each part. These
were not identical; two were fluid at ordinary temperature, and two
were solid. Their melting and solidifying points were not the same.
This difference in the physical character and chemical reaction of
these fixed oils may be due to the presence of free fatty acid and
glycerides in varying proportions in the four parts of the plants. It
is of interest to note that, in the subterranean part of the _Yucca_,
the oil extracted from the bark is solid at the ordinary temperature;
from the wood it was of a less solid consistency; while the yellow
base of the leaf contained an oil quite soft, and in the green leaf
the oil is almost fluid.
Two new resins were extracted from the yellow and green parts of the
leaf. It was proposed to name them _yuccal_ and _pyrophæal_ An
examination of the contents of each extract showed a different
quantitative and qualitative result.
Saponin was found in all parts of the plant.
Many of the above facts have been collected from the investigations of
others. I have introduced these statements, selected from a mass of
material, as evidences in favor of the view stated at the beginning of
this paper.[41] My own study has been directed toward the discovery of
saponin in those plants where it was presumably to be found. The
practical use of this theory in plant analysis will lead the chemists
at once to a search for those compounds which morphology shows are
probably present.
I have discovered saponin in all parts of the _Yucca angustifolia_, in
the _Y. filimentosa_ and _Y. gloriosa_, in several species of agavæ,
and in plants belonging to the leguminosæ family.
The list[42] of plants in which saponin has been discovered is given
in the note. All these plants are contained in the middle plane of
Heckel's scheme. No plants containing saponin have been found among
apetalous groups. No plants have been found containing saponin among
the lower monocotyledons.
The plane of saponin passes from the liliaceæ and allied groups to the
rosales and higher dicotyledons.
Saponin belongs to a class of substances called glucosides. Under the
action of dilute acids, it is split up into two substances, glucose
and sopogenin. The chemical nature of this substance is not thoroughly
understood. The commercial[43] product is probably a mixture of
several substances.
This complexity of chemical composition of saponin is admirably
adapted for the nutrition of the plant, and it is associated with the
corresponding complexity of the morphological elements of the plant's
organs. According to M. Perrey,[44] it seems that the power of a plant
to direct the distribution of its carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen to form
complex glucosides is indicative of its higher functions and
developments.
The solvent action of saponin on resins has been already discussed.
Saponin likewise acts as a solvent upon barium[45] sulphate and
calcium[46] oxalate, and as a solvent of insoluble or slightly soluble
salts would assist the plant in obtaining food, otherwise difficult of
access.
The botanical classifications based upon morphology are so frequently
Saponin is found in endogens and exogens. The line dividing these two
groups is not always clearly defined. Statements pointing to this are
found in the works of Haeckel, Bentham, and others.
Smilax belongs to a transition class, partaking somewhat of the nature
of endogen and of exogen. It is worthy of note that this intermediate
group of the sarsaparillas should contain saponin.
It is a significant fact that all the groups above named containing
saponin belong to Heckel's middle division.
It may be suggested that saponin is thus a constructive element in
developing the plant from the multiplicity of floral elements to the
cephalization of those organs.
It has been observed that the composite occurs where the materials for
growth are supplied in greatest abundance, and the more simple forms
arise where sources of nutrition are remote. We may gather from this
fact that the simpler organs of plants low in the evolutionary scale
contain simpler non-nitrogenous chemical compounds for their
nutrition.
The presence of saponin seems essential to the life of the plant where
it is found, and it is an indispensable principle in the progression
of certain lines of plants, passing from their lower to their higher
stages.
Saponin is invariably absent where the floral elements are simple; it
is invariably absent where the floral elements are condensed to their
greatest extent. Its position is plainly that of a factor in the great
middle realm of vegetable life, where the elements of the individual
are striving to condense, and thus increase their physiological action
and the economy of parts.
It may be suggested as a line of research to study what are the
conditions which control the synthesis and gradual formation of
saponin in plants. The simpler compounds of which this complex
substance is built up, if located as compounds of lower plants, would
indicate the lines of progression from the lower to the saponin
groups.
In my paper[47] read in Buffalo at the last meeting of the American
Association for the Advancement of Science, various suggestions were
offered why chemical compounds should be used as a means of botanical
classification.
The botanical classifications based upon morphology are so frequently
unsatisfactory, that efforts in some directions have been made to
introduce other methods.[48]
There has been comparatively little study of the chemical principles
of plants from a purely botanical view. It promises to become a new
field of research.
The leguminosæ are conspicuous as furnishing us with important dyes,
e.g., indigo, logwood, catechin. The former is obtained principally
from different species of the genus _Indigofera_, and logwood from the
_Hæmatoxylon_ and _Saraca indica_.
The discovery[49] of hæmatoxylin in the _Saraca indica_ illustrates
very well how this plant in its chemical, as well as botanical,
character is related to the _Hæmatoxylon campechianum_; also, I found
a substance like catechin in the _Saraca_. This compound is found in
the _acacias_, to which class _Saraca_ is related by its chemical
position, as well as botanically. Saponin is found in both of these
plants, as well as in many other plants of the leguminosæ. The
leguminosæ come under the middle plane or multiplicity of floral
elements, and the presence of saponin in these plants was to be
expected.
From many of the facts above stated, it may be inferred that the
chemical compounds of plants do not occur at random. Each stage of
growth and development has its own particular chemistry.
It is said that many of the constituents found in plants are the
result of destructive metabolism, and are of no further use in the
plant's economy. This subject is by no means settled, and even should
we be forced to accept that ground, it is a significant fact that
certain cells, tissues, or organs peculiar to a plant secrete or
excrete chemical compounds peculiar to them, which are to be found in
one family, or in species closely allied to it.
It is a fact that the chemical compounds are there, no matter why or
whence they came. They will serve our purposes of study and
classification.
The result of experiment shows that the presence of certain compounds
is essential to the vigor and development of all plants and particular
compounds to the development of certain plants. Plant chemistry and
morphology are related. Future investigations will demonstrate this
relation.
In general terms, we may say that amides and carbohydrates are
utilized in the manufacture of proteids. Organic acids cause a
turgescence of cells. Glucosides may be a form of reserve food
material.
Resins and waxes may serve only as protection to the surfaces of
plants; coloring matters, as screens to shut off or admit certain of
the sun's rays; but we are still far from penetrating the mystery of
life.
A simple plant does what animals more highly endowed cannot do. From
simplest substances they manufacture the most complex. We owe our
existence to plants, as they do theirs to the air and soil.
The elements carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen pass through a
cycle of changes from simple inorganic substances to the complex
compounds of the living cell. Upon the decomposition of these bodies
the elements return to their original state. During this transition
those properties of protoplasm which were mentioned at the beginning,
in turn, follow their path. From germination to death this course
appears like a crescent, the other half of the circle closed from
view. Where chemistry begins and ends it is difficult to say.--_Jour.
Fr. Inst._
[Footnote 1: A lecture delivered before the Franklin Institute,
January 24, 1887.]
[Footnote 2: Studien uber das Protoplasm, 1881.]
[Footnote 3: Vines, p. 1. Rostafinski: Mem. de la Soc. des Sc.
Nat. de Cherbourg, 1875. Strasburger: Zeitschr., xii, 1878.]
[Footnote 4: Botany: Prantl and Vines. London, 1886, p. 110.]
[Footnote 5: For the literature of starch, see p. 115, Die
Pflanzenstoffe, von Hilger and Husemann.]
[Footnote 6: Kutzing: Arch. Pharm., xli, 38. Kraus and Millardet:
Bul. Soc. Sciences Nat., Strasbourg, 1868, 22. Sorby: Jour. Lin.
Soc., xv, 34. J. Reinke: Jahrb. Wissenscht. Botan., x, B. 399.
Phipson: Phar. Jour. Trans., clxii, 479.]
[Footnote 7: Prantl and Vines, p. 111.]
[Footnote 8: L. Crie: Compt. Rend., lxxxviii, 759 and 985. J. De
Seynes, 820, 1043.]
[Footnote 9: Page 279.]
[Footnote 10: M. Nencki and F. Schaffer. N. Sieher: Jour. Pract.
Chem., 23, 412.]
[Footnote 11: E. Klein: Quar. Jour. Micros. Science, 1875, 381. O.
Helm: Arch. Pharm., 1875, 19-24. G. Gugini: Gaz. Chem., 7, 4. W.
Thorner: Bul. Ber, xi, 533.]
[Footnote 12: Handbook of Dyeing. By W. Crookes, London, 1874. p. 367.
Schunck: Ann. Chem. Pharm., 41, 157; 54, 261; 61, 72; 61, 64; 61, 78.
Rochelder and Heldt, ibid., 48, 2; 48, 9. Stenhouse, ibid., 68, 57;
68, 72; 68, 97, 104; 125, 353. See also researches of Strecker, O.
Hesse, Reymann, Liebermann, Lamparter, Knop, and Schnedermann.]
[Footnote 13: Stahlschmidt.]
[Footnote 14: E. Treffner: Inaugur. Diss. Dorpat, 1880.]
[Footnote 15: W. Pfeffer: Flora, 1874.]
[Footnote 16: Die Pflanzenstoffe, p. 323 W. Lange: Bul. Ber., xi,
822.]
[Footnote 17: Ann. Chim. Phys., 41, 62, 208; Ann. Chim. Pharm.,
77, 295.]
[Footnote 18: Fluckiger: Pharmakognosie. Kamp: Ann. Chim. Pharm.,
100, 300.]
[Footnote 19: Revue Scientifiqe, 13 Mars, 1886.]
[Footnote 20: Dictionary of Economic Plants. By J. Smith. London,
1882, p. 294.]
[Footnote 21: Ibid., p. 160. Pharmakognosie des Pflanzenreichs,
Wittstein, p. 736. Ann. Chem. Pharm., 77, 295.]
[Footnote 22: Rabenhorst: Repert. Pharm., lx, 214. Moore: Chem.
Centralbl., 1862, 779, Dana.]
[Footnote 23: Johansen: Arch. Pharm., 3, ix, 210. Ibid., 3, ix
103. Bente: Berl. Ber., viii, 476. Braconnot: Ann. Chim. Phys., 2,
44, 296.]
[Footnote 24: Wittstein; Pharm. des Pflanzenreichs, p. 249.]
[Footnote 25: John; Ibid., p. 651.]
[Footnote 26: Dulong. Oersted, Lucas, Pontet; Ibid., p. 640.]
[Footnote 27: Braconnot: Ann. Chim. Phys., 2, 3. 277. Stenhouse:
Ann. Chim. Phann., 198, 166].
[Footnote 28: 3 Pflanzenstoffe, p. 412.]
[Footnote 29: Lecocq: Braconnot: Pharmacog. Pflan, p. 693.]
[Footnote 30: Gorup-Besanez.]
[Footnote 31: Siebold and Brodbury: Phar. Jour. Trans., 3, 590,
1881, 326.]
[Footnote 32: Wagner: Jour. Prakt. Chem., 58, 352. B. Peters, v.
Gohren: Jahresb. Agric., viii, 114; ix, 105; v. 58. Ann. Jour.
Pharm., 4, 49.]
[Footnote 33: Dragendorff: Pharm. Zeitschr. Russ., xvii, 65-97.]
[Footnote 34: Bonssingault: Ann. Chim. Phys., 2, 27, 315. Erdmann:
Jour. Pract. Chem., 71, 198.]
[Footnote 35: Die Pflanzenstoffe, p. 21.]
[Footnote 36: Ibid.]
[Footnote 37: Meehan: Proc. Acad. Nat. Sciences.]
[Footnote 38: Different forms of flowers on plants of the same
species. Introduction.]
[Footnote 39: Meehan: Proc. Acad. Nat. Sciences.]
[Footnote 40: H.C. De S. Abbott: Trans. Amer. Philos. Soc., 1886.]
[Footnote 41: For further facts confirming this theory, see
"Comparative Chemistry of Higher and Lower Plants." By H.C. De S.
Abbott. Amer. Naturalist, August, 1887.]
[Footnote 42: Different genera and species of the following:
Ranunculaceæ, Berberidaceæ, Carophyllaceæ, Polygalaceæ,
Bromeliaceæ, Liliaceæ, Smilaceæ, Yuccas, Amaryllideæ, Leguminosæ,
Primulaceæ, Rosaceæ, Sapindaceæ, Sapotaceæ]
[Footnote 43: Kobert: Chem Ztg.]
[Footnote 44: Compt. Rend., xciv, p. 1124.]
[Footnote 45: Bul. de la Soc. Chim.]
[Footnote 46: "Yucca angus." Trans. Am. Philos. Soc., Dec., 1885.]
[Footnote 47: Botanical Gazette, October, 1886.]
[Footnote 48: Borodin: Pharm. Jour. Trans., xvi, 369. Pax. Firemy:
Ann. Sci. Nat., xiii.]
[Footnote 49: H.C. De S. Abbott, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sciences, Nov.
30, 1886.]
NEW METHOD FOR THE QUANTITATIVE DETERMINATION OF STARCH.
A.V. ASBOTH.
The author maintains that unsatisfactory results are obtained in
determinations of starch when the method employed is based upon the
inversion of sugar, formed as an intermediate product, since maltose,
dextrose, and levulose are partly decomposed by boiling with dilute
acids. He proposes to replace the methods hitherto employed by one
which depends upon the formation of a barium salt of starch, to which
he assigns the formula BaO.C_{24}H_{40}O_{20}. This salt is sparingly
soluble in water and insoluble in dilute alcohol.
In making a determination a weighed quantity of starch is saccharified
with water, then mixed with an excess of normal baryta solution,
dilute alcohol added to make up to a certain volume, and, after the
precipitate has settled, the excess of baryta is titrated back with
acid.
[Illustration: Titrating apparatus]
The author also describes the apparatus he employs for storing and
titrating with baryta solution. The latter is contained in the bottle,
A, and the drying tube attached to the neck of the same is filled with
quicklime. The burette, B, which is in direct connection with the
bottle, may be filled with the solution by opening the stop cock, and
the small drying tube, _n_, is filled with dry KOH, thus preventing
the entrance of any CO_{2}. Numbers are appended which seem to testify
to the excellence of the method employed. The author finally gives a
detailed account of the entire analysis of various cereals.--_A.R. in
Jour. Soc. Chem. Indus._
SYNTHESIS OF THE ALKALOIDS.
In the note on the constitution of alkaloids in a recent issue, we
referred more especially to what we may term the less highly organized
bases. Most of our knowledge, as we now have it, regarding such
alkaloids as muscarine and choline has been acquired during the past
dozen years. This is not exactly the case with the higher groups of
alkaloids--the derivatives of pyridine and quinoline. It so happens
that the oldest alkaloids are in these groups. They have, almost
necessarily, been subjected to a longer period of attack, but the
extreme complexity of their molecules, and the infinite number of
differing parts or substances into which these molecules split up when
attacked, are the main cause of the small progress which has been made
in this department. All, however, yield one or more bodies or bases in
common, while each has its distinctive and peculiar decomposition
product. For example, cinchonine and quinine both afford the basic
quinoline under certain conditions, but on oxidation of cinchonine, an
acid--cinchoninic acid (C_{10}H_{7}NO_{2})--is the principal body
formed, while in the case of quinine, quininic acid (C_{10}H_{9}NO_{3})
is the principal product. The acquirement through experiment of such
knowledge as that is, however, so much gained. We find, indeed, that
obstacles are gradually being cleared away, and the actual synthetic
formation of such alkaloids as piperidine and coniine is a proof that
the chemist is on the right track in studying the decomposition
products, and building up from them, theoretically, bodies of similar
constitution. It is noteworthy that the synthesis of the alkaloids has
led to some of the most brilliant discoveries of the present day,
especially in the discovery of dye stuffs. Many of our quinine
substitutes, such as thalline, for example, are the result of
endeavors to make quinine artificially. If there is romance in
chemistry at all, it is to be found certainly in this branch of it,
which is generally considered the most uninteresting and unfathomable.
We may take piperidine and coniine as examples of the methods followed
in alkaloidal synthesis; these are pyridine bases. Pyridine has the
formula C_{5}H_{5}N, that is, it is benzene with CH replaced by N. The
relationship between these and piperidine is seen in the following
formulæ:
CH N NH
/ \ / \ / \
HC CH HC CH H_{2}C CH_{2}
| | | | | |
HC CH HC CH H_{2}C CH_{2}
\ / \ / \ /
CH CH CH_{2}
(Benzene,) (Pyridine,) (Piperidine,)
(C_{6}H_{6}) (C_{5}H_{5}N) (C_{5}H_{11}N)
If we introduce six hydrogen atoms into pyridine, we convert it into
piperidine. Ladenburg succeeded in so hydrogenizing pyridine by acting
upon an alcoholic solution with sodium, and from the base which was
formed he obtained a platinochloride which agreed with the similar
double salt of piperidine. He has also prepared it from trimethyline
cyanide by the action of sodium. Pentamethylinediamine is the
principal intermediary product, and this gives piperidine when
distilled with superheated steam. He has proved that the alkaloid so
obtained is identical with that prepared from piperine. Another
curious point which Ladenburg has lately proved is that cadaverine
(one of the products of flesh decomposition) is identical with
pentamethylinediamine, and that its imine is the same as piperidine.
The synthesis of coniine by Ladenburg is one of the most notable
achievements of modern chemistry. He at first supposed that this
alkaloid was piperidine in which two hydrogen atoms were replaced by
the isopropyl radical (C_{3}H_{7}), its formula being taken as
C_{5}H_{9}(C_{3}H_{7})NH. But he has since changed his view, as will
be seen from what follows. In its synthesis 1,000 grammes of picoline
were first converted into alphapicoline, 380 grammes being obtained.
This was heated with paraldehyde, whereby it was converted into
allylpyridine (48 grammes), and this by reduction with sodium yielded
alpha-propylpyridine, a body in almost every respect identical with
coniine. The more important difference was its optical inactivity, but
he succeeded in splitting up a solution of the acid tartrate of the
base by means of _Penicillium glaucum_. Crystals separated which had a
dextro-rotatory power of [_a_]_{D} = 31° 87' as compared with the
[_a_]_{D} = 13° 79' of natural coniine. This brief account conveys but
a faint idea of the difficulties which were encountered in these
researches. Optical methods of examination have proved of great value,
and are destined to play an important part in such work.
Among the most complex alkaloids are those of the quinine group. As
yet chemists have got no further with these than the oxidation
products; but the study has afforded us several new antipyretics and
many interesting facts. It has been found, for example, that
artificial quinine-like bodies, which fluoresce and give the green
color with chlorine water and ammonia, have antipyretic properties
like quinine, but their secondary effects are so pernicious as to
prevent their use. If, however, such bodies are hydrogenized or
methylated they lose their fluorescing property, do not give the green
color, and their secondary effects are removed. Knowledge of these
facts led to the discovery of thalline. It is prepared from
paraquinanisol, one of the objectionable bodies, by reduction with tin
and hydrochloric acid. The following formulæ show the constitutional
relationship of these compounds:
CH CH CH CH_{2}
/ \ / \ / \ / \
(CH_{3}O)C C CH (CH_{3}O)C C CH_{2}
| | | | | |
HC C CH HC C CH_{2}
\ / \ / \ / \ /
CH N CH NH
Paraquinanisol Thalline
C_{9}H_{6}.CH_{3}.NO. C_{9}H_{10}.CH_{3}.NO.
It is evident from the difficulties which have been encountered in
this department of chemistry, and more especially from the costly
nature of the work, that it will be many years before it will
influence the manufacture of alkaloids from the drugs which yield
them. Ladenburg has synthetized coniine, but he has not yet ventured
to assert that his product will replace the natural alkaloid.--_Chem.
and Druggist._
The _Southern California Advocate_ reports another magnificent
donation of lands to the University of Southern California by Mr. D.
Freeman, the owner of the Centinella ranch near Los Angeles--six
hundred thousand dollars in all given to found a school of applied
sciences, $100,000 for building and apparatus and $500,000 for
endowment. The buildings will be in the vicinity of Inglewood, the new
and beautiful town on the Ballona branch of the California Central.
A GROUP OF HAMPSHIRE DOWNS.
The Hampshire Down breed of sheep originated about 80 years ago by a
cross of South Downs on the horned, white-faced sheep which had for
ages been native of the open, untilled, hilly stretch of land known as
the Hampshire Downs, in the county of that name bordering on the
English Channel, in the South of England. From time immemorial the
South Downs had dark brown or black legs, matured early, produced the
best of mutton and a fine quality of medium wool. The original
Hampshire was larger, coarser, but hardier, slower to mature, with
inferior flesh, and a longer but coarser wool. The South Down has
always been remarkable for its power of transmitting its special
characteristics to its progeny by other kinds of sheep, and hence it
soon impressed its own characteristics on its progeny by the
Hampshire. The horns of the original breed have disappeared; the face
and legs have become dark, the frame has become more compact, the
bones smaller, the back broader and straighter, the legs shorter, and
the flesh and wool of better quality, while the superior hardiness and
greater size, as well as the large head and Roman nose of the old
breed, still remain. The Hampshires of to-day mature early and fatten
readily. They clip from six to seven pounds of wool, suitable for
combing, which is longer than South Down wool, but less fine. The
mutton has a desirable proportion of fat and lean, and is juicy and
fine flavored. The lambs are of large size and are usually dropped
early and fed for market. Indeed, the Hampshire may be considered a
larger and trifle coarser and hardier South Down. The breed is
occasionally crossed with Cotswolds, when it produces a wool more
valuable for worsted manufacturers than the pure Cotswold. Indeed,
there is little doubt that in addition to South Down, the Hampshire
has a dash of Cotswold blood in its composition. Considerable
importations of the breed have been made into this country, but it has
not become so popular as the South Down and some other English breeds.
The excellent group shown is owned by Mr. James Wood, of Mount Kisco,
New York.--_Rural New-Yorker._
THE YALE COLLEGE MEASUREMENT OF THE PLEIADES.[1]
[Footnote 1: "Determination of the Relative Positions of the
Principal Stars in the Group of the Pleiades." By William L.
Elkin. Transactions of the Astronomical Observatory of Yale
University, Vol. I., Part I. (New Haven: 1887.)]
The Messrs. Repsold have established, and for the present seem likely
to maintain, a practical monopoly in the construction of heliometers.
That completed by them for the observatory of Yale College in 1882
leaves so little to be desired as to show excellence not to be the
exclusive result of competition. In mere size it does not indeed take
the highest rank. Its aperture is of only six inches, while that of
the Oxford heliometer is of seven and a half; but the perfection of
the arrangements adapting it to the twofold function of equatorial and
micrometer stamps it as a model not easy to be surpassed. Steel has
been almost exclusively used in the mounting. Recommended as the
material for the objective cell by its quality of changing volume
under variations of temperature nearly _paripassu_ with glass, its
employment was extended to the telescope tube and other portions of
the mechanism. The optical part of the work was done by Merz, Alvan
Clark having declined the responsibility of dividing the object lens.
Its segments are separable to the extent of 2°, and through the
contrivance of cylindrical slides (originally suggested by Bessel)
perfect definition is preserved in all positions, giving a range of
accurate measurement just six times that with a filar micrometer.
(Gill, "Encyc. Brit.," vol. xvi., p. 253; Fischer, _Sirius_, vol.
xvii., p. 145.)
This beautiful engine of research was in 1883 placed in the already
practiced and skillful hands of Dr. Elkin. He lost no time in fixing
upon a task suited both to test the powers of the new instrument and
to employ them to the highest advantage.
The stars of the Pleiades have, from the earliest times, attracted the
special notice of observers, whether savage or civilized. Hence, on
the one hand, their prominence in stellar mythology all over the
world; on the other, their unique interest for purposes of scientific
study and comparison. They constitute an undoubted cluster; that is to
say, they are really, and not simply in appearance, grouped together
in space, so as to fall under the sway of prevailing mutual
influences. And since there is, perhaps, no other stellar cluster so
near the sun, the chance of perceptible displacements among them in a
moderate lapse of time is greater than in any other similar case.
Authentic data regarding them, besides, have now been so long garnered
that their fruit may confidently be expected at least to begin to
ripen.
Dr. Elkin determined, accordingly, to repeat the survey of the
Pleiades executed by Bessel at Konigsberg during about twelve years
previous to 1841. Wolf and Pritchard had, it is true, been beforehand
with him; but the wide scattering of the grouped stars puts the filar
micrometer at a disadvantage in measuring them, producing minute
errors which the arduous conditions of the problem render of serious
account. The heliometer, there can be no doubt, is the special
instrument for the purpose, and it was, moreover, that employed by
Bessel; so that the Konigsberg and Yale results are comparable in a
stricter sense than any others so far obtained.
One of Bessel's fifty-three stars was omitted by Dr. Elkin as too
faint for accurate determination. He added, however, seventeen stars
from the Bonn _Durchmusterung_, so that his list comprised sixty-nine,
down to 9.2 magnitude. Two independent triangulations were executed by
him in 1884-85. For the first, four stars situated near the outskirts
of the group, and marking the angles of quadrilateral by which it was
inclosed, were chosen as reference points. The second rested upon
measures of distance and position angle outward from Alcyone ([eta]
Tauri). Thus, two wholly unconnected sets of positions were secured,
the close accordance of which testified strongly to the high quality
of the entire work. They were combined, with nearly equal weights, in
the final results. A fresh reduction of the Konigsberg observations,
necessitated by recent improvements in the value of some of the
corrections employed, was the preliminary to their comparison with
those made, after an interval of forty-five years, at Yale College.
The conclusions thus laboriously arrived at are not devoid of
significance, and appear perfectly secure, so far as they go.
It has been known for some time that the stars of the Pleiades possess
a small identical proper motion. Its direction, as ascertained by
Newcomb in 1878, is about south-southeast; its amount is somewhat less
than six seconds of arc in a century. The double star 61 Cygni, in
fact, is displaced very nearly as much in one year as Alcyone with its
train in one hundred. Nor is there much probability that this slow
secular shifting is other than apparent; since it pretty accurately
reverses the course of the sun's translation through space, it may be
presumed that the _backward_ current of movement in which the Pleiades
seem to float is purely an effect of our own _onward_ traveling.
Now the curious fact emerges from Dr. Elkin's inquiries that six of
Bessel's stars are exempt from the general drift of the group. They
are being progressively left behind. The inference is obvious that
they do not in reality belong to, but are merely accidentally
projected upon, it; or, rather, that it is projected upon them; for
their apparent immobility (which, in two of the six, may be called
absolute) shows them with tolerable certainty to be indefinitely more
remote--so remote that the path, moderately estimated at
21,000,000,000 miles in length, traversed by the solar system during
the forty-five years elapsed since the Konigsberg measures dwindles
into visual insensibility when beheld from them. The brightest of
these six far-off stars is just above the eighth (7.9) magnitude; the
others range from 8.5 down to below the ninth.
A chart of the relative displacements indicated for Bessel's stars by
the differences in their inter-mutual positions as determined at
Konigsberg and Yale accompanies the paper before us. Divergences
exceeding 0.40" (taken as the limit of probable error) are regarded as
due to real motion; and this is the case with twenty-six stars besides
the half dozen already mentioned as destined deserters from the group.
With these last may be associated two stars surmised, for an opposite
reason, to stand aloof from it. Instead of tarrying behind, they are
hurrying on in front.
An excess of the proper movement of their companions belongs to them;
and since that movement is presumably an effect of secular parallax,
we are justified in inferring their possession of an extra share of it
to signify their greater proximity to the sun. Hence, of all the stars
in the Pleiades these are the most likely to have a measurable annual
parallax. One is a star a little above the seventh magnitude,
distinguished as _s_ Pleiadum; the other, of about the eighth, is
numbered 25 in Bessel's list. Dr. Elkin has not omitted to remark that
the conjecture of their disconnection from the cluster is confirmed by
the circumstance that its typical spectrum (as shown on Prof.
Pickering's plates) is varied in _s_ by the marked character of the K
line. The spectrum of its fellow traveler (No. 25) is still
undetermined.
It is improbable, however, that even these nearer stars are
practicable subjects for the direct determination of annual parallax.
By indirect means, however, we can obtain some idea of their distance.
All that we want to know for the purpose is the _rate_ of the sun's
motion; its _direction_ we may consider as given with approximate
accuracy by Airy's investigation. Now, spectroscopic measurements of
stellar movements of approach and recession will eventually afford
ample materials from which to deduce the solar, velocity; though they
are as yet not accurate or numerous enough to found any definitive
conclusion upon. Nevertheless, M. Homann's preliminary result of
fifteen miles a second as the speed with which our system travels in
its vast orbit inspires confidence both from the trustworthiness of
the determinations (Mr. Seabroke's) serving as its basis and from its
intrinsic probability. Accepting it provisionally, we find the
parallax of Alcyone = about 0.02', implying a distance of
954,000,000,000,000 miles and a light journey of 163 years. It is
assumed that the whole of its proper motion of 2.61' in forty-five
years is the visual projection of oar own movement toward a point in
R.A. 261°, Decl. +25°.
Thus the parallax of the two stars which we suspect to lie between us
and the stars forming the genuine group of the Pleiades, at perhaps
two-thirds of their distance, can hardly exceed 0.03'. This is just
half that found by Dr. Gill for [xi] Toucani, which may be regarded
as, up to this, the smallest annual displacement at all satisfactorily
determined. And the error of the present estimate is more likely to be
on the side of excess than of defect. That is, the stars in question
can hardly be much nearer to us than is implied by an annual parallax
of 0.03", and they may be considerably more remote.
Dr. Elkin concludes, from the minuteness of the detected changes of
position among the Pleiades, that "the hopes of obtaining any clew to
the internal mechanism of this cluster seem not likely to be realized
in an immediate future;" remarking further: "The bright stars in
especial seem to form an almost rigid system, as for only one is there
really much evidence of motion, and in this case the total amount is
barely 1 per century." This one mobile member of the naked eye group
is Electra; and it is noticeable that the apparent direction of its
displacement favors the hypothesis of leisurely orbital circulation
round the leading star. The larger movements, however, ascribed to
some of the fainter associated stars are far from harmonizing with
this preconceived notion of what they ought to be.
On the contrary, so far as they are known at present, they force upon
our minds the idea that the cluster may be undergoing some slow
process of disintegration. M. Wolf's impression of incipient
centrifugal tendencies among its components certainly derives some
confirmation from Dr. Elkin's chart. Divergent movements are the most
strongly marked; and the region round Alcyone suggests, at the first
glance, rather a very confused area of radiation for a flight of
meteors than the central seat of attraction of a revolving throng of
suns.
There are many signs, however, that adjacent stars in the cluster do
not pursue independent courses. "Community of drift" is visible in
many distinct sets; while there is as yet no perceptible evidence,
from orbital motion, of association into subordinate systems. The
three eighth-magnitude stars, for instance, arranged in a small
isosceles triangle near Alcyone, do not, as might have been expected
_a priori_, constitute a real ternary group. They are all apparently
traveling directly away from the large star close by them, in straight
lines which may, of course, be the projections of closed curves; but
their rates of travel are so different as to involve certain
progressive separation. Obviously, the order and method of such
movements as are just beginning to develop to our apprehension among
the Pleiades will not prove easy to divine.--_A.M. Clerke, in Nature._
DEEP SEA DREDGINGS: EXAMINATION OF SEA BOTTOMS.
By THOMAS T.P. BRUCE WARREN.
I believe Prof. Ehrenberg was one of the first to examine,
microscopically, deep sea dredgings, some of which were undertaken for
the Atlantic cable expedition, 1857.
I propose to deal with the bottoms brought up from tropical waters of
the Atlantic, a few years ago, during certain telegraph cable
operations. These soundings were made for survey purposes, and not for
any biological or chemical investigations. Still I think that this
imperfect record may be a useful contribution to chemical science,
bearing especially on marine operations.
Although there is little to be added to the chemistry of this subject,
still I think there are few chemists who could successfully make an
analysis of a deep sea "bottom" without some sacrifice of time and
patience, to say nothing of the risk of wasting a valuable specimen.
The muds, clays, oozes, etc., from deep water are so very fine that
they pass readily through the best kinds of filters, and it is
necessary to wash out all traces of sea water as a preliminary. The
specimen must be _repeatedly_ washed by decantation, until the
washings are perfectly free from chlorine, when the whole may be
thrown onto a filter _merely_ to drain. The turbid water which passes
through is allowed to stand so that the suspended matter may settle,
and after decanting the clear supernatant water, the residuum is again
thrown on to the filter.
The washing and getting ready for the drying oven will, in some cases,
require days to carry out, if we wish to avoid losing anything.
So far the proceeding is exactly the same, except draining on a
filter, which would be adopted for preparing for the microscope. On no
account should the opportunity be missed of mounting several slides
permanently for microscopic examination. Drawings or photographic
enlargements will render us independent of direct microscopic appeal,
which is not at all times convenient.
The substance, if drained and allowed to dry on the filter, will
adhere most tenaciously to it, so that it is better to complete the
drying in a porcelain or platinum capsule, either by swilling the
filter with a jet of water or by carefully removing with a spatula.
The most strenuous care must be used not to contaminate the specimen
with loose fibers from the filter.
The perfectly dried matter is best treated in exactly the same way as a
residuum in water analysis. It is a common thing to ignite the residuum,
and to put the loss down, if any, to water. This ought not to satisfy an
accurate observer, since organic matter, carbonates--especially in
presence of silica--will easily add to the loss. The best plan is to
heat a small portion very cautiously, and note if any smell or
alteration in color, due to carbon, etc., is perceptible, and to proceed
accordingly.
I have seen some very satisfactory analyses made on board ship by a
skillful use of the blowpipe, where liquid reagents would be very
inconvenient to employ.
It will be necessary to say a few words as to the way in which
soundings are made at sea. When the bottom consists of sand, mud, or
other loose matter, it is easy enough to bring specimens to the
surface, and, of course, we know in such a case that the bottom has
been reached, but, in the event of the bottom being hard and rocky, it
is not easy to say that our sounding has been successful: and here we
meet with a difficulty which unfortunately is most unsatisfactorily
provided for.
The lead is "cast," as the saying goes, "armed" for this emergency. An
iron sinker is made with a hollow recess in the bottom; this is filled
in with tallow, and on striking the bottom any loose matter may adhere
by being pressed into the tallow. If the bottom is rocky or hard we
get simply an imprint in the arming, and when such a result is
obtained the usual construction is that "the bottom is rocky" or hard.
Now, this seems to me a point on which chemistry may give some very
valuable help, for I am convinced that no sounding should be accepted
unless evidence of the bottom itself is obtained. A few considerations
will show that when we are working in very deep water, where there is
a difficulty of knowing for certain that we have an "up and down"
sounding, and the hardening of the "arming" by the cold and pressure,
unless we bring up something we cannot be sure that we have touched
the bottom; leaving the doubt on this point on one side, unless we use
a very heavy sinker, so as to get an indication of the released strain
when it touches the bottom, we encounter another complication.
Sir William Thomson's sounding wire has added the element of
reliability to our soundings in this latter case. The note given out
by the wire when the bottom is reached is perceptibly different when
under strain, even if the dynamometer should give an unreliable
indication.
It has been found that when a "bottom" has been recovered by the
arming with tallow, the adherent grease seriously detracts from the
value of the specimen for scientific purposes. Washing with perfectly
pure bisulphide carbon will save the sounding, but of course any
living organism is destroyed. As we have plenty of contrivances for
bringing up loose "bottoms" without arming, we have nothing to fear on
this score.
There is a great difficulty to explain the vast accumulations of clay
deposits on the ocean bed, and it has been suggested that some minute
organisms may produce these deposits, as others give us carbonate of
lime. Is there not a very great probability of some of the apparently
insoluble rocky formations being answerable for these accumulations?
We must not forget the peculiar changes which such an apparently
stable substance as feldspar undergoes when disintegrated and exposed
to the chemical action of sea water. As these deposits contain both
sodium and potassium, our chemical operations must provide for the
analytical results; in other respects the analysis can be proceeded
with according to the operator's analytical knowledge.
Few operators are aware of the usefulness of an ordinary deep sea
grapnel rope, as used for cable work, in recovering specimens of the
fauna of any locality. The grapnel rope should be left down for a few
months, so that the denizens of the deep may get used to it and make
it their place of residence and _attachment_. The stench caused by
their decomposition, unless the rope be kept in water, when hauled up
will be in a few days intolerable, even to an individual with a
sea-going stomach. I tried several chemical solutions for preserving
specimens thus recovered, but nothing answered so well as the water
itself drawn up from the same depth as the rope was recovered
from.--_Chem. News._
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Branch Office, 622 and 624 F St., Washington, D.C. | 54,946 | common-pile/project_gutenberg_filtered | 16270 | project gutenberg | project_gutenberg-dolma-0001.json.gz:1440 | https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16270.txt.utf-8 |
5MBySHuvs-0arK17 | The una-flow steam-engine, by Prof. Dr.-Ing. h.c. J. Stumpf ... tr. by the Stumpf Una-flow Engine Company, inc. ... | saw what he had made and found it good, wrote a man of noblest mind and mood. No longer with this doctrine is the world content, The doubter does in bitter words lament: One need but cast a fleeting glance at life, What sees one there? True happiness? No, strife, Death, need and misery far and wide, The elements in constant war abide, And storms of passion breeding endless hate Rob life of peace, till many curse at fate.
A polished rod ascends, by magic trained, Propelled by steam within a pipe contained. But lo! into the angry steam so bold, Now pours a rage-appeasing flood of cold; Down slides the rod, but in an instant back Pursued again by live steam in its track. The shining steel glides to and fro And, driving other parts, all show A striving to one goal. The great machine Obeys the master's mind, it may be seen.
How many nature's wondrous course deride, And what they do not grasp, they claim unproved, The man of science does regard with pride How parts and whole in best accord are moved.
Preface.
The second edition of this book represents a complete revision of the first one, little of which remains. The first edition contained a good many opinions in addition to facts and was intended rather for the purpose of defending the unaflow engine against antiquated theories and attacks. In the meantime the una-
Fie. 1.
flow principle has been widely tried out and scientifically investigated. It has become an accomplished fact and is in common use. This book therefore contains scientific proof from an objective point of view, as well as a description of the development of the una-flow engine.
In the opening chapters of the book the different losses of the steam engine are investigated. The causes and effects are defined, as well as the relations between them, and the manner is pointed out in which the minimum value of each loss is obtainable. After considering all the seven different losses occurring in a steam engine, the question is asked as to how a steam engine must be designed in order to have a minimum total of all the seven losses. In answer to this query two different designs are presented, one being a stationary una-flow engine with single-beat valves for condensing operation, and the other a una-flow locomotive also equipped with single-beat valves. On the former, the use of single-beat valves was made possible by the use of a double speed valve gear (see Chapter VI).
obtainable with these types for both saturated and superheated steam. The experience gained with una-flow engines in widely different fields and under the most varying conditions was utilized in the design of these engines to the fullest possible extent.
all its phases.
The novelty in this case is the single-beat valve, which has so far been used only in internal combustion engine practice. All previous attempts to apply it to steam engines have miscarried. The application of this type of valve to the unaflow engine represents figuratively the keystone in the development of the latter. The fundamental conformity between the new una-flow engine and the two-stroke internal combustion engine is surprising. This refers to the uni-directinal flow, the single stage expansion, the piston-controlled exhaust and the single-beat inlet valve. ?! Surprising also is the close agreement in the essential parts of the cylinder between the latest design shown in Fig. 3 (see Chapter VI) and the first original
Since, as Descartes says, doubt may be considered the origin of every philosophy, the question regarding the doubt which originated the una-flow philosophy may well be asked. This doubt arose in the year 1896 during the starting up of two pumping engines designed by myself for the Pope Mfg. Co., of Hartford, Conn. (Fig. 1). These were vertical triple expansion engines with Corliss valves and a central condensing system, in which everything then considered good practice was carried to the extreme limit. This resulted in a very complicated construction which appeared to me to be a sign of weakness. The doubts which then arose in my mind eventually led to the sketch shown in Fig. 2 during the year 1900. The construction of steam turbines of several stages, which began at that time,
was developed along the lines of pure uni-directional flow, arid this brought up the question whether it would not be possible to raise the reciprocating steam engine to the same thermal plane as the turbine by the use of the una-flow principle. The application of the una-flow action of the turbine to the steam engine, although in a somewhat imperfect manner, by properly designing the cylinder, valve gear, steam jackets and condenser connection, etc., finally led to the unaflow engine with single-beat valves as shown in Fig. 3. The object in view was the attainment of the minimum total of all the seven different losses of the steam engine, as well as the utmost simplicity and reliability of operation. This goal now seems to have been fully reached. The fact that the una-flow engine possesses the uni-directional flow in common with the steam turbine and has a constructional basis similar to that of the two-stroke internal combustion engine, may be cited in support of this.
and conditions of service represents an immense amount of work, in which I received
the full support of my assistents as well as that of Mr. Rosier of Miihlhausen, Alsace, Mr. Arendt of Saarbriicken, Prof. Bonin of Aachen, Mr. Dutta of London, and Drs. Mrongovius and Meineke of Berlin.
To the splendid support of the last four gentlemen may be attributed the positive developments of the chapters on volume loss, throttling loss, exhaust ejector action, the una-flow locomotive, and the valve gear with double speed lay shaft.
I am particularly indebted to those gentlemen who took up my proposals at a time when no one would yet believe in the una-flow engine, namely, Prof. Noltein of the Technical Hochschule at Riga, Messrs. Hnevkovsky and Smetana of Brtinn, Mr. Lamey of Miihlhausen, Alsace, Mr. Mtiller of Berlin, and Mr. Schiller of Grevenbroich.
The amount of initial (or cylinder) condensation (termed surface loss in the following) is determined by the size, kind and arrangement of the harmful surfaces, by the steam jacket, by the quality of steam passing these surfaces, by the temperature gradient and the number of stages used, by the amount and period of the steam flow and the path of the steam through the cylinder (counterflow or una-flow). Initial condensation, which is usually over by the end of admission, is caused by the clearance surfaces and increased by any moisture carried over with the steam. The ability of these surfaces to receive and give off heat forms a kind of heat bypass, with a corresponding loss to the cycle. Part of the steam condenses during admission and re-evaporates during exhaust and the last part of expansion.
The harmful surfaces comprise the inner surfaces of the cylinder and* the inwardly exposed surfaces of piston, piston rod and steam distributing parts. Surfaces which are continually exposed even in the dead center position of the piston may be termed harmful surfaces of the first order, and those which are progressively uncovered by the piston during its motion, harmful surfaces of the second order.
The former usually cause the essentially greater part of the surface loss. Since the amount of surface loss is determined by the extent of the harmful surfaces, the latter should be kept as small as possible and should also be machined. A good many designers pay attention only to the amount of clearance volume without considering its surface. The minimum harmful surface of the first order comprises an area equal to twice the cylinder cross-section (cylinder head and piston), and it is convenient to express the additional surface of the first order in percent of this minimum surface. In actual engines these additional surfaces, which are mostly not machined, are found to be from 150 to 200% of this minimum harmful
surface, although it is possible by careful design to reduce tiiis figure to 3 or 5%. Piston valves with snap rings working in separate bushings, as well as slide valves with long curved ports, which latter are in most cases left rough and serve for both steam admission and exhaust, have large surfaces which are especially harmful on account of their very nature and arrangement.
Engines with separate admission and exhaust ports are far better in this respect, because the latter are usually very short and the hot admission and cold exhaust steam enter and leave the cylinder through separate passages, thereby avoiding the alternate heating and cooling of these surfaces and the corresponding surface loss which takes place in engines having common inlet and exhaust ports.
Slide and piston valve engines with their perpetual reversal of flow are subject to extensive turbulence and heat exchanges, although careful design can generally improve conditions. The Corliss engine may be considered an improvement by reason of .the smallness and different arrangement of its additional surfaces; and, with the valves in the heads, the ports are straight and short with inlet and exhaust separated. Conditions can be improved still further if the exhaust valve, which forms the major part of the additional surfaces, is made to fill its bore completely and has a straight port through its center only.
Poppet valve engines in general have rather large additional surfaces, especially where valve cages are used ; and notwithstanding separate inlet and exhaust ports the frequent flow reversal has a deleterious effect. Valve cages considerably increase the additional surfaces. Machining of the latter may be provided for in many cases by clever design, thereby reducing their extent and the corresponding turbulence and surface loss.
Jacketing of the harmful surfaces is a further step in reducing surface losses. The heating medium is usually steam, seldom flue gases. Engines with great surface losses will be largely benefited by jacketing, and single cylinder condensing engines working with saturated steam will show the greatest gain since they offer the largest scope for improvement. The effect of the jacket is diminished if the expansion takes place in two, three, or four stages, and if the steam is superheated in addition. These means improve the thermal condition to such an extent that there is little to be gained from jacketing. This applies to superheating, especially if the whole working cycle takes place in the range of superheat. Locomotives, in which the steam, when leaving the cylinder is still superheated, will derive no benefit from jacketing. Superheating is such a far reaching remedy that the number of stages in counterflow engines working with superheated steam has been generally reduced from three to two for condensing operation, and from two to one when operating non-condensing.
Increased speed, later cut-offs, and larger units tend to reduce the surface losses and hence the effects of jacketing. High speed damps the temperature fluctuations of the walls; the late cut-off raises the mean wall temperature; and
the larger size gives a more favorable ratio of volume to surface. For these reasons a large, fast running, and heavily loaded engine will show the least gain from jacketing, especially if working with superheated steam or a small temperature gradient. All this applies to superheated steam locomotives as an example.
Jacketing has the greatest effect in low pressure cylinders, since surface losses, temperature gradient, and jacket surfaces are large and the weight ratio of jacket to working steam is the most favorable. The gain from jacketing is accordingly smaller in intermediate and high pressure cylinders, and in many cases there is hardly any in the latter. Similar conditions prevail in two cylinder compound engines. Head jacketing is usually more effective than cylinder jacketing because the cylinder surfaces are temporarily covered by the piston, and the oil film acts as a heat insulator. These surfaces of the second order cause small surface losses and consequently show a smaller gain from jacketing.
Saturated steam is very bad in this respect because the water particles act as heat conductors and increase the surface losses. Dry steam is better, and best of all is superheated steam. Saturated steam is an excellent, and superheated steam a very poor heat conductor. The action of the cylinder becomes the more adiabatic the more the superheated region extends through the cycle. Superheat, furthermore, by increasing the specific volume, makes the steam lighter and reduces both the weight per cycle and the surface loss. The commonly prevailing amount of superheat allows non-condensing engines to work in the superheated region throughout the cycle; but this is not the case with condensing engines, assuming proper ratios of expansion in both cases. In condensing engines the low pressure part of the cycle always extends beyond the saturation point.
Superheating is of such far reaching effect that the reduction of harmful surfaces, their arrangement, and in many cases even jacketing, lose their importance. Generally speaking, among the different ways of reducing surface losses, one or the other may be so effective that there is nothing left for the remaining ones.
The amount, extent and kind of steam flow, especially of the exhaust, may have considerable influence in engines working with saturated steam. Wet exhaust steam flowing with high velocity through long unfinished ports having large surfaces may cause great surface losses.
Summing up, it may be stated that the application of the different means for reducing initial condensation resulted in the common use of the two-cylinder compound engine for condensing service, for the reason that the low pressure part of the cycle takes place in the saturated region. The una-flow principle, however, permits the use of the single cylinder single-stage expansion engine for this service, since the uni-directional flow of steam eliminates initial condensation despite the fact that a part of the cycle takes place in the saturated region. The unaflow principle is also of great advantage for non-condensing and multi-stage engines.
Surface Losses.
The una-flow engine, as its name indicates, utilizes the steam energy by a um-directional flow, i. e. the steam passes through the cylinder always in the same direction. As shown in Fig. 1, the steam enters the cylinder head from below,; heats the surface of the latter, and then enters the cylinder through the inlet valves located in the top portion of the head. Doing useful work, the steam follows the
piston and after having expanded, leaves through ports at the opposite end of the stroke, i. e. in the middle of the cylinder; the opening and closing of these ports being accomplished by the piston during its motion. This is in marked contrast to the ordinary or counterflow engine, where the steam enters at the end of the cylinder, follows the piston during the working stroke, and, returning with the piston, leaves at the cylinder end. The result of this kind of flow is an intensive cooling action upon the clearance surface, the exhaust steam being
usually wet and thus an excellent heat conductor. The consequence is increased initial or cylinder condensation during the following admission. The una-flow principle avoids the cooling of the clearance surfaces, thereby eliminating initial condensation to such an extent that compounding becomes superfluous. Unaflow engines may, therefore, be built with a single cylinder and single-stage expansion, and yet show the economy of compound or triple-expansion engines.
The exhaust ports of the una-flow cylinder have an area about three times as large as can be realized with slide or poppet valves, with a consequent complete pressure equalization between cylinder and condenser if long and restricted passages between them are avoided. In other words, if the condenser is placed close to the cylinder and the connection is of ample area, then complete equalization of pressures is assured. In order to get a clear conception of the magnitude of this port area one has to consider that the engine piston acts as a piston valve and the crank as eccentric, while the cylinder constitutes the valve bushing. The exhaust lead is usually taken at 10%, which fixes the compression at 90%.
The una-flow exhaust ports do away with separate exhaust valves and their leakage loss, their additional clearance volume and surface, as well as the necessary valve gear. The elimination of exhaust valves is therefore an additional advantage of the una-flow construction.
compression.
Adiabatic expansion results in considerable moisture even with highly superheated steam. The entropy chart shows at a glance that with an initial pressure of 12 at. and a temperature of 300° C an expansion to 0.8 at. abs. produces 7% moisture. During the exhaust period this expansion continues until at a terminal 'pressure of 0.1 at. abs. the moisture amounts to 17%. On account of the undvoidable heat losses, the temperature at the end of admission will be somewhat less than the above, with a consequent increase in the final moisture.
The extension of the working cycle into the wet region rendered compound engines necessary, the high pressure cylinder working with superheated, and the low pressure cylinder with saturated steam. The una-flow system made a return to the single stage engine possible for both superheated and saturated steam.
Superheated steam is a very effective means of combating initial condensation. The combined use of superheat and the una-flow construction will still better conserve the heat during admission. Expansion will therefore start at a higher temperature and terminate with less moisture; or in other words, better economy will result.
The head jackets have the effect of a partial regeneration of the steam during expansion and exhaust. On account of the large difference of temperature, the large heating surface, and the great difference in the specific weights of the live steam and the exhaust or compression steam, an intensive heating action takes place during expansion, exhaust, and compression. This affects particularly that part of the steam located close to the cylinder head, while in consequence of the adiabatic expansion that part following the piston will sustain both a drop in temperature and an increase in moisture. The greater part of the moisture produced will accordingly be found close to the piston head with a progressive dryness and
an increase in temperature towards the cylinder head. This moist steam, being close to the exhaust ports, will escape first when they are uncovered, while that part which received heat from the head jacket is trapped by the returning piston and compressed along adiabatic lines, partly as saturated, and partly as superheated steam, but mostly the latter, because during the early part of compression heat is still being transmitted to it from the head jacket. This elimination of liquid condensate avoids its deleterious effect of heat exchange as well as damage due to water hammer.
Tests conducted on triple-expansion engines in regard to the action of steam jackets have shown that there is no gain in high pressure cylinders, very little in intermediate cylinders, but a large gain in low pressure cylinders, despite the large heat losses prevailing in cylinders of the usual type. Owing to the counterflow action, a great part of the jacket heat is necessarily carried by the exhaust steam into the condenser. One has only to consider that at the time of exhaust valve opening a considerable amount of pressure energy is available to exhaust the steam with velocities as high as 350 to 400 m. per sec., that the steam with this velocity impinges on the clearance surfaces, depositing water, and that on account of the sudden drop in pressure the heat absorbed by them during admission starts an intensive re-evaporation which extracts considerable quantities of heat from these surfaces. The fact that the latter are in many cases jacketed presents a most unfavorable picture of the very inefficient way in which admission and jacket heat are utilized. From the point of exhaust valve opening up to the beginning of compression the jacket heat is carried into the condenser in the most wasteful fashion. During the remaining part of the cycle, heat exchange occurs under more unfavorable conditions and at lower velocities, but notwithstanding the immense losses of jacket heat the low pressure cylinder derives the greatest benefit from steam jackets. This may be explained by the fact that the low pressure cylinder has the greatest temperature differences, the greatest heating surfaces, the greatest surface losses, and a very favorable density ratio of jacket to working steam. It follows that una-flow cylinders necessarily have a particularly energetic heating action, since, as in the case of low pressure counterflow cylinders, heating takes place under the influence of the full temperature difference, the large surfaces, and the great difference in density of jacket and working steam. The counterflow of steam, with its great losses, is replaced by the uni-directional flow where no jacket heat is lost to the exhaust. As shown in Fig. 2, exhaust steam in a una-flow cylinder never passes heated surfaces. The layer next to the cylinder head, at the very worst, approaches the exhaust ports without leavipg the cylinder, and therefore hardly any jacket heat can be lost. The beneficial effect of steam jackets proved to e-xist in low pressure counterflow cylinders must therefore be in evidence in a high degree in una-flow cylinders, since a loss of jacket heat is avoided.
It is assumed, of course, that jacketing is limited to the cylinder head and that the cylinder is unjacketed (Fig. 1 and 2). The head jacket extends to the point where cut-off normally occurs so that the clearance surfaces of the first order are effectively heated from the outside, while the highly superheated compression steam prevents cooling from the inside.
A further reduction of surface losses can be accomplished by enlarging the jacket surfaces and by the utmost reduction and machining of clearance surfaces. Even though the clearance surfaces in a una-flow engine are exposed during the whole cycle, they are not subject to the rush of exhaust steam passing them, nor to re-evaporation; and they therefore suffer little cooling on account of the comparative tranquility of the steam molecules adjacent thereto, and furthermore have the benefit of both the jacket and compression heat. All these causes combined with the una-flow principle and una-flow construction produce an almost adiabatic action of the clearance surfaces.
The una-flow engine fundamentally avoids the thermal mixup characterizing the counterflow engine. The cylinder is composed of two single acting cylinders with the exhaust ends in common. On account of the long piston the stroke volumes of both cylinder ends are relatively displaced for a distance equal to the length of the piston. The two inlet ends are hot and remain hot, while the common exhaust is cold and remains cold, and the temperature changes gradually from the hot inlet to the cold exhaust. The jacketing, comprising the heating chambers at the inlet ends and the cold exhaust belt around the common exhaust, is in perfect accord with this.
In a counterflow cylinder the two stroke volumes overlap. The exhaust end of one side more or less reaches to the admission end of the other, according to the length of the piston. From a thermal point of view the arrangement is obscure.
that part of it at which the piston attains its highest velocity. This favorable
action is further augmented by the omission of jackets on the adjacent part of the cylinder. Furthermore, the piston on account of its large area exerts a very low unit pressure. The cylinder is of very simple form and can be kept free from badly distributed material, thus avoiding local heating and warping. The large bearing surface of the piston, the cooling action of the exhaust belt, as well as the simplicity of the cylinder, which precludes the possibility of warping even at the highest steam temperatures, render the use of a tail rod unnecessary, provided the material used is suitable, the design correct, and proper lubrication supplied. (See una-flow locomotives and engines built by Sulzer Bros.) The piston has two sets of rings, comprising four or six altogether. During the period of high pressures both sets are in action, and the pressure has dropped to about 3 at. when one set has overrun the exhaust ports. The many una-flow engines in operation are proof that the piston is not the cause of any difficulties even with the highest degrees of superheat, and that with good workmanship a piston can be made perfectly tight. If, however, a cylinder should become scored, its simplicity allows it to be easily replaced without great expense.
There can be no doubt about the possibility of employing, in una-flow engines of the kind described, steam temperatures far in excess of anything used at present. Even with the highest initial temperatures the cycle extends far into the moist region, thus insuring moderate working temperatures for cylinder and piston, the highly superheated steam being limited to the cylinder head. The una-flow engine, therefore, opens up further possibilities of development in the utilization of higher' degrees of superheat. It is all the more suitable for this because the superheat benefits the whole cycle, while in counterflow compound engines the high pressure cylinder receives too much and the low pressure cylinder too little superheat. This feature of the una-flow engine does not, however, contradict the fact that it is also suitable for saturated steam, excellent results being actually obtained with both kinds. The una-flow engine has the uni-directional flow, the hot inlet and the cold exhaust in common with the steam turbine. From a thermal point of view it forms the missing link between the reciprocating steam engine and the steam turbine.
The opinion is frequently advanced that, in regard to their thermal action, the cylinder head and piston surfaces of a una-flow engine are merely interchanged. This leaves out of consideration the fact that the piston surface is protected against the action of the exhaust by a cone of stagnating steam. The existence of this phenomenon has been frequently proved beyond dispute in the case of air and water. The surface corresponding to the face of the slide valve of a counterflow engine is located in the una-flow engine at the circumference of the cylinder. The port necessary with a slide valve, together with the clearance and clearance surfaces involved, are completely avoided in the una-flow engine. The surfaces of the una-flow exhaust ports are outside of the cylinder and therefore have no bearing upon the thermal conditions. Piston and steam have a different velocity only after the former has opened the exhaust ports, when the available pressure energy is transformed into kinetic energy. The steam, however, attains its full velocity only after it has passed the edge of the piston and therefore the cooling action of this steam upon the piston can only be small. The cooling action caused
by the low velocity of approach in the cylinder now remains to be examined. Considering the exhaust ports as nozzles bounded on one side by the piston edge, the steam at this narrowest point attains a mean critical velocity of about 410 m/sec. On examining cross-sections ahead of this smallest section or throat, very moderate velocities are found. Fig. 3 makes these conditions clear for a cylinder of 600 mm bore and 800 mm stroke, the piston being assumed to have overrun the ports for a distance of 20 mm. Calculation of the velocity at this narrowest point shows it to be 410 m/sec., while at a distance of 15 mm ahead of this point it is only 71 m/sec.; at 40 m it is 36 m/sec.; at 85 m it is 20 m/sec., and at 130 m it is 15 m/sec. It should be noted that in considering the various cross-sections
a reduction of area due to the bridges has been assumed at the narrowest section (throat), and this does not apply to the cross-sections of approach. As the piston progressively uncovers the exhaust ports the proportions of the cross-sections are changed in such a way that the velocity of approach is increased. At the same time a reduction of pressure occurs, the effect of which is to reduce the velocity of approach, beginning at the point at which the critical pressure is reached. Most indicator cards of una-flow engines show clearly that when the piston reaches the dead center the pressure inside the cylinder has dropped to the back pressure; or in other words, the greater part of the steam has in this position been exhausted. Therefore, owing to the short duration and low intensity of the flow of exhaust steam along the piston surface and the small harmful exhaust surfaces, the resulting cooling action is small. The whole cylinder section acts as an approach to the exhaust nozzles. A further protection is given by the layer of stagnating steam, and there is finally a very intense heating action during compression and admission. The
heating of the piston surface by the hot live steam is so effective that this surface acts almost adiabatically during the following exhaust period. The very favorable steam consumption figures obtained with this type of engine are further proof that a simple interchange of the cylinder head and piston surfaces, in regard to their thermal behaviour, is out of the question. Such favorable economy can only result if the piston and its cooling action is negligible. This is further confirmed by tests of Prof. Nagel. A test with saturated steam of 184° C, and a cut-off at 12%, showed that the temperature of the piston surface at a point near its circumference was about 164.5° G. The total fluctuation at this point was only 1.3° G. This surprisingly high temperature, and moreover the small fluctuation, justifies a very favorable conclusion. These figures should be still better towards the center of the piston surface.
The thermal, constructional, and operative advantages of this type of prime mover are such that in continuous operation the economies of compound and triple-expansion engines can be obtained with both saturated and superheated steam.
Jacketing of the Cylinder.
The firm of Sulzer Brothers, of Winterthur, Switzerland, constructed an experimental engine of the una-flow type after such engines had been put on the market by the Erste B runner Maschinenfabrik Gesellschaft, who were the first to take up the manufacture of una-flow engines on the author's recommendation.
Sulzer Bros, entrusted the author with the design of the first una-flow cylinder of 600 mm bore, 800 mm stroke, and 155 r. p. m. All later Sulzer engines are built with only slight changes from this design, which is shown in Figs. 4 and 5. According to Sulzer Brothers' usual practice the engine was put on the testing floor and a great number of tests were carried out with the object of observing
its performance and determining its economy under the most varying conditions. An important part in the program was the study of the effect of the jackets. For this reason the author incorporated in this design not only head jackets, through which the live steam had to pass before entering the cylinder, but also jackets at the ends of the cylinder barrel, which were separated by a neutral zone from the exhaust belt. These cylinder jackets could be shut off separately. During the tests the head jackets were necessarily always in operation, but the cylinder jackets were either in service or shut off, as indicated in Fig. 6 by the words ,,with jacket" and ,, without jacket". The tests proved that the effect of the cylinder jacket decreases with increasing steam temperature. With saturated steam the difference was almost 1 kg/I HP-hour in favor of cylinder jackets, while it was barely 0.5 with steam of 265° C and only 0.2 kg with steam of 325° C. All figures referred to the most economical M. E. P. The steam pressure was 9.2 at.
gage and the vacuum 66 cm.
For the point of best operating economy, i. e., an M.E.P. of about 3 kg/sqcm, these differences change in such a way that a small increase results when running with cylinder jackets and with a steam temperature of 325° G, while steam of 265° G shows a small decrease in steam consumption.
325° C the point of equality of steam consumption, when operating both with and without cylinder jackets, is found to correspond to an M.E.P. of 2.5 kg/sqcm. The corresponding point for steam of 265° G occurs at an M.E.P. of 3.4 kg/sqcm. For saturated steam this point moves towards a still higher M.E.P.
This explains the customary omission of cylinder jackets for superheated steam.
It is also noteworthy that the best economy with steam of 325° G very closely approaches the value of 4 kg/I HP-hour. The results for saturated steam, especially with cylinder jackets, are extremely favorable. It must be considered, however, that the saturated steam had a very slight degree of superheat in order to make sure that it was actually dry. It should further be noted that this engine was well designed and well built. The clearance volume and clearance surface (the latter being machined) were moderate, and the whole engine was built with the high precision usual to Sulzer Brothers' shop practice. The measurements were made by means of a surface* condenser, which, as is well known, gives slightly lower but more accurate results than boiler feed water measurements.
by the load to a much smaller degree. This is shown particularly by the curves marked ,, without jackets'"', where there is hardly any change in the steam consumption between mean effective pressures of 1 and 3 kg/sqcm, especially with high superheat. Even with saturated steam little change is noticeable between mean effective pressures of 1 and 2,4 kg/sqcm.
at as low an M.E.P. as 3 kg/sqcm. For low mean effective pressures cylinder jackets may yet be expected to yield a small gain. For moderate steam temperatures of about 250° G a short cylinder jacket as shown in Fig. 8 is advisable. It will slightly improve the economy even for a high M.E.P. and produce considerable gain for a low M.E.P. With saturated steam or low degrees of superheat a cylinder jacket separated only by a narrow zone from the exhaust belt (Fig. 9) should be used under all circumstances. Head jackets are essential in all cases. The separation of cylinder jacket and exhaust belt is advisable in order to avoid unnecessary loss of jacket heat and to provide more favorable operating conditions for the piston, especially when using superheated steam. The center part of the cylinder, where the piston attains its highest speed, has the lowest temperature. Excellent results can be secured with selfsupporting pistons, even with very high temperatures of superheat, if the designer pays attention to these thermal conditions by providing the piston with bearing surfaces at its center only, leaving its extremities to project in the manner of a plunger towards both ends of the cylinder without actually touching the walls. The head jackets do not impair the operation of the piston, since no rubbing surfaces are in contact with the former. Their heating action is very effective because they are continuously in contact with the working steam ; they heat harmful surfaces of the first order, and with proper lubrication the transmission of heat from them is not impeded by an oil film (Fig. 7). There is practically no loss of jacket heat to the exhaust. Conditions are not so good in Fig. 8 and still worse in Fig. 9. In these constructions the amount of jacket heat lost to the exhaust increases more and more because the exhaust steam to a certain extent flows past heated surfaces, although these may be partly protected by an oil film.
A certain amount of steam admitted per stroke into a cylinder with clearance will produce an indicator card of less area than in an ideal cylinder without clearance. The difference in area may be termed volume loss. This volume loss is represented in Figs. 1 to 4 for different conditions. The diagrams corresponding to the cylinder with clearance are drawn in heavy lines, while those for the ideal cylinder are shown dashed.
A comparison of the two areas AO PG and ABPG in Fig. 1 shows area BOP to be a loss. The parts of the diagrams lying below the line G P show a loss of the area GES and a gain of area PCV = GFQ T. By subtracting the latter, the resultant loss is represented by the area TQFES.
In Fig. 2 the admission has been lengthened until the points F and .P of Fig. 1 coincide with the beginning and ending of the diagram. Consequently the shaded areas BOP and GES represent the loss for the diagram with clearance.
and compression to the initial pressure. Although the diagram has no direct
volume loss, the stroke volume of the cylinder with clearance must be increased from F! to F2, with a consequent increase in the surface loss.
a certain position of 9? for which the diagram area produced will be a maximum and the corresponding volume loss a minimum.
This result is graphically represented in Fig. 5. A straight line is drawn through D and B, and intersects the vertical axis at L. Another line is drawn through L and A, intersecting the back pressure line at /?, and this point determines the best compression for the assumed values of VE and S0. Another method consists in finding the intersection with the horizontal axis of a line through A and E, and drawing a line from this intersection through the point D to cut the vertical line through A at the point F, which latter thus determines the best terminal compression pressure.
The method of Fig. 5 cannot, however, be used to find Vk if <p is given. In this case equation I may be used to find VE, and when this quantity is known Vk can be found either by equation II or the graphic method shown in Fig. 5.
DB with the vertical axis moves to infinity. Consequently the intersection of the line A R with this axis must be at infinity ; in other words the line is parallel to the axis and thus gives a length of compression equal to zero. For a cut-off equal to 0%, the two lines AR and BD coincide and the compression therefore is 100%.
Fig. 6 represents the case in which the terminal expansion pressure equals the back pressure. The corresponding compression reaches the initial pressure, this being a condition which remains true also for polytropic lines.
At a smaller cut-off than a in Fig. 6 the expansion and compression lines both form loops, since the terminal expansion pressure falls below the back pressure and the compression exceeds the initial pressure. A loop in the expansion line, therefore, corresponds to a loop in the compression line. Such a diagram laid out according to Fig. 5 would be correct from the point of view of volume loss.
the basis of these great losses a change in the length of compression may produce
a considerable gain. Small clearance volumes permit the use of constant compression, since a change in the length of compression could result only in a small gain in view of the slight volume loss, and with many types of valve gear such a change would give inadmissibly high compression pressures. Noncondensing engines, such as locomotives for instance, which have about 12% clearance, are usually fitted with gears which vary the length of compression inversely with the cut-off. A link valve gear, aside from the large clearance volume caused by its use, gives a qualitatively correct change in the length of compression and also, as will be proved later, a change which is also quantitatively correct. Similar conditions prevail in a single valve noncondensing engine having about 12% clearance in which the shaft governor alters the throw and angle of advance of the driving eccentric.
In the case of condensing engines a variation of the length of compression gives very little improvement, as will be shown later. Constant compression is allowable and long compression desirable.
The use of constant compression for small clearances is in accord with the case of zero clearance volume, since, in accordance with Fig. 6, it requires a constant length of compression equal to zero for a cut-off at any point of the stroke.
The quantities F£, F^ and e giving the maximum diagram area for constant value of <p are obtained from equations I, II and III.
Plotting the calculated values of e, VK and the corresponding mean effective pressures pt- in a diagram (Fig. 7) with 99 as abscissae and VE,, VK and pi as ordinates, the best combination of 9?, VE and V K may be read off for a given value of p{. A different problem is presented by the determination of that length of compression K which results in the lowest steam consumption for a given constant quantity e (Fig. 8).
Equations III, IV and V can be solved only by trial and error. Furthermore, the expansion and compression lines especially of superheated steam, do not closely follow the law pvn = constant; the following method based on adiabatic expansion and compression, and on the use of the Mollier chart is therefore preferable because it permits of the exact determination of the steam consumption for given values of the quantities p^ pz, S0 VE and VK.
It is assumed that the following conditions hold true: Adiabatic expansion and compression, quality of steam at beginning of compression equal to quality obtained by expanding adiabatically to the back pressure, cylinder stroke volume = 1 sqm X 1 m = 1 cbm; gain of heat due to bringing compression steam up to initial pressure neglected.
P!, V1 Initial pressure kg/sqcm and specific volume cbm/kg. pe, Ve Terminal expansion pressure kg/sqcm and specific volume cbm/kg. /?2, V2 Back pressure kg/sqcm and specific volume cbm/kg. pk vk Terminal compression pressure kg/sqcm and specific volume cbm/kg. e Length of admission in %.
were obtained by this method.
In Figs. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 and 15 the steam consumption for an initial pressure of 14 at. abs., 1 at. abs. back pressure, superheated steam of 300° G and clearance volumes of 5, 8 and 11%, has been plotted against the length of compression A;, for various values of constant values e and constant M. E.P. The construction of auxiliary diagrams (Fig. 9) is recommended for determining the curves of M. E.P., the abscissae representing M.E.P., and the ordinates the steam consumption. These curves are
best economy is obtained with long compressions for early cut-offs e and small mean effective pressures pt and vice versa. It will also be noticed that link valve gears and valve gears controlled by shaft governors acting upon both inlet and
gears operating with fixed compression can rightly be used in connection with
small clearance volumes. Fig. 14 is especially interesting, since it also contains the curve of compression obtained with the standard Walschaert gear of the German State Railways for an exhaust lap of — 3 % mm. It is surprising to. find that this curve agrees closely with the calculated minimum values of the compression for constant M. E.P. The shortest cut-off of the link valve gear necessitates a large clearance volume, the bad effect of which is only partly neutralized by a correct variation of compression. It would be more important, however, considerably to reduce the clearance volume required by this type of gear, since the bad effect of large clearance volume far outweighs the correcting influence of the compression.
The best steam consumption for
constant mean effective pressure pt on the one hand, and constant cut-off e on the other, occur at different lengths of compression. If, as it must be, pt is considered the governing variable, then shorter compressions are arrived at. The smaller the clearance volume is, the shorter will be the compressions at which both these minima occur.
Figs. 16 and 17 explain the different sets of curves more clearly. In Fig. 17 are repeated two curves from Fig. 15, one being a constant M. E.P. curve for Pi = 10 at., and the other a constant cut-off curve for e = 50%. The diagrams in Fig. 16 marked A (9% compression), and B (76% compression), have the same theoretical steam consumption of 8 kg/HP-hour, the cut-off being in both cases at 50% of the stroke. Diagram C, also with a cut-off at 50% but with 47% length of compression, has a steam consumption of only 7.85 kg, while still another diagram D, having the same M. E.P. (10 at.) as diagram C, but with a cut-off at 44% and a
compression of 19%, only has a steam consumption of 7.6 kg. This last diagram is represented by the lowest point of the curve for constant M.E.P. (Fig. 17). At this point D, however, the constant M.E.P. curve is intersected
by a curve of constant cut-off at 44%. The lowest point of the latter in turn is intersected by another M.E.P. curve which also has a minimum. By following from minimum to minimum along the M.E.P. and cut-off curves a point is
finally reached at which the .two minima coincide. This point represents a diagram with complete expansion and with compression to the initial pressure, a diagram which, as previously proved (Fig. 4), has no volume loss and gives the lowest theoretically possible steam consumption for the assumed range of pressures.
Similar curves are shown in
Fig. 18 for condensing operation. They refer to superheated steam of 13 at. abs., a steam temperature of 300° C, a back pressure of 0.08 at., and a clearance volume of 2%. In this diagram also the M.E.P. curves essentially determine the best compression.
For the M.E.P. of 2 to 3 at.
ordinarily used it is evident that the best compression approximates 90% at this low back pressure, but even for considerably higher mean effective pressures the difference in steam consumption between 90% and the best compression is negligible. The, difference gradually disappears as the back pressure approaches the absolute vacuum, since in this case compression naturally would have no influence whatever upon the steam consumption. Nevertheless, for 2% clearance, superheated steam of 13 at. abs. having a temperature of 300° G, an M.E.P. of 2,8 at., and a back pressure of 0.044 at. abs., the best compression is 90%. These may be considered average conditions for condensing una-flow engines.
This proves conclusively that the long compression of the una-flow engine is in no way a necessary evil accompanying the use of piston-controlled exhaust ports.
The flatness of the M. E. P. curves also indicates that it is permissible to keep the compression constant in the
above case, which is a further argument for the correctness of the una-flow system. The, long and constant compression of 90% of the condensing una-flow engine is therefore correct and admissible.
confused with "long compression". A compression line may be long with low terminal pressure, or short with high terminal pressure. Generally speaking, terminal compression pressures are too low in the majority fof condensing una-flow
engines, and should be considerably higher according to paragraph 9 of the summary. Steam consumption and compression curves Jfor saturated steam, corresponding to those for superheated steam shown in Fig. 18, would show only a slight deviation from the latter, with the effect that the best compressions are slightly
during exhaust.
Jacketing of the cylinder, especially in una-flow engines, requires shorter compressions, since the effect of the jacket is to increase the temperature of the residual steam, thereby superheating it at an earlier stage and thus raising the compression line.
Most favourable compression.
compression of 90%, saturated steam at a pressure of 14 at. abs. and atmospheric exhaust. The heavy dashed line curves also give the theoretical steam consumptions plotted against clearance volumes for various mean effective pressures, but for the best compression in each case. The dashed-and-dotted lines are lines of constant best compression. The points of their intersection with the dashed lines give the best compression for that particular combination of M.E.P. and clearance volume.
It should be observed that in Figs. 19 and 20 the dashed curves for an M. E.P. of 2 at. show a distinct minimum. At this point the expansion reaches the back pressure. Reduction of the clearance volume beyond the point indicated by the minimum of the M. E.P. curve, for a constant M.E.P. of 2 at., results in a loop on the indicator card with a corresponding increase in steam consumption.
The dashed curves of Fig. 19 are repeated in Fig. 21. They give steam consumptions for different mean effective pressures plotted against clearance volumes, for saturated steam of 13 at. abs., atmospheric exhaust and best compression in each case.
Fig. 22 shows similar curves for a back pressure of 0.1 at. abs.
Figs. 23 and 24 show corresponding curves for superheated steam of 14 at. abs. and a temperature of 300° G, Fig. 23 being for atmospheric exhaust and Fig. 24 for condensing operation (back pressure 0.1 at. abs.).
note that for atmospheric exhaust the steam consumption shows an almost linear
dependence upon the clearance, the best compression being assumed in each case. It is therefore possible to calculate the mean specific volume loss per 1 % clearance and per HP-hour. For dry saturated steam of 14 at. abs., this is found to be 0.0918 kg/HP-hour and 1% clearance for atmospheric exhaust, and 0.1715 kg. HP-hour and 1% clearance, for condensing operation. The corresponding figures for the mean specific volume loss for superheated steam of 14 at. abs. and a temperature of 300° G are 0.072 kg for atmospheric exhaust, and 0.12 kg for condensing operation. For instance in the case of a single cylinder condensing engine running on saturated steam, an increase in clearance volume of 6% will raise the steam consumption by 1 kg/HP-hour.
The curves of Figs. 21, 22, 23, 24 also contain the steam consumption of the ideal engine without clearance, which is given by the intersection of the M. E.P. curves with the zero clearance line. The distance of a horizontal line drawn through such points from the corresponding M. E.P. curves gives the volume loss for any particular clearance. It may therefore be stated that for the same initial and back pressure, the same M.E.P. and best compression, the. theoretical steam consumption and the volume loss increase almost linearly with the clearance volume. Excluding small clearances and mean effective pressures, this relation is strictly true for condensing operation and approximately so for atmospheric exhaust.
A mathematical expression of the volume loss R can be based on the difference in area of the diagrams with and without clearance, for <p = constant (see shaded areas in Figs. 1, 2, 3); ie, pe, iez and pe2 representing the total heat and pressure at the end of expansion, where index 1 refers to the engine without, and index 2 to the engine with clearance. The stroke volume is again assumed to be 1 cbm. Expansion and compression are adiabatic.
All values may be taken from the Mollier chart, with the assumptions that the quality of the steam at the beginning of compression is equal to the quality obtained by expanding adiabatically to the back pressure, and that the specific volume of the residual steam reduced to initial pressure is equal to the specific volume obtained by continuing the compression adiabatically from the terminal compression to the initial pressure.
Vc may be taken directly from the Mollier chart. The result R of this calculation is the absolute volume loss per stroke in a cylinder having a clearance volume of S0, a stroke of 1 m and an area of 1 sqm. For different cylinder sizes R has to be changed proportionately. The HP loss may be obtained by multiplying R by the revolutions per second and dividing by 75.
_427(4 — i2)yz (k + S0) — 10000(^ — ^)^0 . . . . (XII) This calculation gives the relative volume loss for una-flow engines having 100% compression and 95% vacuum, referred to the output per stroke of an • » ideal engine without clearance. This relative volume loss is almost independent of the initial pressure.
loss and clearance volume, except for very small clearances.
As a final result of the foregoing discussions, Fig. 25 shows a simple rule which allows the best compression to be determined for any given case. For a given amount of steam (p the compression must evidently be correct if a displacement of the line (p by an amount dq> produces equal changes of area, shown shaded in Fig. 25, on both the expansion and compression sides of the diagram, in such a way that the following equation is satisfied:
or in other words the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression. It is therefore only necessary to add the change of total heat during expansion to the total heat corresponding to the back pressure, in order to obtain the best terminal compression pressure. By laying out the corresponding compression line, the best length of compression will be determined.
pansion to the back pressure the compression must reach the initial pressure.
The following fundamental law therefore applies: For given initial pressure, back pressure, mean effective pressure and clearance volume, the length of compression must be such that the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression.
Interchanging the words "back pressure" and "length of compression" with each other again leads to equality of heat change. In other words, for a given initial pressure, mean effective pressure, clearance volume and length of compression, the back pressure must be such that the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression.
Starting with a diagram of equal heat changes, a reduction in back pressure, with the same clearance and the same length of compression, produces a smaller heat change during compression (seeMollier chart), and for the same initial pressure and M.E.P., a larger heat change during expansion, with the result of an increase in steam consumption. An increase in back pressure under the same assumptions produces inverse heat changes and also
caused by a reduction in back pressure is an entirely separate consideration.
An interchange of the words "initial pressure" and "back pressure" again leads to equality of total heat changes, or in other words, for a given back pressure, mean effective pressure, clearance volume and length of compression, the initial pressure must be such that the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression.
Starting again with a diagram of equal heat changes, a reduction in initial pressure also reduces the change of total heat during expansion for the same length of compression and the same back and mean effective pressures. Inversely, an increase in initial pressure will also increase the heat change during expansion. The heat change during compression still being the same, an increase in steam consumption will result on account of the inequality of the heat changes. The variation of steam consumption due to a change in initial pressure alone is a point to be considered separately.
The wording of the last two forms of this fundamental law has particular reference to compound and triple or quadruple-expansion engines. For instance, a variation of cut-off in the low pressure cylinder of a compound engine affects the exhaust pressure of the high pressure cylinder as well as the admission pressure of the low pressure cylinder, and renders possible an even distribution of heat changes in both cylinders.
Considering the high and low pressure diagrams as one, this leads to equal changes of total heat during the combined expansion and compression, i. e. equal heat changes in each part diagram result in equal heat changes in the combined diagram.
The same reasoning applies to triple and quadruple-expansion engines. A different problem is presented by the determination of the best clearance volume for a given M.E.P. and given length of compression. This would apply especially to una-flow engines where the length of compression is fixed.
The heavy lines in Figs. 19 aftd 20 correspond to constant compression (90%), and intersect the dashed lines, these intersections being located on the dashedand-dotted line corresponding to a best compression of 90%. Each intersection
refers to a definite clearance volume and mean effective pressure for which combination 90% compression is the best. The heavy lines indicate that with a constant compression of 90% the steam consumption can be diminished by reducing the clearance. Referring to Fig. 20, and taking for instance, the dashed curve for pt = 2 at. representing steam consumption with best compression, it will be found that for 17,% clearance the best compression is 90%. Following the full line curve for pt = 2 at., passing through this point, a clearance volume of 10% is found to give the lowest steam consumption with 90% compression and this mean effective pressure. It is ob-
length of compression can be arrived at by the following reasoning.
The full line diagram in Fig. 26 is assumed to have equal heat changes during expansion and compression. It is then possible to increase the area of the diagram by transposing the lines bounding the stroke volume towards the left, the points of cut-off and compression remaining fixed. On account of this transposition, the new diagram has a slightly longer compression. A reduction of the length of compression in the new diagram to the original value will diminish the pressure change during compression, and, for the same amount of steam admitted also increase the pressure change during expansion; the diagram area still remaining increased. Repeating this procedure, the point of best clearance volume is approached, for which the changes of total heat during compression and expansion are equal. This theorem has been proved here for a given constant quantity of steam admitted. Since it is the same problem whether the maximum M.E.P. is required for a given quantity of steam admitted, or the maximum quantity of steam for a given M.E.P., the rule may be stated thus: for given initial pressure, back pressure, mean effective pressure and length of compression, the clearance
Fig. 26.
volume must be such that the pressure change during expansion is equal to the pressure change during compression. Under certain conditions, therefore, an increase in clearance volume may cause a reduction in steam consumption. Nearly all unaflow engines violate this rule. The majority of condensing engines have too large, and non-condensing engines too small a clearance volume. Referring to Fig. 27, and starting as before with equality of changes of total heat, then for the same terminal expansion and compression pressure and different clearance volumes it follows that, approximately,
This means that for the same initial and back pressure, the same terminal expansion and compression pressure, and equality of heat changes during expansion and compression, the lengths of the best compressions have the same ratio as the clearance volumes.
A withdrawal of steam during expansion necessarily changes the length of compression. As will be shown later, una-flow engines permit the bleeding of steam during expansion. One or two withdrawals according to Fig. 28 will shift the beginning of compression from I' to II' or IIP. The same effect will be produced by an increase in exhaust lead.
Finally, a comparison of Figs. 29 and 30 shows the favorable manner in which compounding influences the volume loss. The diagram of Fig. 29 has the same clearance volume as the low pressure cylinder in Fig. 30. The comparison reveals the fact that the volume loss of the low pressure part of both diagrams is about the same, but that for the high pressure part the compound diagram shows a decidedly smaller volume loss. It should not be overlooked, however, that the una-flow diagram can be realized in a cylinder with only 1% clearance (single beat valves), while low pressure cylinders of ordinary design have a clearance of about 6% or more.
by shortening the length of compression. Leaky inlet valves will have the same effect. Leaky exhaust valves, however, would require longer compression to compensate for the resultant change in the expansion and compression lines.
The maximum volume loss occurs when the admission is longer than the compression, and part of the clearance volume is arranged on the cylinder at a point between end of admission and beginning of compression, because under these conditions the compression is unable to
Critical Back Pressure.
The shape of the steam consumption curves in Fig. 18 indicates that under certain conditions a length of compression in excess of 100% is the most favorable. In a steam cylinder, however, only compressions up to approximately 100% can be realized. A best compression of 120% therefore would mean a rise in back pressure corresponding to 20% compression previous to the commencement of the cylinder compression of 100%. This increase in back pressure could
into the condenser.
In other words, if this higher back pressure is not in effect, the compression remains at 100% with a resultant increase in steam consumption due to wrong length of compression. If now the back pressure is raised an amount corresponding to 20% compression, this back pressure would be the best for 100% compression. A further increase of the back pressure beyond this point would result in an increased steam consumption for 100% compression. This leads to the conception of the therm "critical back pressure". The critical back pressure, therefore, is that value of the back pressure at the beginning of compression, the
increase or decrease of which for the same length of compression, the same clearance volume, the same mean effective pressure and the same initial pressure, results in an increased steam consumption. Fig. 18 shows the effect of the compression, and Fig. 31 the effect of the output (mean effective pressure) upon the critical back pressure.
reached when these curves
attain their lowest points and reverse their slope. The uppermost curve will reach its minimum sooner than the lower curves ; or in other words, the critical back pressure is the higher, the lower the output (MEP).
The starting point for the calculation of the critical back pressure, according to the above, is not the cut-off but rather the output or MEP.; or, for given initial pressure, clearance volume and length of compression, the amount of steam admitted is the basis. According to Fig. 5, and referring to page 18, the reciprocal of the value of the steam consumption for adiabatic expansion and compression
With the help of equations XV, XVI and XVII, the critical back pressures p2 have been figured for various initial pressures, clearance volumes, lengths of compression, and amounts of admitted steam. The results are plotted in Figs. 32, 33, 34 and 35, and show the influence of these different variables upon the critical back pressure.
Fig. 32 gives the variation of the critical back pressure for different clearance volumes and initial pressures, for a constant amount of steam admitted (p = 10% and a constant length of compression of 100% (una-flow steam engine). The ordinates of the individual curves indicate that for a given clearance volume the critical back pressure pz is proportional to the initial pressure p^ which is also evident from the previous equation,
of compression, the critical back pressure is proportional to the initial pressure.
For the same initial pressure, output and length of compression, the critical back pressure varies with the clearance volume at a steadily increasing rate, at first slowly, then more rapidly, until the rate of increase attains a linear maximum.
The critical back pressure is zero for zero clearance volume, and is small for very small clearances. This is self-evident and also proved by the curves, but is frequently left out of consideration in the design of steam engines. The clearance volume is therefore the cause of all evil. If the clearance volume is made zero the critical back pressure as well as the volume loss are zero, and the reciprocating engine in this respect is put on the same level as the steam turbine. Noteworthy is the slow initial increase of the critical back pressure, which again calls attention to the necessity of small clearance volumes.
Fig. 33 gives the relation of the critical back pressure to the amount of steam admitted, for different clearance volumes, for a constant initial pressure of 13 at. abs. and a constant length of compression of 100%. The critical back pressure grows with decreasing amount of steam admitted. In this case also the necessity for small clearance volumes is evident, especially for early cut-offs, as for instance in condensing una-flow engines.
Critical back pressure plotted against length of compression is shown in Fig. 34. Each curve refers to a different amount of steam admitted, the initial pressure being 13 at. abs. and the clearance volume 2% in all cases. The curves show first a rapid increase of the critical back pressure which attains a maximum at about 30 or 40% length of compression, followed by a steady decrease. The effect of the compression is the less, the higher the MEP or the greater the amount of steam admitted. The curves confirm the lengths of compression ordinarily used in counterflow engines for normal cut-offs of 30 to 40% and more, and the compression of una-flow engines (100%) for the usual admissions of 15 to 10% and less. On the other hand Figs. 32 and 33 seem to lend support to the long admissions and subdivided pressure ranges of counterflow engines. In the case of multistage engines the low pressure cylinder and receiver pressure are the determining factors for the critical back pressure. The compression has the least influence, especially for late cut-offs. It should be noted here that the scale of ordinates in Fig. 34 is twice that of Figs. 32, 33 and 35.
The interrelation of critical back pressure, length of compression and clearance volume is given in Fig. 35, the initial pressure being 13 at. abs. and the amount of steam admitted 10%. The curves show the immense influence of the clearance upon the critical back pressure, which latter seems to follow a geometrical progression with increasing clearance. The critical back pressure increases rapidly up to about 40% length of compression, the rate of increase being progressively larger for larger clearances, after which it shows a steady decrease with increasing length of compression.
In the order of the influence exerted, the clearance volume ranks first, then initial pressure, then admission and finally length of compression. The need for small clearance volume
is imperative. This is fulfilled in the best possible manner by the una-flow engine, especially if fitted with high lift single-beat poppet valves which allow a clearance of 1% to be realized. The length of compression (90%) combined with the short cut-offs as used in una-flow engines is also favorable, since Fig. 32 gives a critical back pressure of only 0.004 at. abs., for P! = 10 at. abs., 9 = 10% 7*= 100%,
and SQ = 1 % ; a back pressure which is beyond even the most modern condensing equipment. At the same time the above combination also gives a very small volume loss. The question is not to produce an engine which has the smallest critical back pressure, but one which combines the latter with a small volume loss. It is possible to have a large volume loss and yet a critical back pressure equal to zero, for instance in the case of large clearance volume and compression equal to zero.
On account of the adverse influence of high initial pressure combined with short admission, the single stage una-flow engine has to rely upon small clearance volumes which, however, can be realized without difficulty. Compound or triple expansion counterflow engines can be run with more liberal clearance volumes by reason of the long admission and the low initial or receiver pressure and still have a critical back pressure beyond that attainable with the best condensers. The case is very different for single stage counterflow engines which usually have very large clearance volumes. For instance, according to Fig. 35, a single stage engine with iS"0=10%, pl = 13 at. abs., 99 = 10%, and Ffc = 40%, has a critical back pressure of about 0.5 at. abs. All the bad influences are cumulative; large clearance volume, short admission and the most unfavorable length of compression of 40%. It might not be impossible to find an engine combining all these points, in actual operation. For 20% clearance, 15 at. abs. initial pressure, 10% admission and 40% length of compression, the critical back pressure becomes 1 at. abs. To run such an engine condensing would be utterly wasteful. The use of several stages not only reduces the volume loss, but also lowers the critical back pressure, and to such a degree that other defects, such as large clearance volumes, lose their significance, to a certain extent.
As can be seen from Figs. 32, 33, 34 and 35, the critical back pressure becomes zero for S0 = 0, ^ = 0, Vk = 0 and attains a maximum for zero admission. In all the above considerations, admission, mean effective pressure and output have the same meaning and may be used indiscriminately.
The possibility of causing an increase in steam consumption by going beyond the critical back pressure, as well as the useless generation of too high a vacuum are out of the question in case of well designed una-flow engines. These conditions, however, sometimes occur in counterflow engines, even to such an extent that the engineer and fireman are able to notice the bad effect of too high a vacuum. Prof. Josse reports such a case in the Zeitschrift des Vereines deutscher Ingenieure, 1909, page 324. He states that "the economy of the engine improved until the back pressure fell to 0.2 at. abs. From this point onwards a further reduction in steam consumption due to increased vacuum was not noticeable". Such a result in this particular engine was caused not only by the critical pressure being exceeded, but also by increased losses of initial condensation and leakage due to the higher vacuum. The initial condensation was considerable in this case. Further more, the pressure difference between the engine cylinder and condenser increases with a high vacuum by reason of the usual deficiency in exhaust area. In una-flow engines the exhaust port areas can always be made sufficiently large; leakage and initial condensation are reduced because the engine has no exhaust valves and may be fitted with single-beat inlet valves, and furthermore has the benefit of the una-flow action. In well designed and well built una-flow engines the results of the above calculations, which implicitly contain the rule of equal heat changes, do not, therefore, require any appreciable corrections.
For given initial and mean effective pressures, the lowest steam consumption is obtained when the clearance volume is zero and the back pressure is zero; the length of compression has then no influence. The critical back pressure, i. e. the most economical back pressure, and the length of compression become of impor-
tance as soon as the clearance volume has a definite value. According to Fig. 31 the length of compression can then be increased to 100% and the back pressure reduced until the changes of total heat during compression and expansion become equal, thus offering the best basis for low steam consumption. In other words: for a given initial pressure, given mean effective pressure and given clearance volume, the minimum steam consumption will be obtained when the length of compression is 100% and the back pressure is such that the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression. (Una-flow steam engine.)
This rule may also be arrived at if the second wording of the fundamental law given on page 31, dealing with back pressure, is applied to una-flow engines. The minimum steam consumption requires the shortest possible cut-off and the longest possible compression of 100%, these being related to each other by the rule of equal heat changes.
An examination of the common types of steam engines will reveal the fact that incorrectly designed engines are the rule and correctly designed engines the exception. There is hardly a steam engine designer who is not guilty of some violation in this respect. To begin with, the average designer is not aware of the harmfulness of the clearance volume, which explains the carelessness with which unnecessarily large clearances are used. The latter are rendered necessary for short cut-offs, for instance in locomotives, marine engines, or non-condensing engines with shaft governor controlling both inlet and exhaust. In marine engines this is the case with the high and intermediate cylinders, while the low pressure cylinders usually have unnecessarily large clearances. The lengths of compression are frequently incorrect. These "necessarily" and "unnecessarily" large clearances can be avoided. A knowledge of the above rules is indispensable, as well as recognition of the fact that changes in load as well as change of rotation may be accomplished merely by the steam admission organs without change in the exhaust timing. The proper choice of steam distributing organs as well as their arrangement and mechanism are also important factors. For instance, a single-stage condensing una-flow marine engine with single-beat valves arranged in the cylinder heads fulfills all of the above conditions. (See Fig. 31, Chapter V.) This engine has the great advantage of a small clearance volume of less than 1 % ; the exhaust timing is independent of the inlet gear and the constant length of compression is correct and permissible. The same reasoning holds true for the stationary unaflow engine having single-beat valves. (See Fig. 6, Chapter VI.) Both types of engine therefore have very small volume losses despite the large pressure ranges. In the same way a considerable reduction of clearance volume in non-condensing una-flow engines can be accomplished by shortening the compression (large exhaust lead). This is shown in Fig. 32, Chapter III, including also the effect of an exhaust ejector, which produces a proper change of compression with the cut-off, thereby further reducing the volume losses.
Summary.
1. The volume loss is determined by the clearance volume, initial pressure, back pressure, mean effective pressure and length of compression. It increases with increasing initial pressure and clearance volume, decreases with increasing
2. Correct compression tends to reduce the volume loss; compression may be kept constant for small clearance volumes, but should be varied inversely with the cut-off in case of large clearances (Single cylinder engines).
and compression rises to the initial pressure.
5. The theoretical steam consumption, for the same initial pressure, back pressure, mean effective pressure and best compression in each case, increases nearly linearly with the clearance volume. Apart from very small values of the clearance and mean effective pressure, this linear dependence is almost exact for condensing operation, and approximate for atmospheric exhaust.
6. For given initial pressure, back pressure, mean effective pressure and clearance volume, the length of compression must be such that the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression.
7. For given initial pressure, mean effective pressure, clearance volume and length of compression, the back pressure must be such that the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression.
8. For given back pressure, mean effective pressure, clearance volume and length of compression, the initial pressure must be such that the change of total heat during expansion is equal to the change of total heat during compression.
9. For given initial pressure, back pressure, mean effective pressure and length of compression, the clearance volume must be such that the change of pressure during expansion is equal to the change of pressure during compression.
10. For the same initial pressure, back pressure, the same terminal compression pressure and terminal expansion pressure, and for equality of total heat changes, the lengths of the best compressions have the same ratio as the clearance volumes. (Different mean effective pressures.)
11. With proper proportioning of the length of compression, the clearance volume has to be kept as small as possible; this applies especially to single cylinder condensing engines and the low pressure cylinders of compound and triple expansion engines.
12. Subdivision into stages results in reduction of volume losses, the high pressure cylinder having the smallest and the low pressure cylinder the largest volume loss. Intermediate cylinders have a loss between both according to their relative size.
13. For given initial pressure, mean effective pressure and clearance volume, the lowest steam consumption is obtained if the length of compression is made 100% and the back pressure chosen so as to make the change of total heat during expansion equal to the change of total heat during compression (una-flow engine).
14. The critical back pressure is determined by the initial pressure, the clearance volume, the mean effective pressure, and the length of compression. It increases in proportion to the initial pressure and faster tlmn proportionally to
the clearance volume; it first increases with increasing length of compression, then decreases with increasing length of compression and increasing mean effective pressure. It is zero for initial pressure = zero, clearance volume = zero, length of compression = zero, and attains a maximum for mean effective pressure = zero. The clearance volume has by far the greatest influence, the pressure range has less, and the length of compression and mean effective pressure have the least.
15. In compound engines the low pressure cylinder determines the critical back pressure. Under the same conditions compounding reduces the critical back pressure corresponding to the lower initial pressure of the low pressure cylinder.
16. It is not so important merely to achieve low critical back pressure alone as it is to obtain simultaneously small volume losses and low critical back pressure. The volume loss may be very large and the critical back pressure may still be zero. Of all single cylinder condensing engines, the single-beat poppet valve una-flow condensing engine has at the same time the smallest volume loss and a critical back pressure which is far below anything that can be reached even with the most modern condensing equipment, mainly on account of its small clearance of less than 1% and its favorable length of compression.
2b. Additional Clearance Space.
Practically all condensing una-flow engines must be able to run non-condensing. In case of breakdown of the condenser, lack of cooling water, or during the winter months when the exhaust steam is used for heating purposes, the engine must be capable of operation with either atmospheric or higher back pressures. The
simplest way of accomplishing this purpose is the provision of an additional clearance space. (See Figs. 1 and 2.) The amount of additional clearance depends upon the initial and back pressure. If the latter is for instance 1 at. abs., the initial pressure 13 at. abs., and the clearance for condensing operation 1.5%, then the additional clearance should be 14.75%, according to the tables to be given later. At the same time this increased clearance will cause a lengthening
of the cut-off from 8 to 12% for the same output with non-condensing operation (Fig. 3). The drop in pressure at the end of expansion amounts to 0.8 at. for condensing and 1.0 at. for non-condensing operation. It is found that for other initial pressures, with approximately the same drops of pressure (0.8 or 1 at. abs.) at the end of expansion, the mean effective pressures produced are about equal. In the previous chapter it was demonstrated that the mean specific volume loss for saturated steam of 13 at. abs. and non-condensing operation was 0.0918 kg/HPhour and per 1% clearance, and 0.072 kg/HP-hour, and per 1% clearance for superheated steam of 300° G, the other data being the same. For 14.75% clearance the total losses amount to 1 .35 and 1.06 kg respectively in the two cases. The general adoption of the additional clearance space despite this considerable increase in steam consumption is due firstly to its simplicity, and secondly to qualities which tend partly to counteract this heavy loss. The effect on the overall economy is negligible if an engine operates with additional clearance only for several days or hours during the course of a year. Fig. 3 also indicates that although the drop in pressure at the end of expansion
is higher when using the additional clearance space, the loss due to incomplete expansion is less; and the condensing cylinder being rather large for noncondensing operation becomes more or less adapted to this condition. The additional clearance also preserves the una-flow principle, including the series arrangement of live steam space, inlet valve, piston and exhaust, which is such a valuable feature of the una-flow engine. Although it is possible to use auxiliary exhaust valves instead of additional clearance, and these valves being relieved of pressure at the time of opening can be of single beat or annular construction, no joint at all being preferable to even a tight joint or seat.
Care must be taken that the clearance valves which control the additional clearance pocket do not materially add to the cylinder clearance for condensing operation (Figs. 4 and 5). In this respect it is advantageous to provide the clearance valves with projections which fill up the space between valve seat and cylinder surface. The valve area of the clearance valves must be large enough to avoid throttling during expansion and compression. It is also advisable to arrange the additional clearance so that it will act as a kind of heat insulator when the engine is running condensing, which is especially of .value for the crank end of the cylinder.
The clearance valve may also be designed in the form of a spring loaded safety valve, but then the above mentioned projections cannot be used. The safety valve action of the clearance valve is unnecessary when the main steam valve is not, or only partly balanced so that it can act as a safety valve. The "safety"
inlet valve is preferable to the "safety" clearance valve since its weight and spring load are less. The inlet valve is designed for high speed and held closed by steam pressure, its spring being only strong enough to overcome inertia. The clearance valve on the other hand is heavy and its spring has to overcome the total steam pressure. In case of sudden failure of the vacuum this heavy spring load combined with the great weight of the valve cause an objectionable hammering, which can only be stopped by screwing the valves back.
In Fig. 6 is reproduced a diagram such as is obtained from a una-flow engine running non-condensing and fitted with auxiliary exhaust valves, the clearance being the same (1%%) as for condensing operation. It is evident that the ratio
of expansion is too high. A construction of this kind is shown in Fig. 7, having the auxiliary exhaust valves arranged in the cylinder heads. The increase in clearance volume due to these valves was not taken into consideration in the diagram of Fig. 6. The diagram indicates that, assuming the same mean effective pressure, the expansion line reaches the back pressure while the piston uncovers the exhaust ports. The loss due to incomplete expansion is zero. The shape of the diagram indicates the counter-flow action and proves that the cylinder is too large for non-condensing operation, especially for smaller loads, when the toe will change into a loop. This produces a backflow of exhaust steam into the cylinder and a corresponding increase in condensation losses. For loads higher than normal the exhaust action will be partly una-flow and partly counterflow. The loop at the end of expansion cannot occur in engines fitted with additional clearance spaces.
The worst feature of auxiliary exhaust valves, however, is their detrimental effect upon the condensing operation of the engine. They increase the clearance space and the harmful surfaces as well as the possibility of leakage, and sacrifice the very valuable series arrangement of live steam space, inlet valve, piston and exhaust. For 1% increase in clearance volume, an additional steam consumption of 0.12 kg/IHP-hour may be expected, superheated steam being assumed. This figure does not include the effect of leakage and the surface losses caused by the valves and their pockets, nor additional losses due to the operation of these valves while the engine is running condensing. It is advisable to keep these valves in
operation even while running condensing, Fi 6
since they are liable to stick after remaining out of use for some time. If the auxiliary exhaust valves shorten the length of compression also for condensing operation, a larger volume loss results, because
an increase in clearance necessitates a corresponding lengthening of the compression. The bad effect upon condensing operation appears all the more objectionable since it occurs during the whole working period; while on the other hand, for short periods of non-condensing service even a considerable increase in steam consumption due to additional clearance could be tolerated. For long periods of non-condensing operation, as for instance during the winter, single-beat auxiliary exhaust valves are preferable to additional clearance.
ment of the piping awkward.
The amount of the necessary clearance is determined by the following rule: for a given length of compression, mean effective pressure, initial pressure and back pressure, in order to keep the volume loss as small as possible, the clearance volume should be made large enough to produce equal variation of pressure during expansion and compression (see chapter on volume loss). On an average, the terminal expansion pressure for non-condensing operation may be taken as 1 at. gage, and this implies a terminal compression pressure of 1 at. below initial pressure.
The following table gives the total amount of clearance volume required, when operating non-condensing, for 90% length of compression, starting with a pressure of 1.03 at. abs. and ending 1 at. below initial pressure, with adiabatic compression and saturated dry steam. The figures are based on the latest Mollier chart.
3 a. Losses due to Throttling.
Throttling is a change of state in which the total heat remains constant, the effect of which is to diminish the amount of heat and the pressure difference available for utilization between boiler and condenser. Losses due to throttling may occur in the superheater, steam main from superheater to the engine, stop valves, inlet valves, piston-controlled exhaust ports or exhaust valves, and in the exhaust pipe between engine and condenser (Fig. 1).
The losses due to throttling occuring in the superheater, steam pipe, stop valves, and inlet valves may be partly regained in connection with the subsequent expansion, although the greater part is lost. The percentage of this regain depends
upon the extent of the expansion. The temperature-entropy diagram in Fig. 2 shows the conversion of a certain quantity of heat at high temperature and small entropy into an equal quantity at lower temperature and larger entropy. The change is represented by the area GCDQKHG and is equal in area to the strip QKLWQ which results from increasing the entropy. The part KNVJK, falling within the area of expansion will be regained, while the part NLWVN below the line of terminal expansion pressure is definitely lost. Throttling losses occuring in the exhaust valves or exhaust pipe are irretrievable, for which reason they must be restricted to the smallest possible amount. They are especially harmful because
The heat losses and throttling losses in the steam pipe cannot be separated and are usually combined in one figure; a loss of 0.5 to 1.0% is considered an average and corresponds to a steam velocity of about 40 to 50 m/sec, calculated
through.
The throttling losses occuring between the stages of multistage engines are eliminated in the una-flow engine.
In order to estimate the throttling losses in the inlet and exhaust valves it is necessary to know the relation between effect (losses) and cause (valve area), to FA which the following calculations refer.
Determination of inlet valve areas.
In Fig. 3, pt and vt represent the pressure and volume of the steam at the dead center position of the piston; piston travel x1 = 0 and corresponding crank angle 6^ = 0. p2, v2 are the pressure and volume at the point of valve closing, for a piston travel = x2 and crank angle = (52. p and v are the pressure and volume at any intermediate point where the piston travel = x and crank angle
In order to facilitate the calculations, the admission line or rather the curve representing the change in pressure plotted against crank angle or time will be replaced by a parabola. It will be shown later that this assumption is admissible if the object of the calculation is not the shape of the admission line but the final drop of pressure at the end of admission. This final pressure drop, however, is to form the basis of the determination of the inlet valve areas. Therefore we may write
ture, pressure drop, velocity coefficient and the engine constant to be known
quantities, then the right hand side of equation 4 reduces to a numerical value. If, for ^4=1, this value is C. then for any other value of A the result is CA, or
If the driving element is an eccentric or a crank, and if the valve seats are flat, then we may write h = a - Amax and correspondingly F = a • Fmax (Fig. 4).
Permissible average values.
For most una-flow condensing engines the following values can be assumed: Initial pressure px = 13 at. abs. Steam temperature t± = 300° Centigrade. Specific volume v^ = 0.2 cbm/kg. Clearance Volume s =3% (double beat-valves).
Values of C, calculated by means of this formula for various admissions #2 and various pressure drops at the end of admission are plotted in Fig. 5. For any cut-off and pressure drop, the corresponding value of C may be read off. Multiplying this by the engine constant A, the right hand side of equation 4 is disposed of.
grated graphically for each separate case.
The first step is to lay out a curve showing the valve lifts h plotted against piston travel for each cut-off. The corresponding valve areas are F = b - h (b = width of port) for slide valves, F = n - d • h for single-beat valves, and F = 1 • 7i • d • h for double-beat valves, (d = smallest valve seat diameter). For each area F the corresponding values of d and x and there-
at first until it attains a maximum for a crank angle of d = 20°, after which it gradually decreases. This curve is obtained by means of the curve Fig. 6, which shows the relation between d and x.
It will be remembered that a parabola was assumed to represent the admission line on a time basis and this parabola of course presumes a certain valve lift or valve area curve. This F curve could be developed point by point from the assumed parabola and naturally would differ from an F curve based on an eccentric circle. The latter curve, however, may be used in this case for
of admission.
If a curve representing valve lifts, as produced by an eccentric gear, is plotted against the crank angle, then each valve lift can be expressed in % of the maximum lift (Fig. 8). This percentage is given at 5 points and remains constant for every cut-off and
mum valve area equal to unity, then the figures written at the division lines indicate the corresponding valve openings. It is assumed that the valve has no lead and does not overrun the port. For example, after 1/8 and 7/s of the admission time have elapsed, the valve opening for any cut-off is F = 0.43 jPmax, after % and % time F = 0.75 ^max and after 3/s and 5/8 time F = 0.94 .Fmax- Each
which of course varies with the cut-off. This value may be combined with the above fractions into a constant B given by the equation
Fmax is obtained by taking the corresponding value of B from Fig. 10 and dividing it into the value of C, derived from Fig. 5 for the same cut-off and some particular pressure drop, ^4. = 1, 99 — 0.6, s = 0.03, p1 = 13 at. abs., ^ = 300° C, direct eccentric drive and no cam mechanism being assumed. The values of Fmax obtained in this manner are given in the following table and plotted in Fig. 11.
Having found .Fmax for a certain cut-off and pressure drop, the question arises of the pressure drop for different cut-offs. For instance, at 12.5% cut-off and hz= 2 at. pressure drop, the value of .Fmax as taken from the curves in Fig. 11 is 1.325 sqcm. Assuming a direct drive from the eccentric, the values obtained for
Fig. 15 also contains two more curves for higher pressure drops during normal admission. These curves show that, if for a condensing una-flow engine the pressure drop is normal for rated cut-off, then a larger cut-off will show a smaller pressure drop. For a small cut-off the pressure drop increases still further, while in case of a higher pressure drop at normal cut-off this gradually tends to be a maximum. For condensing una-flow engines it is sufficient to calculate ^max f°r normal cut-off.
Example.
The necessary valve area of a single-beat valve for a una-flow stationary engine is to be calculated for the following conditions. Cylinder diameter D = 0.4 m, stroke H = 0.5 m, r • p • m = 150, steam pressure p± = 13 at. abs., steam temperature ^ = 300° centigrade, assumed pressure drop ='2 at. for 12.5% valve gear cut-off, or z2 = 0.125 and <52 = 41.4°, <p = 0.8, 5 = 0.01.
drive, while the smaller shaded area = 2230 sqmm gives the same integral when a cam or rolling lever is used. If the scale of the abscissae is 1 mm = 0.5° and that of the ordinates is 1 mm = 10 Fm!LK, then
If the maximum valve lift for the assumed valve gear cut-off of 12.5% is equal to Vio tne valve diameter, then.Fmax = n - d • 0.1 • d = 13.56 sqcm, d = 6.6 cm, and Amax = 0.66cm. The common empirical formula, based on mean piston velo-
Permissibility of the use of the parabola.
It is still to be proved that the actual diagram admission line plotted against crank angle or time may rightly be replaced by a parabola. For this purpose a diagram is laid out with the crank angles d as abscissae and the valve openings as ordinates. This results in a curve such as that shown in Fig. 16. The total crank angle is now divided into a large number of parts or intervals and for each
These values represent the state of the steam at the end of the first interval, produced by expansion only, without the admission of live steam. wm and ym being also known, it is now possible to calculate the additional weight of steam
admitted, which is dQ = <p • wm • Fl • ym • dt. Then at the end of the first interval the cylinder contains the amount Q2 = Qt -f dQ with a corresponding volume of V* = VH(s + dxj in which dx± represents the distance the piston has traveled during the time dt. This gives the actual specific volume of the steam at the end
For the second interval, the piston is again considered moved forward a distance corresponding to the second interval, without steam admission. Starting with the state of the steam at the end of the first interval, v3 and /?3 are calculated, and the same procedure is repeated as before. In this manner the curves shown in Fig. 17 were obtained, wherein the parabolas are the dotted lines. They are plotted for 25% and 40% valve gear cut-off, both for the true admission line and the substitute parabola. The result is an approximately equal pressure drop at the end of admission in both cases. If shorter intervals had been used the results probably would have agreed still more closely. Although the admission line based on the parabola differs considerably from the shape of the actual admission line, it gives practically the same final pressure drop; and if the valve area is to be based on the latter the parabola may be used to advantage. It is assumed of course that the pressure at the admission valve is constant, which can be insured
by the proper amount of steam storage space around the valve and by steam pipes of sufficient size. If this is not provided then the total pressure drop at the end of admission increases by the amount of pressure loss at the inlet valve.
admission, and the subsequent expansion allows a part of this loss to be regained. The amount of this regain as well as the total final loss can be found from the temperature-entropy diagram (Fig. 2).
Calculation of Exhaust Port Areas.
Throttling losses in the exhaust ports or valve and in the exhaust pipe are irretrievable because there is no subsequent expansion by which they may be regained. The dimensioning of the exhaust ports therefore requires particular caution. The loss in the diagram due to incomplete expansion will be dealt with later on. The point of interest at this time is the exhaust throttling loss caused by insufficient area of the exhaust passages, which makes itself noticeable by the rounding off of the end of the diagram as well as a narrow strip along the exhaust and compression lines. The latter part of this loss is especially harmful; it may be avoided by placing the condenser close to the cylinder, and making the connection between them, as well as the exhaust ports, of ample area (See pages 68 — 69.). Throttling losses in the exhaust are aminimum if the exhaust lead is made as small as possible and the pressures are completely equalized at the point of exhaust closure. Perfect equalization of pressure is most important. In order to reduce the exhaust lead to a minimum, the ports must occupy as much as possible of the cylinder circumference, only enough of the material being left to take the strain due to the piston load. This applies more particularly to condensing engines, while for atmospheric exhaust a small part of the circumference is suffi-
cient. Larger exhaust lead requires a smaller exhaust port area. When using large exhaust lead and atmospheric exhaust, one exhaust port is sufficient under certain conditions. (See chapter on Una-Flow Locomotives.) The requirement of perfect pressure equalization can be satisfied on the basis of the following
in which q> = coefficient of velocity, w = the velocity of the exhaust steam in m/sec, F = instantaneous value of the exhaust port area in sqm, y = specific weight and t = duration of exhaust.
Even with highly superheated live steam, the exhaust steam of condensing engines is always, and that of non-condensing engines in most cases, saturated. The change of state within the cylinder can therefore be assumed to follow Mariotte's law:
Pii yi5 7i represents the state of the steam at beginning of exhaust, p, y, y the state of the steam at any intermediate point, Pzi vzi 72 the state of the steam in the exhaust pipe (condenser, atmosphere, etc.),
the same for any steam wetness. If p < 1.735 p2 then pe = p2. The change of the cylinder volume during exhaust is neglected. Since the weight of steam present in the cylinder is proportional to the absolute pressure,
Range of High Pressures.
In this case /?> pcr= 1.735 p2, w = 3.23 y p v = 3.23 • j/c . For practical purposes it is sufficiently exact to replace the variable quantity (x + .9) of equation 2 by the constant quantity (5 + 1 — 0.5 a), where a = exhaust lead (the critical pressure is reached approximately at the dead center).
For condensing una-flow engines with double-beat valves the average clearance may be assumed to be s = 0,03 and y = 0.9 for drilled exhaust ports with well rounded edges; also A = 1 in m3/min and c = ip1v1 = 15000
When integrating graphically the ordinate for p = 1 will be indefinite. By partial integration the integral may be written
be integrated in smaller limits (i. e. 1.6 and 1) (5. upper corner in Fig. 20). In accordance herewith the second values of the brackets of equation (9) and (10) should be neglected, if they become negative.
pl= 13 at. abs., ^ = 300°, <p = 0,9 and s= 3% or 11% respectively for condensing and non-condensing engines. If the piston overruns the exhaust ports Fm should be used, otherwise Fm3Lji should be taken. The insert in Fig. 20 represents exhaust in the low pressure range alone. Furthermore it is immaterial whether the exhaust ports are round or square. The shape of the exhaust ports has only little bearing upon the shape of the exhaust line and no bearing upon the terminal pressure. This is shown more clearly in Fig. 21, in which the dashed curves refer to round and the full curves to square exhaust ports. The conditions assumed are 10% exhaust lead, terminal expansion pressure 1.2 at. abs. and back pressure 0.05 at. abs. These curves show the slight deviation of the exhaust lines, which were calculated point by point by the interval method, as well as the fact that in both cases the same terminal pressure is reached.
Also a = 10%, and A = 12 m3/min. From Fig. 20 for A = 1, ^max =19 sqcm. Therefore for A = 12, Fmax = 228 sqcm.
In Fig. 22 is shown a diagram in which the admission and exhaust lines were calculated point by point after the areas for inlet and exhaust had been found by the above method, a drop of pressure at the inlet from 13 to 11 at. abs. and at the exhaust from 1.2 to 0.05 at. abs., 13% valve gear cut-off and 10% exhaust lead being assumed.
A high vacuum is of great advantage to the operation of una-flow engines. Fig. 1 shows compression curves for different back pressures and the same terminal pressure, the clearance volumes being correspondingly changed. These curves indicate how appreciably the diagram area increases with better vacuum. At the same time it is possible to keep the compression up to the desired value by properly proportioning the clearance volume. For a high vacuum the clearance
The duration of the exhaust of a una-flow engine with 10% exhaust lead and 90% length of compression is only about one half of the time available for the exhaust of a corresponding counterflow engine. The working steam of the una-flow cylinder must therefore be exhausted into the condenser in one-half the time. It is a fact that in the usual design of counterflow engines there exists a considerable pressure difference between the interior of the cylinder and the condenser, which is used to overcome the resistances in the usually too narrow exhaust passages. The shortening of the duration of the exhaust in the una-flow engine is all the more a reason for diminishing to the utmost the resistance between condenser and engine cylinder, and this can be accomplished by short passages
of large area. Furthermore, the exhaust port area of the una-flow cylinder can easily be made three times as large as the exhaust valve area of the ordinary counterflow engine. If now the remaining cross-sections have sufficient area to harmonize with these large exhaust port areas, and the length of the passages is kept down to the minimum, then complete pressure equalization will result. This is proved by experience as well as theory (See end of this chapter).
In Figs. 2 and 3 are shown a longitudinal and a cross section of a una-flow cylinder where the exhaust belt connects over its full width to the jet condenser placed immediately below it. The injection water enters by means of a perforated tube placed horizontally across the condenser. As may be seen from these illustrations, the exhaust passages are extremely short and wide so that there is practically no resistance.
Figs. 4 and 5 show the application of a jet condenser of the WestinghouseLeblanc type to a una-flow cylinder. This condenser and a similar one developed by the A.E. G. are based upon a principle which formed the substance of a patent issued to the author. The condenser body in this case forms the support for the engine cylinder. As in Figs. 2 and 3, this gives a very short connection and large transfer area, thus insuring equalization of pressure between the cylinder and condenser.
On account of this complete equalization, the compression begins at the lowest possible pressure with the result of a considerable gain of diagram area, a corresponding reduction of clearance volume and clearance surfaces, as well as increased thermal efficiency (Fig. 1). The short duration of the exhaust period due to the piston-controlled exhaust correspondingly reduces the cooling action of the condenser upon the interior of the cylinder. As soon as the exhaust ports are covered on the return stroke, the connection with the condenser is cut off, any further cooling is prevented and the heating effect of the steam jacket at the cylinder end comes into full play without any adverse influence due to the exhaust.
then acts as a kind of exhaust muffler or silencer (See Fig. 2). This silencer action should be assisted not only by the volume of the condenser but also by a change of direction of the steam flow. If no such provision is made, the loud exhaust will be very objectionable, as is shown by experience.
Dimensioning of Driving Parts.
Very complete data are available for the dimensioning of driving parts of stationary una-flow engines. From these data have been compiled the curves shown in Fig. 1, which apply to steam pressures of from 10 to 12 at. gage, and condensing operation.
In Fig. 1 may be seen the weight of the reciprocating parts including twothirds of the weight of the connecting rod, plotted against cylinder diameter. The average values may be represented by a curve according to the equation
weight of the reciprocating parts.
Since the ratio of stroke to cylinder bore is the determining factor for the reciprocating weights, the ratio of stroke to cylinder bore is also shown in this chart. It will be observed that small engines have a proportionally long stroke, while large engines have a proportionally shorter stroke. Since the average buyer of engines generally has a prejudice against what may be called high speed in the sense of high number of revolutions per minute, regardless of piston speed, small engines are therefore built with a comparatively long stroke. For large engines a high number of revolutions is usually demanded, and since the majority of builders have a similar dislike for high piston speeds, an engine of short stroke is the result. It seems strange, however, that the type of frame used does not appear to have any bearing whatever upon the bore and stroke ratio although some designers are inclined to make side crank engines with long, and center crank engines with short strokes (See Fig. 1).
for the smaller sizes than for the larger ones.
The maximum continuous load rating of una-flow engines usually corresponds to a mean effective pressure of about 4.5 kg/sqcm. If the mechanical efficiency for this load is assumed to be 0.94, then the figures for the HP output obtained agree closely with those given by the makers. The normal rating usually corresponds to a mean effective pressure of 3 kg/sqcm based on brake HP. This figure is evidently a compromise between high economy and low initial cost.
The lowest curve in Fig. 1 represents weight of reciprocating parts divided by rated brake HP. The values show small variation (3.45 to 4.15 kg/BHP) but increase gradually with the cylinder bore.
parts for an infinite length of connecting rod.
Fig. 2 gives first an indicator card having an MEP of 4.3 kg/sqcm corresponding to the maximum continuous load. From this card are developed three net pressure diagrams containing inertia curves plotted for a length of connecting rod equal to five times the crank radius, for three different cylinder bores of 500>
900 and 1300 mm. For any piston position the vertical distance between inertia curve and net pressure line represents the load upon that driving part to which the inertia curve refers. The dashed and dotted lines apply to the load on the piston rod, the dashed lines to the crosshead pin, and the full lines to the crank pin. The dotted curves in the same way give the load on the main bearings, 50% of the weight of the reciprocating parts being balanced. For center crank shafts two equally loaded main bearings of equal size are assumed, while for side crank
shafts the main bearing loads have been increased by about 20% on account of the overhang. In regard to bearing load, apart from impact, it would be more advantageous if the inertia forces for the smaller engines would correspond to those of the larger size in the last diagram of Fig. 2; and this could be accomplished by increasing the speed, for an engine of 500 mm cylinder bore, from 162 r. p. m. to say 188 r. p. m.
The proportions of piston rod and tail rod as well as diameters of the different bearings are plotted as functions of the cylinder bore. It will be noted that the ratio of piston rod diameter to cylinder bore is slightly less for engines of large size, by reason of the proportionally shorter stroke of the latter. The distance from rear end of piston to center of crosshead pin is usually about 3.33 times the stroke. The factor of safety against buckling of the piston rod, based on the loads represented in the diagram of Fig. 2, is 10 for small engines and 9 for larger engines.
The crank pin diameter of center crank shafts will be found only in rare cases to be larger than the diameter of the main bearing, and the main bearing at the flywheel side longer than the opposite main bearing.
crank shafts 1.5.
Combining these data with the specific loading taken from the diagrams in Fig. 2, the resultant bearing pressures were calculated and are shown at the top of Fig. 1. These values refer to maximum continuous load and smallest dead center inertia, horizontal forces only being considered. Strictly speaking, the additional forces due to flywheel weight, belt pull, etc. should be combined with the horizontal forces, but this would not materially alter the results. It will be seen that crank pin and main bearings of side crank shafts sustain about 50% higher loading than the corresponding bearings of center crank shafts. The highest bearing pressures given in Fig. 1 are undoubtedly permissible in case of force feed lubrication.
necting rod center to the main bearing center, cause increased bending, higher
bearing pressure and on account of the deflection of the crank shaft, increased pressure at the inside edge of the main bearing. This tendency can be reduced by shortening the leverage or the use of self aligning bearings, or both (Fig. 3). Since, there are no secondary forces acting on the connecting rod in the horizontal plane, the factor of safety against buckling in this plane need not be more than 5, as against a factor of 9 or 10 in the vertical plane. This condition can be easily met by flattening the otherwise circular rod section. The crank hub should be
and crank shaft in one
piece of cast steel. < By designing the crank in the form of a disc, as shown in Fig. 4, an especially ,large reduction in the overhang may be obtained, with a corresponding decrease in the shaft diameter. The present state of foundry practice allows such a construction to be used without anxiety.
1100 mm, stroke 1200 mm, speed 110 r. p. m., steam pressure 12 at. gage, steam
temperature 320°. The engine is of the center crank type. Main bearings, 475 mm dia. by 650 mm long Crank pin, 475 mm dia. by 380 mm long Crosshead pin, 300 mm dia. by 430 mm long Piston rod 220 mm diameter, tail rod 170 mm diameter Weight of piston 2125 kg, weight of piston rod 1500 kg Weight of crosshead 1532 kg, 2/3 connecting rod 1780 kg 50% of the reciprocating parts are balanced
The friction HP of this engine at 110 r. p. m. with a smooth flywheel was 113,6. The corresponding mechanical efficiency for a rated load of 1700 1 HP is therefore 0.933, a figure which disproves the opinion frequently advanced that the mechanical efficiency of una-flow engines is low. The assumption that the engine friction must be nearly independent of the HP output is based on the fact that the load on the driving parts is practically the same for idling as it is for K the rated HP Starting with the '-
load on the driving parts first A decreases slightly, at rated output ^ reaches the same value as for \^ idling, and then becomes somewhat greater for larger output. The engine at Crefeld, for instance, has center inertia load of approximately 6 ] a corresponding mean pressure of the ine gram of 3 kg/sqcm, and a useful rated me; tive pressure of 3 kg/sqcm. It follows 1 engine friction for idling and rated outp be the same. Further, the weight of the flywheel, crank shaft and the rest of the parts as well as the centrifugal force oftheco rod end, crank and counterweights are res for a constant portion of the total friction The above will be further illustrated following test results obtained by Sulzer B
A una-flow engine of 700 mm cylinder bore and 900 mm stroke, having a rope flywheel of 4000 mm diameter, gave the following friction at different speeds (without ropes). 133 112 100 85 68 r. p. m.
In reducing the engine speed from 150 to 50 r. p. m. the friction HP should diminish from 41 HP to 1/9 of the same, or 4.5 HP. It actually was 8.5 HP, which reflects the influence of the weight of the driving parts. The weight and inertia of the latter have an equalizing effect, so that for constant speed the friction HP remains nearly constant independently of the instantaneous output.
Connecting rod length .... 5.5 times the crank radius.
Sulzer Bros, also mention the fact that they have found the friction HP of their una-flow engines equal or slightly less than the friction HP of their tandem compound engines of equal power.
The driving parts of a una-flow engine should naturally cause more friction than the parts of a tandem compound engine since the size, or rather diameter, of the bearings of a una-flow engine is larger on account of the higher piston load. In a una-flow engine the single piston carries live steam pressure, while the low pressure piston of a tandem compound engine only carries receiver pressure and the much smaller high pressure piston sustains the difference between the live steam and receiver pressures. On the other hand, the single una-flow cylinder with its one piston and one or two piston rod packings will cause less friction than the two cylinders with two pistons and three or four rod packings of the tandem counterflow engine. Steam cylinders arranged in tandem are furthermore subject to misalignment with accompanying binding of the moving parts, and the friction
caused by such misalignment may be considerable. The piston system in unaflow engines can always be supported at two points only, for instance by means of a crosshead and self-supporting piston, or on crosshead and tail rod support with floating piston. It is assumed of course that the metallic packing used is of such design as to permit of lateral movement of the piston rod. Furthermore, the tandem counterflow engine requires four times the number of steam distributing elements as the una-flow engine (8 valves against 2 valves), with a corresponding increase in friction. A comparison between a una-flow and a cross-compound engine will still further emphasize the advantages of the una-flow system. According to what is said above, the lesser friction of the una-flow cylinder must outweigh the increased friction of the una-flow driving parts, if the experience of Sulzer Bros, is accepted as having general application.
That part of the engine friction caused by the piston, especially if self-supporting, may be considerable. This friction may be reduced by fitting the piston with shoes of bronze, babbitt or Allan Metal. The friction is least with a floating piston, i. e. a piston supported by its rod, despite the additional friction of the second stuffing box and tail rod support.
The una-flow piston should be made as light as possible, and this may be accomplished by constructing it in two parts of cast steel (See Fig. 5), thereby reducing friction, inertia and impact.
Next to the piston, the main bearing, crank pin and crosshead pin contribute the largest share to the total friction. The friction of high grade metallic packings is extremely small, as is also the friction of the poppet valves and their gear. This applies especially to una-flow engines with only two valves and one packing.
The friction of the driving parts can be considerably reduced by a proper oiling system, especially by means of force feed lubrication. The latter type also reduces impact. The provision of force feed lubrication for the condenser pump driving parts and the use of a housing around the flywheel are further measures in the right direction.
friction loss than long stroke engines.
In the same way a new engine while being run in will have more friction than later, and the friction of an engine immediately after starting will be larger than when in regular operation, especially if it has not been warmed up previously.
Valves, Pistons, Piston Rod Packings.
Tight steam distributing organs are a rare exception. Slide valves are generally considered to be tighter than piston valves, this being the reason for the practice of many concerns to use piston valves for the high pressure and slide valves for the low pressure cylinders, a practice which is also supported by pressure and temperature considerations.
Corliss valves are fairly tight, but they are far from being absolutely tight.
Well made piston valves fitted with snap rings may be considered fairly tight. Piston valves without rings should only be used in small sizes for saturated steam and must be made a good fit. Larger piston valves for use with superheated steam should always be equipped with snap rings on account of the necessary clearance required for expansion. Even then a certain amount of leakage .must be expected in those positions in which none or one ring only is active, in addition to the constant amount of leakage past the ring joints. In case of highly superheated steam, carbonized oil may be the cause of increasing leakage.
Double beat valves are usually leaky. The leakiness increases with the amount of balance, the pressure and the temperature. With all types of valves leakiness will be enhanced with increasing superheat, on account of warping and the increasing fluidity of the steam.
The body of double-beat valves as shown in Figs, 1, 2 and 3 will sustain a heavy load in the direction of the axis during the expansion and exhaust periods. The corresponding deflection will cause the lower face of the valve to leave its seat and leak. The radial forces can be neglected if the seats are made flat.
In the same way, if the temperature of the valve is higher than the temperature of the material forming its housing and seat, then the valve body will expand more than the latter, and the upper valve face will lose contact and start to leak. The above temperature difference may have several causes. In a valve design as shown in Fig. 1, in which valve and seat have the same height and the same thickness of material, equal expansion, in the most favorable case, will
occur only if the material of both parts has the same coefficient of expansion. This can be realized by due attention to the work of the foundry. Both parts are exposed to live steam temperature on one side and to the varying temperature of the cylinder steam on the other.
Conditions are not so good in the design shown in Fig. 2, in which a valve cage of the ordinary type is used. Valve and seat are of different thicknesses and therefore expand unequally, especially during the first period after starting. Furthermore, the two parts will have different temperatures during operation, since the valve is exposed on one side to live steam, while the cage is entirely surrounded by cylinder steam.
The most unfavorable design is the one shown in Fig. 1, page 4, which has the valve seats cast in one piece with the cylinder head. The difference in expansion between valve and seat, especially just after starting up, must be considerable. The coefficients of expansion and the mean temperature of both parts will certainly be different and the corresponding leakage will therefore be considerable.
The valve will leak the more, the higher it is. The first rule in poppet valve design is therefore to make the valve as low as possible. For this reason, valve gears should be avoided which at late cut-offs give unnecessarily large valve lifts and therefore require high valves, unless a restriction of the upper passage is not objectionable. It is further advisable in cases where valve cages or similar constructions are objected to on the ground of the number of tight joints required, to use a kind of saucer to form the lower valve seat, thus at the same time reducing the height of the valve. (See Fig. 3.) In this design the vertical forces as well as the deflection of the valve body are reduced on account of its small height and the small radial width of the valve ring. By grinding in at the operating temperature, a close approximation to complete tightness for one particular pressure and temperature will be obtained. During the first period after starting and at any other pressure and temperature the valve will leak. Perfect tightness under
all conditions can be accomplished with a resilient valve such as is shown in Fig. 4. The lower valve face is smaller in diameter than the upper one. This difference produces a force in addition to the spring load, which tends to press the lower rigid face as well as the resilient upper face against the corresponding seats. The upper resilient face also takes care of unequal expansion. In order to make the valve low and to reduce its deflection, a saucer forming the lower valve seat may be used to advantage. Dirt in the steam, however, may cause leakage even with this type of valve.
the bearing reactions W1 and Wz remain unknown.
W1 may be found from the condition that the deflection f± of the resilient ring due to the steam pressure (measured at the middle of its face), must be equal to the deflection /2 caused by the seat reaction W^ provided the lower valve face is to remain on its seat. Therefore fl = /2.
In the limit, when the valve just rests on the lower seat, W2 = 0. Neglecting P, the excess of the spring pressure over the steam pressure on the valve stem, the highest permissible value for Q may be obtained from the following equation:
If the valve expands by the amount A I in excess of the casing, in consequence of unequal temperatures and coefficients of expansion, the resilient ring must deflect by the same amount in order to remain steam tight. In this case /, — /2
For the valve to be tight, W1 must be positive, for which purpose a pressure difference (pa — Pi) is necessary, as may be seen from equation (10). The minimum pressure difference required for tightness may be obtained from equation (10) by making W^ — 0, i. e.
From this equation it will be seen that the pressure difference is proportional to Al and consequently to 1. In order to keep (pa — />») small, the valve must be low. The dimension d is determined by the strength of the material, and the values of R and Q by the desired steam velocity.
Q! = the coefficient of expansion of the valve material, t2 = the temperature of the surrounding casing, a2 = the coefficient of expansion of the casing, I = the distance between valve seats at normal temperature t0.
Substituting this value in equation (11), the pressure difference (pa — p^ will be found at which the valve will commence to be tight. At all greater pressure differences the valve will be perfectly tight.
The following table gives the relative expansions Al of this valve for certain temperature differences (t± — Z2), calculated according to equation 12. In this table are also found the stresses K^ and the pressure differences (pa — p^ necessary for tightness calculated by means of equation 11.
From these figures it will be seen that many prevalent valve constructions are far from being steam tight. The excessive height of many valves, neglecting other constructional errors, makes steam tightness absolutely impossible. Even in a valve only 30 mm high, with a temperature difference between valve and seat of 200° G., a steam pressure of 11.25 kg/sqcm is necessary in order to obtain steam tightness; i. e. at all lower pressures there will be leakage.
The thickness d of the resilient ring is calculated for the case in which the valve is opened at the greatest pressure difference pa — p,, the valve and seat being assumed to have the same temperature.
pressure difference.
If the difference in seat diameters is made less than is required by the above theory, then the lower valve face will lift off its seat and leakage will result. It is therefore always advisable to make a second calculation with the object of finding W2 under assumptions similar to case 2 (See above). For this worst case the numerical value of W% should be positive.
The valve seats should always be made flat since they can then accommodate unequal radial expansion and give the maximum opening for the valve lift. The latter is always small in una-flow engines on account of the early cut-offs and the fact that the permissible lead is very small.
Experience shows that the upper seat wears more than the lower, especially if the seats are narrow. The upper seat should therefore be made wider and the edge of the resilient ring reinforced by a rim or bead. The resilient ring should not be made too weak.
The piston of a una-flow engine is placed between live steam space and exhaust. Live steam space, inlet valve, piston and exhaust are in series, while in the ordinary counterflow engine the piston is in parallel with the inlet and exhaust valves. This series arrangement is one of the important features of una-flow engines. The leakage of the steam valve of a counterflow engine is partly balanced by the leakage of the exhaust valve so that only the difference of these leakages affects the cylinder; the leakage of the inlet valve of the una-flow engine on the other hand has no such compensating means since there is no exhaust valve, in addition to this, the counterflow exhaust valve usually remains open during the greater part of the return stroke so that the leakage of the inlet valve only affects a short part of the latter. In the una-flow engine, however, the leakage of the steam valve continues during almost the whole compression stroke, and this has to be taken into account by properly proportioning the clearance volume, in order that the compression may not exceed the initial pressure and the engine begin to be noisy. The fact that leakage of the inlet valves of una-flow engines makes itself noticeable, especially with small clearances, must be considered an advantage of this type of engine, the effect of which, however, may sometimes become embarrassing. Gounterflow engines show no such indication, so that great losses sometimes pass unnoticed. The above mentioned series arrangement together with the short duration of the exhaust tends to considerably reduce the losses due to leakage. These, however, may still be large if precautions are not adopted in the shape of resilient or single-beat valves.
given complete satisfaction.
The necessary amount of resiliency may also be obtained by properly shaping the lower seat on which the valve rests. (Fig. 8.) Here the seat at the top of the saucer is formed with a resilient ring whose undercut should be such that the steam pressure acting upon it, in combination with the valve spring and the steam pressure on the valve stem give the same reactions on both seats. This design
der, the resulting pressure on the small annular ring outside the lower valve seat tends to press the seat plate with increasing force against the valve face. The diameter of this seat plate must be proportioned so that the upward steam pressure combines with the spring force, the steam pressure upon the valve stem and the steam pressure upon the unbalanced area of the valve so as to produce equal bearingreactions on both seats. This last design has the least merit, since the seat plate rings will never be absolutely steam tight, and the clearance volume is larger than that required by the forms of valve previously described. Further the springs necessitated in this case as also those of Fig. 9 will very soon weaken at high steam temperatures. All of the above constructions are based upon the previous theory which requires a certain difference in diameter of the two valve seats.
If one has studied the valve question in all its phases and has become acquainted with all of the difficulties of manufacture and operation, then the final result must be considered unsatisfactory. The following points Fig. 7. should be noted.
1. If a double-beat valve is completely or partly balanced, it completely or partly violates the principles embodied in the single-beat valve, according to which the closing pressure is proportional to the area covered and to the pressure difference. This violation explains most of the difficulties usually met with.
2. If the double-beat valve is left unbalanced by such an amount as is required by the resilient valve theory, then, if it were possible to provide sufficient lift, a single-beat valve of an area equal to the unbalanced area of the double-beat valve
guide is formed by a cast iron
bushing which should be made heavy to facilitate manufacture, and in case of superheated steam should be equipped with a separate force feed lubricating connection. It is wrong to supply oil to the steam chest. The flow of steam through the cast iron valve, on account of the slight unavoidable obliquity of the ribs, produces a turning moment which must be resisted by properly fitting
the cam lever into the slot of the roller head, in order to insure proper relation of roller and cam. The intentional slanting of the ribs with a view to producing continuous rotation of the valve to insure better tightness has shown no advantage. The valve spring should be made adjustable in order to overcome
the increased friction during the first period of operation. Large bonnets should be provided with a false cover or be otherwise insulated from the live steam space, so that radiation may be reduced, and the transfer of heat to the valve gear parts minimized. Valve roller, pins and cam lever should be made of steel, hardened and ground. It is better to place the valve roller on the roller head than on the cam lever.
cam corresponds to the valve
lift. The lifting curve should rise tangentially from the lower land and join the upper land by means
of another curve or fillet which runs tangentially into it. Sometimes a straight piece is inserted between the two curves, with the object of reducing the high acceleration at the point where the curvature changes.
Calculation of the Valve Spring.
The purpose of the valve spring is to keep the cam and roller positively in contact during the time the valve is lifted and to keep the valve on its seat while it is closed. The parts to be accelerated are valve, valve stem, roller head, roller, roller pin, and valve spring. The spring also has to overcome the steam pressure upon the cross-section of the valve stem. It is always advisable to make sure of the amount and direction of this pressure, since there are cases (exhaust valves of high pressure cylinders) where this pressure tends to relieve the valve spring. The maximum accelerations and retardations are partly produced by the valve gear and partly by the spring. The object of the present calculation is to determine the maximum acceleration to be produced by the valve spring and the necessary dimensions of the latter. The usual method consists in plotting the valve lift on a time basis and differentiating twice to obtain a curve of accelerations, from which the maximum acceleration may be taken and the spring calculated. This method is not very exact. The following method, based on the same principle, is more accurate.
subsequent closure of the valve is an exact repetition of the phases during lifting. The necessary dimensions of the valve gear parts are assumed to be known or are determined according to Figs. 12, 13 and 14. From Figs. 13 and 14 the travel of the cam lever (a = KK'} can be found corresponding to the crank angle a.
contact line" M'02P always intersects the roller center and either of the centers O: or <92, or ig at right angles to the straight middle piece of the valve lift curve. The velocity along the roller contact line is v' = o^ • r3'. For the velocity along the relative valve stem axis M' L' (valve velocity y), 7*3 has to be considered instead of r3', since the right-angled triangles NSP and M' TU are similar, and v : v'
cides with MN for the point of valve opening and therefore rs = 0. The same occurs when the roller reaches the upper land and M' falls on Q, in which case also r3 = 0. The valve velocities thus determined are plotted in Fig. 15 on a crank angle basis, giving the curve y, which indicates a rapid increase of the velocity up
to the point 7\, corresponding to the point at which the lifting curve and straight portions merge, after which it decreases until it reaches zero for the dead center position of the eccentric, or for the point at which the upper curve and upper land run together. The velocity u =. 0 corresponds to the dead center position of the eccentric after which the whole procedure is repeated with the signs reversed. In case the roller reaches the upper land or runs a certain distance on it, a corresponding part of the velocity curve coincides with the #-axis.
7\ T2 of the velocity curve. Receding from point Tz a distance equal to 6° crank angle or 1/100 sec, an ordinate at this point will represent the change of velocity in Vioo sec- In this case the latter amounts to vx = 0.205 m/sec. The accelera-
so that 100 mm = 1 m/sec, then the ordinates in mm give directly the accelerations in m/sec. The accelerating force during the period of increasing velocity is exerted by the eccentric through the cams, and for decreasing velocity the retarding force must be produced by the valve spring. The opposite holds true for the closing period of the valve.
sary to take care of inaccuracies in the construction of the valve gear and the increased friction during the first period of operation. The steam pressure on the valve stem area may either relieve or oppose the spring and must in every case be considered. Torsional stress of the spring material kd = about 3500 kg/sqcm.
3. A form intermediate between the other two.
All questions concerning the design, construction and operation of the piston should receive thorough consideration. The self-supporting piston is undoubtedly the most difficult, and the floating piston the easiest to deal with. The selfsupporting piston together with its cylinder form a bearing. The first condition for satisfactory operation is therefore sufficient difference in the properties of the materials of which the two parts are made. For instance, a steel shaft runs quite satisfactorily in a babbitt, phosphor bronze, brass or cast iron bearing. All these combinations present sufficient difference in the properties of the materials employed. An exception exists in the combination of hardened steel on hardened steel which may frequently be found in valve gear joints. Babbit on babbitt, bronze on bronze, or mild steel on mild steel never work together satisfactorily. Cast iron pistons, however, can be made to work well in cast iron cylinders, as is shown by the una-flow engines built by Sulzer Bros. Cast iron is a collective designation which includes materials of very heterogeneous composition. Sulzer Bros, after extensive experiments have found the proper mixtures for the cylinder and piston, which possess sufficient difference in properties to work together safely and satisfactorily. If a designer lacks sufficient faith in his foundry he will do well to equip his piston with a babbitt or bronze mounting in order to provide materials with
sufficient difference in properties. A cast steel piston should always be equipped with such a bearing surface. There are still, however, concerns who try to make piston and cylinder from the same mixture, and in addition to this cardinal error commit others of equal consequence which result in certain failure. There are also materials which do not work well together despite sufficient difference in their properties, such as for instance, cast steel on cast iron. Even with a bronze mounting the difference in expansion between these two materials must be taken into consideration.
A journal and bearing must ordinarily have sufficient clearance to allow room for the oil film. This condition applies all the more to piston and cylinder since the dimensions are larger and the temperature difference is greater. A clearance of 3,5 to 4 thousandths of the diameter between piston and cylinder bore have been found satisfactory. Machining the piston by first turning it to the exact cylinder diameter and afterwards turning it off eccentrically so as to produce a bearing surface for about 90 to 120° has not proved satisfactory for superheated steam. This method gives enough clearance at the top but on account of the higher temperature of the piston and its greater expansion, the weight concentrates at the edges of the bearing surface and the piston is likely to seize. A proper way of finishing the cylinder is to bore it barrel-shaped, or machine it while heating the ends, for instance by passing steam through the jackets and cooling the center by blowing air through the exhaust belt. The heads of a una-flow piston expand more than the center by reason of their higher temperature, and should therefore be of smaller diameter than the center. They should be out of contact with the cylinder and only act as plungers. The part of the piston forming the bearing surface should be rounded off liberally at its ends to prevent it from scraping the oil off the cylinder wall. Briefly, the endeavor must be to produce a piston and cylinder with exact cylindrical surfaces and sufficient clearance, and to maintain this condition at high temperatures. If this can be accomplished for the long unaflow piston with its large bearing surface and temperature difference, the most difficult part of the problem is solved.
The case of the floating piston which is carried by the piston rod is much simpler. A radial clearance of 2 to 3 mm, according to the size of the cylinders, may be used, so that no consideration of bearing action is necessary. Only the piston rings project beyond the piston surface and are in contact with the cylinder wall. The tail rod can either have a stationary bearing behind the stuffing box or be carried on a crosshead. The great length of the piston rod between the bearings caused by the long piston, makes a light cast steel construction and a rod of large diameter a necessity. From a thermal point of view the floating piston is to be preferred, since only the piston rings transmit heat from the hot to the cold portions of the cylinder, while in the case of the self-supporting piston the large bearing surface also takes part in this action. When using a stationary bearing for the tail rod behind the stuffing box there will be a rise and fall of the piston at every stroke, which must be considered. If the cast steel used is very soft, then the cast iron rings are liable to seize.
constructions. Part of the weight is then carried by the cylinder wall and part by the piston rod. The wear of the cylinder tends to alter the weight distribution in such a way as to increase the part carried by the piston rod and thus relieves the piston and cylinder bearing surfaces. The piston rod also resists possible forces acting on the outside of the piston. If for instance, the piston rests in the cylinder and by reason of leaky rings the steam obtains access to the clearance space above the piston, then a heavy downward load will result. Floating pistons offer greater safety against this possibility, this safety being imparted by the piston rod. This applies especially to vertical engines where the piston, if not guided by a tail rod, is in a condition of unstable equilibrium and is liable to slap. This may even be occasioned by the piston overrunning the inlet ports, which should be fundamentally avoided. Such overrunning can only be permitted in the case of floating pistons, although even then the possibility of vibration should be reckoned with. The greater number of mistakes which give rise to lateral forces are incurred in the arrangement and construction of the piston rings, which latter should protect the piston surface against such forces. For this reason they should be placed as far as possible towards the ends of the piston, in order to leave as little area as possible for the formation of lateral forces. Even if this is done there still remains some possibility of an unbalanced load, especially with the large surface of a una-flow piston. If, for instance, the rings of a horizontal engine are not secured against creeping, their center of gravity, being located eccentrically opposite the joints, will move to the lowest possible position and all the joints will fall in line at the top. The steam leaking through them will then undoubtedly exert a heavy pressure upon the large surface, thus forcing the piston downwards and causing rapid wear. This cannot happen with a floating piston since the pressures will equalize in the annular space and temporary lateral forces will- be resisted by the piston rod. The ring joints of floating pistons and of pistons having the rings on the plunger heads should therefore be equally spaced over the circumference; for instance, where three rings are used at each end, the joints should be at 120°. In self-supporting pistons without plunger heads, the ring joints should be kept within the bearing area; thus for three rings one joint may be arranged in the center and one each at 30° to the right and left. The bearing surface then protects the ring joints against the steam. With such an arrangement complete tightness may be attained if the workmanship is good and the rings are sufficient in number. In floating pistons the action of the rings is similar to a labyrinth packing which always passes a certain amount of steam, since the ring joints can never be made absolutely tight. The pressure ratio, in case of una-flow engines always being above the critical value, the weight of steam flowing past the ring joints may be calculated by means of the formula
in which / denotes the free area of the joint, z the number of joints in series, p^ and vl the absolute pressure and the specific volume of the steam inside the cylinder. In Fig. 16 are illustrated five different types of ring joint fastenings which can only partly render the joints tight, but perform the important addi-
tional function of securely locking the rings against creeping. In a una-flow piston where the rings are usually mounted on the piston heads which expand considerably, the locking elements must in no case project to the cylinder wall.
The slot at the ring joints must be from 2 mm to 5 mm wide, according to the diameter of the rings, in order to allow for expansion. Friction will cause the rings to assume a higher temperature, especially with superheated steam and poor lubrication. If the clearance provided is insufficient, the joints will close and the rings expand against the cylinder wall, so that increased heating, greater expansion and a heavier pressure result, which may lead to a complete destruction of the cylinder surface and rings.
The different phases in the manufacture of ordinary piston rings are presented in Fig. 17. It is not possible to obtain a uniformly distributed pressure with concentric rings, and only a very rough approximation to this condition can be reached with excentric rings whose thickness increases from the joint to the opposite side. The concentric type, however, is preferable in order to avoid a one-sided center of gravity and a large clearance in the groove behind the ring.
Attention may also be drawn to what are known as hammered rings. These are made of Swedish iron, turned to correct diameter and width in one operation, are then split, and afterwards given the required tension by hammering. Approximately uniform pressure distribution, greater strength and reliability in operation are obtainable with this form. Even in small sizes they may be sprung sufficiently to be slipped into the piston.
Mention should also be made of the piston rings designed by Schmeck (Fig. 18), which are made in sections whose joints are secured by spring-loaded plugs which prevent them from creeping and force them against the cylinder wall. Rings of this type have the advantage that they are practically tight, especially at the joints, that their bearing pressure is uniform, they can be easily assembled and disassembled, and adapt themselves to warped cylinders. The cast iron plugs
and ring sections are finished in such a way as to fit the cylinder bore. This type of ring is much used by the Hannoversche Maschinenfabrik vorm. Egestorff and is reported to have given complete satisfaction.
It is advisable not to permit the outer ring to overrun the cylinder bore. Such overrunning exposes part of the ring surface to the steam pressure, thus causing the ring to collapse and destroying its function of tightness for at least a certain distance near the dead center. An ordinary cast iron ring, especially if the de-
flections are large, will not withstand the stresses produced thereby for any length of time. The clearance behind the rings should be made as small as possible, so as to reduce the deflection and leave as little space as possible for the accumula-
tion of steam which would press the ring against the cylinder wall and cause considerable wear both on the ring and cylinder, especially in the middle of the latter. With superheat and dirt in the steam a ring may under these conditions lose as much as 5 to 10 mm in thickness in a few weeks, and the cylinder bore several millimeters, especially in the center. A wide ring will be the most subject to this
destructive action. Small width, high grade material, no overrunning, small clearance behind the rings, well secured joints, and a good fit in the grooves are therefore advisable. If the cylinder is made of a fairly hard, close-grained cast iron, then no ridges will form, thus eliminating any reason for allowing the rings to overrun.
All the foregoing is supported by the experience which the author gained with a piston packing of the type shown in Fig. 19. Both rings overran the cylinder bore. The rings, in collapsing, had to push
the spring along their sloping surfaces, with the effect that both rings and spring went to pieces. Fig. 20 shows the pieces which the author found in the cavity of the piston. The spots where wear occurred on the springs are clearly visible in Fig. 2Q.
case are simple, light
and without core plugs, which will be especially appreciated in the case of cast steel. .It is advisable to test the piston with water pressure if the foundry cannot be relied upon. A cast steel piston of two-piece construction is shown in Fig. 5, page 77. Each half carries a bronze shoe fastened to it with copper rivets, covering an angle of 120°. The two halves, fitted with three rings each, have radial clearance over their whole circumference and are made as light as possible in order to reduce inertia.
The ring joints have a labyrinth effect. Fig. 40, page 157, shows an older piston of one-piece design having grooves fitted with Allan metal rings. The latter are made to project about 1 mm above the surface of the piston when new, and during the first period of operation part of this metal is transferred to and fills out the pores of the cylinder surface. Both these rings should be placed in the middle of the piston.
Una-flow pistons for locomotives are always made in three pieces, i. e., two heads carrying the piston rings, having clearance all around, and a center supporting piece. It was formerly customary to make the latter of hard steel, but Swedish iron is now used with better results. The heads which are made of cast or forged steel, expand considerably under the action of superheated steam. This expansion is transmitted to the center piece and must be considered in designing the latter. In order to reduce the weight of the reciprocating parts to a minimum,
locomotive pistons are always made without tail rods and have given satisfaction except for minor troubles. These have been due to errors in the composition of the material and to disregard of the effect of the expansion of the heads upon the center supporting piece. The experience obtained with such pistons, as well as the favorable observations of Sulzer Bros., indicate that the problem may be solved with self-supporting pistons, provided the important requirement of a reliable lubrication system is satisfied. One oil feed on top, and one each in or below the horizontal plane on both sides of the cylinder, every feed being connected to a separate force feed pump, will give satisfactory results with the proper kind of oil. The pump plungers should be timed to deliver oil only during the periods when the corresponding orifices are covered by the piston. If the feeds are connected to the cylinder ends, carbonization of the oil is to be feared; and if the oil is fed to the center of the cylinder at the time of exhaust, it is likely to be blown through the ports. Both these conditions lead to a high oil consumption which is sometimes complained of in connection with una-flow engines. The time during
which the piston covers the oil feeds is longest when the latter are in the middle of the cylinder, so that even with pumps having a continuous feed there is a reasonable certainty of oil being carried between the rubbing surfaces. In order to avoid losses due to the exhaust, it is permissible to arrange the three feeds close to one side of the exhaust belt instead of in the center. In regard to lubrication also, the floating piston offers greater safety, since, if correctly constructed, the rubbing surface is limited to the
rings. If, however, the steam
obtains access to the spaces behind the rings, heavy friction and large oil consumption may result. With self-supporting pistons the sanje effect may be caused by lateral forces.
supporting piston requires greater care in regard to design, choice of material, lubrication and operation, but has the advantage of not requiring a tail rod with its bearing or crosshead. The floating piston has greater reliability but is more complicated and increases the floor space required. Selfsupporting pistons may however
rings are fitted to the rod and work between the ground surfaces of a corresponding number of housings, thus producing a labyrinth effect. The individual housings form metal to metal joints and are pressed against the bottom of the packing space by means of the outside gland, sufficient clearance being provided to allow the cast iron rings to move laterally. The last chamber collects the water of condensation so that it may be drained away. With pure steam, absence of dust, and good lubrication (the oil being preferably forced into the packing under pressure), satisfactory results should be permanently obtainable. The one-piece rings may sometimes be found unhandy in assembling.
The American type of packing shown in Fig. 22 is better in this respect, since it may easily be assembled and disassembled and offers greater freedom in the design of adjacent parts. Each ring is made in four pieces, the two opposite segments with their babbitt lining being pressed against the piston rod by
means of springs. The second ring of similar construction is set at 90° to the first one. The two remaining segments of each ring are forced by springs against the other segments. Botli rings are properly fitted to the housing at their joints and relatively to each other. The whole packing system is held by means of axial springs against a spherical seat, thereby accommodating itself to inclined positions of the piston rod, while any lateral movement of the same is provided for by the sliding fit of the rings in their housings. This packing is occasionally stated to be unsatisfactory for vacuum, although this criticism may be unjust. The Duplex packing shown in Fig. 23 which is equipped with an additional set of conical babbitt rings, is equally satisfactory for both vacuum and high pressure. Different
springs are supplied for various pressures. Good workmanship is claimed for thispacking. Pure steam, regular and ample lubrication, as well as frequent use of the drain cocks, especially in running in, are essential for success.
The Proell packing (Fig. 24) is based on a similar principle. Each cast iron ring is cut into six parts which "are held together by means of a coil spring, the joints of one ring being staggered in relation to those of the adjacent one. A pair of such rings is contained in each housing, which is easily removable by means of an internal lip. These housings come together on metal to metal joints and thus form chambers in which the rings have sufficient play to enable them to move laterally. The whole packing is held together and against the bottom of the packing space by the outside gland. The oil is either fed onto the piston rod or forced between the middle rings. This packing, however, does not accommodale itself to inclined positions of the piston rod. This packing is furnished in Simplex, Duplex or Triplex forms, according to the number of rings employed.
The Kranz packing (Fig. 25) made by the Elementenwerk Kranz, of Ludwigshafen, also employs cast iron rings in pairs, each cut into three parts, surrounded by sectional primary housings held together by coil springs. These primary housings are radially movable between the ground surfaces of the secondary housings, provision being also made for axial expansion of the former. Oil may be fed under pressure to the packing, although it is claimed that a drip feed to the rod its satisfactory. The use of three pairs of rings with a large number of cavities results in a thorough labyrinth effect. The water of condensation is caught by a further pair of rings on the outside, so that it may be drained away.
The packing designed by Wilh. Schmidt (Figs. 26 and 27) takes care of inclined positions of the piston rod in the best possible manner. The packing as a whole is inserted between two rings having spherical surfaces with a common center, these in turn being held between two flat surfaces so that both lateral and rotative movements are rendered possible. A deep recess insures further flexibility as well as a cooling effect. The segmental babbitt rings of conical section are held together by a powerful spring. A special fitting containing a felt ring and having an oil connection serves to lubricate the rod as well as to keep out dirt. This packing has been very successful on locomotives.
6. Losses due to Radiation and Convection.
It will be seen from a comparison of the una-flow with the ordinary compound counterflow. engine that the former can have only small radiation and convection losses. The radiating surface of the counterflow engine with its two cylinders, receiver and accessories is two or three times as large as that of the una-flow engine, with correspondingly higher losses. The loss due to radiation of the una-flow cylinder is very small compared with the radiation losses of the steam pipe, for which reason the latter will be dealt with first. Assuming a flow of superheated steam at a very small velocity through a pipe having a length of 100 m, then the steam at the far end will have a lower temperature and a correspondingly larger specific weight, (yx : v2 = Tl : Tz) but practically the same pressure. The highest point E in the temperature-entropy diagram shown in Fig. 2, chapter I, 3 a, corresponds to the state of the steam at the entrance of the pipe, while the lower point Q on the same pressure line represents the state of the steam at the far end. The narrow vertical strip EFWQE below the part EQ of the pressure line, extending down to the line of zero temperature ( — 273°), represents the total amount of heat lost; but as the heat represented by the area of the diagram below the back pressure line cannot be utilized, the actual radiation loss is represented by the strip ER VQE. Insulating and lagging the pipe can therefore only result in a mere reduction of this loss. A further radiation loss occurs in the cylinder and will show itself in a very slight deviation to the left of the vertical adiabatic line. Insulating the cylinder can therefore only tend to reduce this slight loss. Much more important is sufficient insulation around the cylinder heads, which really form part of the steam pipe. The live steam pipe in high grade plants is always covered while the cylinder is provided not only with insulation, but lagging as well. The latter supplements the effect of the insulating material in an efficient manner and may, if constructed of several casings one within another, with a bright inner surface, entirely take its place.- All flanges should also be covered. The materials used for insulating steam pipes and cylinders are Kieselguhr, asbestos, magnesia, cork, or glass or textile waste. The more porous the material is, and the thicker the layer, the better will be the insulating effect. Part of the heat is lost by radiation and part by convection. The process is so complicated that mathematical treatment fails completely and actual tests have to be relied upon. The following table will help to clear up matters.
It will be observed from this table that the heat loss for average thickness of insulating material is inversely proportional to the steam velocity. Higher velocities of course result in smaller diameter, circumference and surface of the steam pipe, thus also reducing the heat loss. Higher velocities are therefore advisable up to the point where the throttling losses become excessive (See chapter I, 3 a, especially Fig. 2). Heavy insulation (80 to 100 mm thick) is to be recommended. Assuming an outer temperature of 0.°, then the heat losses increase faster than the temperature gradient, according to the law of Stephan Boltzmann.
If the steam cylinder is regarded as a pipe, the steam may be considered to flow through it with a velocity equal to the mean piston speed. Applying the above rule of the inverse variation of the heat loss with the steam velocity, it will be found that in view of the lower temperature the radiation losses of the cylinder must be extremely small, especially as the oil film and the lagging form part of the insulation. These losses in fact are so small as to appear negligible in comparison with the other losses.
7. Losses due to incomplete Expansion.
A loss -of diagram area within the limits of the piston stroke is caused by the fact that the exhaust begins with a certain exhaust lead or distance /„ before dead center (Fig. 1), and this loss increases as the exhaust lead fv and terminal expansion, pressure pe increase. For small exhaust lead and low terminal pressure this loss is negligible. Even in non-condensing una-flow engines in which a large exhaust lead is used in order to soften the exhaust puffs, the loss of diagram area within the limits of the piston stroke is insignificant when compared with the lost work represented by the toe of the diagram, shown shaded at D. The problem of finding a means of utilizing this work without increasing the cylinder dimensions is well worth while. The solution to be described later has the effect of reducing the pressure pu at which compression begins, with a consequent lower
terminal pressure. A smaller clearance volume may therefore be used, thus diminishing the volume loss. Without going into calculations, it will be seen that the gain F at the compression line will be approximately proportional to the shaded area D, or in other words, the higher the terminal expansion pressure is, or the longer the cut-off, the lower will be the terminal compression pressure. This implies an increasing pressure difference during compression for an increasing pressure difference during expansion, a combination which has been proved desirable in the chapter on volume loss. This rule would be fulfilled in its entirety if the pressure changes on both sides, i. e. expansion and compression, were equal. Furthermore, the use of a longer exhaust lead /„ would then become permissible, since the lost area within the limits of the piston stroke now forms part of the toe of the diagram, and co-operates in lowering the back pressure at the time compression begins. There can therefore be no objection to making fv large, since by increasing the duration of the exhaust, the compression is shortened and the exhaust puffs are softened. If this is done, the number of the exhaust ports will be so far reduced that the exhaust belt may eventually be dispensed with and only one port remains which connects directly to the exhaust pipe. Piston and cylinder also become
For instance, for a stroke of 660 mm, an exhaust lead of 25% and exhaust ports of 120 mm diameter, the piston length will be 450 mm, and the length of the cylinder 1100 mm as compared with a piston length of 594 mm and a cylinder length of 1254 mm for 10% exhaust lead. The distance fv is limited by the maximum cut-off, since direct exhaust of live steam must be avoided. For locomotives the value of fv must be limited to 25%, while for locomobiles it may be taken as large as 30 to 35%.
The utilization of the energy represented in the toe of the diagram is based upon its complete conversion into kinetic energy by means of conical nozzles such as are commonly used in steam turbines. Each exhaust puff would therefore act as a kind of wad or plug moving with a high velocity through the exhaust
pipe and finally creating behind itself a partial vacuum whose absolute pressure is pu. The exhaust pipe must therefore be long enough so that there will always be at least one such plug moving within it, thus preventing atmospheric pressure from reaching the nozzle and destroying the vacuum. The end of the exhaust pipe must form a diffusor to change the kinetic energy into pressure energy at atmospheric pressure.
Fig. 2 shows such an exhaust pipe diagrammatically. The work corresponding to the shaded areas D and E (Fig. 1) is determined for various pressures pu. The weights of steam Ge and Gu, corresponding to the pressure pe and pu can be found from the diagram and the dimensions of the engine.
The velocities w are calculated for various values of the pressure pu and plotted against the latter, as shown in Fig. 3. Each value of pu has associated with it a certain velocity wd which must exist at the point of entrance into the diffusor in order that atmospheric pressure may be overcome. This velocity therefore corresponds to a pressure difference (1 — pu) and may be easily obtained from the Mollier chart and also plotted in Fig. 3. Of course the steam when leaving the diffusor must in practice still have a certain velocity, and the pressure difference should therefore be reckoned not from the atmosphere, but from a slightly higher pressure corresponding to this velocity. This shifts the diffusor velocity curve
nozzle velocity curve, which determines the obtainable pressure pu, is moved
slightly towards the right corresponding to a higher value of pu. Friction losses in the long exhaust pipe cause a further loss of velocity «>!, between the nozzle and
sure pu. The ejector effect of
the exhaust puffs will eventually become less and less for higher steam velocities. This will be the Fig. 3. (Duse = Nozzle). case especially in single cylinder
engines, because the length of
exhaust pipe required is very great. For instance in an engine running at 180 r. p. m. which corresponds to 6 exhaust puffs per second, and for a steam velocity o540 m/sec, the length of the exhaust pipe must be 90 m, or better 100 m. Calf culating the loss of pressure required to overcome the resistances by means, of Eberle's equation: ,
in which A p represents the loss of pressure in kg/sqm, I is the length of the exhaust pipe = 100 m, d its diameter = 0,1 m, w the steam velocity = 540 m/sec, y the specific weight = 0.58 kg/cbm and $ a constant = 10.5 x 10~4, then the loss of pressure will be found to be 11.1 at. For d = 0.05 m the loss would be 35.5 at. However, Eberle's tests from which the above formula was obtained, covered only velocities up to 150 m/sec, as did similar tests by Fritsche, Ombeck, Lorenz and Ritschel, so that the results are not directly applicable to velocities higher than the critical value. Such higher velocities will result in still greater losses. In reality the above results will be smaller since the assumed steam velocity will not be constant but decreasing.
It would seem from the foregoing that the direct exhaust ejector principle would not have great prospects if based on complete conversion of pressure energy into velocity. However, as reported by Giildner2), partial vacua have been observed in long exhaust pipes of gas engines, although no special provision had been made to cause and sustain them and a great part of the energy was lost in valves, sharp edges and elbows. There must therefore still remain a possibility of solving this problem in another way. It is, however, not easy of solution, since it involves the calculation of the friction of accelerating and expanding steam, which is very difficult to express in a mathematical form. Actual tests must therefore be relied upon.
Although this problem may seem difficult in connection with a single cylinder, it is very simple for multi-cylinder engines, of which the locomotive is the chief representative. Even in an engine having two cranks at right angles, an exhaust lead of 25% will produce sufficient overlap of the exhaust periods so that the exhaust of one cylinder begins before the other has ceased (Fig. 5). If now the exhaust pipes are joined at an acute angle, a jet ejector action is obtained. This effect is well known and widely used in locomotive practice, where the combination of blast pipe and stack also form an ejector, thus producing a partial vacuum in the smoke box which serves to draw off the flue gases. The theory of the blast pipe was first developed by Zeuner in his classical treatise on the subject1). An equation in a somewhat simpler form based on this theory, is found in v. Ihering's book, ,,Die Geblase". The development of the formula for the ratio G2 : G of the quantities of the ejected to the ejecting steam is very lengthy and will not be repeated here. The formula is based upon the principle of the continuity of flow and includes a number of assumptions and simplifications, the most important of which are that friction losses are not considered, but the unfavorable assumption is made instead that the velocity wz is entirely lost and w3 = 0. (See Fig. 4.) The following formula then results:
the ejecting stream loses little of its energy, the impact loss is small and Tis = 0.75 to 0.80. The efficiency of the blast pipe is considerably lower, being only about 0.28, because the weight of the ejected air is about 2.6 times the weight of the ejecting steam. In addition to this there is a further loss equal to the energy contained in the steam at the final section of the stack. A similar loss will occur at the end of the blast pipe in regard to the exhaust ejector action, since the energy contained in the steam at the final section P\ cannot be utilized for steam ejecting. This finds its expression inequation 1, where A increases with decreasing
F0. The area F0 should therefore be made as large as possible, but is limited by considerations in regard to the blast action on the flue gases. Strahl1) has developed a formula for the blast pipe area, which is based on Zeuner's treatise and is
R the grate area, A the coefficient of divergence of the stack, x the coefficient of flue gas friction from ash pan to stack; a = f (m); m = A • F: : F - a is nearly constant, and S 0.03 for m = 13 to 19. The weight ratio of the ejected air L to the ejecting steam D is
A large blast pipe area produces a lower pressure in the cylinder but insufficient vacuum in the smoke box and therefore unsatisfactory steaming of the locomotive. It is self-evident that with a given amount of work available in the
toe of the diagram only a certain total of ejector action for cylinder and boiler together can be produced, the distribution of which depends essentially upon the blast pipe #rea. In addition to the blast pipe area, the dimensions of the stack are also important. It follows from this that there must be a best stack area for which, in consequence of the losses being a minimum, the blast pipe area is a maximum. Expressed mathematically, a = f (m) is a maximum for m = 15.5 approximately, as is demonstrated in the
above-mentioned paper by Strahl. These best stack dimensions must be strictly adhered to in a locomotive in which the ejector effect of the exhaust is utilized, and this leads to considerable difficulties in large locomotives of the present day. The length of the stack is limited to such an extent by the loading gage and the high location of the boiler, that the expansion of the jet leaving the blast pipe may not completely fill out the whole area of the stack, so that air may enter from above through the remaining area and thus partly destroy the vacuum. Actual tests, however, have shown that such loss of vacuum can easily be avoided even with a large stack area.
The further calculations are based on a 0—10 — 0 freight locomotive of the German State Railways as an example, which is described on page 242. This engine is a two cylinder superheater locomotive with a cylinder bore of 630 mm, a stroke of 660 mm, a driving wheel diameter of 1400 mm and a steam pressure of 12 at. gage. Assumed is an evaporation of 7000 kg/hour, a loss of pressure of 1 at. from boiler to valve, adiabatic expansion and compression at an entropy of 1.7, and three different speeds of 20, 40 and 60 km/hr, which are referred to below as cases I, II and III. The exhaust port of the cylinder, having a'diameter of 120 mm, is placed 7 mm off center to compensate for the angularity of the connecting rod of 2600 mm length. The diagram shown in Fig. 5 is based on these figures and the cross-shaded areas represent the periods of overlapping exhaust. The ejector
action is effective only during part of the exhaust period and therefore only the part A of the shaded area in Fig. 6 can be utilized for ejector action, the part B being lost. An increase in the exhaust lead would of course have the effect of increasing A by a part or the whole of B; but considerations of evenness and strength of the draft forbid this. Of the total work represented by the area A, a part
is lost in producing the draft in the smoke box by the rush of the steam at high velocity from the nozzle (blast nozzle loss) and a part is lost by throttling and friction in the pipes (pipe loss). Finally, after subtracting the stack loss, there remains the effective gain of work C at the compression line, corresponding to an absolute pressure pu.
The investigation begins with the determination of the free exhaust port areas for various piston positions within the limits of the exhaust lead /„. The secondary nozzle delivering steam to the feed water heater must also be included in this consideration, since the steam passing through it acts in the same way as in the main exhaust pipe. Fig. 7 illustrates the profiles of the main and secondary nozzles, as well as the piston positions at crank angle intervals of 5°. In order to find the smallest areas of opening of the nozzles, the outlines of which are shown shaded in Fig. 7 for 55° before dead center, their plan projections are first laid out and their areas multiplied by Vcos «• In calculating the weight of steam flowing through the nozzles, the velocity loss must be taken into consideration by using a velocity coefficient y = 0.9. On account of the very unfavorable nozzle profiles when first uncovered, with consequent turbulence, it was considered necessary to use a smaller value of <p at first, and therefore,' until the nozzle was fully open, (p was put = 0.7 to 0.9. As is shown in Fig. 8, the full opening
denotes the smallest mean area of opening of main and secondary nozzles combined. The other quantities were taken at their initial values, since they can vary but little in the small time intervals concerned. In this equation w — 3.35 \ p v denotes the exhaust velocity, where p is the steam pressure,
steam, and t the time. When G kg of steam have been exhausted, the piston has moved on and the cylinder volume V has reached a different value, which is tabulated in Fig. 7. By dividing the new cylinder volume by the weight of 'the remaining steam, the specific volume in the new piston position is found, thus determining the new pressure at this point.
The velocities vary considerably below the critical pressure of p = 1,73 at. abs. ; the piston however has then fully uncovered the nozzles, and Fm is therefore constant.
of the ejector effect.
It must, however, be considered that all this refers to a freight locomotive which ordinarily runs at speeds of 20 to 40 km/hour and that the back pressures remaining in the cylinder in case III are only slightly above atmosphere. A considerable time is required to exhaust the last tenth of an atmosphere on account of the low pressure difference and the small exhaust velocity. The expansion
and exhaust lines I, II and III shown in Fig. 9 were obtained point by point in this manner, corresponding to speeds of 20, 40 and 60 km/hour. The part of the exhaust line where the ejector action comes into effect was also determined point by point, the weights of steam ejected G2 being calculated by means of equation (1).
As long as the pressure in the cylinder is above the critical value pk = 1,73 at. abs., the pressure energy can only be completely converted into kinetic energy by the use of conical nozzles; otherwise the jet will still possess some pressure, and the suction effect will be diminished on account of the lower velocity consequent on the decrease in specific volume. In equation (1) this is taken care of by an increase in y. The theoretical as well as the actual factors of divergence i^ and if}' were therefore calculated according to the rules of steam turbine design,
and are also tabulated in Fig. 7. According to these figures the actual divergence is insufficient in case I for crank angles of — 50° to — 30°. A correction was therefore made in the calculated values of G2. In case II the actual divergence is almost, and in Case III exactly correct, so that G2 need not be corrected. The compression lines in Fig. 9 were laid out in accordance with these results, and it is found that the initial compression pressures are respectively 0.7, 0.97 and 1.0 at. abs. for cases I, II and III.
The very small pressure reduction in cases II and III makes it desirable to analyze the losses during the exhaust period. The blast pipe loss can easily be calculated since we know the weights of steam exhausted during the time the piston travels the distances fd and /f, as well as the blast pipe area and the specific volume corresponding to atmospheric pressure. With these data the mean steam velocity at the outlet of the blast pipe and the corresponding energy may be calculated. To be exact, instead of taking the mean velocity w, it would be neces-
is not necessary. The amount of work represented by the areas A, B and C may be found with a planimeter, and the efficiency of the ejector is determined by the ratio of G2 : G, so that the remainder represents the pipe loss. The major part of the latter is caused by the throttling of the steam when entering the nozzle. A high vacuum is formed in the exhaust pipe just before and after beginning of compression but it only partly reaches the cylinder. This is taken into consideration in equation (1) by taking a lower value of n. The following table gives the relative amounts of the different losses.
It will be seen from this table that the blast nozzle loss (part A and B taken together) is approximately constant and amounts to from 41 to 36%. The pipe loss increases from 24% at low speeds to 44% at high speeds, and the work represented by area B from 11% to 30% respectively. It therefore follows that at high speeds the bad effect of area B must be eliminated, and this can be easily accomplished with a three cylinder locomotive. In such an engine, having cranks at 120° and an exhaust lead of 25%, there will always be two cylinders exhausting at the same time. The ejector effect begins at the dead center and proceeds with greater nozzle areas in the cylinder wall, with the result that the throttling loss and pipe loss are also reduced. The loss of work may therefore be divided in all three cases as follows:
locomotives.
The three cylinder locomotive also shows only a surprisingly slight gain due to the ejector effect at high speeds or early cut-offs. This is explained by the fact that the utilization of the toe of the diagram is equivalent to an enlargement of the cylinder. If the cut-off is early, then a further increase in expansion will not produce much gain. The steam consumption figures are already so low that
not much more could be desired. The saving of 12% for late cut-offs is noteworthy, because it is based on very conservative assumptions. Furthermore, the exhaust ejector effect allows of a considerable reduction of clearance volume; for instance, in the case under consideration, from 17 to 11%. Taking into account the saving due to the una-flow principle a total saving of 15% may be expected with certainty. This saving is all the more important since it occurs at heavy loads and therefore increases the hauling power of the locomotive by this amount.
Although in describing the exhaust ejector principle locomotives were considered exclusively, its field of usefulness is not limited to the latter. It may also be found advantageous in street railway locomotives, road rollers and stationary engines, as well as locomobiles which are still frequently built with two cylinders so that they may be started from any crank position, which is desirable for instance in peat pressing plants.
A series of extremely interesting experiments on the temperature conditions in a una-flow cylinder were conducted by Prof. Nagel in the engineering laboratory of the Technische Hochschule, Dresden, and described by him in the Zeit-
Dr. Mollier and the author approached the Verein deutscher Ingenieure with the request for an appropriation for investigating the temperature conditions in a una-flow cylinder. This request was granted in the most whole-hearted manner. At the same time the Saxon Government provided considerable sums for the completion of the testing plant. The una-flow cylinder used for this purpose in the engineering laboratory of the Technische Hochschule, Dresden, was built by the Ntirnberg Works of the Maschinenfabrik AugsburgNtirnberg, and took the place of the low pressure cylinder of the existing tripleexpansion engine. It was put into operation during September 1911. The cylinder as shown in Fig. 1, has a bore of 450 mm and a stroke of 650 mm, and the engine runs at 150 r. p. m.
In order to determine the thermal peculiarities of the Stumpf cycle it was planned to measure the temperature changes of the working steam at different points in the cylinder. It was later also found desirable to measure
the temperature variation of the cylinder wall. The determination of the steam temperatures offered great difficulties. It was at first attempted to use thermocouples of copper and constantan wire of 0.2 mm diameter. Tests of a similar nature on a counterflow engine in the laboratory, using the same elements, had been started five years ago, but a critical examination showed that their sensitiveness is by no means sufficient to follow the changes of temperature with the necessary speed. After long and futile experiments with thermocouples composed of thinner wires down to 0.07 mm diameter, it was found, according to a test report published in an American periodical, that wires of so small a diameter as 0.01 mm were required for the thermocouple to be sufficiently sensitive. It seemed impossible to produce thermocouples with wires of this thinness on account of the difficulty in making the junction, and for this reason the use of electric resistance thermometers was decided upon early in 1912. The material for the latter was obtained in the form of drawn tungsten filaments as used in electric lamps. A wire of about 50 mm length was wound in zigzags upon a glass frame provided with platinum hooks for this purpose, as shown in Fig. 2. The main difficulty was a satisfactory connection of the resistance unit to the lead wires in order to enable the termometers so. con-
structed to resist the effect of the steam currents inside the cylinder. The measurement of wall temperatures was rendered difficult by the fact that the insertion of the measuring unit into the cylinder wall necessitates the drilling of a hole which more or less disturbs the heat flow. This may be the cause of an erroneous temperature indication. In order to reduce this possibility to the utmost, the arrangement illustrated in Fig. 3 to 5 was employed. A hole of 15 mm diameter was drilled in the cylinder wall, into which was closely fitted a cast iron plug having a hole of 9 mm diameter bored to within 0.5 mm of the bottom. Into this hole was fitted a second cast iron plug having two drilled holes of 2 mm diameter from end to end. These holes contained the copper and constantan wires of 0.1 mm diameter insulated by small glass tubes, their
ends being embedded in grooves at the bottom surface of the cast iron plug. A thermocouple of similar construction was also fitted to the piston, as indicated at ft, in Fig. 1, and in Figs. 6 and 7. The leads of this thermocouple were carried through the hollow tail rod, provided with a porcelain lining for this purpose.
For measuring the change in voltage corresponding to the changes in temperature, a galvanometer made by Edelmann in Munich was employed. According to Fig. 8, it consists of a powerful electromagnet which is supplied with current from a storage battery. In the magnetic field is stretched a filament of gold or platinum having a diameter of from 0.002 to 0.005 mm, which carries the current to be measured. The displacement of this wire due to electro-
magnetic forces is a measure of the current flowing through the circuit, and therefore also a measure of the temperature. This displacement, although amounting to only a fraction of a millimeter, is projected on an enlarged scale onto the focal plane of a camera by means of a beam of light from a source L and a system of microscope lenses. The photographic plate is moved proportionately to the piston travel or crank angle behind a slit in the focal plane,
thus producing a photographic record of the changes of temperature with stroke or time. Special methods were devised for rapid calibration of the displacement of the filament. In Figs. 9 and 10 are reproduced two records of steam and wall temperature based on time. The remarkable 'feature about
the temperature change of the working steam is the fact that at the end of compression the latter attains temperatures of such a magnitude as were hitherto thought impossible. A terminal compression temperature of about 500° was observed when running with saturated steam of 10 at. gage. The wall temperature was measured at the points a, 6, c, d, e, /, g and /c, indicated in Fig. 1. The change of temperature at the end of the cylinder barrel at point b is of considerable significance. A series of tests made with constant cut-off
of 10% and saturated as well as superheated steam of different temperatures showed that the highest mean temperature at this point was reached when operating with saturated steam; even superheated steam of 350° did not produce the same high wall temperature. The sensitiveness of the thermocouples was raised to such a degree that the passing of every piston ring over a point of measurement produced a clearly discernible wave. The moment of passage of the several rings over the thermocouple is clearly indicated in Fig. 10 by the shading between the various lines; the diagram was taken at point d"
The above report also includes descriptions of the several instruments which were used during the tests and for the analysis of their results. Among others, there are mentioned a harmonic analyser by Mader, an instrument fitted with a microscope for measuring indicator cards, made by H. Maihak, of Hamburg, and an apparatus furnished by Steinmuller, of Gummersbach, for automatically measuring the condensate, which proved to be very exact.
The temperature diagram in the above report by Prof. Nagel merits particular attention. Instead of a terminal compression temperature of 500° for 3.3% clearance, a final temperature of 900° should be obtainable with a clearance volume of 1%. While on the one hand the terminal compression temperature was 500° for saturated steam, it decreased to 480° or 450° for increasing degrees of superheat. This may probably be attributed to the more energetic heating action of the steam jacket in the case of saturated steam. Prof. Nagel further states that the temperature at the point b of the cylinder wall, for 12% cut-off and saturated steam of 184° in the jacket, was 128°, which fell to 111° for the same cut-off and superheated steam of 220°; and again slowly rose to 118° for a further increase of the initial steam temperature to 350°. The temperature of the inner cylinder head surface was 177° for an initial or jacket steam temperature of 184°, the total variation during one revolution being only 0,5°. The temperatures at the points *, c, d, (Fig. 1) were found to be 128°, 102° and 83°, with a total fluctuation of 3°, 3° and 2.8° respectively. At the point k on the piston, distant 36 mm from the cylinder wall, the temperature was found to be 164.5° with a total fluctuation of 1.3°. Attention is especially called to the latter figures, since they prove the statements previously made concerning the favorable thermal action of the piston head surface. At the points of measurement the heat had to penetrate a metal thickness of 0.65 mm. It will also be noticed in Fig. 9 that a very pronounced kink occurs in the temperature curve where the steam changes from the saturated to the superheated state, and also that an abrupt drop in temperature takes place at the moment of admission, from the high terminal compression temperature of about 530° to that of the live steam.
The contrary effect of heating by the jacket steam and cooling by the cylinder steam at the point a is also evident in Fig. 9, as well as the corresponding small temperature fluctuation at this point during the complete cycle, considered apart from the sudden rise due to the heat of compression. The comparatively high mean temperature and small fluctuation at the point d are also noticeable in Fig. 10.
In Fig. 11 is shown an especially clear temperature diagram in which the kinks in the compression and expansion lines corresponding to the change from saturated to superheated steam are clearly noticeable.
There is a surprisingly high temperature during the last part of expansion, the first part of compression and especially during exhaust (about 100°), although the engine was operated with a vacuum of 98%. As this card was taken at the cylinder side of the cover, the explanation is easily found in the great flow of heat from the cover to the working steam during that time.
or jacket temperature.
A close study of the temperature diagrams given in Figs. 9 and 10 and 11 has as its final result a confirmation of the thermal advantages of the una-flow principle and the jacketing of the heads.
This is still more emphasized by the comparison of the una-flow temperature diagram (Fig. 11) taken by Prof. Nagel with a counter- flow temperature diagram taken by E. T. Adams & T. Hall from a common slide valve engine of the Sibley College-Cornell University, as shown in Fig. 12. The comparison elucidates the striking thermal difference between both engines. Whereas the una-flow engine shows the highest temperature at the inlet end and the lowest at the exhaust end, the counter-flow engine shows quite a thermal mixture distributed over both strokes. Interesting is the postponement of the phases of high metal temperature caused by the preceding phases of high steam temperature in the counter-flow engine. -
The una-flow engine has found a very wide use as a stationary prime mover mainly by reason of its simplicity, its straight line construction, its high economy and its adaptability to changing load requirements. The tandem counterflow engine which still comes occasionally into competition with it, is at a disadvantage on account of its two cylinders, its two pistons, its piping and the inaccessibility of its exhaust valves.
The conditions of close regulation required of stationary engines, in which may be included engines for electric current generation, are satisfied in the unaflow engine in the best possible manner since the action of the governor is direct and is not impeded by steam already contained in the engine, as is the case in multiple expansion engines where the effect of such steam on the regulation makes itself unpleasantly noticeable.
The range of cut-off in una-flow' engines is usually from 0 to 25%, although cut-offs are found up to 40%, or even 50 or 60% for instance in rolling mill engines. The range of the governor must include zero cut-off, in which case the inlet valve does not open at all. The lead of the steam valves at all cut-offs must be kept down to the minimum or reduced to nothing if possible, since large lead causes condensing engines to knock badly, especially if the clearance is large and the vacuum high. Non-condensing engines with large clearance and long compression always run quietly and can therefore stand more lead.
It is easily possible to start engines having 25% maximum cut-off even under load and with a directly driven air pump, more particularly if an additional clearance space is provided and opened up during the first strokes until sufficient vacuum is generated. The best location for these additional clearance pockets is in the cylinder head opposite the end of the cylinder, so that for condensing service they will act as a very effective insulation between cylinder head and frame, while providing double the amount of cover jacket surface for non-condensing operation.
Every condensing stationary una-flow engine should be equipped with additional clearance spaces in order to facilitate starting if the air pump is directly driven, and to allow of running the engine without the condenser.
The clearance volume averages about 1,5 to 2% for condensing operation and high vacuum, and 13 to 28.% if the additional clearance spaces are opened up for non-condensing service (see page 48).
In non-condensing engines the necessary clearance may be arranged in the cupped ends of the piston. On account of the large work of compression such engines require comparatively heavy flywheels.
Since the una-flow engine has only two inlet valves, the use of a lay-shaft is unnecessary. As is shown in Figs. 1 to 3 of this chapter, and in Figs. 4 and 5 (page 10), the inlet valves may be driven from an eccentric on the crankshaft
acted on by a shaft governor, by means of a rocker arm and cam mechanism (Stumpf gear). A lay-shaft with its bevel gears and bearings is thus dispensed with. Consideration must be given to the expansion of the cylinder. If the latter is provided with steam jackets receiving their supply from a connection to the steam pipe ahead of the main stop valve, then the cylinder may be warmed up prior to starting, and the valve gear, if set correctly for the hot engine, will give proper distribution from the very start. If the cylinder is unjacketed, then the steam distribution will be incorrect for a while after starting until the cylinder has reached its expanded condition. It is always advisable to design the valve gear with outside admission, or in other words to arrange cams and rollers so as to make their action conform to the steam lap of a slide valve, so that while the cylinder is still insufficiently heated, the head end valve will open late instead of too early. This negative lead combined with a simultaneous earlier cut-off will do less harm than an early opening of the valve, which may cause the engine to knock.
There remains another possibility of correcting the bad influence of the expansion of the cylinder even if the latter is not provided with steam jackets, by extending the cylinder lagging around the rod between the valve bonnets (Fig. 4), thus heating it to approximately the mean cylinder temperature. It is also possible to drive the head end valve through an equal-armed rocker mounted at the center line of the exhaust belt. This insures permanent correct motion for the head end valve.
and the steam distribution must always be correct.
Fig. 5 illustrates details of a valve bonnet as used with the Stumpf gear. The cam is connected to the valve crosshead, and the reciprocating slide is grooved to accommodate the roller and at the same time form an oil bath. The guide for the reciprocating slide is long enough so that the groove never runs beyond it, the loss of oil by splashing and the entrance of dust thus being prevented. The oil collecting in the groove is transferred by the roller to the cam, so that perfect lubrication and reliable operation of these important parts is insured.
Fig. 6 shows a twin una-flow engine with Stumpf gear, in which a jack shaft having two crank throws is driven by a pair of eccentrics on the crank shaft set at 90°. This jack shaft carries a shaft governor acting upon an eccentric on each side of it, which operates the valve mechanism of its corresponding cylinder through a rocker arm. In this way the valve gears are positively connected, so that both of them always give the same cut-off. The short vertical eccentric rod also helps to equalize the cut-offs of both cylinder ends, and the small diameter of the jack shaft facilitates the design of the governor. This engine possesses great reserve power since each half is able to carry the whole load.
The elimination of exhaust valves and their gear will be found very convenient in horizontal engines, since it leaves the whole space underneath the cylinder free for piping and permits of a close arrangement of the condenser. (See Figs. 2 to 5, chapter I, 3b, p. 69—70.)
The Erste B runner Maschinenfabrikgesellschaft was the first concern to take up the una-flow engine, and decided to rebuild an old 80 HP. single cylinder condensing engine with a forked frame by fitting it with a una-flow cylinder, designed by the author, having a bore of 400 mm and a stroke of 420 mm (Fig. 7). On the free end of the crank shaft was mounted a shaft governor acting on the eccentric operating the inlet valves by means of a rocker arm on the exhaust belt and a pair of Lentz cam mechanisms. Although this first design was susceptible of improvement in many respects, its economy even with rather low vacuum was 'equal to that of a compound engine of the same size.
the same Company.
Shortly after the latter had taken up this work, the Elsassische Maschinenfabrik decided on a large scale experiment. Their first una-flow engine, built to the author's
design, had a cylinder bore of 640 mm and a stroke of 1000 mm, with a rated load of 500 HP. (Figs. 1 and 9). This engine, which was directly connected to an electric generator, was tested by the Elsassische Verein der Dampfkessel-Besitzer (Alsatian Association of Steam Boiler Owners), on February 21, 1909. The result of a trial of four hours and eight minutes duration showed a steam consumption of 4.6 kg/I HP-hour for an initial steam pressure of 12.6 at. gage and a temperature of 331° G, at a speed of 121 r. p. m. This is a very creditable
result if it is borne in mind that the engine did not derive the full benefit from the vacuum on account of too small an exhaust pipe and the use of an oil separator between cylinder and condenser. (Back pressure 0,145 at. abs.) By correct design
of the condensing equipment in the way previously suggested, by jacketing of the cylinder, and the use of tighter valves, the steam consumption could be considerably diminished, as proved by later engines built by the same makers.
A una-flow engine built by Burmeister & Wain, of Copenhagen, and designed by the author, is shown in Figs. 12 and 13. The direct connection of the condenser to the cylinder should be noted, as well as the method of supporting the
rear end of the latter on two adjustable rods, and the simple air pump drive. The cylinder is left unjacketed on account of the use of superheated steam (Fig. 14). The head jackets, however, are carried up to the point of normal cut-off. The
piston is turned to a smaller diameter for a corresponding distance to provide for expansion. The additional clearance pockets are fitted with two clearance valves, one one each side of the inlet, one of which is sufficient for starting, while the
second one has to be opened for non-condensing operation at full speed (Fig. 15). The area of contact between cylinder head and frame is kept as small as possible in order to reduce the conduction of heat to a minimum. The cylinder head casting is perfectly symmetrical so as to increase its range of usefulness.
A single-acting una-flow engine built by Burmeister & Wain is shown in Fig. 16. Engines of this type are widely used in Danish dairies. The horizontal valve is operated by a cam mechanism directly connected to a shifting eccentric on the crank shaft. (Figs. 17 and 18.)
a cylinder bore of 650 mm, a stroke of 1000 mm, and a rated load of 500 HP at a speed of 130 r. p. m. It has run for long periods at an overload of nearly 100%. The average cut-off of una-flow engines at rated load being only about 10%, their
pressure 8 at. gage.
This engine has nearly the same dimensions of driving parts as the one just described. The diameter of the piston rod is 250 mm, that of the tail rod 225 mm, the crosshead pin is 400 mm diameter by 600 mm long, the crank pin 550 mm diameter by 600 mm long, and the main bearing 730 mm diameter by 1200 mm long. The use of a side crank in such a large engine of short stroke is noteworthy. In order to reduce the overhang, the crank and crank pin are of cast steel in one piece, with a hub length of only 450 mm (hub length : shaft = 0.62). The side crank construction, together with its corresponding type of frame, makes the engine simple and inexpensive. The same cannot perhaps be said of the Zvonicek valve gear employed on this engine, but it has the advantage of giving the late cutoffs essential for rolling mill engines, and of permitting the use of a standard governor which is in many cases preferred to a shaft governor on account of its simplicity and accessibility. The Zvonicek gear consists of a fixed eccentric, the strap of which
is provided with a cam profile and held at its armlike extension under the control of the governor. The combined motion of eccentric and cam is transmitted to the valve bonnet cam mechanism by a reach rod provided with a roller at its lower end.
Figs. 23 and 24 illustrate clearly the trend of development due to the unaflow engine and show the replacement of the two cylinders of an old tandem counterflow engine by a single una-flow cylinder. A number of such reconstructions have been carried out by Ehrhardt & Sehmer and other firms.
An engine built by Musgrave & Sons, Ltd. of Globe Iron Works, Bolton, England, is shown in Fig. 25. This firm is credited with the introduction of the una-flow engine on a large scale in Great Britain and colonies, the Stumpf valve gear being employed exclusively. A test carried out by Mr. F. Thomas on one of their engines, having a cylinder bore of 685.8 mm and a stroke of 914.4 mm gave the following results : Steam pressure 10.67 at. gage at the throttle, superheat 10°, speed 129 r. p. m., vacuum at the cylinder 66 cm, load 317 I HP, and steam consumption 4,98 kg/I HP-hour. The cylinder barrel was unjacketed.
Stork & Co., of Hengelo, Holland, also employ only the Stumpf gear on their engines, one of which is shown in Fig. 26. This firm has been very successful in introducing the una-flow engine in Holland and the Dutch colonies. Stork & Go. report that a test of one of their engines (650 mm bore by 900 mm stroke, speed 125 r. p. m.) showed a steam consumption of 4.86 kg/I HP-hour, the steam pressure being 8.24 at. gage, and the temperature 248° G. The cylinder barrel was un jacketed.
The type of una-flow engine built by the Maschinenfabrik Augsburg- Niirnberg is shown in Figs. 27 and 28. This cam receives its motion from a short jack shaft which in turn is driven by the governor eccentric on the lay shaft. The clearance valve is situated opposite the steam valve and is arranged to act automatically in case of sudden failure of the vacuum. Partially or entirely unbalanced inlet and spring-loaded clearance valves may be made to serve the same purpose.
One engine of this type (903 mm cylinder bore, 1000 mm stroke) was furnished to J. P. Stieber, at Roth near Niirnberg and was tested by the Bayerische Revisionsverein on February 23, 1912.
This engine was designed for a steam temperature of 330° G for which reason the cylinder barrel was left unjacketed. With jackets the steam consumption would in this case have been considerably lower on account of the beneficial effect of cylinder jackets for small cut-offs and low initial temperatures. On the other hand, the results once more demonstrate the small variation in steam consumption for large ranges of load (473 to 1109 HP) when no cylinder jackets are employed.
An engine built by the Gorlitzer Maschinenbauanstalt is shown in Fig. 29. The cylinder has a bore of 1100 mm, a stroke of 1300 mm, and the engine runs at 91.6 r. p. m. The valve gear comprises a lay shaft with governor and shifting eccentric acting on short rocking shafts alongside the cylinder. The ends of the cylinder are jacketed. The air pump is driven from an extension of the tail rod.
Fig. 30 shows one of the latest engines built by this Company. There is only one governor eccentric, and the valves are operated through Lentz cam mechanisms from a rocking shaft on the cylinder, having two levers set at 180°. The air pump
is again driven from the tail rod. In the single-eccentric type of valve gear the lay-shaft as well as the hole in the latter for the synchronizing device are shorter, and the governor may be placed close to the rear bearing. The basic idea of this gear is similar to the one used by the Maschinenfabrik Augsburg- Nurnberg. The single-eccentric gear is also described in the Z. d. V. d. I., 1914, No. 19, page 729. The valves are placed on the cylinder and consequently have somewhat larger clearance volume and surfaces. The jacketing is excellent; the arrangement of the condenser, however, is not free from objections. The firm reports the following steam consumption results.
The greatest credit for the commercial introduction of the una-flow engine is due to Sulzer Bros., of Winterthur and Ludwigshafen. The cylinder of their first engine, which is^ in operation in the brass rolling mill of Wieland Bros., at Ulm, was designed by the author (Fig. 4, chap I, Ib, p. 10). The design of later engines was based on this first one, the only change being the substitution for the Stumpf gear of a lay-shaft gear, having two eccentrics which operate the valves by means of cams and roller levers pivoted in the valve bonnets (Fig. 31). The reciprocating roller slide of the Stumpf gear has therefore been replaced by the pivoted roller lever. The governor is placed close to the rear lay-shaft bearing
800 mm, and a speed
of/150 r. p. m., showed that for a steam pressure of 11 to 12 at. gage and a temperature of 250°, 12 to 18 kg of cylinder oil were consumed weekly, and 8 to 10 kg of bearing oil were added to the circulation when running 10 hours daily and six
days per week. The whole of the oil in circulation, amounting to about 1 barrel, is replaced every 6 to 9 months. A hand pump is provided to supply the bearings with oil before starting. As shown in the sectional drawing Fig. 32, the cylinder design incorporates all the essentials previously mentioned. It is, however, to be
purpose of which could be otherwise accomplished simpler and better.
Extensive experiments have enabled Sulzer Bros, to find the proper mixtures for cylinder and piston castings, whereby reliable operation of these parts is insured without the use of a tail rod. The cylinders are bored barrel-shaped so that the cylinder surface becomes almost exactly cylindrical under operating conditions. To these precautions, in combination with a thoroughly reliable lubricating system, must be ascribed the fact that Sulzer Bros, have never had piston troubles. All of their una-flow engines have therefore been built with self-supporting pistons, except the engine shown in Figs. 33 and 34, supplied to the Crefeld Cotton Spinning Mill, and a series of engines supplied to the Badische Anilin- and Soda-Fabrik, where a tail rod was used to meet the purchaser's wishes.
A Sulzer stationary engine of standard design is shown in Fig. 35 (350 BHP at 150 r. p. m.), while Fig. 36 shows two Sulzer una-flow engines of 450 BHP each, supplied to the Hafod Copper Works, Swansea, South Wales.
The Maschinenfabrik Esslingen employs a particularly effective method of boring una-flow cylinders under temperature conditions closely approaching those of actual operation. The cylinder ends are heated to a high temperature by admitting live steam to the jackets, and the middle is cooled approximately to condenser temperature by a blast of air through the exhaust belt. The cylinder is then bored cylindrically, and the piston is turned smaller than the cylinder bore with a correct allowance, a difference of four thousandths of the diameter being usually sufficient. Since the piston expands more than the cylinder, and is of great length, ample bearing surface will be obtained. The piston heads should be turned somewhat smaller in order to allow for their greater expansion.
A piston as shown in Fig. 5, chap. I, 4, p. 77, fitted with bronze shoes, offers still greater safety against seizing, and this is true to a still greater degree of the floating piston having clearance all around.
A good distribution of oil to the piston and cylinder wall will then be obtained. The oil feeds should preferably be placed in the center of or close to the exhaust belt, where the cylinder has the lowest temperature. One feed should be arranged on the vertical center line and one each at either side in or below the horizontal plane, each feed being supplied by a separate plunger. Complaints which are sometimes made regarding the high oil consumption of una-flow engines frequently arise from defective methods of introducing the oil. It is fundamentally wrong to supply two or more feeds from the same pump plunger.
feld Cotton Spinning Mill, built by Sulzer Bros.
Steam was generated by four Lancashire (twin furnace) boilers, having a total heating surface of 400 sqm. A fifth boiler, the steam and feed lines of which were blanked off from the others, supplied steam for heating purposes. The feed water
was weighed, transferred to a large tank and fed to the boilers by means of a centrifugal pump. Indicator cards were taken every 10 minutes, and the steam pressure, superheat and vacuum were recorded at the same intervals. The guarantees given for this engine were:
was necessary.
According to the guarantees, the steam consumption increases from 4.45 kg to 4.65 kg or 0.2 kg for an increase of load from 1590 to 1920 HP, or 330 HP; therefore for an increase in load of 1632.8 — 1590 =42.8 HP, the permissible
this engine was not jacketed.
A una-flow engine designed by the author for the Soumy Machine Works is shown in Figs. 37 to 39. It has valve gear of the Stumpf type and is designed to be used with saturated steam of 7 at. gage. The cylinder has a bore and stroke of 450 and 600 mm respectively, and the speed is 150 r. p. m. The resilient inlet
valves and the clearance valves are designed and arranged in such a manner that the total clearance volume amounts to only 1.24% for a linear piston clearance of 3 mm. The nut is flush with the piston so as to avoid the clearance volume of about 0.5% resulting from a projecting nut. The two-piece cast steel self-supporting piston is fitted with a bronze shoe fastened to it with copper rivets; the rest of the piston has several millimeters clearance all over. Each half carries three somewhat narrow rings, none of which overruns the cylinder bore. The harmful surfaces are small, and are jacketed and machined in addition. The ends of the cylinder are provided with jackets since saturated steam is used. The suction of the air pump takes place through ports, and the discharge valves are arranged in the heads, so that the clearance is small and the suction effect a maximum. The condenser is placed immediately under the cylinder with a connection of large area.
nected to the steam main ahead of the stop valve. This allows the cylinder to
be warmed up before starting, and the valve gear therefore gives correct distribution from the very beginning. The eccentric rod is shortened and guided by a swinging link interposed in the valve gear, thus compensating the angularity of the connecting rod. This equalization of cut-offs and valve lifts at the two cylinder ends is very complete for all cut-offs, which range from 0 to 25%.
of Oswego, N. Y., are given in
Figs. 41 to 44. The head and the cylinder ends are jacketed and the additional clearance spaces are arranged in the cylinder heads. The upper resilient seat of the valves is made of steel and shrunk in place on the cast iron valve body. For non-condensing service the engine is fitted with a piston having cupped ends and the length of compression is 90%.
Fig. 46, illustrating a similar engine
of 30 HP designed by the author for an English firm. The cylinder bore is 220 mm, the stroke 160 mm, and the speed 400 r. p. m. The governor eccentric oscillates a roller lever acting on a triangular cam which transmits the motion to the valves. The whole cam mechanism is enclosed in a separate housing filled with oil. The cylinder ends are jacketed, and the additional clearance pockets are formed in the cylinder heads and arranged to be heated by live steam when operating condensing. The perfect tightness of- the single-beat valves employed, the small clearance space and 'clearance surfaces, the generous jacketing, and the ample exhaust port area all combine with the una-flow action to insure high economy. The single-beat valves provide absolute safety against damage from water which may be trapped in the cylinder.
the center of the cylinder heads. The valve gear consists of a cam mechanism with reciprocating slides operated through a bell crank by an eccentric and shaft governor located at the free end of the crank shaft. The cranks are set at 180° in order to obtain proper balance at the high speed at which this engine is t<5 run. Single-beat valves are permissible because the high compression balances the pressure against which they open. The valve gear parts may, however, be easily made strong enough to withstand the load if the valve should be lifted when there is no compression to balance the
pressure upon it. The cylinder head proper is a thin dished steel plate, and the cylinder is provided with a forged steel liner. The cylinder head is jacketed and the upper end of the cylinder is also heated by live steam admitted to a number of turned grooves. Each groove communicates with the adjacent ones at opposite sides so that a continuous flow may take place through the grooves. The engine is intended for use with saturated steam, for which reason the unjacketed part of the cylinder next to the exhaust belt is short. The forged steel cylinder liner should be made of hard material in order to insure satisfactory service of the cast iron piston rings. The top surface of the piston is arched to
provide sufficient strength with a light section. The small thickness of cylinder head and cylinder liner is intended to bring the temperature of the harmful surfaces as close as possible to that of the live steam, in order to reduce their temperature variation. This design allows the additional harmful surface to be reduced
to as small an amount as 8%. The flow of steam through this cylinder takes place in such a perfect manner as cannot be attained by any other cylinder design. The steam enters centrally at the top, spreads out in all directions in the narrow space between cylinder head and piston, and leaves in a similarly even manner at the
during the outstroke and is completely removed by the rush of exhausting steam,
this action being assisted by the arched form of the piston head. The una-flo\v principle, together with the very favorable flow conditions, the thorough draining of the cylinder at each stroke, the ample jacketing, the perfect tightness of the
Fig. 48 shows an interesting cylinder design with automatic auxiliary exhaust valves. (See also chapters on withdrawal of sfeteam and on locomobiles.) This engine is a una-flow engine in a restricted sense only, since at light loads the exhaust steam leaves through the valves only, while for longer cut-offs part of it exhausts also through the ports. The ports in the cylinder leading to the auxiliary exhaust valves are overrun by the piston, thus determining the compression. The auxiliary
exhaust valves in this design are operated automatically by the working steam of the cylinder; they may, however, be opened and closed by a separate valve motion. On the stem of each exhaust valve is mounted a piston working in a cylinder
open until at the end of the stroke the steam pressure rises sufficiently to close it. Exhaust therefore takes place through the valves until the piston overruns the auxiliary exhaust ports. The clearance space in this design is not larger than that of an ordinary condensing engine, and the length of compression can be chosen
be a small increase in the surface loss. In order to keep the latter down to a minimum, the auxiliary exhaust valves should be placed on the cylinder barrel instead of in the heads, and arranged so that in the dead center position of the piston at least one, or preferably two rings seal the auxiliary exhaust ports.
If this is done, the compression steam, assisted later by the live steam, will close the valves before the piston uncovers their ports on the expansion stroke, whereby direct exhaust of live steam is avoided.
The auxiliary exhaust has no value for condensing engines, but some value for non-condensing una-flow engines with high back pressure and low initial pressure, where it will result in a reduction in steam consumption, especially in the case of jacketed cylinders, with the further advantage of higher mean effective pressures, and therefore smaller cylinders, driving parts and flywheels.
shows delayed compression by the use of auxiliary exhaust valves (Fig. 50) arranged at an intermediate point of the stroke. The clearance space may be reduced as much as can be realized by the best practical design, and the ports leading to the valves may be arranged so as to give a compression complying with the rules developed on page 41, 42, 43. Single-beat valves are employed, since the pressure upon them is relieved before they open, by the piston uncovering the main exhaust ports. The auxiliary exhaust valves are arranged on the lower side of the cylinder for drainage. The inlet valves are placed on the upper side of the cylinder, and are constructed as double-beat valves (Fig. 51) in accordance with the principles utilized in the Sulzer valve shown in Fig. 10, p. 88. The upper valve face is formed on a disc separate from the main valve body, and the two parts are pressed together by a spring, thus allowing a limited amount of movement between them so that the faces can adapt themselves to a change in distance between the fixed seats due to expansion. Snap rings are fitted between the two parts of the valve so as to seal the joint. An eccentric controlled by a flywheel governor operates a rocking
shaft placed between or alongside the inlet valves, the latter being actuated by cams and levers. The axial arrangement of the rocking shaft entirely eliminates the effect of the expansion of the cylinder on the steam distribution. The cam
In Fig. 50 is shown a device to adapt the engine automatically to both condensing and non-condensing operation. The shaft A carries an idler lever B which is actuated By the rolling lever C. The latter is operated by the engine valve gear through the shaft D on the outside of the cam housing. The pocket E is connected to the central exhaust belt by means of a small pipe. A spring in this pocket bears on the idler shaft so as to keep the idler lever in register with the valve stem and the rolling lever C below it. When the vacuum increases sufficiently, the shaft
is drawn into the pocket against the spring, so that the idler and rolling levers no longer register and the valve remains closed. When the vacuum fails, the spring will cause the levers to fall in line, so that the valve becomes operative.
The Nordberg Mfg. Co., of Milwaukee, Wis., was the first American concern to take up the manufacture of una-flow engines with the constructional features proposed by the author, combined with a design according to their own practice (Fig. 56). The shaft gavernor on the lay shaft controls the valve mechanism in the usual way. The valves are positively opened and closed by cams, in accordance with the design originated by Prof. Doerfel, of Prague (Fig. 57 and Fig. 58). ' No springs or dashpots are required, except a short spring inserted in the connection between valve and valve stem, to insure proper closure of the valve.
A synchronizing' device is regularly furnished with all engines driving alternating current generators. A hand wheel is arranged at the end of the lay shaft, by means of which the tension of the governor springs may be varied while the engine is running to change the speed and to bring the generator into synchronism.
engines the piston rod is made hollow.
The crosshead (Fig. 60) carries a pin with tapered ends pulled into place by a large nut. The crosshead shoes are centered between the projecting flanges of the crosshead body, are faced with suitable babbitt metal and provided with a wedge and screw adjustment.
The crank end of the connecting rod is of especial interest (Fig. 61). The cylindrical stationary box is fitted into the bored eye of the rod. The adjustable box is slightly narrower than the diameter of the pin and fits into a recess in the rod. One side of the stationary box is cut away, forming a slot through which the adjustable box projects, its concave surface bearing against the pin. The stationary box is thus prevented from pinching the pin and from moving with the
latter. The adjusting wedge has the form of a cylindrical block of steel, one side of which is cut away to form a plane surface inclined to its axis and bearing against the corresponding inclined surface on the adjustable box. The wedge fits into
The frame (Figs. 63, 64) is cast in one piece with smooth surfaces and straight outlines. The center is kept as near to the foundation as possible and a great width is provided at the front of the guides, where the bending moment is a maximum. The frames are cast base uppermost, thus insuring good clean metal in the guides
the oil and its return to the lubricating system.
The moving parts of the engine are oiled by a gravity overhead lubricating system. The cylinder is lubricated by a mechanical force feed lubricator distributing oil positively to the proper points.
The main bearings (Figs. 65 and 66) are of the quarter-box type, lined with babbitt metal. The cap forms a strong tie and is relieved in the middle so that it exerts pressure directly over the quarter boxes. In the construction shown in Fig. 65, the adjustment is effected by means of heavy set screws, which are provided with steel contact blocks to prevent them from wearing into the quarter boxes, while in Fig. 66 the same effect is obtained by vertical wedges operated by screws passing through the cap.
The Nordberg Mfg. Co. also builds una-flow engines with auxiliary exhaust valves which may be put in or out of operation thus making the engines suitable for both condensing and non-condensing service.
Owing to careful use of those principles which have proved successful in Europe, especially those developed by the author, the una-flow engines built by the Nordberg Mfg. Co. may be considered among the best American machines of this type. Their first engine was fitted with Corliss valves as described in chapter 2 — 2, page 184. Still further improvement in these engines might be made by the application of high lift single beat valves without cages, thereby reducing the clearance, the harmful surfaces, and leakage, so that the water rate might be still further improved.
implies, this engine has two clearances, the first, or cylinder clearance, between the piston and the valve, and the second (EGE, Fig. 68) connecting the outer ends of the valve. In the earlier design this connection was by an external pipe (Fig. 68) but a hollow valve is now used (Fig. 71). The latter is an ordinary piston valve with snap-rings, moving in a ribbed bushing and having inside admission, as in locomotive practice with superheated steam. As indicated in the figure, the cylinder clearance is kept as small as possible. The residual steam is first compressed into both clearance spaces together, which are at that time in connection through the piston valve. Towards the end of the stroke the auxiliary clearance is shut off, so that the steam is compressed into the cylinder clearance alone. The valve then automatically connects the auxiliary clearance with the opposite end of the cylinder so that the steam compressed into the clearance now mixes with, and expands with the working steam on the return storke. This arrangement is of course only justified for non-condensing service, so as to avoid a large clearance or auxiliary exhaust valves. The una-flow principle is fully adhered to, since the exhaust steam only leaves through the central exhaust ports. The series arrangement of live steam, inlet valve, piston and exhaust is also retained, so that any leakage of steam past the piston valve cannot pass directly to the exhaust. The effect of this dual clearance principle is to raise the expansion line and lower the compression line (Fig. 69). Consequently the mean effective pressure, output and uniformity of speed are somewhat increased and the necessary flywheel weight is decreased.
Conditions in an engine of this type for condensing service are somewhat different. The piston heads are flat, but in spite of this there remains a clearance of from 5°/0 to 7%. In this case also the auxiliary clearance connects the valve head pockets. In addition, a further clearance pocket is arranged to be connected to the cylinder by a spring-loaded valve, which may be opened or closed by hand, or operated automatically, thereby adapting the condensing cylinder to non-condensing service (Fig. 72). Increased compression will cause the valve to open against the spring, thus relieving the pressure by admitting steam into the pocket.
The heads and ends of the cylinder barrels are jacketed for both condensing and non-condensing service. The piston valve is actuated in both cases by an eccentric on the crankshaft controlled by a shaft governor.
The Filer & Stowell Co., of Milwaukee, Wis., successfully built a una-flow engine with drop piston valves and a valve gear resembling a Corliss gear, the valves being located at the side of the cylinder barrel. In the later type, the valves were placed in the heads on the cylinder center line, thus decreasing the clearance and making a better jacket arrangement possible. For higher engine speeds, poppet valves were adopted later, operated from eccentrics on a lay shaft, with a positive opening and closing motion, the eccentrics being controlled by a lay shaft governor placed between them. The result is an engine similar in many respects to the Nordberg construction, the chief points of difference being the valve gear and bonnet design. The Filer & Stowell Go. evidently consider thorough jacketing of much importance, and therefore their claim of a consumption of 137/s Iks. °f saturated steam per I HP per hour for a una-flow engine having a 16 X 30" cylinder, 125 Ibs./sq. in initial pressure, 25" vacuum and 150 r. p. m. may well be credited. For
Fig. 73 illustrates a Filer & Stowell 20 X 22" una-flow engine driving a 200 kW direct current generator. This engine is arranged for condensing and noncondensing service, auxiliary valves being employed in preference to clearance spaces because of more or less extended periods of operation with as high a back pressure as 5 Ibs/sq in. The clearance space formed in each head by the auxiliary exhaust valve pocket may be closed off by a hand-operated clearance valve, so that no clearance is added when running condensing. If, for some reason, the vacuum should drop to 20" or 22", the hand-operated clearance may be opened, thus adding the clearance formed by the exhaust valve pocket, the valve itself remaining closed. If the back pressure is further increased, the mechanism actuating the exhaust valves may be put in action and the length of compression varied to suit the back pressure while the engine is in operation.
Fig. 74 shows a group of five 18 X 42" una-flow cylinders which are part of an order of six 18 X 42" and six 20 X 48" cylinders. Four of the 18 X 42" cylinders are to take the place of those of two 18" and 36 X 42" cross-compound corliss engines driving generators, and the two others are to replace those of two ammonia boosters. The six 20 X 48" cylinders are to supplant cross-compound cylinders driving ice machines. All these engines are installed at Swift & Company's plant at La Plata, Argentine Republic, and are to operate with 175 Ibs/sq in. steam pressure and 150° superheat. All these cylinders have additional clearance spaces and clearance valves for non-condensing service. The trend of development is thus the same as in Europe, where many old compound cylinders are being replaced by single-stage una-flow cylinders.
Figs. 3 and 1 show a side elevation, a vertical section and an indicator card of a condensing Corliss una-flow engine. The eccentric on the crank shaft directly operates the two valves placed in the cylinder heads. The release is effected in the ordinary way by a cam under control of the governor. The valves are closed
by oil-vacuum dash pots (Fig. 2) which have absolutely no rebound after the valve has closed. The oscillation which is so common with air dash pots is entirely avoided, since air which is a compressible medium is replaced by oil which is incompressible. For this reason the lap of the valve can be made extremely small
and the latch only takes hold and begins to move the valve at a time when the latter is already partly balanced by the compression (Fig. 1). Further experience is required to find the smallest allowable lap of the valve in combination with the proper construction of a reliable oil vacuum dash pot which exactly locates the
valve in its end position, in order to reduce as far as possible its movement when unbalanced. In this manner it should be possible to obtain reliable operation with high pressures and superheat. Provision must be made in the valve gear to close the valve positively in case the force of the oil dash pot should be insufficient for proper closure, owing to very small cut-offs or other reasons.
A negative angle of advance of 45° gives an ample range of cut-off and also insures release under all conditions, if the governor connections are properly adjusted. The omission of the wrist plate and the attainment of extremely small clearance volumes and surfaces are further valuable features of this design.
Fig. 4 shows a Corliss una-flow cylinder as constructed by the Nordberg Manufacturing Company, of Milwaukee, Wis. In accordance with the above principles, the inlet valves have very small lap and are multiported in addition, so
that four edges open simultaneously. In this way the rotative movement of the valve is reduced and high speeds are rendered possible. The additional clearance volume and clearance valves for non-condensing operation are placed in the lower part of the cylinder heads.
In Fig. 5 is shown a non-condensing Corliss engine with the inlet valves arranged in the heads, the auxiliary exhaust valves at the ends of the cylinder barrel, and the una-flow exhaust ports in the center.
The eccentric on the crankshaft has a negative angle of advance of 15° and drives the inlet valves directly through an ordinary Corliss mechanism, while the motion of the exhaust valves is derived from that of the inlet valve levers. The inlet valves have the ordinary releasing gear. Admission and cut-off are determined by the steam valves, the beginning of exhaust is fixed by the piston uncovering the central exhaust ports and compression is delayed until the auxiliary exhaust ports are overrun on the return stroke. The valve gear proper therefore
has no influence whatever upon the exhaust phases. This renders possible the use of a negative angle of advance and therewith a range of cut-off of from 0 to more, than 60%. The length of compression may be reduced to about 8% of the stroke in connection with the- extremely small clearance volume realized with this design. The auxiliary exhaust valves are protected by the piston rings against high pressures and temperatures during a considerable part of the admission period. They are subject to pressure only after the piston has uncovered the auxiliary ports, and do not open until the outer dead center is reached, when the main exhaust ports are wide open. Closure of the valves takes place after the piston has again covered the auxiliary ports. The actual closure of the auxiliary exhaust is therefore so rapid that the indicator card shows sharp corners at this point. Since the inlet valves also close quickly, and as the clearance volume and surfaces are small, a low steam consumption may be expected with this type of engine.
Steam may be withdrawn or bled from a una-flow cylinder by means of check valves placed at suitable points, as shown in Fig. 1. For instance, by providing ports at a distance of say 10% of the piston stroke from the opening edge of the main exhaust ports, the steam withdrawn through the former may be used in heating systems, to drive exhaust steam turbines or engines, or for other purposes. It is possible, for example, to withdraw steam at a pressure of 0,5 to 1,0 at. abs. from the cylinder of a condensing engine and to use it in an exhaust steam turbine driving a rotary air pump. The bleeder valves could also be placed closer to the
cylinder ends in order to withdraw steam at a higher pressure for heating purposes and the like. A plurality of such heating systems may thus be arranged in series, as shown in Fig. 1, for heating the feed water to a high temperature. In this case, however, a more or less noticeable loss of diagram area must be expected.
An example of such withdrawal of steam is shown in Fig. 2, which illustrates a una-flow locomotive cylinder fitted with automatic bleeder valves. In locomotives this method of withdrawing steam may very well be considered for train heating or feed water heating. The diagrams of Figs. 3 and 4 give the quanti-
ties which may be withdrawn at different locomotive speeds with valves placed at 35 and 50% of the stroke before the dead center. The quantities of steam withdrawn are the larger, the greater the area of the valves, the greater their distance
from the exhaust end, the lower the speed and the lower the required pressure. The following table gives the quantities of steam withdrawn for different engine speeds and pressures of the heating steam, the bleeder valves being situated either 35 or 50% of the stroke from the outer dead center. The figures denote quantities of steam withdrawn in percent of the total working steam in the cylinder.
This very important problem of bleeding steam may also be solved by means of a compound una-flow engine with a tandem arrangement as shown in Fig. 5. The piston of the high pressure una-flow cylinder is fitted with a piston valve driven from the main connecting rod, which provides the necessary short compression. The same effect may be obtained by the use of automatic auxiliary exhaust valves operated by the cylinder steam and placed near the ends of the cylinder, their ports being controlled by the piston (Fig. 6). The low pressure cylinder is of standard una-flow construction, although its clearance volume must be increased to about 7 to 10% according to the receiver pressure. The cut-off of the low pressure cylinder may be controlled by a pressure regulator under the influence of the receiver pressure (Fig. 7). This regulator consists of a cast iron housing partly filled
with mercury carrying an iron float, the upper end of which is connected in a suitable way to the inlet gear of the low pressure cylinder. The position of this float changes with the height of the mercury column displaced by the receiver pressure. The connection is made in such a way that the regulator shortens the cut-off of the low pressure cylinder for a decreasing receiver pressure. In the arrangement shown in Fig. 7 the pressure regulator acts upon an intermediate pin in the drive from the eccentric to the inlet valves, in such a way as to displace the rods from a straight line to a position on either side of it, thus producing the desired change of cut-off, within certain limits, with a permissible change in lead. The piston of the auxiliary exhaust valve (Fig. 6) is under the influence of the cylinder pressure. The valve will therefore be closed whenever the pressure inside the cylinder is high. It is opened by a spring in the valve bonnet when the main piston uncovers the exhaust ports and also when the expansion reaches the back pressure before this occurs. The losses accompanying a loop in the exhaust line of the indicator card for small cut-offs are therefore avoided. It is also possible to use large high pressure cylinders even for long cut-offs and yet avoid a large pressure drop at the end of expansion.
The opening and closing of these automatic valves is rendered noiseless by an adjustable double-acting oil dash pot (Fig. 48, ch. II, 1, p. 166). The lower resilient seat insures tightness of the valve. The design permits of ample valve lift and
valve areas, quiet operation and small clearance, as well as very favorable sealing conditions during the first and last part of the stroke, when the piston rings come between the inlet and auxiliary exhaust valves. Further valuable features of this design are found in the arrangement of all the valves and their gear on top of the cylinder, and the unhampered disposal of all the piping together with the condenser underneath the same, so that every pipe flange is easily accessible.
exhaust.
In Fig. 8 is shown an arrangement which makes it possible to withdraw steam during both the expansion and compression strokes. The una-flow cylinder of standard design is fitted at each end with an automatic auxiliary exhaust valve controlled by the cylinder steam as previously described. The upper end of the stem of the balanced valve carries a piston working in a cylinder the upper side of which is connected by a pipe with the corresponding end of the engine cylinder. This pipe connection is fitted with a reducing valve which opens towards the valve cylinder when a certain pressure is reached. The same end of the valve cylinder also has a second pipe connection leading to a pilot valve communicating with the
condenser, which is operated by a mechanism driven by the layshaft. When this pilot valve is lifted, pressure release occurs above the piston of the auxiliary exhaust valve, and the latter is opened by its spring, thus admitting steam from the engine cylinder into the heating connection. When the pressure inside the cylinder falls to or below that carried in the heating system, a return flow of steam is prevented by the closure of a number of automatic metal strip flap valves disposed around the auxiliary exhaust valve. The latter, however, remains open until after the auxiliary exhaust ports are covered by the main piston on its return, when the rising compression pressure acts upon the valve piston through the pipe connection previously mentioned, and thus closes the valves. The opening or timing of the small pilot valve, which is operated by the layshaft, is controlled by the pressure in the heating system by means of an apparatus containing an iron float carried on mercury. The lower mercury level is exposed to the pressure in the
heating system, and a fall of pressure in the latter will therefore lower the mercury column and change the position of the float, thus causing the auxiliary valve to open earlier and allowing more steam to be withdrawn from the engine cylinder. Conversely, if the pressure in the heating system rises, the mercury column will also rise and the float in its new position will open the pilot and exhaust valves later so that less steam will be withdrawn. The middle position of the float corresponds to a horizontal position of the shor^ link connecting the upper end of the float rod with a small crank, and the motion of the latter will thus be the same whether the float rises or falls. The crank will therefore be in the extreme left
position for the middle position of the float, and in the extreme right position for either the highest or lowest position of the float. This crank rocks an eccentric pivot upon which is mounted the double-armed lever operating the small pilot valve. These levers are moved by eccentrics keyed to the lay-shaft.
The operation of the whole mechanism will be clear from a study of the series of indicator cards reproduced in Fig. 8. Starting with the highest float position, the point of opening of the auxiliary exhaust valve moves more and more towards the left while the float falls. This continues until the float reaches its middle position, for which the cut-off in the engine cylinder determined by the load is so short that hardly any steam can be withdrawn during expansion. (See cards No. 2 and 1.) The regulating mechanism follows the change of cut-off. If much heating steam is required when the engine is operating with small loads the float
will fall still further, the small crank again moves towards the right; and, since no more steam is available during expansion, an arrangement comes into play by which steam is withdrawn during compression. This is done by raising the back pressure and therewith the compression line, by admitting air into the condenser through a snifting valve actuated by a connecting link from the upper end of the float. The compression steam then soon attains the heating pressure and escapes through the still open auxiliary exhaust valve, and past its check valves (see diagram 8).
If much steam is required while the engine is running with heavy loads, then withdrawal occurs during both expansion and compression, as is shown in diagrams 4, 5 and 6. The cut-off in this case is late enough so that even for the lowest float positions steam will be withdrawn during expansion.
The diagrams in a general way show that the action of this mechanism tends to produce the smallest possible loss due to incomplete expansion. Instead of using a crank mechanism for operating the small pilot valves, a cam may be fitted on the upper end of the float rod which acts upon a spring-loaded roller and thus adjusts the position of the fulcrum of the double-armed lever. This combination has the advantage that by properly designing the cam profile any desired dependence between float travel and exhaust valve timing may be realized.
In order to obtain sufficient valve area for the withdrawal of steam during expansion, each end of the cylinder is provided with two of the automatic exhaust or bleeder valves, each surrounded by a nest of check valves. The end of tlie lay-shaft carries two small eccentrics which operate the pilot valves through the above mentioned double-armed levers controlled by a common float. The governor on the lay-shaft controls the engine output entirely independently of the heating requirements.
So far the problem of withdrawing steam for heating purposes has been solved mostly by installing a tandem engine with a counterflow high pressure and unaflow low pressure cylinder, the heating steam being taken from the receiver as was described above.
Much credit for their work in this field is due to the firm of Ehrhardt & Sehmer, who originated the design shown in Fig. 1. The latter is noteworthy for the use of valve gear of the Zvonicek type, which has the advantage of ample valve opening at short cut-offs as well as a large range of admission without excessive valve lifts at late cut-offs. The governor adjusts the cut-off by moving the eccentric strap which carries a cam profile at its upper side for the eccentric rod roller to work upon. For rolling mill engines a maximum cut-off of 50 to 60% is absolutely essential. This is easily obtainable with the Zvonicek gear, the only disadvantage of which is its complication, although this has never proved to be a source of complaint. The single stage una-flow engine gives considerably more power than the tandem compound and it will pull through where the latter would stall. This feature is highly appreciated by rolling mill engineers on account of the varying resistance of the roljs, and is the main reason for the rapid introduction of the una-flow engine in rolling mill practice. This preference has even led to the replacement of several old tandem cylinders by cylinders of the unaflow type.
The three pairs of cylinders act on three cranks set at 120°, which arrangement requires less maximum admission than cranks at 90°. This shorter cut-off allows of greater expansion during the rolling process. The crank shaft consists of three similar pieces coupled by flanges, so that any one of them may be easily replaced in case of failure. The eccentric shaft is carried on the frame and is driven from the crank shaft by means of spur gears. This allows of the use of smaller eccentrics, renders the valve gear more accessible on top of the engine frame and brings the center lines of the units closer together.
The piston valves are arranged on top of the cylinders to one side of the center lines in such a way that the high and low pressure valves of one tandem unit are in line and are both driven by the same Stephenson link gear. The latter has
somewhat short, but in order
to insure plenty of power for starting, the piston valve bushing contains an auxiliary port which gives a considerable increase of cut-off and reduction of lap. This arrangement would, however, result in too much lead ; and in order to prevent this the auxiliary port is connected to the cylinder at such a distance from the
end of the latter that at the time of steam admission the port has been overrun by the piston and is straddled by a pair of rings.
shortly after starting, or when gripping the ingot, the cut-off of 70% will be effective. As soon as the engine comes up to speed, however, and especially when it begins to race after the passage of the ingot through the rolls, the auxiliary port cannot supply sufficient steam to make itself noticeable,
and the cut-off falls to practically 35%. A considerable saving of steam and increased safety of operation are the result. The limitation of the maximum cut-off of the main valve has the advantage that for early cut-offs the port openings are considerably improved, which is especially important in view of the essentially unfavorable valve opening consequent on the use of crossed eccentric rods.
The use of a piston valve with a large exhaust lap, in combination with the link valve gear, permits of a reduction in the length of compression. The same purpose is served by an auxiliary valve mounted in the main piston valve, by means of which the compression may be reduced or almost entirely eliminated by an adjustment made from the operating platform.
Each cylinder is fitted with a separate stop valve for throttling or cutting off the steam supply from the platform, if operating conditions require it.
The throttling which takes place when running with late cut-offs permits of gentle and gradual starting of the engine. The steam must in fact be throttled to a greater extent in a una-flow engine owing to its greater starting torque as compared with that of a tandem compound. The steam consumption during starting will therefore be correspondingly less. Even with such throttling, the early maximum cut-offs used in this triple engine will produce appreciable expansion.
If the ingot should stall the engine, it is a simple matter to exhaust the steam within the cylinders by reversing the gear; and on again admitting steam, the ingot will be freed from the rolls. The above described valve gear will therefore safeguard the operation of the engine even against such eventualities. Separate auxiliary exhaust ports are not necessary since the inlet ports are used for this purpose.
The piston valves are preferably designed with inside admission. The steam space between stop valve and piston valve should be made as small as possible. A comparison between this una-flow rolling mill engine and a tandem com-
pound for the same purpose will demonstrate the fact that considerable simplification, cheaper construction and a reduction in floor space are attainable with this design. Such an engine is also essentially more powerful.
The best engine for rolling mill service is the one which consumes the least steam during the comparatively long and frequent periods of idling. The claim made by Ehrhardt & Sehmer that the una-flow rolling mill engine is the only one which satisfies this condition is justified, since it alone has a theoretically correct no-load diagram and the least no-load steam consumption owing to the una-flow exhaust, to the long compression and the comparatively large inlet areas in consequence of the rather early maximum cut-off.
In compound engines the steam distribution becomes very poor when using early cut-offs below 20%, and it is advisable to use the throttle instead, to adjust the output to the load. In contrast to the unfavorable changes of exhaust lead and compression in the compound engine, these exhaust phases are always the same in the una-flow engine, since they are determined by the exhaust ports. The no-load diagram must accordingly always be correct.
In Fig. 8 is reproduced a series of continous indicator diagrams taken from a flywheel una-flow rolling mill engine, which shows clearly the no-load cards as well as the rapid succession of no-load and full load cut-offs, thus demonstrating the excellent governing characteristics of the engine. This of course applies equally to the reversing engine.
A very interesting design of a flywheel una-flow rolling mill engine, 40 X 48". 110 R. p. M. max, built by the Mesta Machine Co., Pittsburgh Pa., is shown in Fig. 9 and 10. The power of the engine is transmitted by spur-gearing on the roller shaft. The live steam enters below into the jackets on the ends of the cylinder barrel, feeding also the hollow head covers. The exhaust belt is separated by two neutral divisions from the jacketed ends of the cylinder. The steam enters the cylinder through resilient poppet valves placed on the cylinder barrel. The hollow piston is carried by a heavy hollow piston rod, supported by the crosshead and a slipper. A common governor controls the cut-off by shifting a small crosshead on the operating eccentric. From this crosshead the motion is transfered by a rod with cam and roller on the inlet valves.
The whole design is heavy, strong, reliable and especially adapted for rolling mill work, and all precaution is taken as by safety valves, draining valves, railing, stairs, lagging, enclosures a. s. f. for securing best efficiency and maintenance of the engine.
Attention may be called to the comparatively flat steam consumption curve (Fig. 9) for the una-flow engine, which not only shows a lower steam consumption than the compound engine, but also a more nearly uniform steam consumption over wide ranges of load. This latter feature especially recommends the una-flow engine for rolling mill service, where great and suddem variations of the lead are the rule.
1. For Condensing Service.
The una-flow engine is suitable for use as a hoisting engine if means are provided to eliminate the compression during the periods of starting and stopping, in order to facilitate the exact stoppage of the cage. An auxiliary valve (see Fig. 1) may be employed for this purpose, having sufficient lap to reduce the compression to almost nothing when starting or when the cage is being brought into the desired position, while during hoisting the full compression of about 90% is effective. During the hoisting period the auxiliary valve is inoperative as regards the compression and the latter is determined entirely by the piston-controlled exhaust ports of the cylinder. As shown in the diagram of Fig. 2, the compression is respectively about 25, 65 and 90% for
cut-offs of 80, 50 and 40%. High economy in the utilization of steam on the one hand, and excellent maneuvering abilities on the other, are thus combined in the best possible manner. When the main inlet valves are slide or piston valves, they may also control the auxiliary exhaust, and the exhaust lap should then be proportioned from the above standpoint.
Figs. 3 and 4 show a design recommended for a small hoisting engine. Instead of the auxiliary piston valve shown in Fig. 1, two poppet valves are provided at the ends of the cylinder, which come into operation only at late cut-offs. This arrangement permits of a considerable reduction of the clearance volume and surfaces.
The valve gear is of the Gooch type and the motion is transmitted to both the inlet and auxiliary exhaust valves by means of a cam mechanism. The valve diagrams for this engine are similar to those
shown in Fig. 2. With this construction it becomes possible to run the engine non-condensing for short periods if the exhaust valves and exhaust lap are proportioned accordingly. For this temporary condition it is permissible to use rather small valves with correspondingly high steam velocities.
cylinder. For this reason it is advisable to use the Gooch valve gear, in which only the slide block and valve rod have to be lifted, instead of the link and eccentric rods. The four valves may also be operated by means of the ordinary tapered cam gear (Figs. 5 and 6). The cams are preferably arranged so as to give only a small inlet valve lift for cut-offs of 80 to 90%, and to hold open the comparatively small auxiliary valves during almost the whole of the compression stroke. This
enables the cage to be stopped with accuracy in the desired position. A late cutoff is also used at the commencement of hoisting, with the auxiliary valves likewise in action. During the greater part of the hoisting period the cut-off is early and the auxiliary valves are out of action, so that the engine operates as a true una-flow engine under the most favorable conditions.
pression may be properly proportioned to give sufficient compression for any condenser pressure, the maneuvering of the engine may be freely and easily accomplished without depending on safety devices such as spring-loaded valves to prevent excessive compression.
Low Pressure Turbine.
Fig. 7 shows a una-flow hoisting engine for non-condensing service built by the Gutehoffnungshiitte Works for the Vondern Colliery, shaft No. 2. The engine is designed to hoist eight tubs of 500 kg net each, from a depth of 600 m, with
a maximum velocity of 20 m/sec. It is fitted with two rope drums each of 6400 mm diameter and 1900 mm width, which are adjustably coupled for hoisting from different levels. The engine at present works non-condensing, with steam of 8 at. gauge pressure. Both cylinders have a bore of 1100 mm and a stroke of 1600 mm. The cylinders are unjacketed plain cylindrical castings supported at their ends on feet resting on base plates. The inlet is controlled by piston valves which are arranged to give a supplementary exhaust while the cage is being brought to rest
easy starting of the engine.
The clearance volume is 10% with an additional clearance pocket of 8%. The valves are indirectly operated by tapered cams mounted on a short cross shaft placed at right angles to the cylinder at its middle and driven from the crank shaft by means of bevel gears and a lay shaft. The cams act on pilot valves which control auxiliary pistons coupled to the main piston valves. The tapered cams are shifted by means of the reversing lever without the use of a power cylinder.
beginning to end. It prevents overspeeding and slows the engine down automatically and in a predetermined manner when the cage approaches its stopping place. The safety device not only controls the cut-off as the engine gets under way, but also causes the steam-operated brake to come into action gradually, according to the amount of overspeed, and to release the brake when the speed again falls. If the cage passes its stopping point, the brake is applied with full power. Increased safety is thus imparted to both hoisting and stopping.
The engine has given complete satisfaction as regards service, but not in respect to steam consumption, and this is fully accounted for by the low initial pressure, the large clearance volume and the use of piston valves.
The una-flow engine is particularly well suited for the work of a hoisting engine on account of the direct action of the steam. The greater the number of expansion stages, the more sluggish the engine will be; and conversely, the smaller the number of stages the more lively it will be in its action. For this reason, and also on account of the higher diagram factor, the stroke volume of the una-flow cylinder can be made considerably smaller than that of the low pressure cylinder of a compound hoisting engine, both in respect to stopping the cage and for the accelerating period. In the latter connection it may be mentioned that the unaflow engine will run at higher mean effective pressures with the same steam consumption as the compound engine.
With the una-flow engine there is no need to worry over the maintenance of the compound effect for the various changes of load, or when the engine is temporarily at rest. The radiation losses will also be considerably smaller as compared with those of the four cylinders and receivers of a twin tandem compound. These radiation losses are especially large in the latter since the receiver pressure must be maintained while the engine is temporarily at rest. On the other hand, the una-flow hoisting engine may use more steam for maneuvering.
Apart from its thermal superiority, the una-flow hoisting engine has obvious constructional advantages. In order to make these clear, a comparison has been made in Fig. 8 between a twin tandem compound hoisting engine of usual design having cylinders of 900 and 1400 mm bore by 1800 mm stroke, and a una-flow hoisting engine of the same power, the cylinders of which would have a diameter of about 1250 mm. The length of the una-flow cylinder casting would be 3000 mm as against 2900 of the low pressure cylinder. The overall length of the una-flow engine would be 6 m less than the length of the tandem compound engine. The engine house and the foundation would be shorter by the same amount. Two complete cylinders with valve gear, two distance pieces and two receivers are dispensed with. The oil consumption will be correspondingly smaller and the whole engine will be cheaper, simpler and more reliable, notwithstanding its heavier driving parts.
Pumps, etc.
The constructional simplification of the una-flow engine is of particular advantage in connection with air compressors, pumps or blowing tubs. Twostage engines are usually built as cross-compounds, which works out satisfactorily in many cases. The una-flow engine, however, permits of a straight line construction; and although this can also be employed in two-stage engines in a tandem arrangement, it is somewhat inconvenient and has, therefore, not found much favor.
The una-flow engine is of course also suitable for a twin' arrangement as shown in Fig. 1. This illustration represents a una-flow pumping engine built by the firm of Gustav List in Moscow for a municipality in Central Russia. The point of importance in this case was reserve power, with first cost as a somewhat secondary consideration. This requirement is satisfactorily met in this engine, since each side is a complete unit and can be operated independently, although with a different flywheel effect. A surface condenser is arranged crosswise underneath the cylinders and either of the latter may be blanked off from it by means of a slip flange, inserted between the connecting flanges. Each cylinder is also provided with an independent change-over valve and exhaust pipe for non-condensing operation. The pumps are placed in a well and driven from the engine tail rod by means of a bell-crank which also drives the condenser air pumps. The surface condenser is cooled by the water delivered by the main pumps, so that no circulating pumps are necessary.
In Fig. 2 is shown an air compressor in which the air and steam cylinders are combined. The steam cylinder is single-acting and the inlet valve is of the single-beat type forged in one piece with the stem. The valve is actuated by a rolling lever mechanism enclosed in a housing and running in oil. This mechanism comprises a rocking spindle operated by the eccentric, which spindle carries a curved lever acting upon one arm of a rolling lever, which in turn opens the valve.
By keeping the whole mechanism running in oil, the wear of the moving parts is almost entirely eliminated. The clearance volume of the steam end is extremely small, since the valve stem may be brought close to the cylinder barrel. An auxiliary exhaust valve is provided to reduce the compression. In order to shorten the cylinder as much as possible, an exhaust lead of 20°/0 is used and the port area is correspondingly reduced.
This larg ; exhaust lead permits of the use of a partial exhaust belt and allows the cylinder and piston to be shortened. The air end is of standard design. The suction valves consist of a split spring steel band or ring covering the suction ports which are drilled in the cylinder flange, and the cylinder head forms the valve guard. The whole cylinder head surface is available for the arrangement of the discharge valves, which is of particular advantage in small compressors.
The discharge valve is also in the form of a split spring steel band mounted in the cylinder head so as to cover the delivery holes communicating with the cylinder. The clearance volume of the air end also is very small. Very favorable steam consumption results may be expected with this construction, in view of the excellent test results obtained with a similar cylinder design given in the chapter on locomobiles.
handwheel and link.
The central exhaust ports half way between the steam and air ends, with the outlet at the lowest point of the cylinder, will make it impossible for water to get into the compressor side. Simplicity, low first cost and accessibility of all important parts are advantages of this design.
One such engine as shown in Fig. 3 has been built by the firm of A. L. G. Dehne, of Halle a. d. S. For larger units a two-crank arrangement would offer certain advantages, one side comprising a standard horizontal or vertical unaflow engine and the other a standard horizontal or vertical blowing tub, air compressor, etc. It would be desirable in this case to arrange the cranks in such ,a way as to reduce the flywheel weight to a minimum.
Fig. 4 shows a una-flow driven straight line, two-stage air compressor built by the Linke- Hoffmann Works, of Breslau. The cylinders -are arranged in tandem, the air cylinder being next to the frame, with a distance piece between the air and steam cylinders. The differential air piston at the same time performs the function of a crosshead. The high pressure stage is at the crank end, and the low pressure stage at the head end of the air piston. The intercooler is placed in the foundation below the air cylinder. The steam valves of the una-flow cylinder are operated by a Stumpf gear and a governor on the crank shaft. Auxiliary exhaust valves are also provided, likewise actuated by a cam mechanism driven from the crankshaft, by means of which the length of compression may be reduced to about one-half of that given by the central exhaust ports. The engine operates condensing without the use of the auxiliary exhaust valves, and their valve gear should therefore be arranged so that it may be disconnected.
A high speed pumping engine built by the Worthington Pump & Machinery Corporation, of New York City, is shown in Figs. 5, 6 and 7. In this case the unaflow cylinder is placed next to the frame; and the double-acting pump, arranged in tandem with it, is connected to the steam end by tie rods running from the pump body to the crank end cylinder head. The steam cylinder bore is 13%", pump plunger diameter 11", stroke 21", speed 210 r. p. m., steam pressure 220 Ibs/sqin. gauge, steam temperature 562.4° F. and total head including suction lift 153 ft. The steam valves are horizontal and are actuated by tapered cams on the lay-shaft, which runs on ball bearings and is driven by spiral gears from the crank shaft. The section of the lay-shaft carrying the cams is shifted endwise by a speed governor so as to control the maximum speed. A pressure regulator acting in a similar manner is mounted at the end of the lay-shaft and governs the engine for constant water pressure. The pump is provided with nests of automatic valves of special design, which are accessible from b'oth sides by means of hinged manhole covers. An interesting feature is the complete enclosure of
all working parts, which even extends to the lay-shaft, governor, piston rod, crank shaft and flywheel, so that no moving part is visible. The automatic lubricating system includes all bearings, pins and glands. The engine has proved very satisfactory in service.
In Fig. 8 and 9 is shown the application of a una-flow cylinder to a reciprocating tube pump, an indicator card of which is reproduced in Fig. 10. This type of pump is being developed by the Humphrey Gas Pump Company, of Syracuse, N. Y., and consists of a tube provided with a foot valve, which is reciprocated in a well or casing by direct attachment to the piston of a una-flow cylinder mounted at the well head. The weight and energy of the tube and its contents are utilized in connection with the functions of the power medium, which in this machine is steam, by permitting the latter to be used expansively. This is in marked contrast to the usual type of directacting well pump, where late
is closed to form a cushion chamber which serves to retard the reciprocating parts and tube towards the end of the upstroke when the exhaust ports are uncovered, while the water continues to move through the tube. Hence practically the whole of the kinetic energy of the moving parts is stored, and thus becomes available for accelerating them on the downstroke. This energy, as well as that due to the fall of the tube, is then used in the compression of the residual steam in accordance with the una-flow cycle. While this is taking place the water is still in motion relatively to the tube, and this continues until admission begins at the commencement of the upstroke, when the tube is again accelerated and the foot valve closes.
The valve gear consists of a swinging link and lever operated from the crosshead to which the rods carrying the tube are attached. Since the length of the stroke is not positively determined by mechanical means, a delayed action of the inlet valve is provided for by causing the valve gear lever to operate a pilot valve, which in turn controls the admission and release of steam behind a piston forming part of the double-beat inlet valve. The latter is of cast iron and works on a resilient lower steel seat. The valve is cushioned both on opening and closing by a double-acting adjustable oil dash pot, which is insulated as far as possible from the valve chest cover. This valve gear has proved satisfactory and quiet in action, but contains a somewhat large number of parts. A direct acting piston valve mechanism has also been built. The volumetric efficiency is considerably over 100%.
Fig. 1 shows a superheater freight engine which was built for the MoscowKasan Railway by the Kolomna Engine Works, of Kolomna, near Moscow. This was the first locomotive built upon recommendation of Mr. Noltein, the manager of the railway, and was fitted with una-flow cylinders designed by the author. They were originally fitted with small auxiliary exhaust valves which were removed later, so that the engine now operates as a true una-flow.
Fig. 2 shows one of a pair of superheater freight locomotives built for the Prussian State Railways by the Stettiner Maschinenbau - Aktiengesellschaft ,,Vulkan". In Fig. 3 is given a longitudinal and cross section of the locomotive, as well as a longitudinal section of the cylinder. Figs. 4 and 5 show the simplicity of the cylinder and valve gear parts. All the experience obtained with the above-mentioned Russian locomotive was utilized in this design. These engines were put in heavy continuous day and night service and proved so successful that a number of engines of the same design were ordered.
The valves and live steam spaces are arranged in the heads while the exhaust ports and exhaust chamber or belt are at the middle of the cylinder. This strict separation of hot live steam from the cold exhaust steam is not only advisable for thermal reasons but also from an operating standpoint, since the parts exposed to high temperatures cannot affect the operating conditions of
highest velocity.
For the non-condensing service of locomotives it was necessary to provide a large clearance volume, in this case of 17%%, for superheated steam of 12 at. This large clearance is the weak point of the design, and in later engines
it was materially reduced. The greater part of the clearance space is disposed in the concave ends of the piston (Fig. 6). The piston heads thus take the shape of spherical caps, great strength and stiffness being thereby obtained. They are made of cast steel and are fitted with two piston rings each. A distance piece or drum, made of hard forged steel 7 mm in thickness, is placed between the heads and the whole is clamped together by means of the piston rod and nut, for which purpose a certain amount of clearance is left between the hubs of the piston heads. The supporting drum has a clearance of three thousandths of the diameter, so that for a cylinder bore of 1000 mm its diameter would be 997 mm. This would bring the piston center line 1 % mm below the cylinder center. The allowance takes care of the expansion and distortion of the cylinder and drum. Special consideration must be paid to the expansion of the heads, since they are exposed to the full live steam tem-
oil feeds, one on top and one
on each side on the horizontal center line, each feed being supplied by an independent plunger. Even with this arrangement the oil may still carbonize and it is therefore better to place the feeds closer to the middle of the cylinder.
A tail rod with its attendant stuffing box was not used on these locomotives. A gain in weight thus results, but the long piston, the length of which is given by the stroke less the exhaust lead, generally works out heavier than the standard piston with tail rod.
The necessary clearance volume depends upon the pressure and temperature of the live steam. Assuming the back pressure to be 1,1 at. abs. (0,1 at. being added for the resistance in the blast pipe), 90% length of compression (adiabatic), quality
In using this table it must be borne in mind that a pressure loss of about 1 at. occurs in the superheater, and that the clearance should be increased by such an amount that for normal cut-off the difference between the terminal corn-
lume loss.
The una-flow action is not limited to the steam, but applies also to any foreign matter contained in it, such as scale, mud, cinders or soot. The latter are swept out by the exhaust steam through the central ports and escape through an orifice or drain at the lowest point. The una-flow action therefore permanently maintains the interior of the cylinder in a clean state.
The drain just mentioned also insures the removal of water, and thus eliminates a difficulty occurring in all ordinary locomotives. The cylinder in the latter forms the lowest point of the system, the live steam enters from the top, and the exhaust steam leaves the cylinder also at the top. Damage due to water, such as fractured cylinders and covers, as well as breakage of driving parts, are possible with this arrangement. Nothing of this kind can happen with a una-flow locomotive, since the water is effectively cleared from the cylinder by the exhaust steam
and passes away through the drain. It is surprising to see how much water is ejected through this drain when starting with a cold cylinder. A different kind of water hammer may be caused by the kinetic energy of water, apart from its being trapped in the cylinder, and this may of course happen in a una-flow engine.
Fig. 3 also shows a mechanism by means of which both valves may be lifted off their seats from the cab, thus putting the two sides of the piston in communication with each other through the inlet pipe, and relieving the compression when coasting. It is advisable to provide considerable lift for the
valves, as otherwise when running down a long grade the temperature of the steam pulsating to and fro between the cylinder ends will become so high in consequence of friction and wiredrawing that the oil may carbonize and cause piston troubles. The admission of cool air to the cylinder through a valve opened simultaneously with the lifting of the steam valves is also recommended. When the steam valves are lifted together with their cams, the rollers should run clear of the latter so as to prevent unnecessary wear. In contrast to the special by-pass arrangements used in ordinary piston valve cylinders, the valve gear of the unaflow locomotive, with only minor additions, provides a by-pass for coasting without increasing the clearance volume and harmful surfaces.
abrupt exhaust and a pulsating draft in the fire box, whereas a uniform draft is desirable for good combustion. This may be realized by using a large exhaust lead in combination with a correspondingly small area of ports and of the blast pipe, as well as by interposing some form of receiver or exhaust chamber, thus allowing of better expansion of the exhaust and serving to muffle the noise.
In ordinary locomotives the steam distribution for very early cut-offs is unsatisfactory, and for this reason throttling of the steam is usually employed instead of making the cut-off* early er. In contrast to this, the una-flow locomotive can be run entirely without throttling, and allows the power requirements to be regulated entirely by means of the valve gear. The constant compression on the other hand is a disadvantage, particularly in regard to the large clearance volume, and
the entrance of dust. The
oil lubricating the cam crosshead or guide collects mostly in these grooves, and is transferred by the rollers to the cams so that proper lubrication of these important parts is insured. The guides themselves are provided with wick oilers. The roller slides are operated by a standard Walschaert gear without any changes from that used on existing counterflow locomotives. Both roller slides have screw adjustments.
Fig. 9 shows a double-seated automatic compression release valve which is in communication with both ends of the cylinder through two pipe connections. The entrance to each pipe is controlled by a valve which may be operated from the cab. When these valves are opened the live steam from one cylinder end closes the corresponding side of the compression release valve and opens the other, so that the compression steam of the opposite cylinder end may escape through the
passage between the two seats of the auxiliary valve. When admission occurs at the opposite end of the cylinder, the auxiliary valve changes its position, so that compression is now relieved on the other side. The passage between the
seats of the valve may be connected with the exhaust belt. This device therefore allows compression to be entirely eliminated, so that a great reserve of power becomes available for the difficult starting period. The shut-off valves at the cylin-
lutely essential.
Fig. 10 illustrates a una-flow freight locomotive exhibited at the Brussels International Exposition of 1910, cross-sections of which are shown in Fig. 3. In order to compensate for the increased weight of the una-flow cylinders, the boiler has been moved back on the frame by a small amount for better distribution of the axle loads.
Service weight .... 67 700
The general design of the cylinders is similar to those previously described, with the exception that a muffler has been incorporated in the saddle supporting the smoke box, between the exhaust belt and the blast pipe (Fig. 12).
Fig. 14 shows a una-flow passenger locomotive built by the Maschinenbauanstalt Breslau for the German State Railways. An engine of this type was exhibited at the Turin Exposition.
The Northern Railway of France had a superheater freight locomotive fitted with una-flow cylinders which were designed by the author in a similar way to those previously described, the existing Stephenson link valve motion being retained.
In Fig. 14 is shown a una-flow passenger locomotive for saturated steam, two of which were built by the Kolomna Engine Works for the Russian State Railways. Two other engines of the same design were fitted with superheaters. The former run with 14, and the latter with 12 at. gage pressure. The extra pressure
carried by the engines using saturated steam was rendered possible for the same axle loads by putting the weight of the superheater into the heavier boiler plates. Since there is a loss of about 1 at. in the superheater, there is a gain of 3 at. in favor of the locomotive using saturated steam. All previous experiences and test results were utilized in the design of the cylinders. Attention is directed especially to the careful jacketing of the heads and ends of the cylinders for saturated steam. The condensate from the jackets is returned to the boiler by a small pump with suction ports, operated by a cam on the roller rod.
A series of comparative tests were made by Prof. Lomonosoff on the Russian State Railways on one each of the saturated and superheater unaflow locomotives, in competition with two ordinary saturated steam com-
in both directions.
The conclusions which can be drawn from these tests are as follows: The una-flow locomotive shows better economy than the compound for small loads, while at higher loads its fuel consumption is higher than that of the latter. This can be easily explained by the effect of the long constant compression and the large clearance volume (see chapter on volume loss).
The una-flow locomotive working with saturated steam shows in general a higher economy than the compound except for long cut-offs. Larger cylinders would be of advantage in this case.
The superheater una-flow locomotive is at least on a par with the superheater compound, although even here the former has a slightly higher fuel consumption for heavy loads. Larger cylinders are of course more feasible with the una-flow system than with the compound engine.
Fig. 15 shows a una-flow cylinder with horizontal valves for a small locomotive built by the Kolomna Engine Works. The mechanism operating these valves is of interest; it consists of a double armed lever, the lower end of which works against the valve stems while its upper end receives its motion from a rocking lever fitted with two cam profiles which are alternately in rolling contact with it. The rocking lever is driven by a Marshall gear. Attention is drawn to the accessibility of the valves which are removable after taking off the valve chest covers, without disturbing any other part of the gear.
on the series arrangement of live steam space, inlet valve, piston and exhaust.
In Fig. 17 are given the main sections of a una-flow cylinder for a narrow gage locomotive (Fig. 16) using saturated steam, built by the Kolomna Engine Works, which was shown at the Turin Exposition. In view of the small size of the cylinders, the latter are fitted with slide valves, which are separate for each cylinder end. Since these valves are of small area compared with that of the ordinary D- valve, the load upon them, as well as the resistance which the valve gear has to overcome, is considerably diminished. Reliable operation is insured by feeding oil under pressure to their working faces.
It is the policy of the Kolomna Engine Works, in cases where superheating is not acceptable, to obtain improved economy by applying the una-flow system. In this way they rebuilt with una-flow cylinders eleven saturated steam locomotives of the tank type of the Warsaw narrow gage railway during the years 1913 — 1914. These una-flow cylinders are fitted with piston valves and have the cylinder ends jacketed, in addition to the heads.
The use of two rows of central exhaust ports with a simultaneous increase of the exhaust lead from 10 to 30% considerably shortens the cylinder and piston, as shown in Fig. 18. The second set of exhaust ports provides a very effective increase in port area shortly before dead center. If this advantage is not considered essential, then the use of a single row of ports with the same exhaust lead of 30% will still further reduce the length of the cylinder and piston (Fig. 19).
It is important to reduce the port area as the exhaust lead is lengthened in order to keep the loss of diagram area at the end of the stroke within reasonable limits. (See diagram Fig. 20.) The long exhaust lead at the same time shortens
the compression from 90% to 70% and reduces the clearance volume from 16,2% to 13,6%. This reduction of the length of the cylinder and the saving in weight of both cylinder and piston should prove of value particularly for locomotives. The design of the una-flow locomotive cylinder shown in Fig. 21 differs from those previously described in that the piston valve gives-a supplementary exhaust for long cut-offs and the engine operates on the true una-flow cycle only for early cut-offs. As is shown by the indicator diagrams, the true una-flow cycle is maintained for cut-offs up to 30%. For longer cut-offs an auxiliary (counter- flow) exhaust comes into effect, which shortens the compression with increasing cut-off. In this way starting is facilitated for long cut-offs, and the advantage of the full una-flow cycle for steady running is yet retained. The compression release device shown in Fig. 9 is thus dispensed with in this case. The varying length of the compression considerably reduces the volume loss at late cut-offs, but this is obtained at the expense of the series arrangement of live steam, inlet valve, piston and
exhaust. The piston valve has inside steam admission, and the outside lap controls the supplementary exhaust. The inlet and exhaust at each end of the piston valve are in parallel with the piston, and steam leaking by the valve will pass directly into the exhaust. The supplementary exhaust is conducted from the ends of the piston valve housing to the exhaust belt through separate pipe connections. The piston is built up of two cast steel pieces, each of which is fitted with a bronze shoe. Fig. 22 shows a similar piston valve design which was used for two passenger locomotives of the German State Railways. A corresponding design was employed for the cylinders of a una-flow locomotive of the North Eastern Railway of England (Fig. 23), and for those of the locomotives of the NeuruppinKremmen-Wittstock Railway (Fig. 24).
This same cylinder and piston valve design was also used for the three cylinder passenger superheater locomotives (Fig. 25) built for the German State Railways by the Vulkan Engine Works of Stettin. The three cranks are set at 120°.
The two outside cylinders drive the second coupled axle, and the inside cylinder, which is placed slightly ahead of the others, operates the first driving axle. By distributing the piston loads upon two axles a longer life of the center crank axle is expected, especially since the forging can be made with easy curves, without disturbing the natural fibers of the material. The motion of the valve of the inside cylinder is derived from the two outside Walschaert gears, the movement of which is combined according to the parallelogram of velocities. The head ends as well as the crank ends of the three cylinders may be connected by means of special valves in order to relieve compression when coasting.
An examination of the exhaust timing of a three cylinder locomotive shows that the exhaust periods of the individual cylinders overlap; a very uniform draft in the fire box is thus obtained, particularly if an auxiliary exhaust is provided for long cut-offs. The three cylinders constitute an excellent reinforcement of the locomotive frame. The clearance volume of each cylinder is 11%, the bore 500 mm and the stroke 630 mm.
The piston valve bushings are designed in such a way as to prevent catching of the rings when removing or reassembling the valves. The pistons are fitted with bronze shoes in the middle of their length so as to avoid contact with the hot part of the cylinder.
exhaust steam feed water heaters.
In the first locomotives described in this chapter, the true una-flow principle was adhered to by the author in order to obtain a minimum surface loss in addition to the other advantages mentioned. This minimum surface loss, however, is accompanied by a large volume loss. When working with superheated steam a small
surface loss can also be realized in the counterflow construction if the whole cycle takes place in the superheated region, as is nearly always the case in modern superheater locomotives. A simultaneous reduction of the surface and volume losses to a minimum is possible with una-flow locomotives in the following manner. A reduction of the volume loss while retaining the full una-flow cycle is possible by raising the initial, or lowering the back pressure. The latter way avoids the difficulties arising from a considerable increase in the boiler pressure and is based on the utilization of the large amount of energy still contained in the toe of the diagram, for the purpose of reducing the back pressure. This principle was described in chapter I, 7. Its first application is found on a superheater freight locomotive of the German State Railways, built in 1920 by A. Borsig of Berlin, according to designs furnished by the author. The main dimensions of the locomotive, which is illustrated in Figs. 26 to 28, are as follows:
This brings the una-flow locomotive into a new phase of development, since the lower back pressure reduces the compression pressures and permits of the use of smaller clearance volumes. The exhaust ejector action also produces an approximately correct variation of the compression with the cut-off, since the energy available in the large toe of late cut-off cards produces a strong ejector effect, with a correspondingly low back pressure and a low compression pressure; while at early cut-offs the ejector action is less pronounced and the back pressure and terminal compression pressure are higher. In order to obtain the exhaust ejector effect a large exhaust lead is essential, and the latter at the same time shortens piston and cylinder. With this long duration of the exhaust only a small port area is required, with the result that the exhaust belt can be dispensed with and a considerable reduction in the weight of the cylinder and piston thus results. A comparison of Figs. 27 and 28 with the previous designs indicates how much more compact this construction has become. This is in part due to the use of horizontal single-beat poppet valves which were employed for the first time on this locomotive. This type of valve, although simple and perfectly steam tight, has so far not been favorably received because it requires a high lift and a large force to raise it. With the high compression of the una-flow engine, however, the pressure on the valve is balanced to a large extent and the high lift is obtained by arranging the cam roller between the valve stem and the fulcrum of the valve lever. The lift of the cam, which is 14 mm radially, is thus increased to 24 mm at the valve. For cut-offs up to 50% the effective inlet areas of the single-beat valve are equivalent to the areas of a standard piston valve of 220 mm diameter. The fact that beyond this cut-off the valve area remains constant must be considered a further advantage. The small cam lift permits of a cam profile of very gentle curvature, thus insuring smooth lifting and seating of the valve. The whole
service.
The single beat valve is made of chrome-nickel steel and works on a removable steel seat expanded into the cylinder casting (Fig. 30). If this seat should become damaged by scale or other foreign matter it can be easily resurfaced or renewed. The valve stem has a diameter of 25 mm and is supplied with oil under pressure. The common center of gravity of the valve head and spring retainer is located at about the center of the guide so that good working conditions are assured. The valve stem furthermore is not exposed to the live steam but to the varying pressure and temperature of the cylinder steam. It is entirely independent of the cam mechanism except for the tappet contact, and is free to follow any slight distortion of the cylinder casting. Considering the success of the horizontal valves in the Lanz locomobile, which are double-beat in addition, the conclusion is justified that this is a very reliable construction.
When coasting, the valves may
be lifted off their seats by compressed air admitted between small pistons formed on the valve tappets, so that the rollers clear the cam. Special means fcr connecting the cylinder ends are therefore not required, and the usual relief valves may be omitted, since" the inlet valves act as such. They also relieve the high compression which may occur when the throttle is nearly closed. The automatic compression release device also may become superfluous since the late cut-offs at starting produce a strong exhaust ejector effect and the compression is therefore considerably shortened.
Attention may be drawn to the accessibility of the valves; for their renewal it is only necessary to take off the valve chest cover and disconnect the valve spring, the spring cap lock being a split spherical washer. Comparing this with the procedure of taking out an ordinary piston valve, which requires frequent removal of carbonized oil, the great simplification due to the single beat valve will be appreciated.
The driving parts and the Walschaert gear are the same as those used on counterflow locomotives. On account of its greater length the cylinder was moved forward by 180 mm. The una-flow cylinder is not heavier than the corresponding counterflow cylinder, since the piston valve chest with its large exhaust chamber, as well as the tail rod and its guide are omitted. This allows the piston rod of 95 mm diameter to be bored out to a diameter of 60 mm, thus also saving weight. The forged steel piston heads, which are only slightly dished, hold between them a cast iron supporting drum cast from a special soft mixture, while the cylinder is made of a hard quality of cast iron. The supporting drum is turned smaller
than the cylinder bore by 2,2 mm on a length of 140 mm at its middle, which allowance increases to 5 mm towards the ends. Each piston head carries three rings. The greater part of the total clearance volume of 12% is taken up by a linear clearance of 40 mm between piston and cylinder head, and this also results in very small harmful surfaces. The pressure oil feeds are arranged at the middle of the cylinder, where the temperature is lowest and little possibility of carbonizing exists. One feed is placed on top and one on each side at 45° below the horizontal center line.
to utilize the energy of the exhaust steam of one cylinder to produce a vacuum
in another. Such experiments have been made, for instance in connection with Kordina's blast pipe, but they were bound to fail in counterflow locomotives. As was shown in chapter I, 7, in dealing with the exhaust ejector effect, a large part of the available energy is require'd for producing the draft in Ihe fire box, and if the energy is used in a wasteful fashion there will be nothing left for the reduction of back pressure. The ordinary counterflow cylinder has exhaust passages of such an uneven character that the steam continuously suffers changes of direction and velocity which naturally dissipate part of its energy. This is. well shown by a comparison of Fig. 31 with Fig. 28. The una-flow cylinder is designed on the principle of conserving the exhaust energy, while in the counterflow design it might be thought that a dissipation of energy was aimed at. However, no blame for this can be laid on' the designer, since tortuous and uneven exhaust passages are inseparable from the use of piston valves.
In consequence of these conditions, a certain pressure difference at the blast nozzle becomes necessary, since velocity must again be generated. It may be considered an excellent result if a pressure difference of 0,1 at. gage at the blast nozzle is found sufficient. In many cases, however, the kinetic energy is dissipated to such an extent that there is not enough left to cover the blast pipe loss. The latter can only be diminished by a reduction of the velocity. Since the blast pipe area is fixed, this reduction of velocity can only be accomplished by a diminution of the volume, which thus leads to an increase of pressure. In this way the back pressure in piston valve cylinders occasionally rises to 0,5 at. In contrast to this condition, a back pressure of 0,5 at. below atmosphere is aimed at with the ejector effect of the una-flow exhaust for late cut-offs.
Although the possibility of the utilization of the exhaust energy for the purpase of reducing the back pressure has no inherent connection with the una-flow principle, it is limited to the latter by virtue of the conditions of exhaust whereby the energy is conserved, and it must therefore be considered an integral part of the same.
The exhaust opening in the cylinder wall is in the shape of a nozzle which is dimensioned in such a way that in combination with the rounded edge of the piston an approximately correct nozzle area for any particular pressure drop is obtained, when assuming average pressure and speed conditions. The remaining pressure energy is therefore transformed into kinetic energy and thus reaches the blast nozzle with the least possible friction losses. Even for full opening there is a certain amount of divergence in the exhaust nozzle. At the junction of the
two exhaust pipes the section suddenly doubles, and from this point on the pipe diverges to the blast nozzle and thus acts as a kind of diffusor. The steam for the feed water heater is withdrawn from the cylinders by separate nozzles, and the pipes from them lead to a common ejector nozzle similarly to the main exhaust pipes.
It was of course important to make the blast pipe section as large as possible in order to reduce the blast pipe loss. The stack was therefore designed with the most favorable dimensions, its diameters being 460 and 610 mm as compared with 410 and 460 mm of that of the standard engine. The possibility therefore arose that the jet leaving the blast nozzle, which was dimensioned to obtain a diffusor action, would not spread out sufficiently to fill out the stack section. This danger is especially great in this case, since the jet has very little internal pressure and spreads out to only a comparatively small extent. If the stack is not completely filled with steam, air enters the smoke box from above and thus
partially destroys the vacuum. In order to prevent this, the jet may be divided by ribs in the nozzle into smaller diverging jets, which spread out and again join in the stack (Fig. 28). In actual operation however the ribs proved to be superfluous.
The effect of the ejector action is shown in the diagrams of Fig. 32, which were drawn for an evaporation of 7000 kg/hour and for speeds of 20, 40 and 60 km/hour, under very conservative assumptions. The clearance volume was assumed to be 12%, so that the compression would not exceed the initial pressure even without the exhaust ejector action. It will be seen from the diagram that the ejector effect only begins after a piston travel of 6,7%, since in a two cylinder locomotive the cylinders are in connection only during a short part of the stroke, and therefore only part of the exhaust energy can be utilized for producing the ejector effect. It was shown in chapter I, 7, how much greater the gain would be with a three cylinder locomotive, especially when working with high mean effective pressures, since in this case with proper length of exhaust lead the whole of the energy of the diagram toe can be utilized for the exhaust ejector action.
motive design is toward an increasing adoption of the three cylinder locomotive.
The exhaust ejector principle, however, is only one of the means for reducing the volume loss, its effect being the lowering of the back pressure. The next step will consist in raising the upper limit of the steam pressure. With the customary design of fire box, steam pressures up to 16 at. gage are possible, although the number and size of the stays becomes excessive. For still higher pressures a different design of fire-box would be necessary, such as for instance a box of the Brotan type, which permits of steam pressures of 20 at. gauge. The following table shows that by raising the steam pressure from 12 to 20 at. gage, the amount of heat which can be converted into work increases from 116 to 146 cal. per 1 kg steam. This represents a gain of about 26%.
This remarkable result can only be attained by employing the una-flow principle, since the pressure at which the steam becomes saturated increases from 2.2 to 4.75 at. abs. and during a considerable part of the expansion moisture is therefore formed in the cylinder. This does not have much effect upon the economy of the una-flow engine but is very detrimental to that of the counterflow cylinder where the presence of moisture causes large surface losses.
with higher initial pressure. The increase in temperature, however, is the cause
of many difficulties with piston valves and piston rod packings. Furthermore, the superheater elements must be shortened so that the flue gases do not exert a cooling effect upon the superheated steam. This in turn leads to a great number of superheater elements and inefficient utilization of space. The una-flow engine can of course be adapted to meet this condition in a better manner, since its design makes it more suitable for high temperatures than the customary counterflow cylinder with piston valves. On the other hand there is no necessity for using these high temperatures in the high pressure una-flow locomotive, since the unaflow action corrects the bad influence of moisture in the steam.
The calculated gain of 26% of the high pressure una-flow locomotive with exhaust ejector action will probably be exceeded in practice, since it does not include the benefit due to the single beat poppet valves, the reduction of the clearance volume to 7%, nor even the gain due to the una-flow principle itself.
The future line of progress of the locomotive is therefore clear. It leads naturally from the two-cylinder to the three-cylinder engine with una-flow cylinders having small clearance volumes, to the use of single-beat poppet valves and the utilization of the ejector action of the exhaust, in combination with high pressures and high superheat.
The una-flow engine is .especially suitable for locomobiles and portable engines. Simplicity, lightness, cheapness and economical use of steam are demanded of this type of engine, light weight being particularly required for portable and self propelled machines. All these requirements are satisfied by the una-flow engine.
In comparison with the usual design of locomobile with a tandem engine, there is a saving due to the omission of one cylinder with all its accessories. Compared with the usual type of compound poppet valve locomobile, one complete driving unit and two valves on the remaining cylinder are dispensed with. While the una-flow locomobile engine has only two valves, the compound locomobile requires eight. The omission of exhaust valves is of particular advantage. The cylinder may therefore be mounted directly on the boiler, and the two inlet valves may be arranged vertically in the heads (Fig. 4). These valves are operated by an eccentric mounted on the crank shaft next to the flywheel, controlled by the flywheel governor. The motion is transmitted to the valves in the same manner as on stationary una-flow engines. Bolted to the cylinder is a frame of the forked type which carries the center crank shaft. On the free ends of the shaft are mounted two overhung flywheels, one of which carries the governor and the other is provided with teeth for the barring device (Fig. 5). Provision is made in the design for interchanging the two flywheels so that the condenser may be placed either to the right or the left of the engine. All the parts concerned are constructed in such a way as to make them suitable for either method of setting up, and a good basis for large scale production is therefore obtained.
flywheel.
Una-flow locomobiles are built for condensing service as well as atmospheric exhaust. In the former case, non-condensing operation is provided for by the employment of auxiliary clearance pockets.
crank cheeks and in the flywheels.
The governor shown in Figs. 6 and 7 has two weights pivoted on two pins fixed on the flywheel. These weights are in the form of bell crank levers, the short arms of which carry rollers bearing on the thrust washer of a central spring common to both. The long arm of each weight is provided with a pin at its extreme end, but only one of them is used for the connection to the shifting eccentric. The free weight, however, also takes part in moving the eccentric to the extent that it bears more strongly on the spring plate and thus relieves the second weight,
which therefore has a larger force available for shifting the eccentric. The primary eccentric is provided with tapped holes so that it may be turned through an angle of 180° — 2 6 (6 being the angle of advance), and bolted in this position. If the shifting eccentric is at the same time swung around and its connecting link attached to the other weight, the governor is then changed over for a left hand engine. This change can therefore be made without any alteration in the parts concerned. This governor is obviously only suited for high speeds, since the natural oscillations due to the weights themselves would be detrimental to regulation at low speeds.
This type of governor, although now no longer used, is mentioned here in order to demonstrate the conditions which must be satisfied by a locomobile governor from the point of view of its suitability for a variety of uses.
The movement of the shifting eccentric is transmitted to the valves by a rocking lever and cam and roller motion in the manner previously described. It is advisable to make the rocking lever in one piece of cast steel.
In Fig. 8 is shown the assembly of a 100 HP locomobile, also built by the Badenia Company. The cylinder is bolted to the boiler and is in rigid connection with the main bearings through the forked frame. The bearing housings rest on half-round pieces of steel, so that free expansion of the boiler and correct alignment of the shaft are assured. This feature has been patented by the builders. The bearings are of double construction, so that the inner halves on the one hand closely support the crank .arms and take the steam load, while the outer halves carry the flywheel load. Chain lubrication is provided for in the center of each double bearing. One of the flywheels is cast with teeth for barring purposes and the other carries the shaft governor described above. The additional clearance pockets which are provided to allow the engine to be run non-condensing are arranged in the cylinder heads. The exhaust belt of the cylinder has an extension forming a base which is bolted to the boiler. The exhaust belt has an opening on either side for the connection to the condenser. The flywheels, frame, bearings, cylinders and heads, condenser, all the valve gear parts, governor, barring device, feed water heater, change-over valves, and all accessories are constructed in such a manner as to allow of either a right or left hand arrangement, to provide for condensing or non-condensing service, and to suit either direction of rotation, according to the purchaser's wishes. The chief features which render the unaflow engine of particular value for locomobiles are the central mounting of the cylinder on the boiler, the arrangement of the valve gear on the cylinder, the well balanced connection between the shaft bearings through the forked frame to the cylinder, the freedom of relative expansion between boiler and frame, and the simplicity of the entire construction.
The excellent superheater designs of the Maschinenfabrik Badenia shown in Figs. 9 and 10 are worthy of note. The advantages of this design are small throttling losses, large capacity per unit of surface, and accessibility of the superheater and boiler tubes. The superheater is mounted at the smoke box end of the boiler in such a manner that the area in front of the flue tubes is left free for access to the latter (Fig. 9).
In the construction shown in Fig. 10 the same result is attained by arranging the superheater tubes in a winding fashion back and forth between the flues, so that the latter are still accessible.
as increased area of the exhaust openings. The unbalanced vertical centrifugal forces of the counterweights are transmitted from the main bearings through supporting colums to the foundations. More latitude is therefore allowed in the proportioning of the counterweights.
Engine Works, of Kolomna, near Moscow. This type of engine must necessarily be of cheap and simple construction, and yet answer all the demands put upon it. With this in view, the single-beat valves are arranged horizontally, with an operating mechanism common to both. This consists of a three-armed rocking cam lever, one arm of which projects between the ends of the valve stems. The others are formed with cam profiles, by means of which it is rocked back and forth by contact with the roller of a swinging lever mounted on a shaft above it. The
latter is operated by a lever and link from a shifting eccentric controlled by a shaft governor. The whole of the cam mechanism runs in oil and is enclosed in a housing cast onto the exhaust belt. The cover of the housing is adapted to support the smoke stack of the boiler when it is not in use. In this small type of engine, unbalanced single-beat valves are used, and these are made in one piece with their
crank end head.
This engine was designed for use with saturated steam of 10 at. pressure. In accordance with the results of previous tests, the heads as well as the ends of the cylinder barrel were well jacketed. A neutral, unheated zone extends between the cylinder jackets and the central exhaust belt.
The cylinder rests on a casting (Fig. 20) which at the same time forms a housing for the stop valve and distributes the steam to the ends of the cylinder. The passages in this casting are so arranged that the water of condensation from
the construction is extremely
simple and well adapted to service conditions. All the previous experience and results of tests have been fully utilized in order to obtain a very low steam
each valve spindle is attached a
spring loaded piston, the outer side of which is connected by a pipe to the clearance space of the corresponding cylinder end. During admission and expansion, the high steam pressure acting on the valve piston holds the valve closed, but as soon as the pressure is relieved through the exhaust ports, the valve
is opened by its spring. The steam remaining in the cylinder is then swept out by the piston until the latter overruns the passage leading to the auxiliary exhaust valve, and compression begins. The compression pressure, assisted by the subsequent admission of live steam, then closes the valve. Steam dashpots are used to make these valves quiet in operation. The piston rod stuffing box is also worthy of notice. All the details of this engine, including the auxiliary exhaust valves, have proved very satisfactory in service. ' The action of the exhaust valves, as
The more than ample exhaust port area of this and of other cylinders designed by the author finally led him to the calculation of the exhaust and inlet areas, which was given in chapter I, 3 a, in dealing with throttling losses. The great
influence of the back pressure of the exhaust and of the lead on the port area was thus recognized. A non-condensing engine requires a much smaller port area than a condensing engine. In the design of a non- condensing cylinder with an
exhaust lead of 25 to 30%, the exhaust belt shrinks to two narrow slits formed as nozzles as shown in Fig. 31, to which are connected the two exhaust pipes. These appear surprisingly small, but have sufficient area (Fig. 32). The large exhaust lead gives a shorter length of compression, and therewith a smaller clearance volume, so that the auxiliary exhaust valves of Fig. 29 and 30 may be dispensed with, especially if the parts are so dimensioned that a suction effect with a consequent reduction of back pressure is obtained. The proportions are chosen in such a way that the toe of the diagram becomes rounded off instead of being sharp like that of Fig. 28. The piston and cylinder thus become considerably shorter, and the cylinder is supported on a single foot only. The joint between cylinder and cover is also arranged in a better manner, and the accessibility of the valves is improved by the use of a slipper type of crosshead. A better draft in the firebox is obtained by the ex- Fig. 29.
Fig. 33 shows a four cylinder V type una-flow engine for automotive purposes designed by the Stumpf Una-Flow Engine Company, Inc., of Syracuse, N. Y., three of which have been built in different sizes. The cylinders are cast in pairs, which are arranged at 90° with one another. The two cranks are set at 180° and two connecting rods work side by side on the same crank pin, the cylinder blocks being displaced axially for this purpose. The cylinder bore is 85 mm (33/8") and the stroke 95 mm (3%"-). The single-beat valves are operated by two cam shafts which are movable endways. These cam shafts are provided with a neutral cam, and cams for 9%, 25% and 80% forward cut-off, and one for 80% cut-off for reversing. All the working parts are enclosed.
In recent marine practice, serious endeavors have been made to introduce superheating and to employ balanced lift or poppet valves for steam distribution. The una-flow engine is especially adapted to meet this modern tendency, since it is well suited for such conditions. It is also apparent that the advantages which balanced poppet valves have over slide or piston valves are much enhanced when exhaust valves are dispensed with altogether, as is the case with una-flow engines. At the same time this avoids the undesirable complication of the valve gear, which has been the great stumbling block in the introduction of balanced valves in marine engines. The simplification associated with the una-flow engine is of especial advantage when superheated steam is to be used, since it is particularly suited for this. Owing to the unequal distribution of superheat in the case of multi-stage engines, many difficulties have arisen in practice, chiefly in connection with high pressure cylinders. Such troubles are not likely to occur in the unaflow engine, because the superheat benefits the whole working cycle, despite the fact that the latter extends into the saturated region. The increase in reliability consequent thereon is of particular importance from a marine standpoint. In the case of the first few una-flow marine engines which were constructed, the decision to employ this type was governed principally by the fact that the problem of introducing superheated steam into marine practice could be solved in the simplest and surest manner by its adoption.
Since that time, other experiments have shown that the una-flow engine is also well adapted for use with saturated steam, and it should therefore satisfy the natural conservatism of those ship owners and engineers who still regard the introduction of superheating with much scepticism. Such engineers always refer to the absolute necessity of thorough cylinder lubrication which is indispensible with high superheats, and which endangers the safe and efficient operation of the boiler. This is especially the case in multi-stage engines, where the most difficult working conditions occur in the high pressure cylinder, which must be especially well lubricated. On the other hand when saturated steam is employed, cylinder lubrication is commonly dispensed with altogether, or else oil is fed very sparingly and mostly at the beginning and end of a trip. Such a practice would be better justified in a una-flow engine working with saturated steam, where moreover, the balanced inlet valves do not require lubrication.
The first una-flow marine engine, intended for a steam trawler, was built by J. Frerichs & Co., A. G., of Osterholz-Scharmbeck. This engine is of 450 BHP, with two cranks at 90°, so that there is a gain of space for fish storage purposes corresponding to that occupied by one of the cylinders of a triple expansion engine, which had so far been the type usually employed for this purpose. Saeuber-
lich's patent valve gear was used, which gives up to 80% maximum cut-off for maneuvering in addition to ample valve lifts at normal cut-offs. The engine works with highly superheated steam and has satisfied every demand put upon it.
The Stettiner Maschinenbau-A.-G. Vulkan, of Stettin-Bredow, next decided to construct a una-flow engine and install it in a steamer of their own build (see Figs. 2 to 4). This engine has two cranks at 90°, and a cylinder bore of 580 mm and a stroke of 600 mm. It develops 400 BHP when using steam of 12 at. gage pressure. The boilers are fitted with superheaters, and a mixing tube is provided so that saturated steam may be mixed with superheated steam so as to obtain
a fairly wide range of working superheats. A Klug type of valve gear is employed, in which the motion of the end of the eccentric rod is communicated to the horizontal valves in the cylinder heads by means of a curved rod and a cam and roller mechanism. The gear was designed for a maximum cut-off of only 26% so as to obtain large opening of the valves at early cut-off. In order to provide for starting and maneuvering, an auxiliary piston valve giving a maximum cut-off of 90%
is mounted on* the exhaust belt, and is operated from a second pin, which in this particular case coincides with the point of suspension of the arm of the eccentric. This valve at the same time controls a set of auxiliary jexhaust ports to permit of relieving the compression when starting up with no vacuum in the condenser, since the air pump is directly driven from the engine. This type of auxiliary valve gear is shown diagrammatically in Fig. 5, which represents the arrangement employed on a una-flow marine engine installed in the steamship "Strassburg" owned by the Hamburg- American Line. It should be noted that the pilot valve which admits live steam to the auxiliary piston valve, as well as the cylinder valves which control the connections from the latter to the ends of the working cylinder, are actuated automatically by the valve gear, so that no extra manual operation is required for maneuvering. When the gear is in either of its outermost positions
for ahead or astern running, the pilot valve and cylinder valves are opened, while in intermediate positions of the gear all these valves are closed. When maneuvering, it is only necessary to turn the reversing wheel until the engine responds. If the main gear does not start the engine, then the auxiliary gear will come into action. As soon as the engine begins to turn over, the gear is brought back to the normal running cut-off of 10%. In this position the auxiliary valve gear is completely cut out. The elimination of hand-operated valves thus greatly simplifies maneuvering.
The air pump and auxiliaries are directly driven from the main engine, and it is for this reason that the auxiliary piston valve is also arranged to relieve the compression when starting and maneuvering.
The condenser is incorporated in the rear columns in the customary manner. The entire valve gear is mounted at the front of the engine where all parts are accessible. As shown in Fig. 6 the crank cheeks are formed as eccentrics. The engine is designed to work ordinarily with superheated steam of a temperature of only 250° G and the ends of the cylinder barrels are therefore steam jacketed, in addi-
tion to the heads. The cylinders are bolted together along their exhaust belts, where the temperature is lowest; the rigidity of the wrhole structure is therefore considerably increased without appreciable changes of alignment due to expansion.
Fig. 7 shows the steam valve together writh its valve bonnet and cam mechanism. In Fig, 8 is shown an outline view of the cargo steamer "Vulkan", which was fitted with the engine just described.
The Hamburg- American Line also decided to fit two una-flow engines to the twin-screw steamer "Strassburg", which plies between Hamburg and Cologne. This boat, shown in Fig. 9, was built in the yards of Gebriider Sachsenberg A.-G., of Deutz near Cologne. Eaeh propeller shaft is driven by a two-cylinder vertical una-flow engine, the cylinders of which have a bore of 440 mm and a stroke of 450 mm. Each engine develops 250 I HP at 175 r. p. m. when using steam of 12 at. pressure, at a temperature of 325° C. As will be seen from the photograph reproduced in Fig. 10, and from the drawings given in Fig. 11, these engines are built on the same lines as the "Vulkan" engine just described. They are likewise fitted with the Klug type of valve gear with auxiliary gear as described above. On account of the high degree of superheat, the steam jackets on the ends of the cylinder barrel were omitted.
The firm of Burmeister & Wain, of Copenhagen, also decided to introduce the una-flow engine on two single-screw steamers ordered by the United Steamship Co., of Copenhagen. Each engine is of 1000 BHP and has three cylinders. The Klug type of valve gear is employed, but the auxiliary mechanism is omitted since with three cranks at 120° the maximum cut-off necessary for maneuvering is only about 40%. With this longest cut-off the inlet valves still give sufficient opening at the normal cut-off of 10%. Each cylinder has independent steam and condenser connections, and it thus becomes possible to cut out any one in case of need. By using a longer cut-off in the two remaining cylinders, the full running power may then be obtained.
Half side views of these engines are shown in Figs. 12 and 13. These photographs clearly show the compact arrangement of the Klug gear at the front end of the engines, the three operating rods being arranged to rock three telescopic shafts which transmit the motion to the valves of the individual cylinders. The
latter have a bore of 635 mm, with a stroke of 915 mm, the speed being 84 r p. m. The cylinders are designed to give a very compact assembly, so that a total saving of 1.75 m in the length of the engine results. This arrangement has the advantage of giving a better static balance of the reciprocating parts, so that the cut-offs at both head and crank ends of each cylinder may be made equal. This results in very smooth running. The consideration of dynamic balance is unimportaut at the low speed in question. The air pump is directly driven from the main engine, and a small auxiliary pump is provided for creating a vacuum before starting
The connection between the exhaust belts of the cylinders and the condenser is especially worthy of notice. Each cylinder has an individual connection, but since the exhaust belts are all interconnected, there is always ample area of passage from each cylinder to the condenser.
Despite the high superheat used, there is no special provision for cylinder lubrication. This is due to the fact that with single-stage expansion, even with high superheats, the cycle extends into the saturated region, so that the average temperature of the working surfaces is low. The cylinders are lubricated sparingly only at the beginning and end of a trip, while in ordinary running they are not
steam used by the auxiliary
machinery was included in figuring the above result. It should be noted that no forced draft or means of preheating the air is provided, and that the ends of the cylinder barrels are not jacketed. The boilers are fitted with Jorgensen patent superheaters which have proved very reliable in service.
valve gear, which has been so successful on locomotives.
In Fig. 16 is shown the assembly of the compound engine of the steamer "Wera", owned by the Orient Co., of Petrograd. On account of the excellent steam consumption results obtainable with the una-flow engine, this company decided to replace the compound engine by a two cylinder una-flow machine having a cylinder bore of 600 mm and a stroke of 711 mm. Superheating had been tried experimentally on this ship, but the old engine had proved unsuitable for use with it. For this reason it was decided to change over to una-flow cylinders, the design being shown in Figs. 17 and 18. The steamer is fitted with two engines, each of which is capable of developing 500 HP at a maximum speed of 125 r. p. m. The ends of the cylinder barrels are steam jacketed, so that the engine is suitable for working with saturated steam if the occasion should arise.
In marine practice there is also need for a valve gear which will give proper valve lifts for normal cut-offs without having excessive movement for cut-offs of 70 to 80%. From this point of view was developed the valve gear shown in Fig. 19.
In all the common valve and reversing gears the angle of advance as well as the throw of the resultant eccentric are varied, with the effect that for small cut-offs the throw of the eccentric is also small, as is the valve opening. All parts of the engine, however, have to be proportioned to accommodate the maximum eccentric throw. Obviously, the valve opening for small cut-offs could be materially improved if instead of changing the eccentricity and angle of advance, the former is kept constant and only the latter is changed. This method of course necessitates a change of the lap lines as is shown in Fig. 22, in which the left hand diagram is drawn for valve gears of the Klug or Walschaert type while the right hand diagram is for a gear incorporating this new principle. The right hand diagram is drawn so that the constant throw of the eccentric is equal to the maximum throw in the case of the left hand diagram. The valve opening "A" for maximum cut-off is equal in the two cases. For normal cut-off, however, the valve opening "B" of the new type of valve gear is seen to be considerably larger than that given by the standard valve gears.
In the design shown in Fig. 19, a bevel gear is keyed to the end of the crank shaft and meshes with a pinion mounted in a rotatable housing, which in turn drives another bevel gear similar to the first, but in the opposite direction. The latter is keyed to a sleeve together with four eccentrics, each of which operates one of the valves of the two cylinders. These eccentrics are connected to rocking levers mounted on an eccentric spindle which is geared to, and is turned simultaneously with the gear housing. This gear housing is turned by means of the reversing wheel, and in order to turn the eccentrics and the eccentric rocker spindle through the same angle, the gear ratio, on account of the differential action, must be two to one. The main eccentrics as well as the eccentric rocker spindle are moved in the same direction and in such a relationship that with one of the cranks in its dead center the corresponding cam roller remains stationary, thereby keeping
the point of opening constant. When the main eccentrics are thrown from full ahead to full astern, the eccentric rocker spindle is moved through the same angle. The resultant eccentric curve for this gear is therefore not a straight line but a circle drawn about the center of the shaft. The throw of the eccentric is always the same and the lap is altered in proportion to the angle of advance. When the arms of the rocking levers have the ratio 1:1, the eccentricity of the spindle must be one-half that of the main eccentrics. The eccentric rods are very short in order to compensate for the angularity of the connecting rods. In addition, the rocking levers are proportioned to give a later cut-off at the crank ends of the cylinders and an earlier cut-off at the head ends for forward running, so as to eliminate the effect of the weight of the reciprocating parts.
bonnets are arranged above the
cams, and the eccentrics are set so that the rocking levers for the same cylinder move in opposite directions.
An interesting modification of
this gear is shown in Fig. 20. In this case the eccentrics operate the four valves of the two cylinders through telescopic shafts. The latter are mounted on a long spindle mounted eccentrically in two bearings arranged on the exhaust belt. This spindle and the bevel gear housing are interconnected by a vertical spindle and two worm gears in such a manner that the center of the telescopic shafts is swung through the same angle as the main eccentrics. When the latter are moved from the full ahead to the full astern position, the center of the telescopic shafts is displaced by the same angle. The throw of the main eccentrics and the eccentricity of the spindle carrying the telescopic shafts are so proportioned that the lap of the inlet valves is changed in conformity with the alteration in the angle of advance of the eccentrics. In this case, as in the other form of this valve gear described above, no auxiliary gear is required, since cut-offs up to 85% are easily obtainable. A diagrammatic outline of this gear is shown in Fig. 21.
In Fig. 23 are shown a side elevation and plan of a una-flow marine engine for a paddle steamer plying on the river Volga in Russia. This engine has a cylinder bore of 600 mm, a stroke of 800 mm and develops 180 BHP at 26 r. p. m.
Details of the cylinders and heads are given in Figs. 24 and 25.
The crank end cylinder heads are tied to the main bearings by cast steel rods of square section which also serve as crosshead guides. The main bearing housings are cast in one piece with their supports. The valve gear is arranged at one side of the engine and consists of two sets of Klug type reversing motions which operate the valve cam mechanisms through the medium of a pair of telescopic shafts mounted transversely on the exhaust belts. The arms of the eccentric straps, extend downwards and are connected at intermediate points by links to a yoke piece which may be adjusted by hand through screw gearing. The main valve gears are designed for a maximum cut-off of 25%, the head and crank end
cut-offs being equalized as far as possible. An auxiliary valve gear is driven from a pin on each of the short eccentric arms, which in this case coincides with the point of attachment of the swinging link. This auxiliary gear gives a cut-off up to 90% of the stroke, and thereby permits of easy maneuvering. The auxiliary valves are operated by means of a cross shaft and rocking levers supported at the crank end of the cylinders. The auxiliary gear is cut out by a suitable mechanism actuated by a sleeve mounted on the cross shaft, this mechanism being connected to the main valve gear yoke in such a manner that the entire control during maneuvering is effected from the main gear.
In Fig. 26 is shown a modified design of this engine incorporating a gear similar to that shown in Fig. 20. The telescopic shafts are supported on a long eccentric spindle arranged on the exhaust belts on top of the cylinders.
a tug boat working on the New York State barge canal, and has a cylinder bore of 18" with a stroke of 18". The valve gear is arranged at the front of the engine and consists of a revolving cam shaft driven from the crank shaft by two sets of spiral gears and an intermediate vertical shaft. The cam shaft is enclosed in a housing bolted to the exhaust belt, and operates the vertical valves in the cylinder heads by means of roller levers and tappets. A set of five cams is provided for each cylinder, which give cut-offs of 75% astern, neutral, 75% ahead for maneuvering, full load ahead, and half load ahead. The cam shaft is shifted bodily endways by levers actuated by a steam cylinder, the valve of which is controlled by a hand lever having a follow-up motion. Equal cut-offs at the head and crank ends of the cylinders are obtained by placing the roller for the head end valve 4%° ahead of its normal 180° position, the average difference in crank angle for equal cut-offs being 9°. The tappet of the head end valve has a clearance sufficient to make 4%° of the cam inoperative, so that the total time of opening of the head end valve corresponds to the cam angle minus twice the angle of offset, or 9°. The cams as well as the rollers are beveled off to facilitate the endwise movement of the cam shaft. This engine has proved thoroughly reliable in operation.
In Figs. 28, 29 and 30 is shown a four cylinder single-acting una-flow marine engine having the condenser incorporated in the frame. This engine was built by the firm of Karl Schmid of Landsberg for the steamer "Koriolan", and has a cylinder bore of 470 mm, a stroke of 350 mm, and develops 400 HP at 250 r. p. m. For better balancing, the cranks of each pair of adjacent cylinders are set at 180°, and the pairs of cranks are in turn set at 90°. A separate crosshead guide is provided, apart from the cylinder bore, and the piston is accordingly of stepped construction. Any water of condensation dripping from the pistons is thus kept away from the lubricating oil in the crank pit. The cranks have scoops formed upon them which, dip into the oil and deliver it to the crank pins. A further advantage claimed by the builders for this type of construction is the lower working temperature of the crosshead piston and its removal from the hot cylinder walls. This type has proved very reliable, but the same may be said of the straight piston design shown in Fig. 31, if a different method of lubrication is employed. The
valves are located centrally in the heads and are operated by cams through bell crank levers mounted on eccentric pivots by means of which the cut-off may be changed or the valves made inoperative (see Fig. 30). Corresponding to the positions of the hand lever, the cam has separate steps for 60% cut-off astern, neutral, 60%, 20%, 10% and 5% cut-off ahead. The cam shaft runs at half engine speed, for which reason it is provided with two sets of cam profiles for each cut-off. By means of the eccentric adjustment the rollers may be moved horizontally and be brought into proper engagement with the cams or swung clear of them. The cam shaft is shifted by means of a handwheel and rack and pinion. Each cylinder is provided with a separate stop valve.
The general construction of the engine and some of the details of the valve gear recall those of a marine oil engine. The surface condenser is incorporated in the frame, and this arrangement results in a considerable saving of space and a reduction of the back pressure, although it is probably only suitable for small engines. This machine has given excellent satisfaction.
gearing, but in contrast to that of the engine just described, it runs at double the speed of the crank shaft. Single-beat high lift valves are arranged centrally in the cylinder heads and are operated by Lentz cam mechanisms by means of rocking levers mounted on eccentric pins, these levers being actuated by eccentrics on
the main valve gear shaft. The latter is driven through a differential gear, the housing of which may be turned by a worm and hand wheel for altering the phase relation to the shaft, whereby the angle of advance and consequently the cut-off is changed and the engine may be reversed. The necessary lap of the valve cams
is obtained by communicating the rotative motion of the differential gear housing to the eccentrics on which the rocking levers are mounted, in such a way that the angle of advance of the latter always corresponds to that of the main eccentrics. The whole of the valve gear is enclosed in a housing. In consequence of the double speed of the valve gear shaft, the angle of cut-off is doubled and the valve
lift quadrupled, which thus permits of the use of a very small single-beat valve. The latter is unaffected by pressure and temperature changes and will therefore remain permanently tight. The clearance space and harmful surfaces are also materially reduced. This design has been developed in connection with the singleacting vertical two cylinder engine shown in Fig. 47 of Ch. II, 1, p. 165, under the heading of stationary engines. (See also the following chapter.)
In Fig. 32 is shown a design of a single-acting vertical six cylinder marine engine developed by the Stumpf Una-Flow Engine Company, Inc., of Syracuse, N. Y., in which straight pistons are also used. The double-beat valves are arranged horizontally in the heads and are operated by bell crank levers actuated by tapered cams mounted on a cam shaft running at engine speed. The valves are easily removable from the opposite side of the cylinders, and each cylinder head is detachable with the valve in place without disconnecting the gear, so that the piston is easily accessible. The cylinders are all bolted together at their exhaust
belts, where the temperature is lowest, and are tied to the cast steel base plate by substantial bolts with tubular distance pieces. Cast steel side members are arranged to take the side thrust of the piston and also permit of the attachment of side plates for enclosing the driving parts. The cam shaft with its tapered cams may be moved bodily endways by means of a hand wheel and worm gear, whereby the cut-off may be changed and the engine reversed. The six cylinders have a bore of 22" with a stroke of 24" and develop 5000 HP at 250 r. p. m. All problems concerning manufacture and operation have been satisfactorily solved in this design.
In all single-acting engines of this kind the greatest care must be exercised in the design and manufacture of the piston and rings, which must make a vacuum-tight joint with the cylinder. Air leakage past the piston into the vacuum touches the engine at a vulnerable spot.
In the case of high powered engines, if it is desired to use the Schlick balancing arrangement, this can be carried out with a four or six crank una-flow engine. A four cylinder engine of this kind is shown in Fig. 33. Hollow pistons can be
made very light, as was mentioned in dealing with locomotive details. Such light pistons might be employed for the outside units, while the necessary additional weight can be easily added in the cavities of the pistons of the middle cylinders without alteration of any other parts.
The effect of the inertia forces of the reciprocating masses upon the loads on the driving parts is more favorable in large una-flow engines than in the modern triple or quadruple expansion engines, where the inertia and steam pressures are
additive in the latter part of the stroke. The actual maximum stresses occurring in regular running are much smaller in large una-flow engines. At the same time piston speeds of 5% m/sec may be employed.
Investigation proves that for cut-offs later than normal, the load distribution on the driving parts of a una-flow engine is more even, while for early cut-off and at low speeds of revolution the multi-stage engine is better in this respect.
For small and medium sizes and low speeds, the three cylinder arrangement has many advantages, such as better load distribution on the driving parts, more uniform torque and a smaller shaft diameter.
With three, four, or more cylinders, the una-flow marine engine offers a great reserve of power. Since each cylinder and set of driving parts forms a complete unit in itself, any one or more of these units may be disconnected if requiring repairs, while the cut-off in the remaining ones may be increased to make up for the loss of the one out of action. For instance, it is possible to cut out two units of the four cylinder engine just described, and to increase the cut-off in the remaining ones from 10 to 20% to make up for the difference.
In comparison with that of the multi-stage engine, the reversing gear of the una-flow marine engine is much more simple and reliable. In the latter the process of reversing only applies to the inlet valves. Since in this type of engine there are no intermediate receiver pressures to be taken into account when reversing, and as the compression is always constant, the difficulties caused by excessive compression pressures in the first cylinders of multi-stage engines are avoided. Reversing takes place much more smoothly, especially since the balanced inlet valves offer very little resistance. Consequently the valve gear parts are subject to very little wear, as is proved also by experience.
lost by throttling in the valves and pipes, and by condensation losses. On the other hand, the diagram factor of the indicator card (Fig. 35) of a una-flow engine may reach 80% with a good vacuum, i. e., a difference of 20 to 25% in favor of
the una-flow engine. This explains in part the essentially smaller dimensions of a una-flow cylinder in comparison with the low pressure cylinder of a multi-stage engine. This is also to some extent the reason for the fact that the steam consumption of a una-flow engine is not greater than that of a quadruple expansion engine of equal power, both for saturated and superheated steam. -
By distributing the steam flow to several cylinders, smaller inlet valve dimensions are obtained, in contrast to the bulky valves necessary with multi-stage engines, in which the total working steam has to pass from one cylinder to the next in series.
The usual types of valve gears with fixed lap necessarily give very small valve lifts at early cut-offs. P'or instance, at 10% cut-off the valve opening a' is only 0.065 r (see Fig. 1). In order to obtain the necessary valve area when slide valve gears are used, a large travel and considerable lap must be provided and this results in large friction losses and leakage. In poppet valve gears very steep cams become necessary. In order to alter the cut-off, the resultant eccentricity has to be changed; and since cut-offs up to 50% must be provided for in many cases, the eccentric travel for early cut-offs is short and therefore the resultant valve lift is small, i. e., the
trying to accomplish the
work with small valve lifts and large forces, it would be better to use large valve lifts and small forces. If therefore the lay shaft is arranged to run at double the engine speed, then the period of valve opening extends through twice the angle a arid the opening increases from a' to a, as shown in Fig. 1. Since
doubling the lay shaft speed, the opening of the valve is thus quadrupled. In order to prevent the valve from opening twice during one revolution of the engine, a cut-out eccentric is interposed in the valve gear, running at engine speed, which increases the useful stroke of the main eccentric and makes every second stroke of the latter inoperative. In Fig. 2 is shown a Zeuner diagram for such a valve gear, in which the two outstrokes of the resultant eccentric are shown in full lines while the instrokes are dashed. Every alternate outstroke
produces a valve opening of 19 mm while the following stroke falls short of the lap line by 4 mm. The constructional simplicity of this gear is evident from Fig. 3. The double-speed lay shaft carries a shaft governor which varies the throw and angle of advance of the main eccentric in the usual manner. The latter operates the cam lever in the valve bonnet indirectly through a double armed lever,
mains closed. Figs. 3 and 4
respectively show the gear and the valve of a una-flow engine having a cylinder bore of 400 mm, a stroke of 500mm, and running at 150 r. p. m. The main dimensions of the valve gear are given in the following table:
The cut-out eccentric shaft is driven from the lay shaft by a train of spur gears; and where auxiliary exhaust valves are employed they may be operated from the former. Since the governor runs at double the speed of that of an ordinary lay shaft engine, its regulating force is quadrupled, and it will therefore hardly be affected by any valve gear reaction. The ratio between minimum and maximum eccentric travel of the shifting eccentric of an ordinary valve gear may be designed to give a maximum cut-off of 75%. If the same ratio is used for the main eccentric which runs at double speed, the corresponding crank angle is
equivalent to a maximum cut-off of only 25%. This may be improved upon by a suitable change in the angle of advance of the cut-out eccentric, and the maximum cut-off may thus be increased to about 35%.
For ordinary stationary engines a maximum cut-off of 25% would seem to be sufficient, since with a normal cut-off of 10% at rated load an overload of more than double this amount may be carried. In special cases the cut-off may be
materially increased by running the main eccentric shaft at engine speed and •the cut-out eccentric shaft at double speed (Fig. 11). In this manner it becomes possible to reach a maximum cut-off of 70%, but in this case the valve lift will be only doubled instead of quadrupled. Apart from the increase in the weight of the valves, the forces necessary to accelerate them will consequently be doubled. Since these forces only amount to a part of the total valve gear reaction, the governor, now revolving only at engine speed, should still be able to handle them satisfactorily, provided that there is sufficient frictional resistance in the shifting eccentric. A design comprising a secondary eccentric rotatably mounted upon a primary eccentric is suitable for this purpose.
The most satisfactory arrangement, however, is to operate the governor shaft at twice the engine speed, since this quadruples the regulating forces as well as the valve lift. The high lift obtainable in this manner allows of the use of a singlebeat valve, the diameter of
ployed in combination with
the double-speed valve gear. A good vacuum is desirable in view of the small clearance space. It also demonstrates why previous experiments with single-beat valves were bound to fail. Figs. 4 and 5 show the great simplicity of the singlebeat valve as compared with the equivalent double-beat valve, both figures being
drawn to the same scale. Fig. 6 shows the plain character of the cylinder head castings, as well as the short and simple steam passages and the small amount of clearance volume and harmful surfaces. The reduction of surface loss, volume loss and leakage, as well as the losses due to throttling may be expected to improve the steam consumption by 0.4 to 0.5 kg/HP-hour.
The single-beat valve has only half the diameter of the double-beat valve. Despite the small dimensions of the valve, the pressure drop during admission will be less on account of the direct flow of steam with the least possible changes of area and direction, and the well rounded corners.
A large nozzle, in general, has less friction losses than a small nozzle, since the friction of the walls is relatively less in comparison with the quantity of steam passing through it. For this reason the friction losses of the single-beat valve with its more compact steam jet must be less than those of the double-beat valve
where the flow is split up. The even profile of the cross-section of approach to the valve seat and the following diffusor-like enlargement of the steam passage will also cause a gradual increase in kinetic energy, with a subsequent change of the same into pressure energy, so that the total amount of work changed into heat due to friction will be small.
The reduction of throttling losses also benefits the governor action, since the pressure difference at the valve during the latter part of admission constitutes the major part of the load to be handled by the governor. In comparison with this the forces necessary to lift the valve are small, mainly because the clearance space is filled with steam at a pressure almost equal to that of the live steam, so that an infinitely small lift of the valve is sufficient to allow the pressures to equalize fully. On the other hand, the increasing pressure difference at the valve during closing imposes an increasing load upon the governor, if it is not checked by frictional resistance in the mechanism. Since the forces on the valve depend
meter for which the loads on the valve become a minimum.
A further part of the valve load is caused by the valve spring, which should therefore not be made heavier than necessary. The single-beat valve, on account of its light weight, also improves conditions considerably, since the forces necessary to accelerate it are smaller than those of the equivalent double-beat valve. A valve spring calculation has already been given in Chapter I, 5, but the method there employed is not applicable in this case, since the combined motions of two eccentrics revolving at different speeds have to be dealt with. A sketch of the valve gear mechanism is shown in Fig. 7 and corresponds to the arrangement shown in Fig. 3. Noteworthy is the gentle rise of the cam profile L, which in this
The first step is to draw up the valve lift curve. For this purpose the movement of the whole gear is determined point by point for crank angles of 10° each. This corresponds to an angle of 20° at the main eccentric on account of the double speed of the latter. The paths of the points B and D are obtained in this manner. In the present case it will be found that when the crank has turned through about 60°, the center K of the roller is again in the same position as at the start, and the investigation will therefore be restricted to a crank angle of from 0° to 6(R The valve lift h for any position of the gear is the distance, measured parallel to the valve stem center line, between the curve L and an arc described with the radius J K. The curve L is drawn through the center of the roller equidistant to the
marked h.
The valve velocities are determined essentially in the same manner as before, being calculated from the angular velocities of the shafts and the instantaneous lever arms r1? r2, /-3, r4, r5. The latter are obtained from the full size drawing. The velocity of the rod DH is combined of the two velocities imparted to it by the two eccentrics. First assuming the cut-out shaft 0 to be stationary, then the
be found by assuming the point B to be held stationary. The instantaneous effective lever arm r6 of the cut-out eccentric O^C is the distance of the point 0-^ from the line CG which bisects the included angle between the lines CE and CF drawn
In the practical application of this method it will be found that increments of the crank angle of 10° are too coarse to permit of accurate determination of the valve movement during the lifting period. It is advisable to determine the rapidly varying lever arm r5 for every 2 mm of roller travel, as is shown at the right in Fig. 8. It will also be found best to continue the r5 line back to the zero ordinate as shown dashed. The relation between the roller travel and crank angle is next determined, giving the curve a at the right of Fig. 8 and the calculated velocities v are then plotted in the diagram at the left. The points of change of curvature of curve r5 and of the velocity curve v in this case correspond to a crank angle of 5°. The imaginary extension of the r5 curve to the zero ordinate permits of the continuation of the velocity curve to zero crank angle, as indicated by a dashed line, and thus facilitates the location of a tangent.
The tangent T-T drawn at the steepest part of the velocity curve gives the maximum retardation of the valve to be taken care of by the spring. In the present case, with the engine running at 150 r. p. m., a crank angle of 10° corresponds to
The calculation of the valve spring is carried out as shown in Chapter I, 5, but it should be noted that for crank angles of 0 — 5° and 55 — 60°, the inertia, spring pressure and pressure on the valve due to throttling act in the same direction, and are opposed only by the steam pressure on the valve stem area. The friction is assumed to be balanced by the weight. The retardation during the
single-beat type. The exhaust valves are opened after the steam pressure is relieved by the piston uncovering the main exhaust ports and are closed after the exhaust valve ports are overrun by the piston.
The operation of the auxiliary exhaust valves is thus simplified, and the singlebeat form becomes permissible. They may be operated by an eccentric placed 90° ahead of, or behind the main crank. In Fig. 10 the exhaust eccentric is shown mounted on the cut-out shaft, and in Fig. 1 1 on the main lay shaft, both shafts running at engine
speed. The arrangement shown in Fig. 10, with a double-speed lay shaft and singlespeed cut-out shaft, will give a range of cut-off up to 35%, while that of Fig. 11, with a single speed lay shaft and double-speed cut-out shaft, has a range up to 70%.
An interesting design of the self-contained type is shown in Fig. 12, where the crank shaft is used as lay shaft, the shifting eccentric being controlled by a flywheel governor. The auxiliary eccentric shaft is driven from the crank shaft at double engine speed, by spur gears placed at one side of the crank, while the exhaust eccentric is placed on the other side. The movement of the main eccentric is transmitted to both single-beat inlet valves by rocking levers as previously described, the latter being pivoted on eccentrics at 180° on the double-speed shaft, thus magnifying the useful movement. The lower end of the second lever is moved by the lower end of the first one by a pin with bushing and sleeve. The single-beat exhaust valves are operated directly by the exhaust eccentric.
The gear shown in Fig. 11 with its long range of cut-off is suitable for engines intended for ordinary driving purposes, while that shown in Fig. 10, having a more limited range of cut-off, is more useful for those driving pumps and compressors.
At the beginning of this book the different losses of the steam engine were analyzed. The question which arises at the end is, how is the engine to be designed in order to have a minimum total of all these losses ? Such an engine in the form of a una-flow engine with single-beat valves is presented in Fig. 6 of Ch. VI, p. 307.
It was demonstrated that the una-flow engine with single-beat valves as shown in Fig. 6 of Chapter VI has the smallest surface loss. In the first place the extent of the harmful surfaces is extremely small. The additional harmful surface consisting of the short and narrow steam inlet passage amounts to only about 5% of the smallest theoretical harmful surface, i. e. twice the area of the cylinder bore. In vertical engines, the additional harmful surface will be still smaller, as is evident from the two and four cylinder single-acting engines shown in Fig. 47, Ch. II, 1, p. 165, and Fig. 31, Ch. V, p. 299. Furthermore, the harmful surfaces may in this case be easily machined and thereby still further reduced. The part of the harmful surface which needs jacketing the most, namely, the area of the cylinder head, is exposed to the heating action of the highly superheated live steam in the best possible manner. The extremely small clearance volume produces a high compression with a terminal compression temperature of about 900° C. The harmful surface is therefore thermally prepared for steam admission in the best possible 'manner. The surface loss must consequently be very small.
It was also demonstrated that the una-flow engine with single-beat valves has the smallest volume loss. There is no better way to reduce the volume loss than by keeping down the clearance volume to a minimum. The clearance volume of the engine shown in Fig. 6 of Chapter VI is only 1%, which reduces to about %% f°r larger engines and to about %% in the case of the vertical engine with single-beat valves. The long compression also assists in further reducing the volume loss. For these reasons the latter will be extremely small despite the use of single stage expansion. With the small clearance volumes just given, and for the usual range of pressure drop, the critical back pressure of this type of engine, i. e. the
anything that can be reached with even the best condensing equipment.
It was also shown that the una-flow engine with single-beat valves, assuming the same lubrication and operating conditions, has less friction losses than the equivalent counterflow tandem engine, since there is only -one piston instead of two, one piston rod packing instead of three, and two valves instead of eight.
It was proved also that the throttling loss of the una-flow engine with singlebeat valves is smaller than that of any other steam engine. In the first place, the throttling losses occurring between the cylinders of multi-stage engines are eliminated altogether. The piston-controlled exhaust permits of a sufficient port area even with very small exhaust lead, so that the pressures between engine cylinder and condenser may equalize fully. The throttling loss at the toe of the diagram is therefore reduced to a minimum, and the indirect loss due to throttling, consisting of a loss of diagram area along the compression line, is eliminated. The early cut-offs employed result in small throttling losses in any case and these are still further reduced by the use of single-beat valves which produce a compact stream instead of the split-up stream of the ordinary double-beat valve, and furthermore permit a fairly correct nozzle diffusor action to be obtained.
It was also shown that the leakage losses of the una-flow engine with singlebeat valves must be very small. In the first place the number of points of possible leakage is reduced to a minimum. While on the one hand the ordinary tandem counterflow engine has three piston rod packings, eight valve stems, two piston seals and sixteen valve seats, in the una-flow engine with single-beat valves these are reduced to one piston rod packing, two valve stems,' one piston seal and two valve seats. Piston rod stuffing boxes can be made perfectly tight by use of metallic packings of modern design. Similarly, leakage past the valve stems can be completely prevented if they are properly fitted. A self-supporting piston can be made perfectly tight if properly designed, i. e. if the outer rings do not overrun the cylinder bore, if a sufficient number of rings is employed, if they are secured against creeping, and their joints are placed at the lowest point so that the part of the piston in contact with the cylinder wall prevents the steam from reaching the joints. From Fig. 6, Chapter VI, it will also be seen that during the periods of high pressures all six rings are active in forming a seal, and later on when the pressure has fallen appreciably three rings still remain active. Finally the small high-lift single-beat valve (see Fig. 4, Chapter VI) will remain perfectly tight, since its diameter is small, there is only one seat, and the sealing pressure is proportional to the pressure difference. Here the superiority in regard to tightness of the una-flow engine with single-beat valves will find its strongest expression. Last but not least, the series arrangement of live steam space, inlet valve, piston and exhaust is also a very valuable feature of this type of engine. It should therefore be possible to attain complete tightness at all points.
radiation and convection losses.
Since the una-flow engine with single-beat valves possesses the smallest losses due to surface, volume, friction, throttling, leakage and radiation, therefore very small mean effective pressures are theoretically permissible.
economically possible.
Exchanging in rule 7 on page 42 the words "back pressure" and "mean effective pressure", then the rule reads: "For a given amount of initial pressure^ back pressure, clearance volume and length of compression, the mean effective pressure must be chosen in such a way as to make the change of total heat during compression equal to the change of total heat during expansion." If now the clearance volume of the una-flow engine with single-beat valves is about 1%, then the terminal compression pressure will very closely approach the initial pressure, and in accordance with the above rule this requires expansion to the back pressure and mean effective pressure equal to zero.
No other type of engine gives such fine, sharp-cornered, no-load cards free from throttling as the una-flow engine with single-beat valves. This type of engine is therefore especially advantageous in cases where long periods of idle running are unavoidable, as for instance in rolling mill engines. The small throttling losses therefore also favor low mean effective pressures.
mean effective pressures permissible.
Valve leakage in una-flow engines produces a certain increase in terminal pres*sure at the end of expansion and compression and a corresponding loss in area of the diagram. Piston leakage on the other hand results in a loss of pressure at the end of expansion and compression, also with an equivalent loss of area. Both kinds of losses increase with increasing ratio of expansion or compression, or decreasing mean effective pressure. The perfectly tight steam distributing elements of the una-flow engine with single-beat valves therefore make small mean effective pressures feasible.
the use of low mean effective pressures.
Hence the reduction to a minimum of all the six losses so far discussed makes it possible to work with low mean effective pressures. Since a low mean effective pressure is accompanied by a small loss due to incomplete expansion, this leads to the following statement: The reduction to a minimum of the first six losses has as its consequence a minimum of the seventh loss, i. e. a minimum loss due to incomplete expansion.
Small mean effective pressures, however, result in larger cylinder dimensions, therefore higher piston loads and higher first cost, the latter to a greater extent than in multi-stage engines. This finally leads to a compromise between the requirements for high economy and low initial cost, i. e. the use of higher mean effective pressures in practice, with a somewhat larger loss due to incomplete expansion, which is on the whole greater than that of multi-stage engines. In regard to the loss due to incomplete expansion, the una-flow engine with single-beat valves therefore ranks high theoretically, but practical considerations forbid the full realization of this advantage.
indicated by which this loss may be considerably reduced with a simultaneous
increase in the mean effective pressure. This has led to the successful development of the una-flow engine with exhaust ejector action as typified by the unaflow locomotive with single-beat valves, in which the exhaust energy of one cylinder is used to create a vacuum in the second cylinder. This proves that in the case of multi-cylinder una-flow engines the loss due to incomplete expansion may be minimized, and this leaves hope that the same result may also be accomplished for the other kinds of service for which the una-flow engine is so well adapted.
Finally it may be claimed that in the una-flow engine with single-beat valves and double-speed lay shaft, all the losses are a minimum except that due to incomplete expansion, with the possibility that in the future this loss also may be reduced to a minimum.
Since the first cost of a una-flow engine is usually 15% lower than that of the equivalent tandem compound engine, it would be correct to reduce the mean effective pressure of the former by such an amount that this difference in first cost is wiped out. In most cases, however, the striving after a reduction in first cost restrains the designer from availing himself of this possibility.
The uni-directional flow, single stage expansion, piston-controlled exhaust and single-beat inlet valves are common features of both the new una-flow steam engine and the two stroke internal combustion engine, while the unidirectional flow is also a feature of the steam turbine. Thus a certain similarity is established in the design and performance of the two stroke internal combustion engine and the new una-flow steam engine, thereby proving conclusively that the latter rests upon sound principles.
WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FA.UURE TO RETURN ™IS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO 5O CENTS ON THE FOURTH
| 80,445 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | unaflowsteamengi00stumrich | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0014.json.gz:365 | https://archive.org/download/unaflowsteamengi00stumrich/unaflowsteamengi00stumrich_djvu.txt |
yuWJAAueiJqJ_5Zb | 13.20: The Milky Way Galaxy (Exercises) | 13.20: The Milky Way Galaxy (Exercises)
For Further Exploration
Articles
Blitz, L. “The Dark Side of the Milky Way.” Scientific American (October 2011): 36–43. How we find dark matter and what it tells us about our Galaxy, its warped disk, and its satellite galaxies.
Dvorak, J. “Journey to the Heart of the Milky Way.” Astronomy (February 2008): 28. Measuring nearby stars to determine the properties of the black hole at the center.
Gallagher, J., Wyse, R., & Benjamin, R. “The New Milky Way.” Astronomy (September 2011): 26. Highlights all aspects of the Milky Way based on recent observations.
Goldstein, A. “Finding our Place in the Milky Way.” Astronomy (August 2015): 50. On the history of observations that pinpointed the Sun’s location in the Galaxy.
Haggard, D., & Bower, G. “In the Heart of the Milky Way.” Sky & Telescope (February 2016): 16. On observations of the Galaxy’s nucleus and the supermassive black hole and magnetar there.
Ibata, R., & Gibson, B. “The Ghosts of Galaxies Past.” Scientific American (April 2007): 40. About star streams in the Galaxy that are evidence of past mergers and collisions.
Irion, R. “A Crushing End for Our Galaxy.” Science (January 7, 2000): 62. On the role of mergers in the evolution of the Milky Way.
Irion, R. “Homing in on Black Holes.” Smithsonian (April 2008). On how astronomers probe the large black hole at the center of the Milky Way Galaxy.
Kruesi, L. “How We Mapped the Milky Way.” Astronomy (October 2009): 28.
Kruesi, L. “What Lurks in the Monstrous Heart of the Milky Way?” Astronomy (October 2015): 30. On the center of the Galaxy and the black hole there.
Laughlin, G., & Adams, F. “Celebrating the Galactic Millennium.” Astronomy (November 2001): 39. The long-term future of the Milky Way in the next 90 billion years.
Loeb, A., & Cox, T.J. “Our Galaxy’s Date with Destruction.” Astronomy (June 2008): 28. Describes the upcoming merger of Milky Way and Andromeda.
Szpir, M. “Passing the Bar Exam.” Astronomy (March 1999): 46. On evidence that our Galaxy is a barred spiral.
Tanner, A. “A Trip to the Galactic Center.” Sky & Telescope (April 2003): 44. Nice introduction, with observations pointing to the presence of a black hole.
Trimble, V., & Parker, S. “Meet the Milky Way.” Sky & Telescope (January 1995): 26. Overview of our Galaxy.
Wakker, B., & Richter, P. “Our Growing, Breathing Galaxy.” Scientific American (January 2004): 38. Evidence that our Galaxy is still being built up by the addition of gas and smaller neighbors.
Waller, W. “Redesigning the Milky Way.” Sky & Telescope (September 2004): 50. On recent multi-wavelength surveys of the Galaxy.
Whitt, K. “The Milky Way from the Inside.” Astronomy (November 2001): 58. Fantastic panorama image of the Galaxy, with finder charts and explanations.
Websites
International Dark Sky Sanctuaries: http://darksky.org/idsp/sanctuaries/ . A listing of dark-sky sanctuaries, parks, and reserves.
Multiwavelength Milky Way: http://mwmw.gsfc.nasa.gov/mmw_sci.html . This NASA site shows the plane of our Galaxy in a variety of wavelength bands, and includes background material and other resources.
Shapley-Curtis Debate in 1920: apod.nasa.gov/diamond_jubilee/debate_1920.html. In 1920, astronomers Harlow Shapley and Heber Curtis engaged in a historic debate about how large our Galaxy was and whether other galaxies existed. Here you can find historical and educational material about the debate.
UCLA Galactic Center Group: http://www.galacticcenter.astro.ucla.edu/ . Learn more about the work of Andrea Ghez and colleagues on the central region of the Milky Way Galaxy.
Videos
Crash of the Titans: http://www.spacetelescope.org/videos/hubblecast55a/ . This Hubblecast from 2012 features Jay Anderson and Roeland van der Marel explaining how Andromeda will collide with the Milky Way in the distant future (5:07).
Diner at the Center of the Galaxy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP7ig8Gxftw . A short discussion from NASA ScienceCast of NuSTAR observations of flares from our Galaxy’s central black hole (3:23).
Hunt for a Supermassive Black Hole: https://www.ted.com/talks/andrea_ghe...ive_black_hole . 2009 TED talk by Andrea Ghez on searching for supermassive black holes, particularly the one at the center of the Milky Way (16:19).
Journey to the Galactic Center: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36xZsgZ0oSo . A brief silent trip into the cluster of stars near the galactic center showing their motions around the center (3:00).
Review Questions
- Explain why we see the Milky Way as a faint band of light stretching across the sky.
- Explain where in a spiral galaxy you would expect to find globular clusters, molecular clouds, and atomic hydrogen.
- Briefly describe the main parts of our Galaxy.
- Describe the evidence indicating that a black hole may be at the center of our Galaxy.
- Explain why the abundances of heavy elements in stars correlate with their positions in the Galaxy.
- What will be the long-term future of our Galaxy?
Thought Questions
- Suppose the Milky Way was a band of light extending only halfway around the sky (that is, in a semicircle). What, then, would you conclude about the Sun’s location in the Galaxy? Give your reasoning.
- Suppose somebody proposed that rather than invoking dark matter to explain the increased orbital velocities of stars beyond the Sun’s orbit, the problem could be solved by assuming that the Milky Way’s central black hole was much more massive. Does simply increasing the assumed mass of the Milky Way’s central supermassive black hole correctly resolve the issue of unexpectedly high orbital velocities in the Galaxy? Why or why not?
- The globular clusters revolve around the Galaxy in highly elliptical orbits. Where would you expect the clusters to spend most of their time? (Think of Kepler’s laws.) At any given time, would you expect most globular clusters to be moving at high or low speeds with respect to the center of the Galaxy? Why?
- Shapley used the positions of globular clusters to determine the location of the galactic center. Could he have used open clusters? Why or why not?
-
Consider the following five kinds of objects: open cluster, giant molecular cloud, globular cluster, group of O and B stars, and planetary nebulae.
- Which occur only in spiral arms?
- Which occur only in the parts of the Galaxy other than the spiral arms?
- Which are thought to be very young?
- Which are thought to be very old?
- Which have the hottest stars?
- The dwarf galaxy in Sagittarius is the one closest to the Milky Way, yet it was discovered only in 1994. Can you think of a reason it was not discovered earlier?
- Suppose three stars lie in the disk of the Galaxy at distances of 20,000 light-years, 25,000 light-years, and 30,000 light-years from the galactic center, and suppose that right now all three are lined up in such a way that it is possible to draw a straight line through them and on to the center of the Galaxy. How will the relative positions of these three stars change with time? Assume that their orbits are all circular and lie in the plane of the disk.
- Why does star formation occur primarily in the disk of the Galaxy?
- Where in the Galaxy would you expect to find Type II supernovae, which are the explosions of massive stars that go through their lives very quickly? Where would you expect to find Type I supernovae, which involve the explosions of white dwarfs?
- Suppose that stars evolved without losing mass—that once matter was incorporated into a star, it remained there forever. How would the appearance of the Galaxy be different from what it is now? | 1,613 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://phys.libretexts.org/Courses/Grossmont_College/ASTR_110%3A_Astronomy_(Fitzgerald)/13%3A_Galaxies/13.20%3A_The_Milky_Way_Galaxy_(Exercises) | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:39235 | https://phys.libretexts.org/Courses/Grossmont_College/ASTR_110%3A_Astronomy_(Fitzgerald)/13%3A_Galaxies/13.20%3A_The_Milky_Way_Galaxy_(Exercises) |
VL6kjiQzRIDuFmi- | Statistics for the Social Sciences | 86 Another Look at Probability (1 of 2)
Learning Objectives
- Interpret (in context) a probability as a long-run relative frequency of an event.
In the module Relationships in Categorical Data with Intro to Probability, we used the word probability to mean “likelihood” or “chance.” We used data to make statements about
- the likelihood that a randomly selected student from a specific college is a Health Science major.
- the risk associated with not wearing a seat belt.
- the chance of a positive drug test for someone who does not use drugs when the test is 94% accurate.
For each of these probability statements, we used a notation P(A) where A is the description of an event. We used the following notation to represent probability statements like the preceding ones:
- P(Health Science)
- P(fatal accident given that the person was not wearing a seatbelt) = P(fatal accident | not wearing a seatbelt)
- P(a person is not a drug user given that the person had a positive test result) = P(not a drug user | positive test result)
In each case, the probability was a number between 0 and 1. What does this number tell us about the likelihood of an event occurring?
In summary, the probability that an event will occur is a number between (and including) 0 and 1. We write this idea in mathematical notation as 0 ≤ P(A) ≤ 1.
Example
A Closer Look at How We Calculate Probabilities
You may have had some experience with probability using coins, cards, and dice.
- What is the probability that when you flip a coin you get heads?
- What is the probability that when you roll the dice you get doubles?
We can answer these types of probability questions without collecting data. In situations where the outcomes are equally likely, we can use mathematics to calculate the probability instead of collecting data. For example, what is the probability of getting heads when you toss a coin? There are two equally likely outcomes: heads or tails. So [latex]P(\mathrm{heads})=\frac{1}{2}[/latex]. This is the theoretical probability of getting a head when you toss a coin. We determine the number of ways an event can occur and divide by the total number of possible outcomes. No experiments or data collection is necessary.
What is the probability that a community college student is female? Like tossing a coin, this event also has two outcomes: female or male. But is [latex]P(\mathrm{female})=\frac{1}{2}[/latex] ? To estimate this probability, we have to collect data. We can use the data from the West Coast college that we saw in Relationships in Categorical Data with Intro to Probability and estimate that [latex]P(\mathrm{female})=\frac{\mathrm{6,198}}{\mathrm{12,000}}=0.5165[/latex] . Of course, this estimate assumes this college is a representative sample of community colleges. Data from 2010 enrollments at Los Medanos College in California give a different estimate: [latex]P(\mathrm{female})=\frac{\mathrm{5,581}}{\mathrm{9,966}}=0.56[/latex] . Neither estimate is equal to 0.5 because there appear to be more women than men attending community college. These are examples of empirical probabilities.
Empirical probability of an event is an estimate, using data, of the likelihood that the event will happen. We can view the probabilities we calculated in Relationships in Categorical Data with Intro to Probability as empirical probabilities. | 699 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://library.achievingthedream.org/herkimerstatisticssocsci/chapter/another-look-at-probability-1-of-2/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:86976 | https://library.achievingthedream.org/herkimerstatisticssocsci/chapter/another-look-at-probability-1-of-2/ |
IMCKlN96UwOuXDmv | 4.4: Measures of Spread and Position | 4.4: Measures of Spread and Position
Consider these three sets of student quiz scores on a 10-point quiz:
- Class A: 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5
- Class B: 0, 0, 0, 0, 0, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
- Class C: 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6
All these data sets have mean \(\overline{x} = 5\) and median of 5, yet the three sets of scores are clearly quite different.
In Class A, everyone had the same score. In Class B, half the class got no points and the other half got a perfect score of 10 points. Scores in Class C were not as consistent as those in Class A but also not as widely varied as those in Class B.
This scenario shows that, in addition to the mean and median which measure the "typical" value of a data set, we also need a way to measure how "spread out" or varied each data set is. There are several ways to measure the variation and locate positions in a data distribution. In this section we explore range, standard deviation, percentiles, quartiles , and the interquartile range (IQR). We also examine a graphical representation of spread using a box plot .
Range
The first and simplest way to measure spread is the range . Calculation of the range uses only two values from the data set - the largest value and the smallest value. The range is the distance between these two values.
The range is the difference between the maximum value and the minimum value of the data set.
Refer to the three sets of student quiz scores from the introduction to this section.
- For Class A, the range is 0 since both the maximum and minimum are the same: \(5 – 5 = 0\).
- For Class B, the range is 10 since \(10 – 0 = 10\).
- For Class C, the range is 2 since \(6 – 4 = 2\).
In this example, the range seems to be revealing how spread out the data is. However, suppose we add a fourth set of quiz scores:
Class D: 0, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 10.
Quiz scores from this class also have a mean and median of 5. The range is 10 like Class B, yet this data set is quite different than Class B. To more accurately measure the difference in spreads between these two sets of data, we’ll have to turn to more sophisticated measures of variation.
Find the range for each data set.
Set A: 10, 20, 30, 40, 50 Set B: 10, 35, 36, 37, 50
Solution
For both sets of data, the range is \(50 - 10 = 40\). However, most of the data in Set B is closer together, except for the extremes. There seems to be less variability in the data in Set B than in the data in Set A. The range focuses only only the two extreme values yet ignores all the data between the extremes. So, we need a better way to quantify the spread.
Standard Deviation
We saw that the range focuses on the difference between the maximum and minimum values. What if we focused on the differences between each of the data values and and the center? The center we will use is the mean. The difference between a data value \(x\) and the mean of the distribution \(\overline{x}\) is called a deviation .
The difference between a data value \(x\) and the mean of the data distribution is called the deviation from the mean.
\(\text{deviation from the mean } = x - \overline{x} \)
To see how deviations work, let’s return to the temperature data set from the previous section.
| 71 | 59 | 69 | 68 | 63 | 57 |
| 57 | 57 | 57 | 65 | 67 |
We computed the mean earlier and it was \(\overline{x} =62.7^oF\). We will create a table showing each of the 11 data values in the first column and the deviation from the mean for each data value in the second column.
\(\begin{array}{|c|l|}
\hline x & x - \overline{x} \\
\hline 71 & 71-62.7=8.3 \\
\hline 59 & 59-62.7=-3.7 \\
\hline 69 & 69-62.7=6.3 \\
\hline 68 & 68-62.7=5.3\\
\hline 63 & 63-62.7=0.3\\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 \\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 \\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 \\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 \\
\hline 65 & 65-62.7=2.3 \\ \hline 67 & 67-62.7=4.3 \\ \hline \text{sum} & 0.3 \\
\hline
\end{array}\)
Notice that some of the deviations and positive and some of them are negative. The sum of the deviations is around zero. If there had been no rounding of the mean, then the sum of the deviations would have been exactly 0.
So what does that tell us? Does this imply that on average the data values are a distance of zero units from the mean? No. It just means that some of the data values are above the mean and some are below the mean. The negative deviations are for data values that are below the mean and the positive deviations are for data values that are above the mean. The positive and negative deviations from the mean cancel each other out.
We need to eliminate the signs of the deviations so we can measure the distance from the mean. How do we get rid of a negative sign? Squaring a number is a widely accepted way to make all of the numbers positive. We continue building the table by adding a third column that contains the squares of the deviations from the mean.
\(\begin{array}{|c|l|l|}
\hline x & x - \overline{x} & (x-\overline{x})^2 \\
\hline 71 & 71-62.7=8.3 & (8.3)^2 =68.89 \\
\hline 59 & 59-62.7=-3.7 & (-3.7)^2= 13.69 \\
\hline 69 & 69-62.7=6.3 & (6.3)^2=39.69\\
\hline 68 & 68-62.7=5.3 & (5.3)^2=28.09\\
\hline 63 & 63-62.7=0.3 & (0.3)^2=0.09\\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 & (-5.7)^2= 32.49\\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 & (-5.7)^2=32.49\\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 & (-5.7)^2= 32.49\\
\hline 57 & 57-62.7=-5.7 & (-5.7)^2=32.49\\
\hline 65 & 65-62.7=2.3 & (2.3)^2=5.29\\ \hline 67 & 67-62.7=4.3 & (4.3)^2 = 18.49\\ \hline \text{sum} & 0.3 & 304.19\\
\hline
\end{array}\)
Now that we have the sum of the squared deviations, we should find the mean of these values. However, since this is a sample, the normal way to find the mean (summing and dividing by \(n\)) does not estimate the true population spread correctly. It would underestimate the true value. So, to calculate a better estimate, we will divide by a slightly smaller number, \(n-1\). This strange average is known as the sample variance. The sample variance is the sum of the squared deviations from the mean divided by \(n-1\). The symbol for sample variance is \(s^2\) and the formula for the sample variance is
\(s^2 = \dfrac{\sum (x - \overline{x})^2 }{n-1}\).
For this data set, the sample variance is
\(s^2 = \dfrac{304.19}{11-1} = \dfrac{304.19}{10} = 30.419\).
The variance measures the average squared distance from the mean. Since we want to know the average distance from the mean, we will need to take the square root at this point and the result will be the sample standard deviation . The sample standard deviation is the square root of the variance and measures the average distance the data values are from the mean. The symbol for sample standard deviation is \(s\) and the formula for the sample standard deviation is
\(s = \sqrt{s^2} = \sqrt{\dfrac{\sum (x - \overline{x})^2 }{n-1}}\).
Thus, for this data set, the sample standard deviation is
\(s = \sqrt{30.419} \approx 5.52 ^{\circ}F\).
Note: The units are the same as the original data.
The standard deviation is a measure of spread based on how far each data value deviates from the mean.
\(s = \sqrt{\dfrac{\sum (x - \overline{x})^2 }{n-1}}\)
To compute the sample standard deviation by hand,
- Find the deviation of each data value from the mean. In other words, subtract the mean from the data value.
- Square each deviation.
- Add the squared deviations.
- Divide by one fewer than the number of data values, \(n-1\). This value is the variance.
- Take the square root of the result.
A random sample of unemployment rates for 10 counties in the EU for March 2013 is given below.
| 11.0% | 7.2% | 13.1% | 26.7% | 5.7% | 9.9% | 11.5% | 8.1% | 4.7% | 14.5% |
(Eurostat, n.d.)
Find the range, variance, and standard deviation.
Solution
The maximum is 26.7% and the minimum is 4.7% so the range is \(26.7\% - 4.7\% = 22.0\%\).
To find the variance and the standard deviation, it is easier to use a table than the formula. The table helps us find all the calculations needed in the formula.
The mean is \(\overline{x} =11.24\%\).
\(\begin{array}{|l|l|l|}
\hline x & x - \overline{x} & (x-\overline{x})^2 \\
\hline 11.0 & 11.0-11.24=-0.24 & (-0.24)^2 =0.0576 \\
\hline 7.2 & 7.2-11.24=-4.04 & (-4.04)^2= 16.3216 \\
\hline 13.1 & 13.1-11.24=1.86 & (1.86)^2=3.4596\\
\hline 26.7 & 26.7-11.24=15.46 & (15.46)^2=239.0116\\
\hline 5.7 & 5.7-11.24=-5.54 & (-5.54)^2=30.6916\\
\hline 9.9 & 9.9-11.24=-1.34 & (-1.34)^2= 1.7956\\
\hline 11.5 & 11.5-11.24=0.26 & (0.26)^2=0.0676\\
\hline 8.1 & 8.1-11.24=-3.14 & (-3.14)^2= 9.8596\\
\hline 4.7 & 4.7-11.24=-6.54 & (-6.54)^2=42.7716\\
\hline 14.5 & 14.5-11.24=3.26 & (3.26)^2=10.6276\\ \hline \text{sum} & 0 & 354.664\\
\hline
\end{array}\)
Apply the formula for the sample variance:
\(s^2 = \dfrac{354.664}{10-1} = \dfrac{354.664}{9} \approx 39.40711111\)
Take the square root of the sample variance to find the sample standard deviation:
\(s = \sqrt{39.4071111} \approx 6.28 \%\)
So, the typical unemployment rate for countries in the EU is approximately 11.24% with an average spread of about 6.28%. Since the sample standard deviation is fairly high compared to the mean, then there is a great deal of variability in unemployment rates for countries in the EU. This implies that some countries in the EU have rates that are much lower than the mean and some that have rates much higher than the mean.
There are a few important characteristics of the standard deviation that we should note. Standard deviation is always zero or positive. Standard deviation will be zero if all the data values are equal and the standard deviation will get larger as the data spreads out. Standard deviation, like the mean, can be highly influenced by outliers.
According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, ten to twenty earthworms per cubic foot is a sign of healthy soil. Mr. Green checked the soil in his garden by digging 7 one-cubic-foot holes and counting the earthworms. Here is the number of earthworms he found in each hole. What are the mean and standard deviation?
| 4 | 24 | 15 | 10 | 8 | 12 | 18 |
- Answer
-
\(\overline{x}= 13\) worms; \(s \approx 6.66\) worms
The computation of the sample variance and standard deviation is not complicated, but it is tedious and time consuming. Later in this section there are instructions for using a TI calculator to find various measures of variation and position.
Percentiles
There are other calculations that we can do to look at spread and position of data within a data set. One of those is called a percentile. The percentile is a value in the data set which has a certain percent of the data less than or equal to its value.
The \(k\) th percentile is a value of the data set where \(k\%\) of the data set is less than or equal to that data value.
For example, if a data value is at the 80 th percentile, then 80% of the data values fall at or below this value (and 20% of the data values fall above this value.)
We see percentiles in many places in our lives. If you take any standardized test, your score is usually given as a percentile. If you take your child to the doctor, their height and weight are given as percentiles so they can be compared to other children their age. If your child is tested for gifted or behavior problems, the score is given as a percentile. If your child has a score on a gifted test that is at the 92 nd percentile, then that means 92% of all of the children who took the same gifted test scored the same or lower than your child. Of course, that also means that 8% scored higher than your child. This may mean that your child is gifted.
A percentile is a measure that helps you determine where a data value is located relative to the other data values. For example, a test grade reported as a percentile does not tell you whether you did well or poorly. It does not tell you whether you passed or failed. It only tells you how well you did relative to the rest of the students who took the same test. For this reason, we often refer to a percentile as a measure of position.
Suppose you took your biology final exam and received your score as a percentile.
- What does a score at the 90 th percentile mean?
90% of the scores were at or below your score. You did the same as or better than 90% of the test takers. Only 10% scored higher than you.
- What does a score at the 30 th percentile mean?
30% of the scores were at or below your score. You did the same or better than 30% of the test takers, and 70% scored higher than you.
- If the test was out of 200 points and you scored at the 80 th percentile, what was your score on the test?
You do not know! All you know is that you scored the same or better than 80% of the students who took the test. If all the scores were really low, you could have still failed the test. On the other hand, if many of the scores were high you could have gotten a very good score on the test.
- If your score was at the 95 th percentile, does that mean you passed the test?
No, it just means you did the same or better than 95% of the other students who took the test. You could have failed the test, but still did the same as or better than 95% of the rest of the people. It just means there were many others who also failed.
Five Number Summary
Three very common percentiles are the first, second , and third quartiles . Quartiles are locations in the data set that split the data distribution into quarters, or sections that each contain 25% of the data values.
Quartiles are values that divide the data in quarters.
- The first quartile (\(Q_1\)) is the value so that 25% of the data values are at or below this value. This is also known as the 25 th percentile.
- The second quartile (\(Q_2\)) is the value so that 50% of the data values are at or below this value. This is also known as the 50 th percentile, but more commonly called the median.
- The third quartile (\(Q_3\)) is the value so that 75% of the data values are at or below this value. This is also known as the 75 th percentile.
To find the quartiles,
- Order the data from smallest to largest.
- Find the median. This is the second quartile, Q 2 .
- Find the median of the lower half of the data values (all values to the left of the median's location.) This is the first quartile, Q 1 .
- Find the median of the upper half of the data values (all values to the right of the median's location.) This is the third quartile, Q 3 .
Like the standard deviation, the quartiles are used to measure how spread out the data are, but unlike the standard deviation the quartiles are not a single-number summary of spread. The three quartiles, together with the maximum and minimum values, create a measure of spread called the five-number summary .
The five number summary takes the form: Minimum, \(Q_1\), Median, \(Q_3\), Maximum.
These five values divide the data into quarters: 25% of the data is between the minimum and \(Q_1\), 25% is between \(Q_1\) and the median, 25% is between the median and \(Q_3\), and 25% is between \(Q_3\) and the maximum value.
Moreover, 50% of the data lies between \(Q_1\) and \(Q_3\). The distance between \(Q_1\) and \(Q_3\) is called the interquartile range.
The interquartile range (IQR) measures the spread in the middle 50% of the data. Subtract \(Q_1\) from \(Q_3\) to find its value.
\(IQR = Q_3 - Q_1\)
Examples should help make this clearer.
The first 11 days of May 2013 in Flagstaff, AZ, had the following high temperatures (in °F) shown below. Find the five-number summary and IQR.
| 71 | 59 | 69 | 68 | 63 | 57 |
| 57 | 57 | 57 | 65 | 67 |
(Weather Underground, n.d.)
Solution
To find the five-number summary, you must first order the data from smallest to largest:
57 57 57 57 59 63 65 67 68 69 71
Then find the median. There are \(n=11\) data values so the median will be a single value in the middle. Here, 63 o F is located at the middle of the data set. To find \(Q_1\) and \(Q_3\), look at the numbers in each half on each side of the median. Since 63 is the median, it is not included in either half.
\[\underbrace{\text{57 57 57 57 59 }}_{\text{numbers below median}} \: \: \: \underbrace{\text{ 63 }}_{\text{median}} \: \: \: \underbrace{\text{ 65 67 68 69 71}}_{\text{numbers above median}} \nonumber\]
- There are 5 numbers below the median: {57 57 57 57 59}. The median of these numbers is 57. So, \(Q_1 = 57°F\).
- There are 5 numbers above the median: {65 67 68 69 71}. The median of these numbers is 68. So, \(Q_3 = 68°F\).
- The minimum is 57°F and the maximum is 71°F.
Thus, the five-number summary is Min = 57°F, Q 1 = 57°F, Med = 63°F, Q 3 = 68°F, Max = 71°F. The \(IQR = Q_3 – Q_1 = 68 – 57 = 11°F\).
The scores for a women's golf team in tournament play are listed below. Find the five-number summary and the IQR.
89 90 87 95 86 81 111 108 83 88 91 79
Solution
First, order the \(n=12\) data values from smallest to largest. The median will be the mean of the two middle values since there are an even number of data values.
\[\underbrace{\text{79 81 83 86 87 88}}_{\text{numbers below median}} \: \: \: \underbrace{\text{ }}_{\text{median}} \: \: \: \underbrace{\text{89 90 91 95 108 111}}_{\text{numbers above median}} \nonumber\]
- The median is \(\frac{88+89}{2}=88.5\).
- There are 6 numbers below the median: {79 81 83 86 87 88}. The median of these six numbers is \(\frac{83+86}{2}=84.5\).
- There are 6 numbers above the median: {89 90 91 95 108 111}. The median of these six numbers is \(\frac{91+95}{2}=93\).
- The minimum is 79 and the maximum is 111.
Thus, the five-number summary is Min = 79, Q 1 = 84.5, Med = 88.5, Q 3 = 93, Max = 111. The \(IQR = Q_3 – Q_1 = 93 – 84.5= 8.5\).
Firman’s Fitness Factory is a new gym that offers reasonably priced family packages. The following shows the number of family packages sold during the opening month. Find the five-number summary and the IQR. (The data have been ordered for your convenience.)
20 21 22 22 23 24 24 24 26 27
27 27 27 28 28 28 28 29 30 30
31 32 32 32 32 32 32 34 34 35
- Answer
-
Minimum = 20, Q 1 = 24, Median = 28, Q 3 = 32, Maximum = 35, IQR = 8.
Finding Descriptive Statistics Using the TI Calculator
We have already used the TI calculator to find the mean and the median in the previous section. Now, we expand the previous explanation to measures of spread and position. The procedures for finding the descriptive statistics for the Flagstaff, AZ temperature data used in examples throughout this section are shown below.
First, enter the data into the calculator. To do this, press STAT . The STAT button is in the third row of buttons, next to the arrow keys. Once you press STAT , you will see the following screen:
Choose 1:Edit… and you will see the following screen. If there is already data in List 1 (L1), then you should move the cursor up to L1 by using the arrow keys. Then, press CLEAR and ENTER . This should clear all data from List 1 (L1).
Now type all of the data into List 1 (L1). Be sure to press ENTER after each value. You can only see the last six data values entered on the screen, but all the data has been entered.
Next, press STAT again and move over to CALC using the right arrow button. You will see the following screen:
Choose 1:1-Var Stats . This will put 1-Var Stats on your home screen. Type the name of the list containing the data L1 (2nd 1), and the calculator will show the following:
At this point press ENTER , and you will see the results. You will need to use the down arrow button to see all of the results.
Therefore, the mean is \(\overline{x} \approx 62.7^{\circ}F\), the standard deviation is \(s \approx 5.515^{\circ}F\), and the five-number summary is Min = 57°F, Q 1 = 57°F, Med = Q 2 = 63°F, Q 3 = 68°F, Max = 71°F.
You can find the range by subtracting the max and min. You can find IQR by subtracting Q 3 and Q 1 , and you can find the variance by squaring the standard deviation. You cannot find the mode from the calculator.
The calculator also gives the population standard deviation \(\sigma \approx 5.259^{\circ}F\). Notice it is different than the value for \(s\), since they are calculated differently. The value the calculator gives you for the population standard deviation is not the actual true value. The calculator gives you both values because it does not know if you typed in data from a sample or a population. You can ignore the population standard deviation \(\sigma\) in almost all cases.
Box-and-Whiskers Plots
There are times when we want to look at the five-number summary as a graphical representation. This is known as a box-and-whiskers plot, or merely just a box plot .
A box plot is a graphical representation of the five-number summary.
A box plot is created by first setting a scale (number line) as a guideline for the box plot. Then, draw a rectangle that spans from \(Q_1\) to \(Q_3\) above the number line. Mark the median with a vertical line through the rectangle. Next, draw symbols (dots, small vertical lines, etc.) for the minimum and maximum points to the sides of the rectangle. Finally, draw horizontal lines from the sides of the rectangle out to the symbols. These horizontal lines are known as "whiskers."
Using the results of the golf scores tournament from Example 6, the box plot has been constructed below:
A chain restaurant advertises that a typical number of French fries in a large order is 82. Roberta is a bit curious about this claim, so she bought a large order of fries each day for 18 days and counted the number of fries in the orders. Her data are shown below.
80 72 77 80 90 85 93 52 84 87 80 86 92 88 67 86 66 77
Use a TI calculator to find the mean, median, \(Q_1\), \(Q_3\), IQR, standard deviation, minimum, and maximum for the data in her sample. Then, sketch a box plot.
The box plot represents the heights of a group of several females.
- What is the median height for the females in this group?
The median is located at the vertical line inside the box of the box plot. Here, the median is 66 inches.
- What is the interquartile range of the heights for the females in this group?
\(IQR = Q_3 - Q_1 = 69 - 62 = 7\) inches.
- What percent of the females in this group are 62 inches or shorter?
62 inches corresponds to \(Q_1\). This value is also the 25th percentile, so 25% of the females are 62 inches or shorter.
- How tall are the tallest 25% of females in this group?
The tallest 25% of females would be taller than the value of \(Q_3\) = 69 inches.
The box plot shows the total cost of textbooks for the fall semester for a sample of PGCC students.
- What is the most any student spent on textbooks for the semester?
- What percent of students spent between $255 and $347.50 on textbooks for the semester?
- What percent of students spent $347.50 or less on textbooks for the semester?
- Answer
-
- $460
- 50%
- 75%
Box plots are particularly useful for comparing data from two samples.
The box plot of service times for two fast-food restaurants is shown below.
While Store 2 had a slightly shorter median service time (2.1 minutes vs. 2.3 minutes), Store 2 is less consistent in the amount of time needed to provide service. That is, Store 2 has a wider spread in the data.
At Store 1, 75% of customers were served within 2.9 minutes, while at Store 2, 75% of customers were served within 5.7 minutes.
Which store should you go to in a hurry? That depends upon your opinions about luck and probability – 25% of customers at Store 2 had to wait between 5.7 and 9.6 minutes, while all of the customers at Store 1 had been served within 6.3 minutes. | 5,630 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://math.libretexts.org/Courses/Prince_Georges_Community_College/MAT_1130_Mathematical_Ideas_Mirtova_Jones_(PGCC%3A_Fall_2022)/04%3A_Statistics/4.04%3A_Measures_of_Spread_and_Position | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:18732 | https://math.libretexts.org/Courses/Prince_Georges_Community_College/MAT_1130_Mathematical_Ideas_Mirtova_Jones_(PGCC%3A_Fall_2022)/04%3A_Statistics/4.04%3A_Measures_of_Spread_and_Position |
Ip5mv5nmKICrrdcP | American Government | 13 D. Reading: Creating and Ratifying the Constitution
Learning Objectives
After reading this section, you should be able to answer the following questions:
- What was Shays’s Rebellion?
- What was the Constitutional Convention?
- What were the three cross-cutting divides at the Constitutional Convention?
- What were the main compromises at the Constitutional Convention?
- Who were the Federalists and the Anti-Federalists?
- What factors explain ratification of the Constitution?
The Constitution was a reaction against the limitations of the Articles of Confederation and the democratic experiments begun by the Revolution and the Declaration of Independence.
The Case against the Articles of Confederation
The Articles could not address serious foreign threats. In the late 1780s, Britain denied American ships access to British ports in a trade war. Spain threatened to close the Mississippi River to American vessels. Pirates in the Mediterranean captured American ships and sailors and demanded ransom. The national government had few tools to carry out its assigned task of foreign policy.[1]
There was domestic ferment as well. Millions of dollars in paper money issued by state governments to fund the Revolutionary War lost their value after the war.[2] Financial interests were unable to collect on debts they were owed. They appealed to state governments, where they faced resistance and even brief armed rebellions.
Newspapers played up Shays’s Rebellion, an armed insurrection by debt-ridden farmers to prevent county courts from foreclosing mortgages on their farms.[3] Led by Captain Daniel Shays, it began in 1786, culminated with a march on the federal arsenal in Springfield, Massachusetts, and wound down in 1787.
The Continental Congress voted unanimously to raise an army to put down Shays’s Rebellion but could not coax the states to provide the necessary funds. The army was never assembled.[4]
Link: Shay’s Rebellion
To learn more about Shays’s Rebellion, visit the National Park Service online.
Leaders who supported national government portrayed Shays’s Rebellion as a vivid symbol of state governments running wild and proof of the inability of the Articles of Confederation to protect financial interests. Ordinary Americans, who were experiencing a relatively prosperous time, were less concerned and did not see a need to eliminate the Articles.
Calling a Constitutional Convention
The Constitutional Convention was convened in 1787 to propose limited reforms to the Articles of Confederation. Instead, however, the Articles would be replaced by a new, far more powerful national government.
Twelve state legislatures sent delegates to Philadelphia (Rhode Island did not attend). Each delegation would cast a single vote.
Who Were the Delegates?
The delegates were not representative of the American people. They were well-educated property owners, many of them wealthy, who came mainly from prosperous seaboard cities, including Boston and New York. Most had served in the Continental Congress and were sensitive to the problems faced by the United States. Few delegates had political careers in the states, and so they were free to break with existing presumptions about how government should be organized in America.
Link: Constitutional Convention
Learn more about the delegates to the Constitutional Convention here.
The Constitutional Convention was a mix of great and minor characters. Exalted figures and brilliant intellects sat among nonentities, drunkards, and nincompoops. The convention’s driving force and chief strategist was a young, bookish politician from Virginia named James Madison. He successfully pressured revered figures to attend the convention, such as George Washington, the commanding officer of the victorious American revolutionaries, and Benjamin Franklin, a man at the twilight of a remarkable career as printer, scientist, inventor, postmaster, philosopher, and diplomat.
Madison drafted the first working proposal for a Constitution and took copious notes at the convention. Published after his death in 1836, they are the best historical source of the debates; they reveal the extraordinary political complexity of the deliberations and provide remarkable insight into what the founders had in mind.[5]
Once the Constitution was drafted, Madison helped write and publish a series of articles in a New York newspaper. These Federalist papers defend the political system the Constitutional Convention had crafted.
Interests and the Constitution
In the early twentieth century, historian Charles Beard asserted that the Constitution was “an economic document for economic ends,” pushed by investors and industrialists who would profit more from a national economic and political system than from one favoring small-scale agricultural interests.[6] Research has not upheld Beard’s stark division of reaction to the Constitution into well-off supporters and poor, democratic adversaries. Many local, well-to-do patriarchs opposed the Constitution; many small merchants wanted a national government.
But Beard’s focus on economic and social interests is revealing. Paper money, debt relief, and Shays’s Rebellion concerned those committed to existing economic and social orders. Consider Federalist No. 10, the most famous of Madison’s Federalist papers. In it, he decried the dangers of democracy; he started with “a rage for paper money” and “an abolition of debts,” then the specter of “an equal division of property,” all of which he found an “improper or wicked project.” Madison paid attention to the right to acquire and maintain property, which the Declaration brushed aside. He claimed that political systems were created to maintain liberty—including the liberty to accumulate wealth. Political equality meant only that each person had a right to express himself or herself.
Ideas and the Constitution
The Constitutional Convention responded to ideas, not just interests. Delegates doubted that the people could wisely rule. They sought to replace democracy with a republic, in which officials would be chosen to act on the people’s behalf. Federalist No. 10 makes the case.
Madison was concerned with threats to order and stability from what he called factions, groups pursuing their self-interest above the public good. For Madison, factions were inevitable. His worst nightmare was of a faction becoming a political majority, trampling on the rights of its helpless opponents, and quickly enacting its program. He favored a large republic, which, he believed, would discourage a faction’s rise to power. Madison expected that in a republic, the number of locally oriented interests would increase and diversify, which would make it harder for any one of them to dominate. Minority factions could pass legislation by forming temporary majorities, Madison reasoned, but these diverse majorities would not be able to agree on a single project long enough to be oppressive.
Drafting the Constitution
Delegates to the Constitutional Convention first gathered on May 25, 1787, in what is now called Independence Hall in Philadelphia. Their goal was to devise a constitution, a system of fundamental laws and principles outlining the nature and functions of the government. George Washington presided. Delegates worked in an intimate setting without committees. The structure of power created by the Constitution in Philadelphia resulted from a deeply political process.Political scientists have revealed the degree to which the Constitutional Convention and the ratification conventions can be understood to be the result of manipulation of parliamentary rules, strategic voting, shifting coalitions, and the “agenda-setting” and “framing” use of mass communication.[7]
The Secrecy of the Constitutional Convention
Deliberations took place in secret, as delegates did not want the press and the public to know the details of what they were considering (Note “Comparing Content”). Newspapers hardly mentioned the convention at all, and when they did, it was in vague references praising the high caliber of the delegates.[8]
Comparing Content: The Convention’s Gag Rule
Press coverage of the Constitutional Convention cannot be compared because one of the first decisions made in the Constitutional Convention was that “nothing spoken in the House be printed, or otherwise published or communicated.”[9] The delegates feared that exposure through newspapers would complicate their work. The delegate who is today regarded as the great defender of civil liberties, George Mason, wrote to his son approvingly:
This I think myself a proper precaution to prevent mistakes and misrepresentation until the business shall have been completed, when the whole may have a very different complexion from that in the several crude and indigested parts might in their first shape appear if submitted to the public eye.[10]
This gag rule was rigorously enforced. One day the presiding officer, George Washington, noticed that an inattentive delegate had dropped his notes on the floor when leaving the hall. Washington broke his usual silence and rebuked the unknown infractor:
I am sorry to find that some one Member of this Body, has been so neglectful of the secrets of the convention as to drop in the State House a copy of their proceedings, which by accident was picked up and delivered to me this morning. I must entreat Gentlemen to be more careful, least [sic] our transactions get into the News Papers, and disturb the public repose by premature speculations.
Throwing the notes on the table, Washington exclaimed, “I know not whose Paper it is, but there it is, let him who owns it take it.” Delegate William Pierce, who recorded this tale, noted that Washington “bowed, picked up his Hat, and quitted the room with a dignity so severe that every Person seemed alarmed.”[11]
The founders were not unanimous about the threat posed by the press. Thomas Jefferson was in Paris as an ambassador. In August 1787, he wrote to his counterpart in London, John Adams, that there was no news from the convention:
I am sorry they began their deliberations by so abominable a precedent as that of tying up the tongues of their members. Nothing can justify this example but the innocence of their intentions, & ignorance of the value of public discussions. I have no doubt that all their other measures will be good and wise.[12]
In 1787, the powers of the press were identified in ways we recognize in the twenty-first century. Washington was concerned that news about the political process might produce rumors, confusion, worry, and public opposition to worthwhile policies. But as Jefferson recognized, the news can also lead to productive public debate, dialogue, and deliberation.
The Cross-Cutting Divides
The delegates immediately discarded the Continental Congress’s mandate that they recommend amendments to the Articles of Confederation. They agreed to draft a new Constitution from scratch in order to create a national government superior to and independent of the states.
This crucial decision was followed by disagreement about exactly how to create a national government. The states varied widely in economic bases, population sizes, and numbers of slaves.
Three cross-cutting divides existed among the states:
- Large states versus small statesThe terms “large state” and “small state” are misleading. Some small states had larger populations than large states. The small states all shared economic vulnerability and an inability to grow, usually because they were boxed in by other states on their western edge, which made it impossible to hope for westward expansion.
- Cosmopolitan, centrally located states (Connecticut to Virginia) versus parochial states on the northern and southern borders
- Southern states, reliant on slavery in their economies, versus Northern states, which were not
The powers and structures of the Constitution resulted from a series of compromises designed to bridge these three divides.
Large and Small States
The most threatening split in the convention emerged initially between large and small states.
Large states fired the first salvo. The Virginia Plan, drafted by Madison, foresaw a strong national government that could veto any state laws it deemed contrary to the national interest. The central institution was a bicameral (two-chamber) legislature. The people would elect the lower house, which would in turn select the members of the upper house; the two chambers together would then elect the executive and judiciary. Breaking with the Articles of Confederation’s equal representation of states, the Virginia Plan allotted seats to both chambers of the legislature by population size alone.[13]
Cosmopolitan, centrally located states, provided strong initial support for the Virginia Plan against scattered opposition from border states. But Madison could not hold this coalition behind both a strong national government and a legislature allocated by population. Delegates from the small states of New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland liked a strong national government, but they feared being overpowered. Delegates from populous Massachusetts and three fast-growing Southern states joined the two largest states, Virginia and Pennsylvania, to support legislative districts based on population, but they disliked the Virginia Plan’s sweeping powers for the national government.
On June 15, the small states proposed an alternative. The New Jersey Plan enhanced the national government’s powers to levy taxes and regulate commerce but left remaining powers to the states. The plan had a federal executive, elected by the legislature, to enforce states’ compliance with national law, and a federal judiciary to settle disputes among the states and between the states and the national government. Any national law would become “the supreme law of the respective States.” The New Jersey Plan preserved the core of the Articles of Confederation—equal representation of states in a unicameral (single-chamber) legislature.
Only three states voted for the New Jersey Plan, but the Virginia Plan’s vulnerability was exposed. Facing an impasse, delegates from Connecticut suggested a compromise. Borrowing the Virginia Plan’s idea of a bicameral legislature, they proposed that one chamber, the House of Representatives, be made up of representatives from districts of equal population, while in the Senate each state would be equally represented with two senators.
This Connecticut Compromise (also known as the Great Compromise) was adopted by the convention with only Virginia and Pennsylvania in opposition. Thus the configuration of today’s Congress emerged not so much from principled deliberations between the Constitution’s founders as from the necessity for compromise between competing state interests. In essence, the founders decided to split the difference.[14]
North and South
After this vote, North versus South displaced the divide between large and small states. The convention became preoccupied by how the new government would be empowered to deal with slavery. Northerners feared the South’s growth and room for expansion. Southerners worried that the North would threaten the practice of slavery, which, although legal in all states, was a central part only of Southern economies.
Northern interests in a strong national government acceded to Southern demands on slavery. Southerners argued that slaves should be counted when allocating legislative seats. Eventually, the convention settled on a three-fifths clause: 60 percent of the enslaved population would be counted for purposes of representation. Northern delegates, convinced that the largest slave-holding states would never have a majority in the Senate, gave in.
Link: The Three-Fifths Clause
Aaron Magruder’s comic strip The Boondocks ran this installment during the 2004 presidential campaign. Showing a depressed black man talking about the three-fifths clause, it powerfully illustrates the Constitution’s long-lasting affront to African Americans, almost all of whom were enslaved and, thus, for the purpose of the census (and of representation in Congress and the Electoral College), would be counted as three-fifths of a person.
Read the comic here.
As the convention considered the national government’s powers, an alliance of delegates from New England and the Deep South emerged to defend local control and their states’ economic self-interest. Southerners sought to maintain slavery, while New Englanders wanted national tariffs to protect their commerce. They struck a deal that resulted in New England delegates voting to require the return of fugitive slaves and to prevent Congress from regulating the slave trade until 1808.
The delegates did not confront slavery head on (indeed, the word “slavery” is not directly mentioned in the Constitution). As a result, the issue of slavery would overshadow much of federal politics until its bloody resolution in the Civil War of the 1860s.
The Executive
By now, the Constitutional Convention could not break down, because the document had something for everybody. Small states liked the security of a national government and their equal representation in the Senate. The Deep South and New England valued the protection of their economic bases. Pennsylvania and Virginia—the two most populous, centrally located states—foresaw a national government that would extend the reach of their commerce and influence.
The convention’s final sticking point was the nature of the executive. The debate focused on how many people would be president, the power of the office, the term of the office, how presidents would be elected, and whether they could serve multiple terms.
To break the logjam on the presidency, the convention created the Electoral College as the method of electing the president, a political solution that gave something to each of the state-based interests. The president would not be elected directly by the popular vote of citizens. Instead, electors chosen by state legislatures would vote for president. Small states got more electoral votes than warranted by population, as the number of electors is equal to the total of representatives and senators. If the Electoral College did not produce a majority result, the president would be chosen by the popularly elected House, but with one vote per state delegation.[15] With all sides mollified, the convention agreed that the office of president would be held by one person who could run for multiple terms.
Bargaining, Compromise, and Deal Making
The Constitutional Convention began with a principled consensus on establishing a stronger national government; it ended with bargaining, compromise, and deal making. State delegations voted for their political and economic self-interests, and often worked out deals enabling everyone to have something to take home to constituents. Some complex matters, such as the structures of the executive and judicial branches, were left up to the new congress. As one scholar writes, the Constitution is “a patch-work sewn together under the pressure of both time and events by a group of extremely talented . . . politicians.”[16]
Link: The Constitution
To learn more about the Constitution, visit the National Constitution Center.
Ratifying the Constitution
The signing of the Constitution by the delegates on September 17, 1787, was just the beginning. The Constitution would go into effect only after being approved by specially elected ratifying conventions in nine states.
Ratification was not easy to win. In most states, property qualifications for voting had broadened from landholding to taxpaying, thereby including most white men, many of whom benefited from the public policies of the states. Popular opinion for and against ratification was evenly split. In key states like Massachusetts and Virginia, observers thought the opposition was ahead.[17]
The Opposition to Ratification
The elections to the ratifying conventions revealed that opponents of the Constitution tended to come from rural inland areas (not from cities and especially not from ports, where merchants held sway). They held to the ideals of the Declaration of Independence, which favored a deliberately weak national government to enhance local and state self-government.[18] They thought that the national government’s powers, the complex system of government, lengthy terms of office, and often indirect elections in the new Constitution distanced government from the people unacceptably.
Opponents also feared that the strength of the proposed national government posed a threat to individual freedoms. They criticized the Constitution’s lack of a Bill of Rights—clauses to guarantee specific liberties from infringement by the new government. A few delegates to the Constitutional Convention, notably George Mason of Virginia and Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts, had refused to sign the document in the absence of a Bill of Rights.
The Campaign for Ratification
Despite such objections and obstacles, the campaign for ratification was successful in all thirteen states.[19] The advocates of the national political system, benefiting from the secrecy of the Constitutional Convention, were well prepared to take the initiative. They called themselves not nationalists but Federalists. Opponents to the Constitution were saddled with the name of Anti-Federalists, though they were actually the champions of a federation of independent states.
By asking conventions to ratify the Constitution, the Federalists evaded resistance from state legislatures. Federalists campaigned to elect sympathetic ratifiers and hoped that successive victories, publicized in the press, would build momentum toward winning ratification by all thirteen states.
Anti-Federalists did not decry the process by which the Constitution was drafted and ratified. Instead, they participated in the ratification process, hoping to organize a new convention to remedy the Constitution’s flaws.
Newspapers and Ratification
The US newspaper system boosted the Federalist cause. Of the approximately one hundred newspapers being published during the ratification campaign of 1787–88, “not more than a dozen . . . could be classed as avowedly antifederal.”[20] Anti-Federalist arguments were rarely printed and even less often copied by other newspapers.[21] Printers followed the money trail to support the Federalists. Most newspapers, especially those whose stories were reprinted by others, were based in port cities, if only because arriving ships provided good sources of news. Such locales were dominated by merchants who favored a national system to facilitate trade and commerce. Newspapers were less common in rural interior locations where Anti-Federalist support was greatest.
Federalists also pressured the few Anti-Federalist newspapers that existed. They wrote subscribers and advertisers and urged them to cancel. Anti-Federalist printers often moved to other cities, went out of business, or began reprinting Federalist articles. Federalists hailed such results as the voice of the people. When an Anti-Federalist paper in Philadelphia halted publication, Federalists exulted, “There cannot be a greater proof that the body of the people are federal, that the antifederal editors and printers fail of support.”[22]
Today the most famous part of this newspaper campaign is the series of essays (referred to earlier) written by Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison, and published in New York newspapers under the collective pseudonym “Publius.” The authors used their skills at legal argumentation to make the strongest case they could for the document that emerged from the Constitutional Convention. These Federalist papers, steeped in discussion of political theory and history, offer the fullest logic for the workings of the Constitution. However, they were rarely reprinted outside New York and were a minor part of the ratification campaign.
Link: The Federalist
Read The Federalist at the Library of Congress online.
Newspapers instead played on public sentiment, notably the adulation of George Washington, presiding officer of the convention, and his support of the Constitution.[23] The most widely disseminated story concerned his return trip from Philadelphia to Virginia. A bridge collapsed but Washington escaped unharmed. The tale implied that divine intervention had ensured Washington’s leadership by “the providential preservation of the valuable life of this great and good man, on his way home from the Convention.”[24]
Not all states were eager to ratify the Constitution, especially since it did not specify what the federal government could not do and did not include a Bill of Rights. Massachusetts narrowly voted in favor of ratification, with the provision that the first Congress take up recommendations for amending the Constitution. New Hampshire, Virginia, and New York followed this same strategy. Once nine states had ratified it, the Constitution was approved. Madison was elected to the first Congress and proposed a Bill of Rights, the first ten amendments to the Constitution. Only after the Congress had approved the Bill of Rights did North Carolina and Rhode Island ratify the Constitution.
Key Takeaways
We have shown that the Constitution was a political document, drafted for political purposes, by skillful politicians who deployed shrewd media strategies. At the Constitutional Convention, they reconciled different ideas and base self-interests. Through savvy compromises, they resolved cross-cutting divisions and achieved agreement on such difficult issues as slavery and electing the executive. In obtaining ratification of the Constitution, they adroitly outmaneuvered or placated their opponents. The eighteenth-century press was crucial to the Constitution’s success by keeping its proceedings secret and supporting ratification.
- A synopsis is Jack N. Rakove, Original Meanings: Politics and Ideas in the Making of the Constitution(New York: Knopf, 1996), 25–28. More generally, see Max M. Edling, A Revolution in Favor of Government: Origins of the U.S. Constitution and the Making of the American State (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004). ↵
- Gordon S. Wood, “Interests and Disinterestedness in the Making of a Constitution,” in Beyond Confederation: Origins of the Constitution and American National Identity, ed. Richard Beeman, Stephen Botein, and Edward C. Carter II (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1987), 69–109. ↵
- See Leonard A. Richards, Shays’s Rebellion: The American Revolution’s Final Battle (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002). ↵
- See Keith L. Dougherty, Collective Action under the Articles of Confederation (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001), chap. 6. ↵
- The standard edition of Madison’s notes is in The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, ed. Max Farrand, 3 vols. (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1937). ↵
- Charles A. Beard, An Economic Interpretation of the Constitution of the United States (New York: Macmillan, 1913). ↵
- Our analysis draws on these authors, especially John P. Roche, “The Founding Fathers: A Reform Caucus in Action,”American Political Science Review 55 (December 1961): 799–816; Calvin C. Jillson, Constitution Making: Conflict and Consensus in the Federal Convention of 1787 (New York: Agathon Press, 1988); and William H. Riker, The Strategy of Rhetoric: Campaigning for the American Constitution (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996). ↵
- See John K. Alexander, The Selling of the Constitutional Convention: A History of News Coverage (Madison, WI: Madison House, 1990). ↵
- Max Farrand, ed., The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1937), vol. 1, 17. ↵
- Max Farrand, ed., The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1937), vol. 3, 28. ↵
- Max Farrand, ed., The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1937), vol. 3, 86–87. ↵
- Max Farrand, ed., The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1937), vol. 3, 76. ↵
- The text of the Virginia Plan (and its main rival, the New Jersey Plan) can be found in Clinton Rossiter, 1787: The Grand Convention (New York: Macmillan, 1966), 361–63 and 369–71. ↵
- David Brian Robertson, “Madison’s Opponents and Constitutional Design,” American Political Science Review 99 (2005): 225–44. ↵
- The quoted phrase comes from John P. Roche, “The Founding Fathers: A Reform Caucus in Action,” American Political Science Review 55 (December 1961): 810. ↵
- John P. Roche, “The Founding Fathers: A Reform Caucus in Action,”American Political Science Review 55 (December 1961): 815; see also David Brian Robertson, “Madison’s Opponents and Constitutional Design,” American Political Science Review 99 (2005): 225–44. ↵
- Jackson Turner Main,The Antifederalists: Critics of the Constitution, 1781–1788 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1961), 249; Evelyn C. Fink and William H. Riker, “The Strategy of Ratification” in The Federalist Papers and the New Institutionalism, ed. Bernard Grofman and Donald Wittman (New York: Agathon Press, 1989), 220–55. ↵
- See Herbert Storing, What the Anti-Federalists Were For (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988). ↵
- Pauline Maier, Ratification: The People Debate the Constitution, 1787–1788 (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2010). ↵
- Robert Allen Rutland, The Ordeal of the Constitution: The Antifederalists and the Ratification Struggle of 1787–1788 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966), 38. ↵
- William H. Riker, The Strategy of Rhetoric: Campaigning for the American Constitution (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996), 26–28. ↵
- More specifically, see Robert A. Rutland, “The First Great Newspaper Debate: The Constitutional Crisis of 1787–88,” Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society(1987): 43–58. These examples come from Robert Allen Rutland, The Ordeal of the Constitution: The Antifederalists and the Ratification Struggle of 1787–1788 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966), 73–74, 135–38, 265–66; and John P. Kaminski and Gaspare J. Saladino, eds., Commentaries on the Constitution, Public and Private (Madison, WI: State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1981), vol. 1, xxxii–xxxix. ↵
- On the most commonly reprinted articles, see William H. Riker, The Strategy of Rhetoric: Campaigning for the American Constitution (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996), chap. 6, esp. table 6.1. ↵
- John P. Kaminski and Gaspare J. Saladino, eds., Commentaries on the Constitution, Public and Private (Madison, WI: State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1981), vol. 1, 243. ↵ | 6,037 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://library.achievingthedream.org/herkimeramericangovernment/chapter/oer-8/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:73839 | https://library.achievingthedream.org/herkimeramericangovernment/chapter/oer-8/ |
s1hPzunfd9NJvdpB | 36.4: Appendix E - Edge Runners program | 36.4: Appendix E - Edge Runners program
To recognize the work, leadership, determination, and contributions of nurses who are at the forefront of innovations in population health, the American Academy of Nursing (AAN, 2023) created the Edge Runners program. The AAN annually recognizes nurse-designed models of care that reduce cost, improve care quality, promote health equity, and increase client satisfaction. Table E1 lists population health programs across care areas that were invented by nurses. Please note, the table is a comprehensive listing as of June 2023.
| Program Name | Nurse Innovators |
|---|---|
| 10 Steps to Promote and Protect Human Milk and Breastfeeding in Vulnerable Infants | Diane L. Spatz PhD, RN-BC, FAAN |
| 11th Street Family Health Services | Patricia Gerrity PhD, RN, FAAN |
| A Caring Science Model of Specialized Dementia Care for Transforming Practice and Advancing Health Equity | María de los Ángeles Ortega (formerly Ordóñez), DNP, APRN, GNP-BC, PMHNP-BC, CDP, FAANP, FAAN |
| Accountable Community of Health | Billie Lynn Allard, MS, RN |
| The Aging in Place Project | Marilyn Rantz, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| The American Association of Critical Care Nurses (AACN) Clinical Scene Investigator (CSI) Academy | Karen Cox, PhD, RN, FAAN; Susan R. Lacey, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Angel Eye Web-Camera System | Sarah Rhoads, PhD, DNP, WHNP-BC |
| Arkansas Aging Initiative | Claudia J. Beverly, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Canines Providing Assistance to Wounded Warriors (C-P.A.W.W.) | Cheryl Krause-Parello, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Caregiver Skill Building Intervention (CSBI) | Carol J. Farran, DNSc, RN, FAAN |
| Center for Midwifery – CU College of Nursing | Jessica Anderson, DNP, CNM, WHNP, FACNM |
| Centering Healthcare Institute | Sharon Schindler Rising, CNM, MSN |
| The Chicago Parent Program | Deborah Gross, DNSc, RN, FAAN; Susan Breitenstein, PhD, RN, FAAN; Christine Garvey, PhD, RN; Wrenetha Julion, PhD, MPH, RN, FAAN |
| Collaborative Alliance for Nursing Outcomes | Nancy Donaldson, DNS, RN, FAAN; Diane Storer Brown, PhD, RN, FNAHQ, FAAN |
| Collaborative KMC Care Model | John N. Cranmer, DNP, MPH, MSN, BSN, ANP, CPH, EBP(CH); Lynn M. Sibley, CNM, RN, PhD, FACNM, FAAN; Abebe Gebremariam Gobezayehu, MD; Lamesgin Alamnih, BSc, MPH; Mulusew Lijalem Belew, MHS, BS, AD |
| Community Aging in Place: Advancing Better Living for Elders (CAPABLE) | Sarah Szanton, PhD, ANP, FAAN |
| Community-Based Smoking Cessation Program (CSCP) | Man Ping Wang, PhD, MPH, MPhil, BNurs, RN, FAAN |
| Community Health Education, Advocacy, and Empowerment: Promotores de la Salud | Connie Vance, EdD, RN, FAAN; Mary Healey-Sedutto, MPA, PhD |
| Complex Care Center | Lauran Hardin, MSN, RN-BC, CNL |
| Coping Skills Training | Margaret Grey, DrPH, RN, FAAN |
| Creating Opportunities for Parent Empowerment (COPE) | Bernadette Mazurek Melnyk, PhD, RN, CPNP/PMHNP, FAAN, FNAP |
| Creating Opportunities for Personal Empowerment (COPE) for Children, Teens, and College-Age Students | Bernadette Mazurek Melnyk, PhD, RN, CPNP/PMHNP, FAAN, FNAP |
| ¡Cuídate! | Antonia M. Villaruel, PhD, FAAN; Loretta Sweet Jemmott, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Danger Assessment: An Instrument to Help Abused Women Assess Their Risk of Homicide | Jacquelyn Campbell, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Durham Homeless Care Transitions | Julia Gamble, MPH, NP, RN; Donna Biederman, DrPH, MN, RN, CPH, FAAN; Sally Wilson, MDiv |
| Fall Tailoring Interventions for Patient Safety (TIPS) | Patricia C. Dykes PhD, MA, RN, FAAN, FACMI; Ann Hurley, DNSc FAAN, FGSA; Diane Carroll, PhD, RN, FAAN, FAHA, FESC |
| Family Health and Birth Center in the Developing Families Center | Ruth Watson Lubic, EdD, RN, CNM, FAAN |
| Family Practice and Counseling Network | Donna Torrisi, MSN, CRNP |
| Family Presence During Invasive Procedures and Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation | Cathie Guzzetta, PhD, RN, FAAN; Angela Clark, PhD, RN, FAAN, FAHA |
| Families Talking Together | Vincent Guilamo-Ramos, PhD, MPH, LCSW, RN, ANP-BC, PMHNP-BC, FAAN |
| Farm Dinner Theatre | Deborah B. Reed, PhD, MSPH, RN, FAAOHN, FAAN |
| The Harambee Nursing Center | Kay T. Roberts, EdD, MSN, ARNP, FAAN |
| The Harriet Lane Compassionate Care Program | Cynda Hylton Rushton, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Immersion Model for Diversifying Nurse Anesthesia Programs | Wallena Gould, EdD, CRNA, FAANA, FAAN |
| Improving the Accuracy of Linear Growth Assessment in Children | Terri Lipman, PhD, CRNP, FAAN; Karen D. Hench, MS, RN |
| INSIGHTS into Children's Temperament | Sandee McClowry, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Integrated Health Care (IHC) | Judith Storfjell, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Interprofessional Practice at the Vine School Health Center: A School-Based Nurse-Managed Clinic | Nan M. Gaylord, PhD, RN, CPNP- PC, PMHS, FAANP, FAAN |
| Kentucky Racing Health Services Center | Whitney Nash, PhD, APRN; Sara Robertson, DNP, APRN, FNP |
| Living Independently for Elders Center (LIFE) | Eileen M. Sullivan-Marx, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Los trastornos del sueño y la promoción del sueño saludable [Sleep disorders and the promotion of healthy sleep] | Carol M. Baldwin, PhD, RN, CHTP, CT, AHN-BC, FAAN; Cipriana Caudillo Cisneros, MS, RN; Luxana Reynaga Ornelas, PhD, MSN, RN |
| Making Transitional Care More Effective & Efficient | Mary D. Naylor, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Mantram Repetition Program: Mind-Body-Spiritual Approach to Symptom and Stress Management | Jill E. Bormann, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Marquette Model of Natural Family Planning and Fertility Awareness Based Method | Richard J. Fehring, PhD, RN, FAAN; Mary Schneider, PhD, APRN, FNP-BC; Susana Crespo, BSN, RN, NFPI; MaryLee (Kiene) Barron, PhD, APRN, FNP-BC; Qiyan Mu, PhD, RN; Thomas Bouchard, MD, Family Medicine; Kathleen Raviele, MD, Ob/Gyn |
| Mental Health Integration at Intermountain Healthcare, UT | Brenda Reiss-Brennan, PhD, APRN |
| The Mount Sinai Primary Care Hepatitis C Clinical and Research Program | Donald Gardenier, DNP, FNP-BC, FAANP, FAAN; Jeffrey J. Weiss, PhD, MS |
| National University Nurse Managed Clinic | Gloria J. McNeal, PhD, MSN, ACNS-BC, FAAN; Arneta Finney, PhD, APRN, FNP-C, APWHc, CNL; Angela Williams, PhD, FNP-C, APRN, CNL; Patricia L. Humbles, PhD, RN (Ret.) |
| Nurse Managed Health Centers | Tine Hansen-Turton, FAAN; Joanne M. Pohl, PhD, ANP-BC, FAAN |
| Nurse-Family Partnerships Helping First-Time Parents Succeed | Harriet Kitzman, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Nurses Improving Care for Healthsystems Elders (NICHE) | Mattia J. Gilmartin PhD, RN, FAAN; Jennifer L. Pettis, MSN, RN, CNE; Eugenia Bachaleda, MA; Louise Simon, BS, LLM, ICBB; Joanna Melendez, BS; Eileen Sullivan-Marx, PhD, RN, FAAN; Terry Fulmer, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| On Lok Senior Health Services | Jennie Chin Hansen, MS, RN, FAAN |
| One Year Post-Baccalaureate Nurse Residency | Colleen J. Goode, PhD, RN, FAAN, NEA-BC; Cathleen Krsek, MSN, MBA, RN, FAAN |
| Oral Care in Mechanically Ventilated Adults | Cindy Munro, PhD, RN, ANP-BC, FAANP, FAAN, FAAAS |
| Oral Health Nursing Education and Practice Program | Judith Haber, PhD, APRN, FAAN; Erin Hartnett, DNP, PNPPC-BC, CPNP |
| PATHways Prenatal Program and Beyond Birth Comprehensive Treatment and Recovery Program | Kristin Ashford, PhD, WHNP-BC, FAAN; John O’Brien, MD, MFM; Seth Himelhoch, MD, MPH |
| Perioperative Pressure Ulcer Prevention Program | Susan M. Scott, MSN, RN, WOCN |
| Quality Improvement Program for Missouri (QIPMO) | Marilyn J. Rantz, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Quiet4Healthy Farm | Marjorie McCullagh, PhD, RN, APHN-BC, COHN-S, FAAOHN, FAAN |
| Reducing Depressive Symptoms & Enhancing Parenting in Low-Income & Newly-Immigrated Mothers of Infants & Toddlers | Linda S. Beeber, PhD, PMHCNS-BC, FAAN |
| RightCare Solutions | Kathryn H. Bowles, PhD, RN, FAAN, FACMI |
| Senior ASSIST | Diane McGee, MSN, RN |
| SeniorWISE | Graham J. McDougall, Jr., PhD, RN, FAAN, FGSA |
| Special Care Unit for the Critically Ill | Barbara Daly, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| Suicide Prevention in Nursing: Breaking the Silence | Judy E. Davidson, DNP, RN, MCCM, FAAN |
| Talking Circle Intervention | John Lowe, PhD, RN, FAAN |
| TelEmergency: Distance Emergency Care Using Nurse Practitioners | Kristi Henderson, MSN, FAEN |
| Tobacco Free Nurses | Linda Sarna, PhD, RN, FAAN; Stella Aguinaga Bialous, DrPH, RN, FAAN |
| Training in the Assessment of Depression | Ellen L. Brown, EdD, RN |
| Transforming Care at the Bedside | Susan B. Hassmiller, PhD, RN, FAAN; Patricia Rutherford, MS, RN |
| Transforming the Alzheimer's Experience with an App: Dementia Guide Expert | Valerie Gruss, PD, APRN, GNP-BC, FAAN |
| Transforming Post-Hospitalization, Newborn Circumcision Care Through a Nurse Practitioner-Led Care Delivery Model | Vivian W. Williams, MSN, RN, CPN |
| UCLA Alzheimer’s and Dementia Care (ADC) Program | Leslie Chang Evertson, GNP-BC; Mihae Kim, AGPCNP-BC; Michelle Panlilio, GNP-BC; Kelsey Stander, AGNP-BC |
| Wise Health Decisions | Nancy E. Dayhoff, EdD, RN, CNS; Patricia S. Moore, MSN, RN, CNS, CDE | | 1,917 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nursing/Population_Health_for_Nurses_(OpenStax)/36%3A_Appendix/36.04%3A_Appendix_E | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:2006 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nursing/Population_Health_for_Nurses_(OpenStax)/36%3A_Appendix/36.04%3A_Appendix_E |
B1nwWvSoDvAZ37x9 | US History I & II YAWP | 87 Introduction
The wonder of the stock market had permeated popular culture throughout the 1920s. Although it was released during the first year of the Great Depression, the 1930 film High Society Blues captured the speculative hope and prosperity of the previous decade. “I’m in the Market for You,” a popular musical number from the film, even used the stock market as a metaphor for love: You’re going up, up, up in my estimation, / I want a thousand shares of your caresses, too. / We’ll count the hugs and kisses, / When dividends are due, / Cause I’m in the market for you.
But, just as the song was being recorded in 1929, the stock market reached the apex of its swift climb, crashed, and brought an abrupt end to the seeming prosperity of the “Roaring ’20s.” The Great Depression had arrived. | 185 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://library.achievingthedream.org/sanjacushistory2/chapter/introduction-30/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:88204 | https://library.achievingthedream.org/sanjacushistory2/chapter/introduction-30/ |
L1gNJWlL1f4CujrD | American Literatures Prior to 1865 | Literature of the New Nation – Poe
120 Author Introduction-Edgar Allen Poe (1809–1849)
Born in Boston to actors Elizabeth Arnold Poe and David Poe, Jr., Edgar Allan Poe was swiftly abandoned by both parents before the age of four. His father simply picked up and left the family. A year later, Poe’s mother unfortunately contracted tuberculosis and passed away, leaving Poe an orphan. He was taken in by John Allan, a tobacco merchant, and his wife, Frances Valentine Allan. The Allans raised Poe as their own, though he was never officially adopted by the couple.
Figure 1. Edgar Allan Poe
Poe took to poetry at a young age, which often caused a clash between himself and his adoptive father. Whereas John Allan wished for Poe to take over the family business, Poe had no such desire and continued to write. As a young man, he attended the University of Virginia with Allan footing the bill. However, this arrangement didn’t last long as Allan refused to continue to pay for Poe’s secondary education, reportedly due to financial disagreements between the two men. After amounting a mass of debt due to gambling, Poe was forced to leave the university and enlisted in the Army.
It was while in the Army that Poe anonymously published his first collection, Tamerlane and Other Poems (1827). After Frances Valentine Allan, the only mother Poe knew, died of tuberculosis, John Allan and Poe mended their relationship, and Allan helped Poe get accepted into West Point. Though he was a good student, Poe’s mind wandered more to prose and poetry and less to his duties at West Point. Worse yet, his relationship with Allan was on the rocks yet again. Poe was kicked out of West Point, though it is unclear if Poe purposefully caused his expulsion to spite his foster father. Allan won the parting shot though; after his death in 1834, he left Poe out of his will completely.
After West Point, Poe traveled extensively, living in poverty as a full-time writer in major cities like New York City, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Richmond. While in Richmond, he fell in love with his cousin, Virginia Clemm, and married her in 1836. Poe was 27, and Clemm was 13.
After winning a short story contest, Poe’s writing career picked up and he went on to publish more short stories in literary journals and magazines. He also worked as a critic for the Southern Literary Messenger and was notorious for his biting reviews, earning him the nickname “Tomahawk Man.” His position as critic with the magazine proved short-lived as his seething reviews often led to confrontation. It is believed he was fired after his boss found him drunk on the job. Over the years, Poe had developed a liking to alcohol, eventually leading to a dependence on liquor. This dependence evolved into full-blown alcoholism when Virginia fell ill with tuberculosis in 1842. The very disease that killed his birth mother and later his adoptive mother seemed insatiable, targeting the women Poe loved. It was while his wife was sick that Poe wrote the famous poem for which he is known: “The Raven” (1845).
“The Raven” skyrocketed Poe from infamous critic to famous poet. But the literary recognition of his arguably most popular poem did not come with the paycheck one would expect. He only received $9 from The American Review for it, and Poe continued to struggle financially for the rest of his life.
Debt and alcoholism weren’t the only demons haunting Poe. Death soon darkened his door yet again. In 1947, Virginia lost her battle with tuberculosis, devastating Poe. After her death, Poe’s dependency on substances grew until, in 1849, he died at the age of 40 under suspicious circumstances. Some sources say he drank himself to death while others blame his death on drugs or rabies. No one is certain how Poe died, and it remains a mystery to this day, not unlike the gothic endings of some of his most celebrated works.
Poe may have beaten Death in the end; his works are still recognized as an important part of the American Literature canon. Modern day readers have Poe to thank for detective fiction, a genre which some credit him for creating. Best known for his evocative storytelling and his gothic style, Poe continues to influence writers across the centuries from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to Stephen King, who is quoted in a Mystery Scene magazine article as saying of Poe, “He wasn’t just a mystery/suspense writer. He was the first.”
Source:
Becoming America, Corey Parson, Wendy Kurant, ed., CC-BY-SA
Image Credit:
Figure 1. “Edgar Allan Poe,” Grace Hammond, Virginia Western Community College, derivative image from “Edgar Allan Poe,” W.S. Hartshorn, Wikimedia, Public Domain. | 1,024 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://umsystem.pressbooks.pub/alpt1865/chapter/author-introduction-edgar-allen-poe/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:38626 | https://umsystem.pressbooks.pub/alpt1865/chapter/author-introduction-edgar-allen-poe/ |
yjB6IdyuVhrXVBk5 | 3.3: Epithelial Tissue | 3.3: Epithelial Tissue
By the end of the section, you will be able to:
- Explain the structure and function of epithelial tissue
- Distinguish between tight junctions, anchoring junctions, and gap junctions
- Distinguish between simple epithelia and stratified epithelia, as well as between squamous, cuboidal, and columnar epithelia
- Describe the structure and function of endocrine and exocrine glands and their respective secretions
Most epithelial tissues are essentially large sheets of cells covering all the surfaces of the body exposed to the outside world and lining the outside of organs. Epithelium also forms much of the glandular tissue of the body. Skin is not the only area of the body exposed to the outside. Other areas include the airways, the digestive tract, as well as the urinary and reproductive systems, all of which are lined by an epithelium. Hollow organs and body cavities that do not connect to the exterior of the body, which includes, blood vessels and the heart, are lined by endothelium (plural = endothelia), which is a type of epithelium.
Epithelial cells derive from all three major embryonic layers. The epithelia lining the skin, parts of the mouth and nose, and the anus develop from the ectoderm. Cells lining the airways and most of the digestive system originate in the endoderm. The epithelium that lines vessels in the lymphatic and cardiovascular system derives from the mesoderm and is called an endothelium.
All epithelia share some important structural and functional features. This tissue is highly cellular, with little or no extracellular material present between cells. Adjoining cells form a specialized intercellular connection between their cell membranes called a cell junction . The epithelial cells exhibit polarity with differences in structure and function between the exposed or apical facing surface of the cell and the basal surface close to the underlying body structures. The basal lamina , a mixture of glycoproteins and collagen, provides an attachment site for the epithelium, separating it from underlying connective tissue. The basal lamina attaches to a reticular lamina , which is secreted by the underlying connective tissue, forming a basement membrane that helps hold it all together.
Epithelial tissues are nearly completely avascular. For instance, no blood vessels cross the basement membrane to enter the tissue, and nutrients must come by diffusion or absorption from underlying tissues or the surface. Many epithelial tissues are capable of rapidly replacing damaged and dead cells. Sloughing off of damaged or dead cells is a characteristic of surface epithelium and allows our airways and digestive tracts to rapidly replace damaged cells with new cells.
Generalized Functions of Epithelial Tissue
Epithelial tissues provide the body’s first line of protection from physical, chemical, and biological wear and tear. The cells of an epithelium act as gatekeepers of the body controlling permeability and allowing selective transfer of materials across a physical barrier. All substances that enter the body must cross an epithelium. Some epithelia often include structural features that allow the selective transport of molecules and ions across their cell membranes.
Many epithelial cells are capable of secretion and release mucous and specific chemical compounds onto their apical surfaces. The epithelium of the small intestine releases digestive enzymes, for example. Cells lining the respiratory tract secrete mucous that traps incoming microorganisms and particles. A glandular epithelium contains many secretory cells.
Some epithelial tissues also provide sensation. Nerve supply to epithelial tissues can alert the body to pressure, pain, and temperature from external or internal stimuli. This can help the body to maintain homeostasis or avoid harmful situations in the environment.
The Epithelial Cell
Epithelial cells are typically characterized by the polarized distribution of organelles and membrane-bound proteins between their basal and apical surfaces. Particular structures found in some epithelial cells are an adaptation to specific functions. Certain organelles are segregated to the basal sides, whereas other organelles and extensions, such as cilia, when present, are on the apical surface.
Cilia are microscopic extensions of the apical cell membrane that are supported by microtubules. They beat in unison and move fluids as well as trapped particles. Ciliated epithelium lines the ventricles of the brain where it helps circulate the cerebrospinal fluid. The ciliated epithelium of your airway forms a mucociliary escalator that sweeps particles of dust and pathogens trapped in the secreted mucous toward the throat. It is called an escalator because it continuously pushes mucous with trapped particles upward. In contrast, nasal cilia sweep the mucous blanket down towards your throat. In both cases, the transported materials are usually swallowed, and end up in the acidic environment of your stomach.
Cell to Cell Junctions
Cells of epithelia are closely connected and are not separated by intracellular material. Three basic types of connections allow varying degrees of interaction between the cells: tight junctions, anchoring junctions, and gap junctions (Figure \(\PageIndex{1}\)).
At one end of the spectrum is the tight junction , which separates the cells into apical and basal compartments. Tight junctions essentially "stitch" adjacent cell together, forming an impermeable barrier. An anchoring junction includes several types of cell junctions that help stabilize epithelial tissues. Anchoring junctions are common on the lateral and basal surfaces of cells where they provide strong and flexible connections. There are three types of anchoring junctions: desmosomes, hemidesmosomes, and adherens. Desmosomes occur in patches on the membranes of cells. The patches are structural proteins on the inner surface of the cell’s membrane. The adhesion molecule, cadherin, is embedded in these patches and projects through the cell membrane to link with the cadherin molecules of adjacent cells. These connections are especially important in holding cells together. Hemidesmosomes, which look like half a desmosome, link cells to the extracellular matrix, for example, the basal lamina. While similar in appearance to desmosomes, they include the adhesion proteins called integrins rather than cadherins. Adherens junctions use either cadherins or integrins depending on whether they are linking to other cells or matrix. The junctions are characterized by the presence of the contractile protein actin located on the cytoplasmic surface of the cell membrane. The actin can connect isolated patches or form a belt-like structure inside the cell. These junctions influence the shape and folding of the epithelial tissue.
In contrast with the tight and anchoring junctions, a gap junction forms an intercellular passageway between the membranes of adjacent cells to facilitate the movement of small molecules and ions between the cytoplasm of adjacent cells. These junctions allow electrical and metabolic coupling of adjacent cells, which coordinates function in large groups of cells.
Classification of Epithelial Tissues
Epithelial tissues are classified according to the shape of the cells and number of the cell layers formed (Figure \(\PageIndex{2}\)). Cell shapes can be squamous (flattened and thin), cuboidal (boxy, as wide as it is tall), or columnar (rectangular, taller than it is wide). Similarly, the number of cell layers in the tissue can be one—where every cell rests on the basal lamina—which is a simple epithelium, or more than one, which is a stratified epithelium and only the basal layer of cells rests on the basal lamina. Pseudostratified (pseudo- = “false”) describes tissue with a single layer of irregularly shaped cells that give the appearance of more than one layer. Transitional describes a form of specialized stratified epithelium in which the shape of the cells can vary.
Simple Epithelia
The shape of the cells in the single cell layer of simple epithelium reflects the functioning of those cells. The cells in simple squamous epithelium (Figure \(\PageIndex{3}\)) have the appearance of thin scales. Squamous cell nuclei tend to be flat, horizontal, and elliptical, mirroring the form of the cell. The endothelium is the epithelial tissue that lines vessels of the lymphatic and cardiovascular system, and it is made up of a single layer of squamous cells. Simple squamous epithelium, because of the thinness of the cell, is present where rapid passage of chemical compounds is observed. The alveoli of lungs where gases diffuse, segments of kidney tubules, and the lining of capillaries are also made of simple squamous epithelial tissue. The mesothelium is a simple squamous epithelium that forms the surface layer of the serous membrane that lines body cavities and internal organs. Its primary function is to provide a smooth and protective surface. Mesothelial cells are squamous epithelial cells that secrete a fluid that lubricates the mesothelium.
In simple cuboidal epithelium (Figure \(\PageIndex{4}\)), the nucleus of the box-like cells appears round and is generally located near the center of the cell. These epithelia are active in the secretion and absorption of molecules. Simple cuboidal epithelia are observed in the lining of the kidney tubules and in the ducts of glands.
In simple columnar epithelium (Figure \(\PageIndex{5}\)), the nucleus of the tall column-like cells tends to be elongated and located in the basal end of the cells. Like the cuboidal epithelia, this epithelium is active in the absorption and secretion of molecules. Simple columnar epithelium forms the lining of some sections of the digestive system and parts of the female reproductive tract. Ciliated columnar epithelium is composed of simple columnar epithelial cells with cilia on their apical surfaces. These epithelial cells are found in the lining of the Fallopian tubes and parts of the respiratory system, where the beating of the cilia helps remove particulate matter.
Pseudostratified columnar epithelium (Figure \(\PageIndex{6}\)) is a type of epithelium that appears to be stratified but instead consists of a single layer of irregularly shaped and differently sized columnar cells. In pseudostratified epithelium, nuclei of neighboring cells appear at different levels rather than clustered in the basal end. The arrangement gives the appearance of stratification; but in fact all the cells are in contact with the basal lamina, although some do not reach the apical surface. Pseudostratified columnar epithelium is found in the respiratory tract, where some of these cells have cilia.
Both simple and pseudostratified columnar epithelia are heterogeneous epithelia because they include additional types of cells interspersed among the epithelial cells. For example, a goblet cell is a mucous-secreting unicellular “gland” interspersed between the columnar epithelial cells of mucous membranes (Figure \(\PageIndex{7}\)).
Stratified Epithelia
A stratified epithelium consists of several stacked layers of cells. This epithelium protects against physical and chemical wear and tear. The stratified epithelium is named by the shape of the most apical layer of cells, closest to the free space. Stratified squamous epithelium (Figure \(\PageIndex{8}\)) is the most common type of stratified epithelium in the human body. The apical cells are squamous, whereas the basal layer contains either columnar or cuboidal cells. The top layer may be covered with dead cells filled with keratin. The epidermis of mammalian skin is an example of this dry, keratinized, stratified squamous epithelium. The lining of the oral cavity is an example of an non-keratinized, stratified squamous epithelium. Stratified cuboidal epithelium and stratified columnar epithelium (Figure \(\PageIndex{8}\)) can also be found in certain glands and ducts, but are uncommon in the human body.
Another kind of stratified epithelium is transitional epithelium ( Figure \(\PageIndex{9}\)), so-called because of the gradual changes in the shapes of the apical cells as the bladder fills with urine. It is found only in the urinary system, specifically the ureters and urinary bladder. When the bladder is empty, this epithelium is convoluted and has cuboidal apical cells with convex, umbrella shaped, apical surfaces. As the bladder fills with urine, this epithelium loses its convolutions and the apical cells transition from cuboidal to squamous. It appears thicker and more multi-layered when the bladder is empty, and more stretched out and less stratified when the bladder is full and distended.
| Tissue | Location | Function |
|---|---|---|
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Simple Squamous Epithelium
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Air sacs of lungs and lining of the heart, blood vessels, and lymphatic vessels. | Allows material to pass through by diffusion and filtration, and secretes lubricating substance |
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Simple Cuboidal Epithelium
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In ducts and secretory portions of small glands and in the kidney tubules | Secretes and absorbs |
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Simple Columnar Epithelium
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Ciliated tissues are in bronchi, uterine tubes, and uterus; smooth (nonciliated tissues) are in the digestive tract, bladder | Absorbs; it also secretes mucous and enzymes |
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Psuedostratified Columnar Epithelium
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Ciliated tissue lines the trachea and much of the upper respiratory tract | Secretes mucus, ciliated tissue moves mucus |
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Stratified Squamous Epithelium
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Lines the esophagus, mouth, and vagina |
Protects against abrasion |
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Stratified Cuboidal Epithelium
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Sweat glands, salivary glands, and the mammary glands | Protective tissue |
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Stratified Columnar Epithelium
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The male urethra and the ducts of some glands | Secretes and protects |
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Transitional Epithelium
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Lines the bladder, urethra, and the ureters | Allows the urinary organs to expand and stretch |
Glandular Epithelium
A gland is a structure made up of one or more cells modified to synthesize and secrete chemical substances. Most glands consist of groups of epithelial cells. A gland can be classified as an endocrine gland , a ductless gland that releases secretions directly into surrounding tissues and fluids (endo- = “inside”), or an exocrine gland whose secretions leave through a duct that opens directly, or indirectly, to the external environment (exo- = “outside”).
Endocrine Glands
The secretions of endocrine glands are called hormones. Hormones are released into the interstitial fluid, diffused into the bloodstream, and delivered to targets, in other words, cells that have receptors to bind the hormones. The endocrine system is part of a major regulatory system coordinating the regulation and integration of body responses. A few examples of endocrine glands include the anterior pituitary, thymus, adrenal cortex, and gonads (ovaries and testes).
Exocrine Glands
Exocrine glands release their contents through a duct that leads to the epithelial surface. Mucous, sweat, saliva, and breast milk are all examples of secretions from exocrine glands. They are all discharged through tubular ducts. Secretions into the lumen of the gastrointestinal tract, technically outside of the body, are of the exocrine category.
Glandular Structure
Exocrine glands are classified as either unicellular or multicellular. The unicellular glands are scattered single cells, such as goblet cells, found in the mucous membranes of the small and large intestine.
The multicellular exocrine glands known as serous glands develop from simple epithelium to form a secretory surface that secretes directly into an inner cavity. These glands line the internal cavities of the abdomen and chest and release their secretions directly into the cavities. Other multicellular exocrine glands release their contents through a tubular duct. The duct is single in a simple gland but in compound glands is divided into one or more branches (Figure \(\PageIndex{10}\)). In tubular glands, the ducts can be straight or coiled. Examples of tubular glands include simple tubular (e.g. intestinal glands), simple coiled tubular (e.g. merocrine sweat glands), simple branched tubular (e.g. gastric glands, and mucous glands of the esophagus, tongue, and duodenum), and compound tubular (e.g. mucous gland of the mouth, and bulbourethral glands and the seminiferous tubules of the testes, both of which are found in the male reproductive system). Glands that contain a duct that form pockets are alveolar (acinar), such as the exocrine portion of the pancreas. An example of an alveolar (acinar) gland includes simple alveolar, which are only found in the early stages of development as precursors to simple branched glands. Other examples include simple branched alveolar (e.g. sebaceous (oil) glands), and compound alveolar (e.g. mammary glands). Combinations of tubes and pockets are known as tubuloalveolar (tubuloacinar) compound glands. In a branched gland, a duct is connected to more than one secretory group of cells.
Methods and Types of Secretion
Exocrine glands can be classified by their mode of secretion and the nature of the substances released, as well as by the structure of the glands and shape of ducts (Figure \(\PageIndex{11}\)). Merocrine secretion is the most common type of exocrine secretion. The secretions are enclosed in vesicles that move to the apical surface of the cell where the contents are released by exocytosis. For example, watery mucous containing the glycoprotein mucin, a lubricant that offers some pathogen protection is a merocrine secretion. The eccrine glands that produce and secrete sweat are another example.
Apocrine secretion accumulates near the apical portion of the cell. That portion of the cell and its secretory contents pinch off from the cell and are released. Some sweat glands of the axilla region are classified as apocrine glands. Both merocrine and apocrine glands continue to produce and secrete their contents with little damage caused to the cell because the nucleus and golgi regions remain intact after secretion.
In contrast, the process of holocrine secretion involves the rupture and destruction of the entire gland cell. The cell accumulates its secretory products and releases them only when it bursts. New gland cells differentiate from cells in the surrounding tissue to replace those lost by secretion. The sebaceous glands that produce the oils on the skin and hair are holocrine glands/cells (Figure \(\PageIndex{12}\)).
Glands are also named after the products they produce. The serous gland produces watery, blood-plasma-like secretions rich in enzymes such as alpha amylase, whereas the mucous gland releases watery to viscous products rich in the glycoprotein mucin. Both serous and mucous glands are common in the salivary glands of the mouth. Mixed exocrine glands contain both serous and mucous glands and release both types of secretions.
Concept Review
In epithelial tissue, cells are closely packed with little or no extracellular matrix except for the basal lamina that separates the epithelium from underlying tissue. The main functions of epithelia are protection from the environment, coverage, secretion and excretion, absorption, and filtration. Cells are bound together by tight junctions that form an impermeable barrier. They can also be connected by gap junctions, which allow free exchange of soluble molecules between cells, and anchoring junctions, which attach cell to cell or cell to matrix. The different types of epithelial tissues are characterized by their cellular shapes and arrangements: squamous, cuboidal, or columnar epithelia. Single cell layers form simple epithelia, whereas stacked cells form stratified epithelia. Very few capillaries penetrate these tissues.
Glands are secretory tissues and organs that are derived from epithelial tissues. Exocrine glands release their products through ducts. Endocrine glands secrete hormones directly into the interstitial fluid and blood stream. Glands are classified both according to the type of secretion and by their structure. Merocrine glands secrete products as they are synthesized. Apocrine glands release secretions by pinching off the apical portion of the cell, whereas holocrine gland cells store their secretions until they rupture and release their contents. In this case, the cell becomes part of the secretion.
Review Questions
Q. In observing epithelial cells under a microscope, the cells are arranged in a single layer and look tall and narrow, and the nucleus is located close to the basal side of the cell. The specimen is what type of epithelial tissue?
A. columnar
B. stratified
C. squamous
D. transitional
- Answer
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Answer: A
Q. Which of the following is the epithelial tissue that lines the interior of blood vessels?
A. columnar
B. pseudostratified
C. simple squamous
D. transitional
- Answer
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Answer: C
Q. Which type of epithelial tissue specializes in moving particles across its surface and is found in airways?
A. transitional
B. stratified columnar
C. pseudostratified ciliated columnar
D. stratified squamous
- Answer
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Answer: C
Q. The ________ exocrine gland stores its secretion until the glandular cell ruptures, whereas the ________ gland releases its apical region and reforms.
A. holocrine; apocrine
B. eccrine; endocrine
C. apocrine; holocrine
D. eccrine; apocrine
- Answer
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Answer: A
Critical Thinking Questions
Q. The structure of a tissue usually is optimized for its function. Describe how the structure of individual cells and tissue arrangement of the intestine lining matches its main function, to absorb nutrients.
- Answer
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A. Columnar epithelia, which form the lining of the digestive tract, can be either simple or stratified. The cells are long and narrow, which provide protection while still allowing for secretion and absorption.
Glossary
- anchoring junction
- mechanically attaches adjacent cells to each other or to the basement membrane
- apical
- that part of a cell or tissue which, in general, faces an open space
- apocrine secretion
- release of a substance along with the apical portion of the cell
- basal lamina
- thin extracellular layer that lies underneath epithelial cells and separates them from other tissues
- basement membrane
- in epithelial tissue, a thin layer of fibrous material that anchors the epithelial tissue to the underlying connective tissue; made up of the basal lamina and reticular lamina
- cell junction
- point of cell-to-cell contact that connects one cell to another in a tissue
- endocrine gland
- groups of cells that release chemical signals into the intercellular fluid to be picked up and transported to their target organs by blood
- endothelium
- tissue that lines vessels of the lymphatic and cardiovascular system, made up of a simple squamous epithelium
- exocrine gland
- group of epithelial cells that secrete substances through ducts that open to the skin or to internal body surfaces that lead to the exterior of the body
- gap junction
- allows cytoplasmic communications to occur between cells
- goblet cell
- unicellular gland found in columnar epithelium that secretes mucous
- holocrine secretion
- release of a substance caused by the rupture of a gland cell, which becomes part of the secretion
- merocrine secretion
- release of a substance from a gland via exocytosis
- mesothelium
- simple squamous epithelial tissue which covers the major body cavities and is the epithelial portion of serous membranes
- mucous gland
- group of cells that secrete mucous, a thick, slippery substance that keeps tissues moist and acts as a lubricant
- pseudostratified columnar epithelium
- tissue that consists of a single layer of irregularly shaped and sized cells that give the appearance of multiple layers; found in ducts of certain glands and the upper respiratory tract
- reticular lamina
- matrix containing collagen and elastin secreted by connective tissue; a component of the basement membrane
- serous gland
- group of cells within the serous membrane that secrete a lubricating substance onto the surface
- simple columnar epithelium
- tissue that consists of a single layer of column-like cells; promotes secretion and absorption in tissues and organs
- simple cuboidal epithelium
- tissue that consists of a single layer of cube-shaped cells; promotes secretion and absorption in ducts and tubules
- simple squamous epithelium
- tissue that consists of a single layer of flat scale-like cells; promotes diffusion and filtration across surface
- stratified columnar epithelium
- tissue that consists of two or more layers of column-like cells, contains glands and is found in some ducts
- stratified cuboidal epithelium
- tissue that consists of two or more layers of cube-shaped cells, found in some ducts
- stratified squamous epithelium
- tissue that consists of multiple layers of cells with the most apical being flat scale-like cells; protects surfaces from abrasion
- tight junction
- forms an impermeable barrier between cells
- transitional epithelium
- form of stratified epithelium found in the urinary tract, characterized by an apical layer of cells that change shape in response to the presence of urine
Contributors and Attributions
-
OpenStax Anatomy & Physiology (CC BY 4.0). Access for free at https://openstax.org/books/anatomy-and-physiology | 5,070 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Human_Anatomy_(OERI)/03%3A_Tissue_Level_of_Organization/3.03%3A_Epithelial_Tissue | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:1231 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Human_Anatomy_(OERI)/03%3A_Tissue_Level_of_Organization/3.03%3A_Epithelial_Tissue |
NmsanAkPrb4mz5RY | 7.8: Sample Problems and Solutions | 7.8: Sample Problems and Solutions
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Exercise \(\PageIndex{1}\)
A ski jump can is modeled as a ramp of height \(h=5\text{m}\), as shown in Figure \(\PageIndex{1}\). The landing area is at the same height as the bottom of the ramp. A skier of mass \(m=80\text{kg}\) is moving at a speed \(v_i=15\text{m/s}\) when they reach the bottom of the ramp. When the skier lands the jump, their speed is measured to be \(v_f=12\text{m/s}\). Ignore air resistance.
- What is the speed of the skier the instant they leave the ski jump, at the top of the ramp?
- Use the answer from part (a) to find the work done by friction the friction between the ramp and the skier.
- Answer
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We start by defining a coordinate system. We choose the \(x\) axis to be horizontal and positive in the direction of motion, and we choose the \(y\) axis to be vertical and the positive direction upwards.
We will determine the speed at the top of the ramp, \(v_t\), using the Work-Energy Theorem:
\begin{align*} W^{net}=\frac{1}{2}mv_f^2-\frac{1}{2}mv_t^2 \end{align*}
where \(W^{net}\) is the net work done on the skier as they "fly'' through the air. While the skier is in the air, the only force acting on them is gravity, \(\vec F=-mg\hat y\). The path of the skier is a parabola, so that the displacement vector changes direction continuously.
The work done by gravity is given by:
\begin{align*} W = \int \vec F_g \cdot d\vec l \end{align*}
where \(d\vec l\) is an infinitesimal displacement along the trajectory, as shown in Figure \(\PageIndex{2}\).
The displacement vector will have \(x\) and \(y\) components:
\begin{align*} d\vec l = dx \hat x + dy \hat y \end{align*}
The scalar product with the force of gravity is thus:
\begin{align*} \vec F_g \cdot d\vec l &= (-mg\hat y) \cdot (dx \hat x + dy \hat y)= -mgdy \end{align*}
The work done by gravity can thus be converted into an integral over \(y\) (for which we know the start and end values), and is given by:
\begin{align*} W = \int \vec F_g \cdot d\vec l = \int_h^0 -mgdy = [-mgy]_h^0 = mgh \end{align*}
The work done by gravity is positive, which makes sense, since the force of gravity is generally in the same direction as the net displacement (downwards). We did not need to take into account the specific shape of the trajectory, because the force was constant in magnitude and direction (see Example 7.1.4 ).
We can now find the speed of the skier when they leave the jump using the Work-Energy theorem:
\begin{align*} W^{net}&=\frac{1}{2}mv_f^2-\frac{1}{2}mv_t^2\\[4pt] mgh &= \frac{1}{2}mv_f^2-\frac{1}{2}mv_t^2\\[4pt] \therefore v_t&=\sqrt{v_f^2-2gh}=\sqrt{(12\text{m/s})^2 - 2(9.8\text{m/s}^{2})(5\text{m})}=6.8\text{m/s} \end{align*}
b. We can again use the Work-Energy Theorem to determine the work done by friction as the skier slides up the ramp. We know that the speed of the skier at the bottom of the ramp is \(v_i\), and we just found that the speed of the skier at the top of the ramp is \(v_t=\sqrt{v_f^2-2gh}\). The net work done on the skier going up the ramp is equal to:
\begin{align*} W^{net}&=\frac{1}{2}mv_t^2-\frac{1}{2}mv_i^2\\[4pt] &=\frac{1}{2}m(v_t^2-v_i^2) = \frac{1}{2}m(v_f^2-2gh -v_i^2)\\[4pt] &=\frac{1}{2}m(v_f^2-v_i^2)-mgh \end{align*}
The net work done is also the sum of the work done by each of the forces acting on the skier as they slide up the ramp. The forces on the skier are the force of gravity, the force of friction, and the normal force. The normal force does no work, since it is always perpendicular to the displacement. The net work is thus the sum of the work done by the force gravity, \(W_g\), and the work done by the force of friction, \(W_f\), over the displacement corresponding to the length of the ramp:
\begin{align*} W^{net}=W_g+W_f \end{align*}
The work done by gravity is:
\begin{align*} W_g = \vec F_g \cdot \vec d = (-mg\hat y) \cdot (d_x\hat x + h \hat y) = -mgh \end{align*}
where \(\vec d\) is the displacement vector up the ramp (unknown horizontal distance, \(d_x\), and vertical distance, \(h\)). We can now determine the work done by the force of friction:
\begin{align*} W^{net}&=W_g+W_f\\[4pt] \frac{1}{2}m(v_f^2-v_i^2)-mgh &= -mgh + W_f\\[4pt] \therefore W_f &= \frac{1}{2}m(v_f^2-v_i^2) = \frac{1}{2}(80\text{kg})((12\text{m/s})^2-(15\text{m/s})^2)=-3240\text{J} \end{align*}
And we find that the force of friction did negative work (it reduced the kinetic energy of the skier).
Discussion :
Over the course of the jump, the skier started at the bottom of the ramp with a given kinetic energy, then lost some of that energy going up the ramp (in the form of loss to friction and negative work done by gravity). During the airborne phase, gravity did positive work and the skier gained back some of the kinetic energy that they had lost going up the ramp. Thus the net work done by the force of friction is the difference in kinetic energies between the final landing point and the beginning of the ramp, because friction is the only force that did a net amount of (negative) work over the whole trajectory (gravity did no net work over the whole trajectory). This example shows how we can start to think about energy as something that is "conserved'', which we will explore in more detail in the next chapter.
You push the child with a horizontal force \(\vec F\). You apply the force in such a way that the child moves at a constant speed (note that \(\vec F\) will not have a constant magnitude).}
- How much work do you do to move the child from \(\theta=0\) to \(\theta=\theta_1\)?
- Use a detailed diagram to show that the work done by \(\vec F\) is equal to \(mgh\), where \(h\) is the change in height of the child.
- Answer
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a. We want to find the work done by the applied force \(\vec F\). We first need to find an expression for the magnitude of \(\vec F\), based on the fact that the child is not accelerating. The forces on the child are:
- \(\vec F_g\), their weight, with magnitude \(mg\).
- \(\vec F_T\), the tension in the rope, which changes with the angle, \(\theta\).
- \(\vec F\), the applied force, which change in magnitude as the angle, \(\theta\), changes.
The forces are illustrated in Figure \(\PageIndex{4}\).
The child is moving at a constant speed, so the net force is equal to zero. The sum of the \(x\) and \(y\) components of the forces are equal to zero (Newton's Second Law):
\begin{align*} \sum F_x &= F-F_T\sin\theta =0\\[4pt] \sum F_y &= F_T\cos\theta -mg = 0 \end{align*}
Rearranging these equations gives:
\begin{align*} F&=F_T\sin\theta\\[4pt] mg&=F_T\cos\theta \end{align*}
We want an expression for \(F\) that does not depend on \(F_T\) (since \(F_T\) is unknown), so we can divide one equation by the other:
\begin{align*} \frac{F}{mg} &= \frac{F_T\sin\theta}{F_T\cos\theta}=\tan\theta\\[4pt] \therefore F(\theta)&=mg\tan\theta \end{align*}
where we indicated that the force \(\vec F(\theta)\) depends on the angle \(\theta\). The work done by the force, \(\vec F\), is given by:
\begin{align*} W_F=\int_A^B\vec F(\theta) \cdot d\vec l \end{align*}
\(d\vec l\) is the "path element'' along part of the arc of circle over which the child moves, as illustrated in Figure \(\PageIndex{5}\). We have an expression for how \(\vec F\) changes in magnitude as a function of the angle \(\theta\), and it would thus be convenient to perform the integral over the angle \(\theta\).
We can use polar coordinate, \((r,\theta)\), instead of Cartesian coordinates to describe the displacement vector, \(d\vec l\). If the vector subtends an arc on the circle that makes an infinitesimal angle, \(d\theta\), as illustrated, then the length of the vector \(d\vec l\) is given by:
\begin{align*} dl = L d\theta \end{align*}
where \(L\) is the radius of the circle. The vector \(d\vec l\) makes an angle \(\theta\) with the horizontal, and thus with the vector, \(\vec F\). The dot product between \(\vec F\) and \(d\vec l\) can thus be written as:
\begin{align*} \vec F(\theta) \cdot d\vec l = Fdl\cos\theta=(mg\tan\theta)(Ld\theta)\cos\theta=mgL\sin\theta d\theta \end{align*}
We can now write the integral for the work using limit that are based on the angle \(\theta\), from \(\theta=0\) to \(\theta=\theta_1\):
\begin{align*} W&=\int_0^{\theta_1}mgL\sin\theta d\theta\\[4pt] &=mgL[-\cos\theta]_0^{\theta_1}=mgL(1-\cos\theta_1) \end{align*}
b. We know that the work done by \(\vec F\) is \(W=mgL(1-\cos\theta_1)\). So, we want to prove that \(L(1-\cos\theta_1)\) is equal to \(h\). Expanding \(L(1-\cos\theta_1)\) gives:
\begin{align*} L(1-\cos\theta_1)&=L-L\cos\theta_1 \end{align*}
This can be illustrated on a diagram, as in Figure \(\PageIndex{6}\), which shows that \(h\) is equal to \(L-L\cos\theta\).
Discussion :
The net force acting on the mass is equal to zero, so the net work must be equal to zero. The two forces that do work on the mass are the applied force \(\vec F\), and gravity. The work done by the applied force if \(mgh\), so the work done by gravity must be \(-mgh\). | 1,864 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://phys.libretexts.org/Courses/Berea_College/Introductory_Physics%3A_Berea_College/07%3A_Work_and_energy/7.08%3A_Sample_Problems_and_Solutions | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:4493 | https://phys.libretexts.org/Courses/Berea_College/Introductory_Physics%3A_Berea_College/07%3A_Work_and_energy/7.08%3A_Sample_Problems_and_Solutions |
yiZ3Da6ssd3nOpAJ | Encyclopedia of Biological Methods | RNA interference
Summary
RNA interference uses short RNA sequences complementary to a transcript of interest to decrease gene expression through transcriptional or translational silencing.
Also known as: RNAi, knockdown (different from knock-out); shRNA (“hairpins”) or siRNA
Samples needed: Generally used in living cells
Controls: Usually qPCR (add link) or Western blot are used to assess expression of gene of interest. Frequently, knockdown does not completely eliminate expression of the target gene. Furthermore, sh or siRNAs with different sequences will silences gene expression to different extents. Therefore, an analysis of the degree of silencing is a critical control and should always be shown.
Furthermore, in order to assess baseline levels of expression, a negative control si or shRNA should be used. Often, researchers will use an RNA that targets GFP, which is not normally present in cells outside of certain marine organisms, like the jellyfish from which GFP was first isolated. Sometimes an empty vector is used.
Lastly, when designing sh or siRNAs, researchers should always check that the target sequence does not appear in the genome anywhere besides the gene of interest. Otherwise, there can be unintended effects due to silencing of multiple genes.
Method:
siRNAs (small interfering RNAs) are short, ~19-21 basepair pieces of double-stranded RNA. They are processed by endogenous machinery in many cells, resulting in a temporary decreased expression of the target gene, usually on the scale of a few hours to a few days. siRNAs are transfected (add link) into cells, and once they degrade, expression of the gene of interest reverts to normal levels.
shRNAs (short hairpin RNAs) are longer than siRNAs and have a tight, hairpin turn on one end. When shRNAs are present in many cells, endogenous cell machinery processes them into siRNAs. shRNAs have the advantage of being delivered on a plasmid or viral vector. If the plasmid or vector contains a resistance gene, cells can be selected so that only those with genomic integration of the plasmid or vector remain. shRNAs can also be conditionally expressed, so that the gene of interest is only targeted upon administration of a certain compound, such as doxycycline. This allows for transient knock-down of genes whose complete knock-down would be lethal to the cells.
Interpretation:
Figure 1. RNAi used to assess effect of loss of gene expression on colony formation (add link) in soft agar. Relevant section of caption for published figure reads: “(A) Left: immortalized MEFs were infected with lentiviral shRNAs that target Rasal2, Nf1, or control and were plated in soft agar. Data are reported as relative number of colonies ± SEM. Inactivation of Nf1 or Rasal2 induced a statistically significant increase in anchorage-independent growth (p ≤ 0.0001). [Image description]
In Figure 1 above, the authors show that loss of expression of either Nf1 or Rasal 2 results in three times as many colonies in a soft agar colony formation assay. Importantly, they verify that Nf1 and Rasal 2 ebxpression is actually decreased by performing a Western blot (right). The reader can see that expression of the Nf1 protein is decreased by the Nf1 shRNA but not the Rasal2 shRNAs or the empty vector control. Rasal 2 shRNAs only decrease Rasal2 protein expression, and Rasal2 shRNA1 is more effective than Rasal2 shRNA2. (These two shRNAs are complementary to different parts of the Rasal2 sequence.) Finally, the empty vector control has no discernible effect on Nf1 or Rasal2 protein levels.
Image Descriptions
Figure 1 image description: A bar graph and Western blot. The bar graph shows relative number of colonies. Nf1 shRNA, Rasal2 shRNA1, and Rasal2 shRNA2 all have three times as many colonies as vector control. The Western blot shows loss of Nf1 expression only with Nf1 shRNA. Rasal2 shRNA1 shows nearly complete loss of Rasal2 expression; Rasal2 shRNA2 shows loss of most Rasal2 expression. p120 loading control is consistent in all samples. [Return to Figure 1]
- McLaughlin, S. K., S. N. Olsen, B. Dake, T. De Raedt, E. Lim, R. T. Bronson, R. Beroukhim, K. Polyak, M. Brown, C. Kuperwasser, and K. Cichowski. 2013. The RasGAP gene, RASAL2, is a tumor and metastasis suppressor. Cancer Cell 24:365-378. ↵
Green fluorescent protein
DNA molecule used to transport exogenous genetic material into a cell
Small, circular, extrachromosomal DNA molecule that can replicate independently
Mouse embryonic fibroblasts, for growing in cell culture | 933 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://rwu.pressbooks.pub/encyclopediaofbiologicalmethods/chapter/rna-interference/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:9489 | https://rwu.pressbooks.pub/encyclopediaofbiologicalmethods/chapter/rna-interference/ |
eUCAGGfCUHjT33Bc | 8.4E: Synovial Joint Movements | 8.4E: Synovial Joint Movements
Synovial joints allow an individual to achieve a wide range of movements.
- Identify the different types of synovial joints
Key Points
- Synovial joints achieve movement at the point of contact of the articulating bones.
- Synovial joints allow bones to slide past each other or to rotate around each other. This produces movements called abduction (away), adduction (towards), extension (open), flexion (close), and rotation.
- There are six types of synovial joints. Some are relatively immobile but more stable than mobile joints.
Key Terms
- synovial joint : Also known as a diarthrosis, the most common and most movable type of joint in the body of a mammal.
- abduction : The movement that separates a limb or other part from the axis, or middle line, of the body.
- flexion : The act of bending a joint. The counteraction of extension.
- adduction : The action by which the parts of the body are drawn toward its axis.
A synovial joint, also known as a diarthrosis, is the most common and most movable type of joint in the body of a mammal. Synovial joints achieve movement at the point of contact of the articulating bones. Structural and functional differences distinguish synovial joints from cartilaginous joints (synchondroses and symphyses) and fibrous joints (sutures, gomphoses, and syndesmoses). The main structural differences between synovial and fibrous joints are the existence of capsules surrounding the articulating surfaces of a synovial joint and the presence of lubricating synovial fluid within those capsules (synovial cavities).
Several movements may be performed by synovial joints. Abduction is the movement away from the midline of the body. Adduction is the movement toward the middle line of the body. Extension is the straightening of limbs (increase in angle) at a joint. Flexion is bending the limbs (reduction of angle) at a joint. Rotation is a circular movement around a fixed point.
Body Movements I : Image demonstrating the various joint movements.
There are six types of synovial joints. Some are relatively immobile but more stable than mobile joints. Others have multiple degrees of freedom, but at the expense of greater risk of injury. The six types of joints include:
- Gliding joints: only allow sliding movement
- Hinge joints: allow flexion and extension in one plane
- Pivot joints: allow bone rotation about another bone
- Condyloid joints: perform flexion, extension, abduction, and adduction movements
- Saddle joints: permit the same movement as condyloid joints and combine with them to form compound joints
- Ball and socket joints: allow all movements except gliding
Six Types of Synovial Joints : Image demonstrating the six different types of synovial joints. | 578 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Anatomy_and_Physiology_(Boundless)/8%3A_Joints/8.4%3A_Synovial_Joints/8.4E%3A_Synovial_Joint_Movements | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:45606 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Anatomy_and_Physiology_(Boundless)/8%3A_Joints/8.4%3A_Synovial_Joints/8.4E%3A_Synovial_Joint_Movements |
aZpo8p40kx_J0r7b | Introduction to Sociology | 3 Performance Assessment: Foundations of Sociology
Define sociology in your own words, and describe the historical and social context from which it emerged.
Compare and contrast sociology with other social sciences.
Explain the sociological imagination as the relationship between the individual and the broader workings of society or as the connections between personal troubles and public issues. Use an example from your own experience to demonstrate sociological imagination and its relevance in your own life.
Basic Requirements (assignment criteria):
- Assignment has been proofread and does not contain any major spelling or grammatical errors.
- A minimum of 500 words in length, double spaced, 1 inch margins.
- Resources are cited in APA format in a reference list and using parenthetical citations (if you need help with this, review course resources).
- Relevant terms and concepts are used and defined.
Criteria
Ratings
Pts
Define sociology in your own words, and describe the historical and social context from which it emerged.
Fully defined sociology and described the historical and social context from which it emerged.
5.0 pts
|
Generally defined sociology and described the historical and social context from which it emerged.
4.0 pts
|
Failed to define sociology and describe the historical and social context from which it emerged.
0.0 pts
|
5.0 pts
Compare and contrast sociology with other social sciences.
Effectively compared and contrasted sociology with other several social sciences.
5.0 pts
|
Made a perfunctory attempt to compare and contrast sociology with two other social sciences.
4.0 pts
|
Did not fully compare and contrast sociology with other social sciences.
0.0 pts
|
5.0 pts
Explain the sociological imagination as the relationship between the individual and the broader workings of society or as the connections between personal troubles and public issues. Use an example from your own experience to demonstrate sociological imagination and its relevance in your own life.
Fully explained the sociological imagination as the relationship between the individual and the broader workings of society or as the connections between personal troubles and public issues AND provided relevant example.
20.0 pts
|
Generally explained the sociological imagination as the relationship between the individual and the broader workings of society or as the connections between personal troubles and public issues OR generally provided relevant example.
18.0 pts
|
Marginally explained the sociological imagination as the relationship between the individual and the broader workings of society or as the connections between personal troubles and public issues AND/OR provided relevant example.
16.0 pts
|
20.0 pts
Total Points: 30.0 | 546 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://library.achievingthedream.org/mvccintrotosociology/chapter/sample-performance-assessments-part-1/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:35553 | https://library.achievingthedream.org/mvccintrotosociology/chapter/sample-performance-assessments-part-1/ |
kEWiLC6AMDcCGzIi | 5.1: Angular Momentum In Two Dimensions | 5.1: Angular Momentum In Two Dimensions
Sure, and maybe the sun won't come up tomorrow.” Of course, the sun only appears to go up and down because the earth spins, so the cliche should really refer to the unlikelihood of the earth's stopping its rotation abruptly during the night. Why can't it stop? It wouldn't violate conservation of momentum, because the earth's rotation doesn't add anything to its momentum. While California spins in one direction, some equally massive part of India goes the opposite way, canceling its momentum. A halt to Earth's rotation would entail a drop in kinetic energy, but that energy could simply be converted into some other form, such as heat.
Other examples along these lines are not hard to find. An atom spins at the same rate for billions of years. A high-diver who is rotating when he comes off the board does not need to make any physical effort to continue rotating, and indeed would be unable to stop rotating before he hit the water.
These observations have the hallmarks of a conservation law:
- A closed system is involved. Nothing is making an effort to twist the earth, the hydrogen atom, or the high-diver. They are isolated from rotation-changing influences, i.e., they are closed systems.
- Something remains unchanged. There appears to be a numerical quantity for measuring rotational motion such that the total amount of that quantity remains constant in a closed system.
- Something can be transferred back and forth without changing the total amount. In the photo of the old-fashioned high jump, a , the jumper wants to get his feet out in front of him so he can keep from doing a “face plant” when he lands. Bringing his feet forward would involve a certain quantity of counterclockwise rotation, but he didn't start out with any rotation when he left the ground. Suppose we consider counterclockwise as positive and clockwise as negative. The only way his legs can acquire some positive rotation is if some other part of his body picks up an equal amount of negative rotation. This is why he swings his arms up behind him, clockwise.
What numerical measure of rotational motion is conserved? Car engines and old-fashioned LP records have speeds of rotation measured in rotations per minute (r.p.m.), but the number of rotations per minute (or per second) is not a conserved quantity. A twirling figure skater, for instance, can pull her arms in to increase her r.p.m.'s. The first section of this chapter deals with the numerical definition of the quantity of rotation that results in a valid conservation law.
When most people think of rotation, they think of a solid object like a wheel rotating in a circle around a fixed point. Examples of this type of rotation, called rigid rotation or rigid-body rotation, include a spinning top, a seated child's swinging leg, and a helicopter's spinning propeller. Rotation, however, is a much more general phenomenon, and includes noncircular examples such as a comet in an elliptical orbit around the sun, or a cyclone, in which the core completes a circle more quickly than the outer parts.
If there is a numerical measure of rotational motion that is a conserved quantity, then it must include nonrigid cases like these, since nonrigid rotation can be traded back and forth with rigid rotation. For instance, there is a trick for finding out if an egg is raw or hardboiled. But if you do the same with a raw egg, it springs back into rotation because the soft interior was still swirling around within the momentarily motionless shell. The pattern of flow of the liquid part is presumably very complex and nonuniform due to the asymmetric shape of the egg and the different consistencies of the yolk and the white, but there is apparently some way to describe the liquid's total amount of rotation with a single number, of which some percentage is given back to the shell when you release it.
The best strategy is to devise a way of defining the amount of rotation of a single small part of a system. The amount of rotation of a system such as a cyclone will then be defined as the total of all the contributions from its many small parts.
Figure b : An overhead view of a piece of putty being thrown at a door. Even though the putty is neither spinning nor traveling along a curve, we must define it has having some kind of “rotation” because it is able to make the door rotate.
The quest for a conserved quantity of rotation even requires us to broaden the rotation concept to include cases where the motion doesn't repeat or even curve around. If you throw a piece of putty at a door, (Figure b) , the door will recoil and start rotating. The putty was traveling straight, not in a circle, but if there is to be a general conservation law that can cover this situation, it appears that we must describe the putty as having had some “rotation,” which it then gave up to the door. The best way of thinking about it is to attribute rotation to any moving object or part of an object that changes its angle in relation to the axis of rotation. In the putty-and-door example, the hinge of the door is the natural point to think of as an axis, and the putty changes its angle as seen by someone standing at the hinge, Figure c . For this reason, the conserved quantity we are investigating is called angular momentum . The symbol for angular momentum can't be “a” or “m,” since those are used for acceleration and mass, so the letter \(L\) is arbitrarily chosen instead.
Figure c: As seen by someone standing at the axis, the putty changes its angular position. We therefore define it as having angular momentum.
Imagine a 1 kg blob of putty, thrown at the door at a speed of 1 m/s, which hits the door at a distance of 1 m from the hinge. We define this blob to have 1 unit of angular momentum. When it hits the door, the door will recoil and start rotating. We can use the speed at which the door recoils as a measure of the angular momentum the blob brought in. 1
Experiments show, not surprisingly, that a 2 kg blob thrown in the same way makes the door rotate twice as fast, so the angular momentum of the putty blob must be proportional to mass,
\[\begin{equation*} L \propto m . \end{equation*}\]
Similarly, experiments show that doubling the velocity of the blob will have a doubling effect on the result, so its angular momentum must be proportional to its velocity as well,
\[\begin{equation*} L \propto mv . \end{equation*}\]
You have undoubtedly had the experience of approaching a closed door with one of those bar-shaped handles on it and pushing on the wrong side, the side close to the hinges. The same would be true with the putty blob.
Figure d : A putty blob thrown directly at the axis has no angular motion, and therefore no angular momentum. It will not cause the door to rotate.
Experiments would show that the amount of rotation the blob can give to the door is proportional to the distance, \(r\), from the axis of rotation, so angular momentum must be proportional to \(r\) as well,
\[\begin{equation*} L \propto mvr . \end{equation*}\]
We are almost done, but there is one missing ingredient. We know on grounds of symmetry that a putty ball thrown directly inward toward the hinge will have no angular momentum to give to the door. After all, there would not even be any way to decide whether the ball's rotation was clockwise or counterclockwise in this situation. It is therefore only the component of the blob's velocity vector perpendicular to the door that should be counted in its angular momentum,
\[\begin{equation*} L = m v_{\perp} r . \end{equation*}\]
More generally, \(v_{\perp}\) should be thought of as the component of the object's velocity vector that is perpendicular to the line joining the object to the axis of rotation.
Figure e : Only the component of the velocity vector perpendicular to the line connecting the object to the axis should be counted into the definition of angular momentum.
We find that this equation agrees with the definition of the original putty blob as having one unit of angular momentum, and we can now see that the units of angular momentum are \((\text{kg}\!\cdot\!\text{m}/\text{s})\!\cdot\!\text{m}\), i.e., \(\text{kg}\!\cdot\!\text{m}^2/\text{s}\). Summarizing, we have
\[\begin{equation*} L = m v_{\perp} r \text{[angular momentum of a particle in two dimensions]} , \end{equation*}\]
where \(m\) is the particle's mass, \(v_{\perp}\) is the component of its velocity vector perpendicular to the line joining it to the axis of rotation, and \(r\) is its distance from the axis. (Note that \(r\) is not necessarily the radius of a circle.) Positive and negative signs of angular momentum are used to describe opposite directions of rotation. The angular momentum of a finite-sized object or a system of many objects is found by dividing it up into many small parts, applying the equation to each part, and adding to find the total amount of angular momentum. (As implied by the word “particle,” matter isn't the only thing that can have angular momentum. Light can also have angular momentum, and the above equation would not apply to light.)
Conservation of angular momentum has been verified over and over again by experiment, and is now believed to be one of the most fundamental principles of physics, along with conservation of mass, energy, and momentum.
| Example 1: A figure skater pulls her arms in |
|---|
|
When a figure skater is twirling, there is very little friction between her and the ice, so she is essentially a closed system, and her angular momentum is conserved. If she pulls her arms in, she is decreasing \(r\) for all the atoms in her arms.
Figure f: A figure skater pulls in her arms so that she can execute a spin more rapidly.
It would violate conservation of angular momentum if she then continued rotating at the same speed, i.e., taking the same amount of time for each revolution, because her arms' contributions to her angular momentum would have decreased, and no other part of her would have increased its angular momentum. This is impossible because it would violate conservation of angular momentum. If her total angular momentum is to remain constant, the decrease in \(r\) for her arms must be compensated for by an overall increase in her rate of rotation. That is, by pulling her arms in, she substantially reduces the time for each rotation. |
| Example 2: Earth's slowing rotation and the receding moon |
|---|
|
The earth's rotation is actually slowing down very gradually, with the kinetic energy being dissipated as heat by friction between the land and the tidal bulges raised in the seas by the earth's gravity. Does this mean that angular momentum is not really perfectly conserved? No, it just means that the earth is not quite a closed system by itself. If we consider the earth and moon as a system, then the angular momentum lost by the earth must be gained by the moon somehow. In fact very precise measurements of the distance between the earth and the moon have been carried out by bouncing laser beams off of a mirror left there by astronauts, and these measurements show that the moon is receding from the earth at a rate of 4 centimeters per year! The moon's greater value of \(r\) means that it has a greater angular momentum, and the increase turns out to be exactly the amount lost by the earth. In the days of the dinosaurs, the days were significantly shorter, and the moon was closer and appeared bigger in the sky.
But what force is causing the moon to speed up, drawing it out into a larger orbit? It is the gravitational forces of the earth's tidal bulges. In figure g , the earth's rotation is counterclockwise (arrow). The moon's gravity creates a bulge on the side near it, because its gravitational pull is stronger there, and an “anti-bulge” on the far side, since its gravity there is weaker. For simplicity, let's focus on the tidal bulge closer to the moon. Its frictional force is trying to slow down the earth's rotation, so its force on the earth's solid crust is toward the bottom of the figure. By Newton's third law, the crust must thus make a force on the bulge which is toward the top of the figure. This causes the bulge to be pulled forward at a slight angle, and the bulge's gravity therefore pulls the moon forward, accelerating its orbital motion about the earth and flinging it outward. The result would obviously be extremely difficult to calculate directly, and this is one of those situations where a conservation law allows us to make precise quantitative statements about the outcome of a process when the calculation of the process itself would be prohibitively complex. |
Restriction to rotation in a plane
Is angular momentum a vector, or a scalar? It does have a direction in space, but it's a direction of rotation, not a straight-line direction like the directions of vectors such as velocity or force. It turns out that there is a way of defining angular momentum as a vector, but in this section the examples will be confined to a single plane of rotation, i.e., effectively two-dimensional situations. In this special case, we can choose to visualize the plane of rotation from one side or the other, and to define clockwise and counterclockwise rotation as having opposite signs of angular momentum. “Effectively” two-dimensional means that we can deal with objects that aren't flat, as long as the velocity vectors of all their parts lie in a plane.
Discussion Questions
◊ Conservation of plain old momentum, \(p\), can be thought of as the greatly expanded and modified descendant of Galileo's original principle of inertia, that no force is required to keep an object in motion. The principle of inertia is counterintuitive, and there are many situations in which it appears superficially that a force is needed to maintain motion, as maintained by Aristotle. Think of a situation in which conservation of angular momentum, \(L\), also seems to be violated, making it seem incorrectly that something external must act on a closed system to keep its angular momentum from “running down.”
4.1.2 Application to planetary motion
We now discuss the application of conservation of angular momentum to planetary motion, both because of its intrinsic importance and because it is a good way to develop a visual intuition for angular momentum.
Kepler's law of equal areas states that the area swept out by a planet in a certain length of time is always the same. Angular momentum had not been invented in Kepler's time, and he did not even know the most basic physical facts about the forces at work. He thought of this law as an entirely empirical and unexpectedly simple way of summarizing his data, a rule that succeeded in describing and predicting how the planets sped up and slowed down in their elliptical paths. It is now fairly simple, however, to show that the equal area law amounts to a statement that the planet's angular momentum stays constant.
There is no simple geometrical rule for the area of a pie wedge cut out of an ellipse, but if we consider a very short time interval, as shown in figure h , the shaded shape swept out by the planet is very nearly a triangle. We do know how to compute the area of a triangle. It is one half the product of the base and the height:
We wish to relate this to angular momentum, which contains the variables \(r\) and \(v_{\perp}\). If we consider the sun to be the axis of rotation, then the variable \(r\) is identical to the base of the triangle, \(r=b\). Referring to the magnified portion of the figure, \(v_{\perp}\) can be related to \(h\), because the two right triangles are similar:
The area can thus be rewritten as
The distance traveled equals \(|\mathbf{v}|\Delta t\), so this simplifies to
We have found the following relationship between angular momentum and the rate at which area is swept out:
The factor of 2 in front is simply a matter of convention, since any conserved quantity would be an equally valid conserved quantity if you multiplied it by a constant. The factor of \(m\) was not relevant to Kepler, who did not know the planets' masses, and who was only describing the motion of one planet at a time.
We thus find that Kepler's equal-area law is equivalent to a statement that the planet's angular momentum remains constant. But wait, why should it remain constant? --- the planet is not a closed system, since it is being acted on by the sun's gravitational force. There are two valid answers. The first is that it is actually the total angular momentum of the sun plus the planet that is conserved. The sun, however, is millions of times more massive than the typical planet, so it accelerates very little in response to the planet's gravitational force. It is thus a good approximation to say that the sun doesn't move at all, so that no angular momentum is transferred between it and the planet.
The second answer is that to change the planet's angular momentum requires not just a force but a force applied in a certain way. Later in this section (starting on page 254) we discuss the transfer of angular momentum by a force, but the basic idea here is that a force directly in toward the axis does not change the angular momentum.
Discussion Questions
◊ Suppose an object is simply traveling in a straight line at constant speed. If we pick some point not on the line and call it the axis of rotation, is area swept out by the object at a constant rate?
◊
The figure is a strobe photo of a pendulum bob, taken from underneath the pendulum looking straight up. The black string can't be seen in the photograph. The bob was given a slight sideways push when it was released, so it did not swing in a plane. The bright spot marks the center, i.e., the position the bob would have if it hung straight down at us. Does the bob's angular momentum appear to remain constant if we consider the center to be the axis of rotation?
4.1.3 Two theorems about angular momentum
With plain old momentum, \(\mathbf{p}\), we had the freedom to work in any inertial frame of reference we liked. The same object could have different values of momentum in two different frames, if the frames were not at rest with respect to each other. Conservation of momentum, however, would be true in either frame. As long as we employed a single frame consistently throughout a calculation, everything would work.
The same is true for angular momentum, and in addition there is an ambiguity that arises from the definition of an axis of rotation. For a wheel, the natural choice of an axis of rotation is obviously the axle, but what about an egg rotating on its side? The egg has an asymmetric shape, and thus no clearly defined geometric center. A similar issue arises for a cyclone, which does not even have a sharply defined shape, or for a complicated machine with many gears. The following theorem, the first of two presented in this section, explains how to deal with this issue. Although I have put descriptive titles above both theorems, they have no generally accepted names. The proofs, given on page 913, use the vector cross-product technique introduced in section 4.3 , which greatly simplifies them.
The choice of axis theorem. It is entirely arbitrary what point one defines as the axis for purposes of calculating angular momentum. If a closed system's angular momentum is conserved when calculated with one choice of axis, then it will be conserved for any other choice of axis. Likewise, any inertial frame of reference may be used. The theorem also holds in the case where the system is not closed, but the total external force is zero.
| Example 3: Colliding asteroids described with different axes |
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|
Observers on planets A and B both see the two asteroids colliding. The asteroids are of equal mass and their impact speeds are the same. Astronomers on each planet decide to define their own planet as the axis of rotation. Planet A is twice as far from the collision as planet B. The asteroids collide and stick. For simplicity, assume planets A and B are both at rest.
Figure j : Two asteroids collide.
With planet A as the axis, the two asteroids have the same amount of angular momentum, but one has positive angular momentum and the other has negative. Before the collision, the total angular momentum is therefore zero. After the collision, the two asteroids will have stopped moving, and again the total angular momentum is zero. The total angular momentum both before and after the collision is zero, so angular momentum is conserved if you choose planet A as the axis. The only difference with planet B as axis is that \(r\) is smaller by a factor of two, so all the angular momenta are halved. Even though the angular momenta are different than the ones calculated by planet A, angular momentum is still conserved. The earth spins on its own axis once a day, but simultaneously travels in its circular one-year orbit around the sun, so any given part of it traces out a complicated loopy path. It would seem difficult to calculate the earth's angular momentum, but it turns out that there is an intuitively appealing shortcut: we can simply add up the angular momentum due to its spin plus that arising from its center of mass's circular motion around the sun. This is a special case of the following general theorem: The spin theorem. An object's angular momentum with respect to some outside axis A can be found by adding up two parts:
|
| Example 4: A system with its center of mass at rest |
|---|
|
In the special case of an object whose center of mass is at rest, the spin theorem implies that the object's angular momentum is the same regardless of what axis we choose. (This is an even stronger statement than the choice of axis theorem, which only guarantees that angular momentum is conserved for any given choice of axis, without specifying that it is the same for all such choices.) |
| Example 5: Angular momentum of a rigid object |
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\(\triangleright\) A motorcycle wheel has almost all its mass concentrated at the outside. If the wheel has mass \(m\) and radius \(r\), and the time required for one revolution is \(T\), what is the spin part of its angular momentum?
\(\triangleright\) This is an example of the commonly encountered special case of rigid motion, as opposed to the rotation of a system like a hurricane in which the different parts take different amounts of time to go around. We don't really have to go through a laborious process of adding up contributions from all the many parts of a wheel, because they are all at about the same distance from the axis, and are all moving around the axis at about the same speed. The velocity is all perpendicular to the spokes, \[\begin{align*} v_{\perp} &= (\text{circumference})/ T \\ &= 2\pi r/ T \end{align*}\] and the angular momentum of the wheel about its center is \[\begin{align*} L &= mv_{\perp} r \\ &= m(2\pi r/ T) r \\ &= 2\pi mr^2/ T . \end{align*}\] |
Note that although the factors of \(2\pi\) in this expression is peculiar to a wheel with its mass concentrated on the rim, the proportionality to \(m/T\) would have been the same for any other rigidly rotating object. Although an object with a noncircular shape does not have a radius, it is also true in general that angular momentum is proportional to the square of the object's size for fixed values of \(m\) and \(T\). For instance doubling an object's size doubles both the \(v_{\perp}\) and \(r\) factors in the contribution of each of its parts to the total angular momentum, resulting in an overall factor of four increase.
4.1.4 Torque
Force is the rate of transfer of momentum. The corresponding quantity in the case of angular momentum is called torque (rhymes with “fork”). Where force tells us how hard we are pushing or pulling on something, torque indicates how hard we are twisting on it. Torque is represented by the Greek letter tau, \(\tau\), and the rate of change of an object's angular momentum equals the total torque acting on it,
\[\begin{equation*} \tau_{total} = dL/dt . \end{equation*}\]
Torque distinguished from force
Of course a force is necessary in order to create a torque --- you can't twist a screw without pushing on the wrench --- but force and torque are two different things. One distinction between them is direction. We use positive and negative signs to represent forces in the two possible directions along a line. The direction of a torque, however, is clockwise or counterclockwise, not a linear direction.
The other difference between torque and force is a matter of leverage. A given force applied at a door's knob will change the door's angular momentum twice as rapidly as the same force applied halfway between the knob and the hinge. The same amount of force produces different amounts of torque in these two cases.
It's possible to have a zero total torque with a nonzero total force. An airplane with four jet engines would be designed so that their forces are balanced on the left and right. Their forces are all in the same direction, but the clockwise torques of two of the engines are canceled by the counterclockwise torques of the other two, giving zero total torque.
Conversely we can have zero total force and nonzero total torque. A merry-go-round's engine needs to supply a nonzero torque on it to bring it up to speed, but there is zero total force on it. If there was not zero total force on it, its center of mass would accelerate!
Relationship between force and torque
How do we calculate the amount of torque produced by a given force? Since it depends on leverage, we should expect it to depend on the distance between the axis and the point of application of the force. I'll work out an equation relating torque to force for a particular very simple situation, and give a more rigorous derivation on page 284, after developing some mathematical techniques that dramatically shorten and simplify the proof.
Consider a pointlike object which is initially at rest at a distance \(r\) from the axis we have chosen for defining angular momentum. We first observe that a force directly inward or outward, along the line connecting the axis to the object, does not impart any angular momentum to the object.
A force perpendicular to the line connecting the axis and the object does, however, make the object pick up angular momentum. Newton's second law gives
and using \(a=dv/dt\) we find the velocity the object acquires after a time \(dt\),
We're trying to relate force to a change in angular momentum, so we multiply both sides of the equation by \(mr\) to give
Dividing by \(dt\) gives the torque:
If a force acts at an angle other than 0 or \(90°\) with respect to the line joining the object and the axis, it would be only the component of the force perpendicular to the line that would produce a torque,
n / The simple physical situation we use to derive an equation for torque. A force that points directly in at or out away from the axis produces neither clockwise nor counterclockwise angular momentum. A force in the perpendicular direction does transfer angular momentum.
Although this result was proved under a simplified set of circumstances, it is more generally valid: 2
\mythmhdr{Relationship between force and torque} The rate at which a force transfers angular momentum to an object, i.e., the torque produced by the force, is given by
where \(r\) is the distance from the axis to the point of application of the force, and \(F_{\perp}\) is the component of the force that is perpendicular to the line joining the axis to the point of application.
The equation is stated with absolute value signs because the positive and negative signs of force and torque indicate different things, so there is no useful relationship between them. The sign of the torque must be found by physical inspection of the case at hand.
From the equation, we see that the units of torque can be written as newtons multiplied by meters. Metric torque wrenches are calibrated in \(\text{N}\!\cdot\!\text{m}\), but American ones use foot-pounds, which is also a unit of distance multiplied by a unit of force. We know from our study of mechanical work that newtons multiplied by meters equal joules, but torque is a completely different quantity from work, and nobody writes torques with units of joules, even though it would be technically correct.
o / The geometric relationships referred to in the relationship between force and torque.
q / Visualizing torque in terms of \(r_\perp\).
Exercise \(\PageIndex{1}\)
Compare the magnitudes and signs of the four torques shown in figure p . (answer in the back of the PDF version of the book)
| Example 6: How torque depends on the direction of the force |
|---|
|
\(\triangleright\) How can the torque applied to the wrench in the figure be expressed in terms of \(r\), \(| F|\), and the angle \(\theta\)? \(\triangleright\) The force vector and its \(F_{\perp}\) component form the hypotenuse and one leg of a right triangle,
and the interior angle opposite to \(F_{\perp}\) equals \(\theta\). The absolute value of \(F_{\perp}\) can thus be expressed as
\[\begin{equation*} F_{\perp} = |\mathbf{F}|\ \text{sin}\:\theta , \end{equation*}\]
leading to \[\begin{equation*} |\tau| = r |\mathbf{F}|\ \text{sin}\:\theta . \end{equation*}\]
Sometimes torque can be more neatly visualized in terms of the quantity \(r_{\perp}\) shown in the figure on the left, which gives us a third way of expressing the relationship between torque and force:
\[\begin{equation*} |\tau| = r_{\perp} |F| . \end{equation*}\] Of course you wouldn't want to go and memorize all three equations for torque. Starting from any one of them you could easily derive the other two using trigonometry. Familiarizing yourself with them can however clue you in to easier avenues of attack on certain problems. |
The torque due to gravity
Up until now we've been thinking in terms of a force that acts at a single point on an object, such as the force of your hand on the wrench. This is of course an approximation, and for an extremely realistic calculation of your hand's torque on the wrench you might need to add up the torques exerted by each square millimeter where your skin touches the wrench. This is seldom necessary. But in the case of a gravitational force, there is never any single point at which the force is applied. Our planet is exerting a separate tug on every brick in the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and the total gravitational torque on the tower is the sum of the torques contributed by all the little forces. It turns out that for purposes of computing the total gravitational torque on an object, you can get the right answer by just pretending that the whole gravitational force acts at the object's center of mass.
| Example 7: Gravitational torque on an outstretched arm |
|---|
|
\(\triangleright\) Your arm has a mass of 3.0 kg, and its center of mass is 30 cm from your shoulder. What is the gravitational torque on your arm when it is stretched out horizontally to one side, taking the shoulder to be the axis?
r / Example 7 .
\(\triangleright\) The total gravitational force acting on your arm is
\[\begin{equation*} |\mathbf{F}| = ( 3.0\ \text{kg})( 9.8\ \text{m}/\text{s}^2) = 29\ \text{N} . \end{equation*}\]
For the purpose of calculating the gravitational torque, we can treat the force as if it acted at the arm's center of mass. The force is straight down, which is perpendicular to the line connecting the shoulder to the center of mass, so
\[\begin{equation*} F_{\perp} = |\mathbf{F}| = 29\ \text{N} . \end{equation*}\]
Continuing to pretend that the force acts at the center of the arm, \(r\) equals 30 cm = 0.30 m, so the torque is
\[\begin{equation*} \tau = r\: F_{\perp} = 9\ \text{N}\cdot\text{m} . \end{equation*}\]
|
Discussion Questions
◊ This series of discussion questions deals with past students' incorrect reasoning about the following problem.
Suppose a comet is at the point in its orbit shown in the figure. The only force on the comet is the sun's gravitational force. Throughout the question, define all torques and angular momenta using the sun as the axis.
(1) Is the sun producing a nonzero torque on the comet? Explain.
(2) Is the comet's angular momentum increasing, decreasing, or staying the same? Explain.
Explain what is wrong with the following answers. In some cases, the answer is correct, but the reasoning leading up to it is wrong.
(a) Incorrect answer to part (1): “Yes, because the sun is exerting a force on the comet, and the comet is a certain distance from the sun.”
(b) Incorrect answer to part (1): “No, because the torques cancel out.”
(c) Incorrect answer to part (2): “Increasing, because the comet is speeding up.”
◊ You whirl a rock over your head on the end of a string, and gradually pull in the string, eventually cutting the radius in half. What happens to the rock's angular momentum? What changes occur in its speed, the time required for one revolution, and its acceleration? Why might the string break?
◊ A helicopter has, in addition to the huge fan blades on top, a smaller propeller mounted on the tail that rotates in a vertical plane. Why?
◊
s / Discussion question D .
Which claw hammer would make it easier to get the nail out of the wood if the same force was applied in the same direction?
◊
t / Discussion question E .
The photo shows an amusement park ride whose two cars rotate in opposite directions. Why is this a good design?
4.1.5 Applications to statics
In chapter 2 I defined equilibrium as a situation where the interaction energy is minimized. This is the same as a condition of zero total force, or constant momentum. Thus a car is in equilibrium not just when it is parked but also when it is cruising down a straight road with constant momentum.
Likewise there are many cases where a system is not closed but maintains constant angular momentum. When a merry-go-round is running at constant angular momentum, the engine's torque is being canceled by the torque due to friction.
It's not enough for a boat not to sink --- we'd also like to avoid having it capsize. For this reason, we now redefine equilibrium as follows.
When an object has constant momentum and constant angular momentum, we say that it is in equilibrium. Again, this is a scientific redefinition of the common English word, since in ordinary speech nobody would describe a car spinning out on an icy road as being in equilibrium.
Very commonly, however, we are interested in cases where an object is not only in equilibrium but also at rest, and this corresponds more closely to the usual meaning of the word. Statics is the branch of physics concerned with problems such as these.
Solving statics problems is now simply a matter of applying and combining some things you already know:
- You know the behaviors of the various types of forces, for example that a frictional force is always parallel to the surface of contact.
- You know about vector addition of forces. It is the vector sum of the forces that must equal zero to produce equilibrium.
- You know about torque. The total torque acting on an object must be zero if it is to be in equilibrium.
- You know that the choice of axis is arbitrary, so you can make a choice of axis that makes the problem easy to solve.
In general, this type of problem could involve four equations in four unknowns: three equations that say the force components add up to zero, and one equation that says the total torque is zero. Most cases you'll encounter will not be this complicated. In the example below, only the equation for zero total torque is required in order to get an answer.
| Example 8: A flagpole |
|---|
|
\(\triangleright\) A 10-kg flagpole is being held up by a lightweight horizontal cable, and is propped against the foot of a wall as shown in the figure. If the cable is only capable of supporting a tension of 70 N, how great can the angle \(\alpha\) be without breaking the cable?
\(\triangleright\) All three objects in the figure are supposed to be in equilibrium: the pole, the cable, and the wall. Whichever of the three objects we pick to investigate, all the forces and torques on it have to cancel out. It is not particularly helpful to analyze the forces and torques on the wall, since it has forces on it from the ground that are not given and that we don't want to find. We could study the forces and torques on the cable, but that doesn't let us use the given information about the pole. The object we need to analyze is the pole. The pole has three forces on it, each of which may also result in a torque: (1) the gravitational force, (2) the cable's force, and (3) the wall's force. We are free to define an axis of rotation at any point we wish, and it is helpful to define it to lie at the bottom end of the pole, since by that definition the wall's force on the pole is applied at \(r=0\) and thus makes no torque on the pole. This is good, because we don't know what the wall's force on the pole is, and we are not trying to find it. With this choice of axis, there are two nonzero torques on the pole, a counterclockwise torque from the cable and a clockwise torque from gravity. Choosing to represent counterclockwise torques as positive numbers, and using the equation \(|\boldsymbol{\tau}| =r|F| \sin \theta\), we have
\[\begin{equation*} r_{cable} |F_{cable}| \sin \theta_{cable} - r_{grav}|F_{grav}|\sin \theta_{grav} = 0 . \end{equation*}\]
A little geometry gives \(\theta_{cable}=90°-\alpha\) and \(\theta_{grav}=\alpha\), so
\[\begin{equation*} r_{cable} |F_{cable}| \sin (90°-\alpha) - r_{grav}|F_{grav}| \sin \alpha = 0 . \end{equation*}\]
The gravitational force can be considered as acting at the pole's center of mass, i.e., at its geometrical center, so \(r_{cable}\) is twice \(r_{grav}\), and we can simplify the equation to read
\[\begin{equation*} 2 |F_{cable}| \sin (90°-\alpha) - |F_{grav}| \sin \alpha = 0 . \end{equation*}\]
These are all quantities we were given, except for \(\alpha\), which is the angle we want to find. To solve for \(\alpha\) we need to use the trig identity \(\sin (90°-x)= \cos x\),
\[\begin{equation*} 2 |F_{cable}| \cos \alpha - |F_{grav}| \sin \alpha = 0 , \end{equation*}\]
which allows us to find
\[\begin{align*} \tan\alpha &= 2\frac{|\mathbf{F}_{cable}|}{|\mathbf{F}_{grav}|}\\ \alpha &= \tan^{-1}\left(2\frac{|\mathbf{F}_{cable}|}{|\mathbf{F}_{grav}|}\right)\\ &= \tan^{-1}\left(2\times\frac{70\ \text{N}}{98\ \text{N}}\right)\\ &= 55° . \end{align*}\]
|
| Example 9: Art! |
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|
\(\triangleright\) The abstract sculpture shown in figure x contains a cube of mass \(m\) and sides of length \(b\). The cube rests on top of a cylinder, which is off-center by a distance \(a\). Find the tension in the cable.
\(\triangleright\) There are four forces on the cube: a gravitational force \(mg\), the force \(F_T\) from the cable, the upward normal force from the cylinder, \(F_N\), and the horizontal static frictional force from the cylinder, \(F_s\). The total force on the cube in the vertical direction is zero:
\[\begin{equation*} F_N-mg = 0 . \end{equation*}\]
|
As our axis for defining torques, it's convenient to choose the point of contact between the cube and the cylinder, because then neither \(F_s\) nor \(F_N\) makes any torque. The cable's torque is counterclockwise, and the torque due to gravity is clockwise. and the cylinder's torque is clockwise. Letting counterclockwise torques be positive, and using the convenient equation \(\tau=r_\perp F\), we find the equation for the total torque:
We could also write down the equation saying that the total horizontal force is zero, but that would bring in the cylinder's frictional force on the cube, which we don't know and don't need to find. We already have two equations in the two unknowns \(F_T\) and \(F_N\), so there's no need to make it into three equations in three unknowns. Solving the first equation for \(F_N=mg\), we then substitute into the second equation to eliminate \(F_N\), and solve for \(F_T=(a/b)mg\).
Why is one equilibrium stable and another unstable? Try pushing your own nose to the left or the right. If you push it a millimeter to the left, it responds with a gentle force to the right. If you push it a centimeter to the left, its force on your finger becomes much stronger. The defining characteristic of a stable equilibrium is that the farther the object is moved away from equilibrium, the stronger the force is that tries to bring it back.
The opposite is true for an unstable equilibrium. In the top figure, the ball resting on the round hill theoretically has zero total force on it when it is exactly at the top. But in reality the total force will not be exactly zero, and the ball will begin to move off to one side. Once it has moved, the net force on the ball is greater than it was, and it accelerates more rapidly. In an unstable equilibrium, the farther the object gets from equilibrium, the stronger the force that pushes it farther from equilibrium.
This idea can be rephrased in terms of energy. The difference between the stable and unstable equilibria shown in figure y is that in the stable equilibrium, the energy is at a minimum, and moving to either side of equilibrium will increase it, whereas the unstable equilibrium represents a maximum.
Note that we are using the term “stable” in a weaker sense than in ordinary speech. A domino standing upright is stable in the sense we are using, since it will not spontaneously fall over in response to a sneeze from across the room or the vibration from a passing truck. We would only call it unstable in the technical sense if it could be toppled by any force, no matter how small. In everyday usage, of course, it would be considered unstable, since the force required to topple it is so small.
| Example 10: Application of Calculus |
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\(\triangleright\) Nancy Neutron is living in a uranium nucleus that is undergoing fission. Nancy's nuclear energy as a function of position can be approximated by \(U=x^4-x^2\), where all the units and numerical constants have been suppressed for simplicity. Use calculus to locate the equilibrium points, and determine whether they are stable or unstable.
\(\triangleright\) The equilibrium points occur where the U is at a minimum or maximum, and minima and maxima occur where the derivative (which equals minus the force on Nancy) is zero. This derivative is \(dU/dx=4x^3-2x\), and setting it equal to zero, we have \(x=0, \pm1/\sqrt{2}\). Minima occur where the second derivative is positive, and maxima where it is negative. The second derivative is \(12x^2-2\), which is negative at \(x=0\) (unstable) and positive at \(x=\pm1/\sqrt{2}\) (stable). Interpretation: the graph of U is shaped like a rounded letter `W,' with the two troughs representing the two halves of the splitting nucleus. Nancy is going to have to decide which half she wants to go with. |
Contributors and Attributions
Benjamin Crowell (Fullerton College). Conceptual Physics is copyrighted with a CC-BY-SA license. | 9,621 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://phys.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Conceptual_Physics/Conceptual_Physics_(Crowell)/05%3A_Conservation_of_Angular_Momentum/5.01%3A_Angular_Momentum_In_Two_Dimensions | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:8867 | https://phys.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Conceptual_Physics/Conceptual_Physics_(Crowell)/05%3A_Conservation_of_Angular_Momentum/5.01%3A_Angular_Momentum_In_Two_Dimensions |
tXHF23xo0JrsAX5M | "Whitekraft" built-in steel casework for hospitals : installations, specifations : manufactured by the Frank S. Betz Company ... Hammond, Indiana ... | Detroit, Mich.
The Frank S. Betz Company takes pleasure in present¬ ing the architect with this book, illustrating some of the more recent installations of “WhiteKraft” Built-In Steel Cabinets in leading hospitals.
This $2,000,000.00 Corporation with an organization excellently and adequately equipped with machinery and experience, is prepared to handle any work involving built-in steel cabinets, casework, etc. Thirty-three years of experience in this field has enabled it to develop a com¬ petent engineering department specializing in this type of construction. All the facilities of this Department are at your disposal.
For your convenience, an unusual amount of data as to size and gauge of material, methods of construction, equipment and finish, wall openings, drawings, etc., pertaining to “WhiteKraft” installations has been furnished in this book. The Frank S. Betz Company hopes that you will find this information valuable.
The main kitchen built in steel case shown above was made in two sections to facilitate installation. The joining is well concealed. Each section has four glass doors at the top, a working space below, four drawers, and four steel doors at the bottom. Sizes and gauge of
Kitchen Steel Cases
steel may be varied to suit requirements. The steel shelves in the lower compartments, and the steel shelves in the upper compartments are all adjustable. But fixed shelves may be substituted, if preferred. Specifications given below are for the particular job shown.
SPECIFICATIONS
Size — Width of each two door section, 38^2 inches. Height overall, including flanges, 87 inches. Depth of lower part, 18 inches. Depth of upper part, 14 inches. Height of lower compartment inside, 21 inches. Height of working space, 14 inches. Inside height of upper compartments, 38 inches. Width of drawers, 18 y2 inches. Height of drawers, 6 inches. Depth of drawers, 1 7 inches.
cold rolled, stretcher leveled, pickled, full finished furniture steel. Cabinet backs, formed with % -inch radius cove. Front trim formed with %-inch radius as outer edge, and reinforced with I l^x^-inch strips welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, frames double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, flange to make doors 94 inch thick, and inside frame screwed to door frame to hold plate glass panels. Drawers, double wall head, 18 gauge outside. Body, back, and inside door head, 20 gauge. Drawers suspended on “ WhiteKrajt ” channel suspension slides. Steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Shelves are adjustable with a slotted channel device, spot welded to the four corners of each cabinet, and with 1 2 gauge steel shelf rests inserted in the slots.
other places in the hospital.
Design No. — In writing regarding this cabinet, or in specifying it, please refer to “IVhiteKrajt” de¬ sign HB.
Th e cases here shown are typical of “WhiteKraft” welded and formed built in construction. This series is comprised of four units. Detail drawings of these units are shown below. Sizes may be varied to suit the space requirements.
In place of stationary steel shelves adjustable shelves may be substituted. The gauge of ma¬ terial may also be varied to suit the buyer. The specifications given below are for the particular job illustrated.
on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, double wall flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, both panels 18 gauge with % -inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch welded together leaving dead air space be¬ tween. Box stiffener between panels at center for reinforcement. Steel shelves, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a I -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement.
Equipment — Locks, Yale flat key, cylinder type, brass nickel plated. Turn Knobs, cast brass, nickel plated, with special cam on inside to operate locking bars at top, bottom and center. Locking bars are concealed between door panels. Hinges, con¬ cealed type with barrel exposed, brass nickel plated.
Note — The type of cabinet shown while specified as a receiving bathroom cabinet is adaptable for storage, for utility and sterilizing rooms, and for work rooms.
Design No. — In writing regarding this cabinet, or in specifying it, please refer to “W hiteKrajt” design HA.
Specially constructed “WhiteKraft” Built-in Steel Cases for the sewing or work-room. These cabinets are also adaptable to use in many other parts of the hospital. They are furnished in com¬ plete units of four doors, or in sections of two doors each. The shelves in this unit are stationary,
but adjustable shelves may be substituted, and the sizes may be changed to suit requirements. Hos¬ pitals installing these cabinets are not limited to the gauges of material shown below, but may specify gauges according to requirements. Steel doors may be substituted for glass also.
smooth.
Steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furni¬ ture steel formed with a I -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement.
der type, brass nickel plated.
Hinges, concealed type with bar¬ rel exposed, brass nickel plated. Pull knobs, brass, nickel plated.
A very conveniently arranged built-in steel case unit for the diet kitchen. This unit can be reduced in size or increased, according to require¬ ments.
In this design a maximum amount of storage space is allowed, although a reasonably roomy niche is left for serving and dishes. The use of monel metal as a covering for the bottom of the serving niche is always recommended.
Height of upper two-door section, 40 inches. Depth of upper section, 1 8 inches. Width of unit over all, 743% inches. Inside width of unit, 70% inches. Width of upper single section, 20% inches. Height of upper single section, 40 inches. Depth of upper single section, 18 inches. Height of unit over all, 89% inches. Serving niche, 14 inches high, 18 inches deep, 70% inches wide. Drawers, 6 inches high, 20% inches wide and 23% inches wide, 17 inches deep. Lower double door compartment, 47% inches wide, 20% inches high, 18 inches deep. Lower single door com¬ partment, 20% inches wide, 20% inches high, I 8 inches deep.
stretcher leveled, pickled, full finished furni¬ ture steel. Cabinet backs, formed with %inch radius cove. Front trim formed with %-inch radius as outer edge, and reinforced with 1 %x%-inch strips welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, frames double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, flanged to make doors % inch thick, and inside frame screwed to door frame to hold plate glass panels. Drawers, double wall head, 1 8 gauge outside. Body, back, and inside door head, 20 gauge. Doors suspended on “ WhiteKraft ” channel suspension slides. Steel shelves, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement.
brass nickel plated. Turnknobs, cast brass, nickel plated, with special cam on inside to operate locking bars at top, bottom and cen¬ ter. Locking bars are concealed between door panels. Hinges, concealed type with bar¬ rel exposed, brass nickel plated.
glass sliding doors, and fixed instead of adjustable shelves. The lower section can also be made accessible from both rooms. Sizes and gauge in material may be varied according to requirements. Doors may be had with crystal plate glass or Lib-
These cabinets are made up in two sections, each section with two sliding doors below, and two above. The upper case has sliding doors on both sides, giving access from two rooms. The lower sections are accessible from one room only.
each unit, 5 7 % inches. Height over all including upper case, 523/8 inches. Depth of lower case, \ l/z inches. Depth of upper case, 26% inches. Height of upper case, 1 5 inches. Height of lower case, 3 7 % inches.
rolled, stretcher leveled, pickled, full finished furniture steel. Cabinet backs, formed with %-inch radius cove. Front trim formed with %-inch radius as outer Y edge, and reinforced with 1 /x/j-inch strips welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, double wall construction, sliding type, with depressed hand pulls, plate glass panels held be¬ tween telescoping parts of frame. Steel shelves, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a I -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement.
Shelves are adjustable with a slotted channel device, spot welded to the four corners of each cabinet and with 1 2 gauge steel shelf rests inserted in the slots.
Storage Case
This Storage Case, used in this in¬ stance in an examining room of a men’s ward building, is adaptable to use in many parts of the hospital. Adjustable steel shelves may be substituted for the station¬ ary steel shelves as shown in this plan. The doors may be made with glass panels instead of all steel, and sizes may be changed to suit requirements.
The case is divided into two sections, each section with its own lock, turn-knob and five shelves. There are four concealed hinges on each door and a stout three-way lock, locking at center, top and bottom.
stretcher leveled, pickled, full finished furniture steel. Cabinet backs, formed with %-inch radius cove. Front trim formed with %-inch radius at outer edge, and reinforced with 1 J/2x'/4-inch strips welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, double wall flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, both panels 1 8 gauge with %-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch welded together, leaving dead air space be¬ tween. Box stiffener between panels at center for reinforcement. Steel shelves, 1 8 gauge sheet fur¬ niture steel formed with a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement.
nickel plated. Turn knobs, cast brass, nickel plated, with special cam on inside to operate locking bars at top, bottom and center. Locking bars are con¬ cealed between door panels. Hinges, concealed type with barrel exposed, brass nickel plated.
Blanket Warmer
This “ W hlteKraft ” Blanket Warmer is an exceptionally efficient piece of furniture in¬ sulated on sides, back and top, between the double walls, with 5-ply air cell asbestos. The doors are arranged with vent holes. The sta¬ tionary steel shelves and the removable bot¬ tom are all perforated. There are five per¬ forated shelves. Dimensions shown may be varied to suit requirements and adjustable shelves may be substituted for the stationary shelves.
Size — Inside width of installation, 48 inches. In¬ side height, 8 1 34 inches; depth, 18 inches. Construction — Construction details are the same as specified on "H'hiteKraft” Design HA except that doors and shelves are vented and perfor¬ ated.
Equipment— Locks, Yale flat key, cylinder type, brass nickel plated. Turn knobs, cast brass, nickel plated, with special cam on inside to operate locking bars at top, bottom and center. Locking bars are concealed between door panels. Hinges, concealed type with barrel ex¬ posed, brass nickel plated.
The lower compartment may be converted into drawers if preferred, and the sizes and gauge of material may be varied to suit requirements.
Size — Width of installation including flanges, 51% inches. Inside width of each unit, 23% inches. Height including flanges, 91% inches. Depth, 18 inches. Inside height of lower compartment, 3 0% inches. Height of upper compartment, 55 inches.
Construction — Construction details are the same as specified under “W hiteKraft” Design No. HC, ex¬ cept that the upper shelves are adjustable by means of a slotted channel device, welded to the corners of the cabinet. The lower steel shelf is stationary.
Equipment — Locks, Yale flat key, cylinder type, brass nickel plated. Turn knobs, cast brass, nickel plated, with special cam on inside to operate locking bars at top, bottom and center. Locking bars are concealed between door panels. Hinges, concealed type with barrel exposed, brass nickel plated.
Drug Case
A strong well-constructed type of “WhiteKraft” Built-in Utility Case specified in this instance as a ward drug case.
This unit is typical of “WhiteKraft” equipment built according to architects’ specifications. “WhiteKraft” Built-in Cases and Cabinets are built according to specifica¬ tions furnished, or according to designs fur¬ nished by our own engineering department. The up-to-date Betzco equipment makes it possible to produce case work according to any of the standard specifications in the “WhiteKraft” shops.
width of section, 39*/4 inches. Height of com¬ plete unit over all, 7 feet 7 % inches. Inside height, 7 feet 3 J/4 inches. Depth, 24 inches.
stretcher leveled, pickled, full finished furniture steel. Cabinet backs, formed with % -inch radius cove. Front trim formed with %-inch radius at outer edge, and reinforced with 1 j/^x'A-inch strips welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, double wall flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, both panels 18 gauge with ^/4-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch welded together, leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener between panels at center for reinforcement. Steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Shelves are ad¬ justable with a slotted channel device, spot welded to the four corners of each cabinet, and with 1 2 gauge steel shelf rests inserted in the slots. Sliding shelves, five lower shelves are built according to the same specifications as above, but are mounted in channels and slide out.
plated. Turn knobs, case brass, nickel plated, with special cam on inside to operate locking bars at top, bottom and center. Locking bars are concealed be¬ tween door panels. Hinges, concealed type with barrel exposed, brass nickel plated.
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
The new men’s ward building, the chil¬ dren’s building, the receiving pavilion and the morgue of the large recent additions to the famous Cook County Hospital are equipped throughout with Betzco “ White¬ Kraft ” built-in steel cupboards, shelving, cabinets and fire hose cabinets, manu¬ factured and installed by the Frank S. Betz Company from the architect's plans and specifications.
Receiving Pavilion
The fine new receiving pavilion of the Cook County Hospital group, Chicago, Ill. Kouipped with “WhiteKraft” Built-in Steel Cases.
Cabinets
These conveniently arranged “WhiteKraft” Built-in Steel Cases are made in two sections. One section has double perforated doors, two rows of urinal racks for sixteen urinals, two rows of bed-pan racks for eight bed-pans, and two perforated stationary steel shelves at the bottom. The other section has a single steel door with Yale lock, and five stationary steel shelves. Sizes and gauge of material may be varied to suit the buyer, and adjustable shelves may be substi¬ tuted for the stationary shelves.
BR/935 n. Width of two-door unit including flanges, 5 7% inches. Inside width of two-door unit, 53% inches. Width of single door unit in¬ cluding flanges, 32% inches. Inside width of single door unit, 28% inches. Depth of installation, 18 inches. Height of installation including flanges, 91% inches. Inside height of installation, 87% inches.
stretcher leveled, pickled, full finished furniture steel. Cabinet backs, formed with %-inch radius cove. Front trim formed with %-inch radius at outer edge, and reinforced with I %x %-inch strips welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, double wall flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, both panels 18 gauge with %-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch welded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener between panels
This stout, trim. Built-in Steel Fire Hose Cabinet is arranged for quick access, but at the same time serves to protect the fire hose from tampering.
Prices on Fire Hose Cabinets made according to any style or specifica¬ tion, will be quoted on application, and blue prints showing details will be submitted by our engineering de¬ partment.
24/2 inches. Height over all including flanges, 4 4 */2 inches. In¬ side height, 40 inches. Depth, 8J/2 inches. Openings for water risers will be cut in position, and of the size required.
edge, and reinforced with 1 j/2x}/4-inch strips welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Doors, frames double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, flanged to make doors % inch thick, and inside frame screwed to door frame to hold plate glass panels.
cylinder type, brass nickel plated. Turnknobs (if used), cast brass nickel plated. Hinges, concealed type with barrel exposed, brass, nickel plated.
This installation furnishes a very satisfactory equipment for surgical and dressing rooms. The installation consists of four units: Two units with four steel doors and two units each with two steel doors and two glass panel doors. One unit is electrically lighted.
Upper sections of each unit are made with ad¬ justable shelves. In the two units with glass panel doors, the upper shelves are plate glass. Sizes, gauge of material and shelf equipment may be varied to suit requirements. Stationary shelves in steel or glass may be substituted for adjustable shelves or vice versa.
Construction Cabinet bodies, 18 gauge cold rolled, stretcher leveled, pickled, full finished furniture steel. Cabinet
backs, formed with %-inch radius cove. Front trim formed with inch radius at outer edge, and reinforced with I */2X!/4-inch strips, welded on. Joints, torch welded and ground smooth. Steel doors, double wall flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, both panels 18 gauge with ^4-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch welded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener between panels at center for reinforcement. Glass panel doors, frames double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, flanged to make doors % inch thick, and inside frame screwed to door frame to hold plate glass panels. Steel shel ves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Glass shelves, l/4-inch crystal plate glass.
This drawing shows the detail of a typical Utility Room Case. This case is divided into two units, each with a single door. Each door has eight vent holes, and each unit is equipped with eight racks for urinals, four racks for bed-pans, and two station¬ ary steel shelves below.
Size — Width of installation including flanges, 65 inches. Height including flanges, 91 % inches. Depth, 18 inches. Inside width of each unit, 29 % inches. Inside height of each unit, 87 inches.
cified under Design No. HI.
Equipment — Locks, Yale flat key, cylinder type, brass nickel plated. Turn Knobs, cast brass nickel plated, with special cam on in¬ side to operate locking bars at top, bottom and center. Locking bars are concealed be¬ tween door panels. Hinges, concealed type with barrel exposed, brass nickel plated.
These cases are of a convenient size for Laboratory use. The adjustable shelves with which they are equipped, adapt them to a great variety of service for storing glass-ware, media, specimens, stains, etc. The size may be varied to suit require¬ ments. Fixed steel shelves may also be substituted for the adjustable shelves.
Size — Width of installation including flanges, 51 V2 inches. Inside width, 47 inches. Height including flanges. 54% inches. Inside height, 52% inches. Depth, 24 inches. Construction — Construction details are the same as specified on “WhiteKraft” design HA set, except shelves are adjustable by means of a slotted channel shelf holding device welded to the four corners of the cabinet. Equipment — Locks, Yale flat key, cylinder type, brass nickel plated. Turn Knobs, cast brass, nickel plated, with special cam on in¬ side to operate locking bars at top, bottom and center. Locking bars are concealed between door panels. Hinges, concealed type with barrel exposed, brass nickel plated.
This case was originally designed for a children’s building. The installation consists of three units, one two-door and two single door. The double door unit is equipped with vents, racks for twelve urinals, and racks for six bed-pans, with two steel shelves below. One single unit has perforated stationary steel shelves, 5-ply
air-cell, asbestos insulation, and a perforated removable bottom. The other single door unit has stationary steel shelves, solid bottom, and no vent holes in the door. The two lower shelves in the double door unit are perforated and there is a perforated removable bottom. Back and sides are heavily insulated with asbestos.
These cases installed in laboratory of out¬ patient department. Working surface of Battle¬ ship linoleum with Monel metal moulding.
“IV hiteKraft” Steel Supply Cases in nurses’ work room, maternity department. Lower section tops, heavy Battleship linoleum with Monel metal moulding.
These cases were installed in the reconstruc¬ tion of the original unit of St. Mary’s Hospital, Grand Rapids, Mich. In reconstructing this unit, the cost was very moderate as the architect made use of a large amount of steel equipment, prac¬ tically all of which was of standard design.
The “WhiteKraft” Delivery Room Cases, here shown, are of standard “WhiteKraft” design with recessed doors and cove at the edge of the moulding. The doors and shelves are of quarter-inch plate glass. A feature of this de¬ sign is the arrangement of adjustable shelf sup¬ ports at the center of the glass shelves, giving them support at three points, center and both ends.
There is a distinct advantage in specifying
standard cabinets of this design particularly in the cost of having them manufactured. Dies, jigs and tools for punching out openings are all made up and no cost for special tools would be included in manufacturing these designs. In addition having these tools available, shortens the time necessary for fabricating the cabinets and allows for quick deliveries, eliminating last minute delays in completing construction.
Note — Blue prints showing all dimensions of these cabinets will be sent on request, or draw¬ ings will be made showing these cabinets in other sizes to accommodate special requirements. In referring to these cabinets in correspondence or in specifying them, please refer to “ White¬ Kraft ” Design HO.
the original scale does not apply. The plan does show the method of installing the cabinet, height from floor and means of fastening in the bucks. It also shows the relation of the cabinet to the delivery room and scrub-up room doors, bringing out its advantages in saving space by utilizing the thickness of the wall partitions. The com¬ plete dimensions and construction details are quoted below. This is “WhiteKraft” Design HO.
Size — Height of cabinet section including moulding, 59 inches; inside height of cabinet, 54 inches; width of sec¬ tion including moulding, 47 inches; inside width of section, 42 inches; depth of section, 12 inches; wall opening, 55 inches high, 43 inches wide, 13 inches deep. Moulding, inches wide with ^4-inch radius
formed and welded. Front trim formed with 2'8-inch radius as outer edge, and reinforced with inch strips welded on. Joints, torch-welded and ground smooth. Doors, frames double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel, flange to make doors J4-inch thick, and inside frame screwed to door frame to hold plate glass panels. Shelves, J/^-inch plate glass, adjustable in height and six in number. Shelves are adjustable by means of a slotted channel device, welded to the four corners of each section and to the center at the back of the section. Corners are supported by four 12 gauge removable supports, one at each corner. At the center of the shelf is a brass, nickel plated bracket hooking into the slotted panel at two points, forming a strong, substantial support.
keys. (In place of thumb knobs, turn knobs of brass, nickel plated with special cam on inside to operate a three-way locking device with bars at top, bottom and center, may be substituted. This is advisable on extra long doors. If this device is substituted, the locking bars are concealed between the door frame panels.) Hinges, concealed type with barrel exposed, brass, nickel plated.
This type of cabinet here shown in the nurses’ work room is adaptable to a variety of uses. The sizes may be varied to suit requirements and a fully recessed upper section may be substituted for the semi-recess type shown. Shelves may be adjustable of steel or plate glass or fixed steel shelves may be substituted.
An outstanding feature of this cabinet is the working surface which is of heavy noiseless Battleship linoleum, held in place by an angle moulding of rustless Monel metal. Full Monel metal, bakelite, steel, glass, porcelain or Sted-
the material used here according to requirements.
In this construction, the architect has not al¬ lowed foot space in the foundation for the lower section for the reason that the upper cabinets are accessible from the side.
The cabinet doors and drawers are of re¬ cessed construction, fitting flush with the fronts. All hardware is of brass, nickel plated.
section, 12 inches; width of each section over all, 30 inches. (If this cabinet is specified to be recessed into wall, write for corrected inside dimensions and size of wall opening.) Height of lower section over all, 30 inches, not including terrazzo base; width of each lower section, over all, 30 inches. Overhang of top at front and exposed end, % inch. Drawer, 6 inches high, 23 inches deep and 27 inches wide. Cupboard sec¬ tion, 20 inches high, 30 inches wide and 23 inches deep.
formed and welded. Joints, torch-welded and ground smooth. Door frames, upper section, frames double wall construction inside panel telescoping into outer panel, flange to make doors ^4-inch thick, and inside frame screwed to door frame to hold plate glass panels. Adjustable steel shelves, upper section, three in number, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Shelves are adjustable with a slotted channel device, spot welded to the four corners of each cabinet, and with 1 2 gauge steel shelf rests inserted in the slots. Drawer, double wall head, 1 8 gauge outside. Body, back and inside drawer head, 20 gauge. Drawer sus¬ pended on “WhiteKraft” channel suspension slides. Lower doors, double wall construction. Inside panel telescoping into outer panel with flange to make doors %-inch thick. Stationary steel shelf divides lower cupboard. Made from 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides and a return on the front flange for additional reinforcement. Top, '/4-inch Battleship linoleum with a J/^-inch by /■£inch Monel metal moulding to act as cleat for holding linoleum.
These Built-in “WhiteKraft” Cabinets for the storage of utensils are designed specially for that purpose. The doors have louvre ventila¬ tions at top and bottom. The sections have five adjustable shelves.
The shelves are of a special type. They are made from heavy meshed wire covered with pure block tin. The wire is crimped and rolled onto l/4-inch steel bars which form a frame. The wire has 1 -inch mesh. Doors have heavy brass, nickel plated turn knobs with locking bar, lock¬ ing at top, bottom and center of right hand door. The left hand door is retained by the right hand door.
This type of cabinet is particularly well adapted to utility rooms, but with steel shelves substituted for the mesh shelves and with the louvre ventilations omitted from the doors may be used to good advantage for general purposes. It is recommended that cabinets of this kind be finished on the back and sides entering the wall either in red lead or in a high heat bond coat. Aluminum bronze lacquer is rec¬ ommended as being particularly satisfactory for the interior.
original scale does not apply. Drawing shows elevation of utensil cabinet, vertical section and lay-out for util¬ ity room. In the architect’s drawing, both utensil cabinet and general storage cabinet are shown. Detail prints of both cabinets showing full dimensions will be sent on request by our engineering department.
formed and welded with joints ground smooth. Doors, double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel and flanged to make doors %-inch thick. Shelves, five in number made from 12 gauge, 1 -inch mesh tinned iron wire, rolled and crimped over %-inch welded steel bar frame. Shelves are adjustable by means of a slotted channel device, welded to the four corners of cabinet.
formed and welded with joints ground smooth. Doors, double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel and flanged to make doors %-inch thick. Shelves, three in number made from 12 gauge, I -inch mesh tinned iron wire, rolled and crimped over %-inch welded steel bar frame. Shelves are adjustable by means of a slotted channel device, welded to the four corners of cabinet.
This semi-recessed installation is ideally arranged for laboratory use. Considerable shelf space is offered with the adjustable steel shelves in the upper sections, the drawers and the lower cupboards each with a fixed steel shelf. There are two interesting features worked out by the architect. First, the foot room obtained by hanging the lower sections over the terrazza base. The
second is the use of heavy Battleship linoleum as a working surface* The linoleum is held in place by a Monel metal angle moulding fastened over the edge. This type of cabinet is adaptable for use in many parts of the hospital.
A neat and convenient fixture for holding the telephone and concealing the box. There is a shelf at the center of the fixture which allows the telephone to be pushed back into the wall. The lower half of the fixture is covered with a plate which con¬ ceals the box. This plate is vented, so the bell or buzzer can be heard.
inally made to scale, but in reducing it for print, the original scale does not apply. The plan does show the method of in¬ stalling the cabinet, height from floor and means of fastening in the bucks. Illustration shows the relation of the cabinet to the door and saving of space by utilizing the side wall. The drawing also brings out in the vertical section an important feature worked out by the architect in leaving foot space in the terrazzo base. The complete dimensions and construction details are quoted below. This is “ White Kraft ” Design HP.
upper section, 12 inches; width of each section over all, 30 inches. (If this cabinet is specified to be recessed into wall, write for corrected inside dimensions and size of wall opening.) Height of lower sec¬ tion over all, 30 inches not including terrazzo base; width of each lower section over all, 30 inches. Over¬ hang of top at front and exposed end, % inch. Drawer, 6 inches high, 23 inches deep and 2 7 inches wide. Cupboard section, 20 inches high, 30 inches wide and 23 inches deep.
formed and welded. Joints, torch-welded and ground smooth. Door frames, upper section, frames double wall construction inside panel telescoping into outer panel, flanged to make doors %-inch thick, and inside frame screwed to door frame to hold plate glass panels. Adjustable steel shelves, upper section, three in number, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel formed with a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Shelves are adjustable with a slotted channel device, spot welded to the four corners of each cabinet, and with 12 gauge steel shelf rests inserted in the slots. Drawer, double wall head, 18 gauge outside. Body, back and inside drawer head, 20 gauge. Drawer sus¬ pended on “WhiteKraft” channel suspension slides. Lower doors, double wall construction. Inside panel telescoping into outer panel with flange to make doors %-inch thick. Stationary steel shelf divides lower cupboard. Made from 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides and a return flange for additional reinforcement. Top, '/4-inch Battleship linoleum with a %-inch by J/2-inch Monel metal moulding to act as cleat for holding linoleum.
These cases were installed in the reconstruc¬ tion of the original unit of St. Mary’s Hospital, Grand Rapids, Mich. In reconstructing this unit, the cost was very moderate as the architect made use of a large amount of steel equipment, prac¬ tically all of which was of standard design.
There is a distinct advantage in specifying standard cabinets of this design particularly in the cost of having them manufactured. Dies, jigs, and tools for punching out openings are all made up and no cost for special tools would be included in manufacturing these designs. In addition having these tools available, shortens the time necessary for fabricating the cabinets
minute delays in completing construction.
The outstanding features of these “WhiteKrait” Built-in Steel Tray Cases are the Monel metal covered steel shelves with upturned flange at back and sides, also the arrangement of the architect for foot space where the cabinet over¬ hangs the terrazza base. Another feature which recommends these cabinets particularly is the folding door arrangement, giving complete and unobstructed access to the interior.
Design No. — In corresponding regarding this “W hiteKraft” Steel Tray Case unit, or in specify¬ ing it, please refer to “W hiteKraft” Design HR.
Size — Height over all including moulding, 92J/2 inches; inside height, upper cabinet, 5 7 24 inches; inside height, lower cabinet, 25J/2 inches; width of unit over all, 82 24 inches; inside width of unit, 7724 inches; depth of upper section, 2214 inches; depth of lower section, 3024 inches; distance between upper shelves, 524 inches; Monel metal side and back flange for upper shelves, 2 inches.
CLE.VATION Or TPAY CAXO
Note— The architect s drawing shown above was originally made to scale, but in reducing it for print, the original scale does not apply. This drawing shows the arrangement of the tray cases with reference to the lifts from the kitchens, also the clever manner in which the upper doors have been hinged at the centers to save space and permit access to the entire interior. The method of recessing the tray shelves to allow for a working space is shown both in the illustration and the vertical section in the drawing. Drawing of vertical section also shows architect’s method for allowing foot space in the terrazza base, bringing the shelf section within reach.
formed and welded. Joints, torch-welded and ground smooth. Doors, upper and lower sections, double wall construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel flanged to make doors %-inch thick. Shelves, upper section, 18 in number, made from 18 gauge sheet furniture steel, formed and welded to partition, back and sides, covered with 26 gauge Monel metal with a 2-inch flange at sides and back and a roll front edge as shown under detail of shelf. Projecting working space covered in 22 gauge Monel metal over 18 gauge sheet furniture steel. Lower shelf, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel, adjustable by means of a slotted channel device welded to the four corners of each section. Shelf has a 1 -inch downturn flange on all sides with a return on the front flange for additional reinforcement.
These Open Tray Cases are built into the wall and have no door. The shelves are cov¬ ered with Monel metal, flanged upward for 2 inches at sides and back of case. The front edge
is made with Monel metal, rolled over steel. Case is equipped with 1 0 shelves and placed in the wall next to the lift from the kitchen.
This cabinet is arranged for quick access and is made either with lock, with the glass to be broken in emergency, or with brass nickel plated turn knob.
in standard size or according to specification.
Prices covering any desired size will be quoted on application and prints showing details will be submitted on request by our engineering de¬ partment.
GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN
The Steel Cases shown on this page are of “ W hiteKraft ” construction and were installed in the reconstruction of the original unit of St, Mary’s Hospital, Grand Rapids, Michigan. Built according to the specifications and under direction of Mr. Harry L. Mead, architect, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Room Closet
Special anaesthetizing closets built in the “ WhiteKraft ” Shops and installed in the North Country Community Hos¬ pital, Glen Cove, Long Island. Built from the plans and specifications of Peabody, Wilson and Brown, Architects, New York City.
These cabinets are divided into two compartments, the upper compartment occupying nearly two-thirds of the instal¬ lation. Upper compartment has three adjustable steel shelves and lower com¬ partment two adjustable Monel metal shelves for storing ether, etc. Each com¬ partment has double doors with threeway locks. Installation has a 2x'/8 inch cold rolled flat steel moulding, running on all four sides and screwing to the wall.
Upper doors are each hung from three semi-concealed polished white metal hinges. Each lower door is hung from
Size — Height over all including moulding, 83% inches; width over all including moulding, 28% inches; inside width, 22 inches; depth, 14 inches; inside height of upper compartment, 49J/2 inches; inside height of lower compartment, 28 inches.
body flange. Cabinet bodies, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and reinforced. Doors, 1 8 gauge double wall, flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with %-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch-welded together leaving dead air space between. Steel shelves, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel with a 1 -inch down turn flange on all side*. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforce¬ ment. Shelves, adjustable. Adjustable Monel metal shelves, 22 gauge Monel metal, over 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel.
Plans and specifications for these wardrobes were drawn and written by Peabody, Wilson and Brown, Architects, New York City. The wardrobe installations were fabricated in the “WhiteKraft” Shops and installed by the FrankS. Betz Company in the North Country Community Hospital.
ICCAEX
six hooks in each compartment, hat shelf and a drawer below. Each door is equipped with a threeway locking device, locking at center, top and bottom, and controlled by a flat key lock. There are three semi-concealed hinges to each door and the drawer is suspended in steel channels. Doors are ventilated at top and bottom.
In this construction, both doors and drawer heads are double walled and recessed flush with the front of the cabinet. The rabbet is formed by sides, top and bottom and the mullion between the doors.
to body flange. Cabinet bodies, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and reinforced. Doors, 1 8 gauge double wall flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with %-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch-welded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener between the panel, below and above ventilators for additional reinforce¬ ment. Ventilators are formed by steel tubing, shouldered down inside and outside similarly to a hollow rivet, giving added strength. Stationary steel shelf, I 8 gauge furniture steel, formed with a 1 -inch down turn flange on all sides. The front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Drawers, hung on steel channels, one channel welded to drawer and one to side of cabinet. Double drawer fronts, 1 8 gauge sheet furni¬ ture steel.
white metal polished turn handles, operating three-way lock; Yale flat key lock; white metal nosing; brass, nickel-plated hanger rod; six clothes hooks to each opening; white metal drawer pulls. Note - Blue prints showing details of this installation will be fur¬
Th ese installations were fabricated in the “White¬ Kraft” Shops for the North Country Community Hos¬ pital, Glen Cove, Long Island, according to the specifica¬ tions of Peabody, Wilson and Brown, Architects, New York City.
This is something new in the way of bed pan equip¬ ment. There are three wide brackets on each side of the upper part of the cabinet to hold utensil sterilizer racks with the bed pans just as they come from the
flange. Cabinet bodies, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and reinforced. Doors, I 8 gauge double wall flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with 5'4-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch-welded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener between the panel below and above ventilators for additional re¬ inforcement. Ventilators are formed by steel tubing, shouldered down inside and outside similarly to a hollow rivet, giving added strength. Steel shelves, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, perforated and removable, hung in brackets extending full depth of cabinet on each side.
neering Department on request. Please specify Design No. 6H3326.
sterilizers. Below these brackets are two removable per¬ forated steel shelves and the bottom of the cabinet is also perforated. Both doors are ventilated at top and bottom by means of steel tubing, passing through both panels and shouldered down inside and out. Doors are made flush with
These installations designed by Peabody, Wilson and Brown, Architects, New York City, were fabricated by the “WhiteKraft” Shops and installed in the North County Community Hos¬ pital, Glen Cove, Long Island.
This installation includes eight wardrobes, each partitioned off separately with a steel parti¬ tion, running from the mullion between the doors and welded to the back of the cabinet body. Each opening is equipped with a brass, nickel plated clothes pull for hangers and six clothes hooks. Each opening is also equipped with a heavy gauge steel hat shelf. Below the wardrobe, is a roomy drawer hung on steel chan¬
cabinet and the other to the side of the drawer.
Doors and drawer heads are of double wall construction, recessed and fitting flush with the front of cabinet. Each door is ventilated at top and bottom and is equipped with a white metal polished turn handle, operating a three-way lock, locking at center, top and bottom. Each door is also equipped with a Yale flat key lock with polished white metal nosing, as well as a name card slot. Doors are hung on three semiconcealed white metal polished hinges. Doors are equipped with polished white metal pulls.
sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and reinforced. Doors, 1 8 gauge double wall, flush construc¬ tion, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with %-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch-welded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener between the panel below and above ventilators for additional reinforcement. Ventilators are formed by steel tubing, shouldered down inside and outside sim¬ ilarly to a hollow rivet, giving added strength. Stationary steel shelf, 1 8 gauge furniture steel, formed with a 1 -inch down turn flange on all sides. The front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforce¬ ment. Drawers, hung on steel channels, one channel welded to drawer and one to side of cabinet. Double drawer fronts, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel.
Equipment Three Semi-concealed white metal hinges for each door; white metal polished turn handles, operat¬ ing three-way lock; Yale flat key lock; white metal nosing; brass, nickel plated hanger rod; six clothes hooks to each opening; white metal drawer pulls.
These installations were fabricated in the “ WhiteKraft ” Shops according to the plans and specifications of Peabody, Wilson and Brown, Architects, New York City, and were installed in the North Country Community Hospital, Glen Cove, Long Island.
ments, each with two adjustable steel shelves.
Each door is hung on two hinges and is equipped with three-way locking device. One pull handle shown is stationary and the other operates a threeway locking device. Doors are double wall and recess flush with the front of the cabinet. The rabbet being formed by sides, top and bottom of cabinet body. Each installation is fitted with a 2x'/8 inch flat cold rolled steel moulding which is screwed to the wall. Each compartment is sepa¬ rated. Installations are formed by three sections.
Size — Height over all including moulding, 10424 inches; width over all including moulding, 92^4 inches; inside height of the two upper tiers of compartment, 34*/2 inches; inside height of lower tier of compartments, 28i/2 inches; inside width of six outer compartments, 2724 inches; inside width of the three inner compart¬ ments, 28J/ inches; depth of each compartment, 18 inches.
steel, welded to body flange. Cabinet bodies, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and re¬ inforced. Doors, 1 8 gauge double wall, flush construc¬ tion, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with %-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torchwelded together leaving dead air space between. Steel shelves, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel with a 1 -inch down turn flange on all sides. Front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Shelves, adjustable.
furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and reinforced. Doors, 1 8-gauge double wall, flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with %inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torch-welded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener between the panel be¬ low and above ventilators for additional re¬ inforcement. Ventilators are formed by steel tubing, shouldered down inside and outside similarly to a hollow rivet, giving added strength. Steel shelf, 1 8 gauge furniture steel, formed with a I -inch down turn flange on all sides. The front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement.
hinges for each door; white metal polished turn handle operating three-way lock; Yale flat key lock; brass, nickel plated hanger rod; six clothes hooks.
This combination utility room in¬ stallation was fabricated in the “ WhiteKraft ” Shops for the North Country Community Hospital, Glen Cove, Long Island, from the plans and specifications of Peabody, Wil¬ son and Brown, Architects, New
York City.
The arrangement of this installa¬ tion allows for a large amount of storage space, all within easy reach and unusually convenient. The in¬ stallation is a combination of two units. The left hand unit has two large storage compartments below, divided by a mullion at the center and a partition running from the mul¬ lion and welded to the back of the cabinet body. The left lower com¬ partment is equipped with broom hooks and has no shelves, making it suitable for brooms, mops, etc.
ment is divided by five adjustable steel shelves. The upper compart¬ ment of left hand section has two doors and no partition. It is divided horizontally with an adjustable steel shelf. Right hand section of in¬ stallation is divided into two com¬ partments, each having two doors without mullion. Each compartment has two adjustable steel shelves. Upper doors are ventilated with three vents at the bottom of each door.
Size — Height over all including moulding, 83% inches; width over all including moulding, 62% inches; depth, 18 inches; height of upper compartment, left section, 17 inches; width, upper com¬ partment, left section, 2 7% inches; height, left hand lower compartment, left section, 60% inches; width, left hand lower compartment, left section, 13% inches; height, right hand lower compartment, left section, 60% inches; width, right hand lower compartment, left section, 13% inches; height, upper compartment, right section, 38% inches; width, upper com¬ partment, right section, 27% inches; height, lower compart¬ ment, right section, 38% inches; width, lower compartment, right section, 2 7% inches.
Construction — Outside moulding, 2x%-inch cold rolled steel, welded to body flange. Cabinet bodies, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and reinforced. Doors, 18 gauge double wall, flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with %-inch flange on all sides. Door panels are torchwelded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener is welded between the panels on the large doors for additional reinforcement. Ventilators are formed by steel tubing, should¬ ered down inside and outside similarly to a hollow rivet, giving added strength. Steel shelves, 18 gauge furniture steel, formed with a I -inch down turn flange on all sides. The front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Shelves adjustable.
Equipment — Three semi-concealed white metal hinges on long doors and two on each shorter door; double doors, one stationary pull handle and one turn handle of polished white metal, op¬ erating three-way lock; long doors, polished white metal turn handle, operating three-way lock; broom hooks.
Island.
These storage closets are particularly roomy and well arranged. Installation is divided into four compartments. The lower left hand compartment is without shelves and equipped with broom hooks. The lower right hand compartment has four adjustable steel shelves. The two upper compartments are each divided with one steel shelf. Doors are divided by mullions from which a partition is run to the back of the cabinet and welded. Doors are double wall and recessed flush with the front of the cabinet. The two small doors have turn handles of white metal. The lower doors have turn handles of white metal operating three-way locks, locking at center, top and bottom. Upper doors are each hung on two hinges, and lower doors on three hinges. All hardware is of white metal, polished.
flange. Cabinet bodies, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed, welded and reinforced. Doors, I 8 gauge double wall, flush construction, inside panel telescoping into outer panel with %-inch flange on all sides.
Door panels are torch-welded together leaving dead air space between. Box stiffener is welded between the panels on the large doors for additional reinforcement. Steel shelves, 18 gauge furniture steel, formed with a I -inch down turn flange on all sides. The front flange has a return at the bottom for additional reinforcement. Shelves in large compartment, adjustable; in upper compartment, fixed.
the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan, according by means of brackets fastened to the walls. In the
to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Archi¬ tects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. These cases were made up according to the illustrations shown rather than according to the drawing on the next
means of toggle bolts.
An interesting feature of this installation is the heavy 1 3 gauge Monel metal top with cove at back and sides and apron with return flange at the front. The top construction affords rounded back, sides and corners easy to clean and keep clean. Another feature which recommends this type of installation is the provision for toe space by setting back the terrazzo base and allow¬ ing the cases to overhang.
It will be noted in this installation that all hardware is of brass, nickel plated. The hinges are of the heavy French type and all doors are provided with three-way locks, locking at center, top and bottom. Controlled by means of a heavy turn handle and lock by a Yale cylinder flat key lock. Drawers and door fronts are heavily reinforced with cold rolled steel, giving to the installation perma¬ nence, strength and beauty.
length of installation over all, 10 feet, i0 inches; height of lower section, 2 feet, 6]/2 inches; height of upper cabinet section, 3 feet; depth of working surface, lower section, 2 feet, 2 inches; depth of cabinets, upper section, 1 foot, 6J/8 inches. Height of installation is determine d by h eight of door trim.
leveled sheet furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2J/4-inch by '/8 -inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torchwelded at corners; front edges are reinforced by I F*x H/jx'/g -inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to H^-inch
by 3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Glass doors, front frame work, 1 ]/2x3/l 6-inch flat cold rolled steel with three steel glass retainers welded to frame work; top retainer screws off for removal and replacement of glass; glass panels, Libbey-Owen, 3/ 1 6-inch flat drawn glass fitting into pressed felt strips between retainers and edges; drawers, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch by J/fj-inch flat cold rolled steel reinforcements, electrically welded to bodies; drawers suspended in steel channels, one set welded to drawers and the other set welded to cabinet bodies; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel-plated shelf rests inserted in slots. Working surface, 1 3 gauge non-corrosive Monel metal with cove at back and sides and apron at front. Addi¬ tional support supplied by sub-top of 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel underneath the Monel metal.
in “WhiteKraft” enamel, baked on. Prices will, however, be quoted with colored enamels or with white or colored lacquers, as required. It is recommended that sur¬ faces of cabinets recessed into wall be finished either in red lead or in a high heat bond coat to resist moisture.
of this installation will be supplied by our Engi¬ neering Department on request. In referring to this installation, please specify Design No.
Utility Table
The Utility Table shown in the illustration above is made with Monel metal top and shelf with flange at back and sides and an apron at the front. The floor feet are of cast brass and are adjustable to take care of any little inequali¬ ties in the floor. Prices covering these tables made to size required with either steel or Monel metal tops will be quoted on application.
Harper Hospital Sterilizing Room Cases
These sterilizing room cases were constructed in the “WhiteKraft” Shops for the Harper Hos¬ pital, Detroit, Michigan. They were fabricated according to the designs and specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, De¬ troit, Michigan. This is one of the largest and best appointed sterilizing room installations ever turned out by the “WhiteKraft” Shops. Dressing mate¬ rials of all kinds, small bundles and large, are well accommodated by the shelf arrangement. In laying out this installation, the architect built the cabinets
space to excellent advantage.
Cases are made in two door sections and all of the specifications given apply to a typical unit of two doors above and two below. Complete blue prints showing method of arranging corner cabi¬ nets with the floor lay-out plan will be furnished on request.
All of the cabinets overhang the base to give plenty of toe room in using the upper sections. Another feature worthy of special consideration is the arrangement of the top of the lower section. This top is covered with J/4-inch Battleship lino¬ leum held tightly at the edge by a non-corrosive Monel metal nosing.
In the upper sections, there are four adjustable steel shelves and in the lower cupboards, one adjustable steel shelf. Doors are all equipped with brass turn knobs, operating three-way locks, fasten¬ ing at center, top and bottom and controlled by a Yale cylinder flat key lock. Upper doors are each hung on three cast brass French hinges, nickel plated. Lower doors are hung on two French hinges.
tuted for Battleship linoleum on projecting tops. Stedman flooring is tough, long wearing and stains can be removed readily. Flooring is held in place with non-corrosive Monel metal nosing in the same manner as the Battleship linoleum.
installation, sent on request.) Height over all including moulding, 6 feet, 8J/2 inches; height from floor, 7 feet, 2 inches; width over all, 4 feet, 5 inches; height of upper section, 4 feet, 2 inches; height of lower section, 2 feet, 6J/S inches; depth of upper section, I foot, 6J/2 inches; depth of lower section, 2 feet, inches. Height of installation is governed by height of door trim.
from 2 J/4 x J/g -inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically spot welded to cabinet body, torch-welded and ground smooth at corners. Front edges of cabinets reinforced with 1 J/4XI J/jxJ/g-inch angle iron electrically spot welded both to cabinet body and to the cold rolled steel front frame work. Doors are made with panels of 1 8 gauge patent stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel, electrically welded to a frame work of I */2x3/ 1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded and ground smooth at the corners. Steel shelves are all adjustable and made from 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel with a 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange. Adjustment is obtained through the use of slotted channels, spot welded to the four corners of the cabinet body on the inside. Heavy gauge nickel plated shelf rests are inserted in slots for support. Slots are I inch apart.
“WhiteKraft” installation of linen closets in Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan, built accord¬ ing to specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Archi¬ tects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. The six adjustable shelves supplied in this installation
easy reach.
In installations of this kind with large doors, a special reinforcement to stiffen the doors is pro¬ vided. Each door is also supported by three cast brass, French hinges.
leveled sheet furniture steel, front framework of cabinet, 2>/4-inch by J/g-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torchwelded at corners; front edges are reinforced by I '/4xl '/^xj/g-inch angle iron, spot-welded to body and cold rolled steel framework. Steel doors, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to 1 J/2-inch by f'g-inch flat cold rolled steel, torchwelded at corners; doors, reinforced with special stiffeners; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a re¬ turn flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot-welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel-plated shelf rests in¬ serted in slots.
three to each door, three-way locking device operated by cast brass, nickel-plated handle, locking at center, top and bottom; Yale cylinder flat key lock.
Blanket warmer built for Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan, according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. A well constructed “WhiteKraft” blanket warmer with cast brass French hinges, three-way locking device, with large cast brass turn handle, perforated shelves, wrought iron pipe steam coils and Arco an gle valve. The doors are of hollow construction, insu¬ lated with 7/1 6-inch Celotex. Sides and back of warmer can be insulated with Celotex or asbestos or the insula¬ tion can be placed in the wall, as pre¬ ferred.
Cabinet construction is of a particu¬ larly durable type, the body being welded to a heavy angle iron frame. The moulding of 2 J/j-inch flat cold rolled steel is then welded to the heavy angle. Doors are provided with a moulding also of heavy cold rolled steel, 1 /i inches wide, giving a panel effect of great strength.
Size — Height over all including moulding, 75 11/16 inches; width over all includ¬ ing moulding, 3 feet, 4 inches; depth, 22% inches; depth of wall opening, 23% inches; inside height, 72 inches; inside width, 3 feet, I inch; distance between shelves, 12 inches.
Construction — Cabinets, I 8 gauge, stretcher leveled furniture steel; front frame work 2% -inches by %-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges reinforced with 1 %x I %x% -inch angle iron, spot welded both to body and front frame work; doors, double wall steel, 18 gauge with front frame work of I %x3/ I 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-weided at corners and elec¬ trically welded to 18 gauge steel panels. A backing of 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel is welded to door panels, making the doors % -inch in thickness, the space between the panels filled with 7/ 16-inch Celotex insulation. Steel shelves, removable 1 8 gauge sheet fur¬ niture steel, perforated, and equipped with a 4-inch flange with a %-inch return at the back and a I -inch flange with a %-inch return at the front. Steam coils, % -inch wrought iron pipe.
Equipment — Three cast brass nickel plated French hinges on each door; three-way locking device operated by cast brass nickel plated handle, locking at center, top and bottom. Arco angle valve for steam supply.
Finish — Blanket warmers are usually fin¬ ished on the inside in aluminum bronze lacquer and on the outside either in “WhiteKraft” white enamel, in colored enamels, in lacquers, or in wood grain finishes. Surface of cabinet recessed into wall is usually quoted either in red lead or in a high heat bond coat to resist moisture.
Note — Blue prints showing complete de¬ tails of this blanket warmer will be supplied by our Engineering Department on request. In referring to this blanket warmer, please specify Design No. 6H330I.
These are practical cases turned to a multitude of uses in the Harper Hospital. They are built according to the same specifications as the three
furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2,/4-inch by v& -inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 I/4XI J/^x'/g-inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I J/2-inch by 3/16-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners; doors, reinforced with special stiffeners; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel plated shelf rests inserted in slots. Drawers, flush type construction, double fronts, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed and welded.
Equipment — Cast brass, nickel plated French hinges, three to each door, three-way locking device operated by cast brass, nickel plated handles, locking at center, top and bottom; Yale, cylinder flat key locks.
Dressing Cabinets
Over 250 of these “WhiteKraft” built Dress¬ ing Cabinets were installed in the Harper Hos¬ pital, Detroit, Michigan. These cabinets were built according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
Harper Hospital Dressing Cabinets are de¬ signed for offering a maximum of storage space, combined with the use of a minimum amount of floor and wall space. While there was some variation in size and arrangement to adapt this cabinet to the various spaces provided, the illus¬ trations shown on this page and the specifications
given below are of a typical unit. This dressing cabinet is made with an upper cupboard divided by three adjustable steel shelves, and enclosed with two doors. The lower section is open and divided at the center with a projecting Monel metal covered shelf. The Monel metal is flanged upward at the sides and back to provide protec¬ tion. Space is gained by the use of a projecting shelf.
This type of cabinet accommodates itself wonderfully well to closets, corridors and all kinds of odd corners which can be utilized to storage.
all including moulding, 2 feet, 7J/2 inches; depth, I 1% inches; lower section, base to shelf, 2 feet, 4 */£ inches; middle section, shelf to cupboard, 1 foot, I I % inches; cupboard section, 2 feet, I I inches high inside.
leveled sheet furniture steel, front framework of cabinet, 2 -inch by J/8-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torchwelded at corners; front edges are reinforced by I'/^x 1 '/jxJ/fj-inch angle iron, spot-welded to body and cold rolled steel framework. Steel doors, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I J/2-inch by ^-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Shelves, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch flange turned down on all sides, with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange. Shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels, spot-welded to corn¬ ers of cabinet and nickel-plated shelf supports inserted in slots. Pro¬ jecting shelf, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, covered with 20 gauge non-corrosive Monel metal.
baked on. Prices will, however, be quoted with colored enamels or with white or colored lacquers, as required. It is recommended that surfaces of cabinets recessed into wall be finished either in red lead or in a high heat bond coat to resist moisture.
This installation of the baby lockers fabricated in the “WhiteKraft” shops for the Harper Hos¬ pital, Detroit, Michigan, is an interesting departure from the usual arrangement for maternity sections. Specifications are by Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
This " WhiteKraft ” baby locker installation combines separate storage space for bowls and toilet articles. The six lower doors open into roomy cupboards without shelves. There are ten locker compartments, one of which is shown open. The
large door at the top and to the left is a clothes warmer with double walls insulated with celotex and equipped with chromolax strip heaters. There are three adjustable steel shelves, perforated.
It will be noted that the original plan for the locker openings has been changed from the draw¬ ing shown, in that the partition has been run hori¬ zontally instead of vertically. A feature of this installation is the 1 3 gauge Monel metal tops with cove at back and sides and apron at the front.
feet, 8 Zi inches; length of installation over all, 6 feet, 9^2 inches; depth of installation, 13 inches; height of lock¬ ers, 12 inches; width of lockers, 1 3 J/g inches; height of cupboards, 1 foot, 7j/2 inches; width of cupboards, 1 3 /a inches; height of clothes warmer, 24 inches; width of clothes warmer, 1 3 J/g inches.
and cabinet body, 1 8 gauge sheet furni¬ ture steel, pressed, formed, reinforced and welded. Doors flanged back on four sides to give added strength.
These built-in main kitchen cases were fabricated in the “WhiteKraft” Shops for the Harper Hospital, De¬ troit, Michigan, according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. The architect has cleverly utilized the floor and wall space to give maximum room for dishes, utensils and cutlery.
There are several features of this installation worthy
of special consideration. It will be noted that the archi¬ tect has placed the locks and turn knobs low on the upper doors to put them within easy reach. Toe space has been provided in the tile base to allow easy access to the upper cabinets. The Monel metal top is unusual in that it is made of 1 3 gauge material and extends well up on the back and side walls to protect them.
18 gauge stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2'/4-inch by J/g-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 |4xl J4x'/8 -inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to \/t' inch by 3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Glass doors, front frame work, I ,/2x 3/ 16-inch flat cold rolled steel with three steel glass retainers welded to frame work; top retainer screws off for removal of glass; glass panels, Libbey-Owen,
3/ 1 6-inch glass; drawers, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch by J/g-inch flat cold rolled steel reinforcements, electrically welded to bodies; draw¬ ers suspended in steel channels; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally rein¬ forced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels, spot welded to corners of cabinet. Working surface, 13 gauge non-corrosive Monel metal with cove at back and sides 6 inches high and apron at front.
Illustration shows one of the finest instrument storage rooms to be found in this country. The entire room is lined with “WhiteKraft” Instrument Cases and is a part of the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan. The cases and Monel top table with sink shown were all built in the “ WhiteKraft ” Shops according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. There are two types of instrument cases built for this room. One type with a large upper section with glass doors and a small lower section with steel doors. In the other type of case, the upper sec¬ tion is divided into two cases.
the Harper Hospital, there are several features worthy of special notice. The cases are all built into the wall, each case is separated from the next by means of 1 8 gauge steel partitions and each case has its own draw board, covered with non-corro¬ sive Monel metal for laying out instruments to be removed from or placed in storage. The shelves are all of J/4-inch polished plate glass in the upper sections and are adjustable. In the small section below, there are two small adjustable steel shelves. There are 29 cases in all built into this room.
Drawing shows method of placing corner cabi¬ nets. Specifications given below show dimensions on typical cabinets of two types.
5 feet, 4 inches high; 1 ower section from top of draw board including moulding, 1 foot, 9 J/2 inches; width of section, 1 foot, 8^/g inches; depth, 1 foot, 3 % inches. Three-door section, same dimensions as two-door sections except lower section, I foot, 9J/2 inches from bottom of moulding to top of draw board; middle section from draw board to middle of moulding, 2 feet, 8 inches; top section to top of moulding, 2 feet, 8 inches.
work of cabinet, 2J/j-inch by J/s-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 J/jxl J/^xJ/g-inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to 1 J/2 -inch by 3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Glass doors, front frame work, 1 J/2x3/ 1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel with three steel glass retainers welded to frame work; top retainer screws on for removal and replacement of glass; glass panels, Libbey-Owen, 3/1 6-inch flat drawn glass fitting into pressed felt strips between retainers and edges; drawers, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch by J/g-inch flat cold rolled steel reinforcements electrically welded to bodies; drawers suspended in steel channels, I set welded to drawers and the other set welded to cabinet bodies; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel-plated shelf rests inserted in slots. Glass shelves, J/^-inch polished plate
Tables
The table illustrated was made for the Harper Hospital by the “ W hiteKraft'' Shops according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers. This table was originally specified in one section, but because of its size was divided into two sections. The two sections over all are 1 I feet long and 2 feet 6 inches wide and 34 inches high. At one end there is a sink, 24 inches long, 20 inches wide and 1 2 inches deep. Table top is of 13 gauge Monel metal.
Table le gs are of 2-inch iron pipe, strength¬ ened by an “H" brace of the same material, all welded in one piece. The Monel metal top is supported by a 2x3x3/ 1 6-inch angle iron frame. The sink is supported by a H/2xl '/2X '/« -inch angle iron frame. Details and prices including blue prints will be supplied on request by our Engineering Department.
These built-in steel ward cases were built in the “W hiteKraft” Shops for the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan, according to the Specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
This type of built-in cabinet provides a large amount of easily accessible storage space. Outstanding features are the toe space left by the architect in the terrazzo
bases by overhanging the cabinets and the 1 3 gauge noncorrosive Monel metal working top with cove at sides and back, and apron at the front.
The clever use of walls in this installation means a decided saving in floor space. The construction, although higher priced than usual types of construction, is well worth while because of its lasting qualities.
gauge stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2 '/4 -inch by '/s-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torchwelded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 J4xl !4x'4-inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to 1 '/2-inch by 3/16 -inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at cor¬ ners. Glass doors, front frame work, I '/2x3/l 6-inch flat cold rolled steel with three steel glass retainers welded to frame work; top retainer screws on for removal and replacement of glass; glass panels, LibbeyOwen, 3/ 16-inch flat drawn glass fitting into pressed felt strips between retainers and edges; steel shelves,
1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel plated shelf rests inserted in slots. Work¬ ing surface, 1 3 gauge non-corrosive Monel metal.
Th ese Specimen Cabinets installed in the Harper Hospital, were fabricated in the “WhlteKraft” Shops, according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
These cabinets are well designed and well built with adequate ventilation provided by perforations in the steel door and a vent running upward and out at the side just
under the hood over the sterilizer. The cabinet is divided by fixed 1 8 gauge steel shelf, perforated. The vent open¬ ing is covered with a I 6 mesh, nickel-plated bronze screen and the vent is of 24 gauge galvanized iron. Cabinet is placed in the wall within easy reaching dis¬ tance. Door is equipped with cast brass, French hinges and cast brass turn knob.
edges reinforced by 1 %xl '/jx'/ginch angle iron, spot-welded to body and cold rolled steel frame¬ work. Door, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to 1 J/2Xi3g-inch flat cold rolled steel frame, torch-welded at corners.
ture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2 '/4-inch by '/8-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by I '/^xl J/^x'/s-inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel framework. Steel doors, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I l/^-inch by T36-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners; doors, rein¬ forced with special stiffeners; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot-welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel-plated shelf rests inserted in slots. Drawers, flush type construction, double fronts, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed and welded.
Equipment — Cast brass, nickel-plated French hinges, three to each door, three-way locking device operated by cast brass, nickel-plated handles, locking at center, top and bottom; Yale cylinder flat key locks.
These installations were built in the “WhiteKraft” Shops for Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan, according to the speci¬ fications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
Installation consists of two 2-door sec¬ tions and four drawers below. There are eight adjustable steel shelves in each 2-door section and a steel partition is placed between sections. Each door is hung on three cast brass, nickel-plated French hinges. Doors are equipped with three-way locks, operated by a cast brass turn handle, and locked by a Yale cylinder flat kay lock. Doors are reinforced by special stiffeners, welded on the inside and cold rolled steel framework, welded on the outside.
The drawers are of special construction with double steel fronts, fitting flush with the front of cabinets and flanged at the top around the edge of the body as an additional reinforcement. They are hung in steel channels which operate smoothly and without binding. Drawer pulls are countersunk in the head and are out of the way.
Medicine Cases
Built according to specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engi¬ neers, these medicine cases were fabri¬ cated in the “WhiteKraft” Shops for in¬ stallation in the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan.
Medicine case installations offer a lot of space for storage. Upper section has four doors with partition, dividing it into two parts. There are three adjustable steel shelves in each part. Lower section has four doors, but no partition. It has one adjustable steel shelf.
The Monel metal work top is of 1 3gauge material, flanged upward at back and sides and downward at the front. All doors are hung on cast brass, nickel plated French type hinges. Locking de¬ vice fastens at three points and is operated by a cast brass turn handle and locked by Yale flat key cylinder lock. Entire cabinet is reinforced with co Id rolled steel frame work and heavy angle iron connecting body and frame work. Upper door panels, 3/16 inch LibbeyOwen drawn plate glass.
not base, 6 feet, 8J4 inches; over all width including moulding but not top ex¬ tension, 5 feet, I ^<4 inches; height of up¬ per section, 3 feet; depth of upper section, I foot, 2^/g inches; lower section, 2 feet, 6J/2 inches high; depth of lower section, 1 foot, 8 inches; height of installation is gov¬ erned by height of door trim.
tion, I 8 gauge stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2*/4-inch by ]/g -inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforce d by I '4x1 14x^8 -inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to 1 J/j'inch by 3/16 -inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Glass doors, front frame work, I J4x3/ 1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel with three steel glass retainers welded to frame work; top retainer screws off for removal and replacement of glass; glass panels, LibbeyOwen, 3/ 1 6-inch flat drawn glass fitting into pressed felt strips between retainers and edges; steel shelves, I 8 gauge sheet, furniture steel with 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel plated shelf rests inserted in slots. Working surface, 1 3 gauge non-corrosive Monel metal. Equipment — Cast brass, nickel plated French hinges, two to each door; three-way locking device op¬ erated by cast brass, nickel plated handles, lock¬ ing at center, top and bottom; Yale cylinder flat key locks.
Note — Blue prints showing complete details of this installation will be supplied by our Engineering De¬ partment on request. Please specify Design No.
This linen cabinet installation made in two sections was fabricated in the “WhiteKraft” Shops for the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan, according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. One section has two doors and the other section a single door. A feature of the construction of this installation is the method of han¬ dling the drawers. There is no cold rolled trim on the drawers which might be used for stepping upon and the pulls are countersunk, out of the way. Drawers are recessed and flush with the cabinet front.
steel; front frame work of cabinet 2!T"inch by j/g-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by I C4 x 1 ITxJ/g-inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to ll/2-inch by 3/16-inch flat cold rolled steel, torchwelded at corners; doors, reinforced with special stiffeners; steel shelves. 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels spot welded to corners of cabi¬ net and having nickel plated shelf rests inserted in slots. Drawers, flush type construction, double fronts, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed and welded.
Equipment- — Cast brass, nickel plated French hinges, three to each door, three-way locking device operated by cast brass, nickel plated handles, locking at center, top and bottom; Yale cylinder flat key locks.
ing to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects
and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. These cases are well designed to utilize the wall and floor space to the best advantage, at the same time providing maximum storage space for dishes and utensils.
lower section, 2 feet.
Construction — Cabinet bodies, upper and lower section, 18 gauge stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2 % -inch by %-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by I % x I Vi x Vs -inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I % -inch by 3/16-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Glass doors, front frame work, I 14x3/16 inch flat cold rolled steel with three steel glass retainers
This type of installation was built in the “ W hiteKraft ” Shops for the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan. It is arranged according to the designs of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
This cabinet is most conveniently arranged with a large amount of shelf space. The shelves are all adjustable and removable. A feature of this installation is the arrangement of an access back. The back of the cabinet is removable for access to sterilizer pipes, etc.
All large doors of this type, it will be noted, are strongly reinforced with stiffeners. Each door is also hung on three heavy cast brass hinges, giving added strength. The panelled doors with cold rolled steel moulding and the front frame of the cabinet of the same material, makes a most durable and satisfactory installa¬ tion.
furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet 2 '/'inch by */8inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by I '/ x I !4x'/8 -inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to 1 //inch by 3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners; doors, reinforced with special stiffen¬ ers; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with 1 -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means
A typical space saving Built-in Main Kitchen Case, fabricated in the “WhiteKraft” Shops for the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan. Design and specifications by Albert Kahn, Inc., Archi¬ tects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
This type of cabinet offers considerable stor¬ age space with a lot of roomy drawer space for cutlery. It will be noted that the 1 3 gauge Monel metal top is flanged up high at the back of the working surface to protect the wall. The archi¬ tect has also provided adequate toe space by overhanging the cabinet at the base.
Doors are provided with three-way locks operated by cast brass turn handles and locking by means of a Yale flat key cylinder lock. The large size drawers are equipped with two cast brass pulls and are hung in steel channels to make them non-binding and smooth running. All hinges are of French type, cast brass, nickel plated. Front frame work on doors and drawers of heavy cold rolled steel, gives cabinet strength and durability beyond the ordinary. Three steel shelves are provided in upper cases and one steel shelf divides lower cupboard. Shelves are adjustable.
1 8 gauge stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel, front rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 J/xl */4 x k8 "inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I}/ -inch by 3/ 16-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Glass doors, front frame work, 11/2x3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel with three steel glass retainers welded to frame work; top retainer screws off for removal of glass; glass panels, Libbey-Owen, 3/16inch glass; drawers, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch by J/g-inch flat cold rolled steel reinforcements, electrically welded to bodies; drawers suspended in steel channels; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front addi¬ tionally reinforced with a return flange; shelves adjustable by means of slotted channels, spot welded to corners of cabinet. Working surface, 1 3 gauge non-corrosive Monel metal with cove 6 inches high at back and sides and apron at front.
Blanket Warmer Installation
This Harper Hospital Utility Room Installation was built in the “WhiteKraft” Shops according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects
and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. The special utility table shown with Monel metal top and shelf is also a product of the “WhiteKraft” Shops and built to order to fit.
moulding, 2 feet 85/2 inches; depth, 1 foot, 6*/g inches; height of lower sections for blankets, 3 feet 1 1 /i inches; height of upper sections for bed pans, 2 feet, 3 inches; height of each bed pan compartment, 1 foot, 1 J/j inches. Utility Cabinet: Height including moulding, 3 feet, width of three sections, including moulding, 4 feet % inches; depth, 1 foot, 3 '/8 inches.
Prices will be quoted by our Engineering Depart¬ ment covering special utility tables of all kinds and full details covering tables shown above furnished on application.
A steam heated built-in utility room case. In this installation, the steam coils are placed below the bottom of the cabinet, only the valve showing through the bottom of the cabinet. The doors are of double construction, insulated between the panels with 7/1 6-inch celotex. This in¬ stallation was made for the Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan, according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2j/^-inch by '/8-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 !4x1 '/4x'/8 -inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, double wall, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I '/^-inch by 3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at cor¬ ners; insulated between walls with 7/16-inch celotex; steel shelves, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel with I -inch flange turned down on all sides with the front additionally rein¬ forced wtih a return flange; shelves adjustable by means slotted channels spot welded to corners of cabinet and having nickel-plated shelf rests inserted in slots.
each door; three-way locking device operated by cast brass, nickel-plated handles, locking at center, top and bottom; Yale cylinder flat key locks.
of upper section, 5 feet 3 V4 inches. Depth, I foot 4 V2 inches. Drawers, 9 V4 inches high.
Construction — Back, sides, top and bottom, 18 gauge stretcher leveled furniture steel, welded to 1 V4 x 1 Vi x Vs inch steel angle. Mould¬ ing, 2 Vi x % inch cold rolled steel, welded to angle. Doors, Vi -inch polished plate glass with recessed pull ground in. Shelves, Vi -inch polished plate glass, adjustable at the ends by means of a slotted channel device, spot welded to the four corners of each cabinet, with 12 gauge shelf rests inserted in the slots. Shelves supported at center by brackets of brass, nickel plated, fitting into special slotted channel support. Drawers, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel, reinforced by lxV4-inch flat cold rolled steel moulding. Spot welded to drawer fronts and torch-welded at the corners.
Note — Blue prints covering cabinet in size shown will be fur¬ nished on application by our engineering department. In referring to this cabinet, please specify Design No. 6H3300. Full specifica¬ tions and information covering the built-in viewing cabinet, showing at the right of operating case, sent on request.
This wardrobe installation fabricated in the “WhiteKraft” Shops is typical of wardrobe units installed throughout Harper Hospital, Detroit, Michigan. Cabinets are designed by Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan. This installation is not to be compared with
lockers. The construction is entirely different and decidedly more substantial. These wardrobes are built along the same lines as the other good steel case work that went into the Harper Hospital. The doors are louvred at top and bottom, reinforced with cold rolled steel frame work and a special backing stiffener. The equipment includes 1 8-gauge steel hat shelf and nickel plated hanger rods. There is a brass nickel plated name plate on each door, also a brass nickel plated number plate with the number stamped on.
high including moulding; width of unit in¬ cluding moulding, 4 feet, 8'/2 inches; depth of unit, 18'/8 inches; width of each section, 1 8 inches.
sheet furniture steel; front frame work, 2 %•* '/« -inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 |/^x 1 'Ax'/S' inch angle iron welded to body and the cold rolled steel frame work; doors, 18 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I 'Ax 3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners; reinforced with special stiffeners and with louvre at top and bottom. Each louvre has six openings; hat shelf and parti¬ tions, 1 8 gauge sheet furniture steel, formed and welded.
hinges to each door, cast brass turn handles operating three-way locking device; Yale cyl¬ inder key lock; nickel plated hanger supports
A typical medicine room cabinet as fabricated in the “ W hiteKraft ” Shops for the Harper Hospital, De¬ troit, Michigan. This cabinet is made according to the specifications of Albert Kahn, Inc., Architects and Engineers, Detroit, Michigan.
A compact but roomy medicine
cabinet with glass shelves, steel panel door with turn knob, three-way lock and Yale flat cylinder lock. Lock and turn handle are placed low within easy reach.
In the lower part of the cabinet inside are four drawers, set back sufficiently to allow for closing door. The pull knobs are countersunk to give as much depth as possible to the drawers. Each drawer is equipped with a separate flat key lock and hung in channels, one channel being welded to the drawer and one to the side drawers section. This arrange¬ ment makes the drawers smooth run¬ ning and non-binding.
Size — Height including moulding, 3 feet, 2 inches; width including mould¬ ing, 1 foot, 6 inches; depth, 8% inches; height of top of cabinet conforms with height of door trim.
Construction — Cabinet bodies, 18 gauge stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel; front frame work of cabinet, 2'/4-inches by J/g-inch flat cold rolled steel, electrically welded to body and torch-welded at corners; front edges are reinforced by 1 I/4X 1 'Ax'/S'inch angle iron, spot welded to body and cold rolled steel frame work. Steel doors, I 8 gauge sheet furniture steel panels, welded to I '/2-inch by 3/1 6-inch flat cold rolled steel, torch-welded at corners. Drawers, 1 8-gauge sheet furniture steel, pressed, formed and welded; flush type with double wall heads and countersunk pulls, hung on steel channels. Glass shelves, 'A -inch plate glass, adjustable by means of slotted channel devices, spot-welded to the four corners of the cabinet with shelf rests inserted in the slots.
The wall opening next to the medicine room cabinet shown above is utilized for four adjustable plate glass shelves of A -inch polished plate. These shelves rest on supports inserted in slotted channels, fastened to wall and cabinet. Complete specifications sent on request.
tractive in appearance but is also distinctly modern in design. It is of a type that will harmonize grace¬ fully with any furnishings or decoration schemes. Although low in price, it is manifestly superior in
appearance and workmanship, and will aid mate¬ rially in imparting an air of elegance, refinement and style to any home, hotel, or apartment of the better class.
Sizes — Wall opening, 20 inches high; 15^4 inches wide; and 4 inches deep. Over all dimensions, 2 1 /i inches high; M/a, inches wide. Inside dimensions, I9J/2 inches high; 1 5 '/4 inches wide. M irror, 22 inches high; 18 inches wide.
Construction — Body, 20 gauge pickeled and stretcher leveled sheet furniture steel, die formed. Mirror, good grade silvering i quality American plate, evenly silvered, with beveled edge and wheel cut design. Shelves, "LO” plate glass with rounded front edges to prevent toilet articles from rolling off; adjust¬ able in height. Hinges, concealed. Door catch, positive and adjustable, with rustless steel strike, — no plating to peel or finish to wear off.
| 20,154 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | whitekraftbuilti00fran | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0017.json.gz:3763 | https://archive.org/download/whitekraftbuilti00fran/whitekraftbuilti00fran_djvu.txt |
MI6goWUE0fScVBRS | Physics 132: What is an Electron? What is Light? | 13 Introduction to Geometric Optics
The Ray Aspect of Light
Instructor’s Note
There are three ways in which light can travel from a source to another location. (See Figure 1.) It can come directly from the source through empty space, such as from the Sun to Earth. Or light can travel through various media, such as air and glass, to the person. Light can also arrive after being reflected, such as by a mirror. In all of these cases, light is modeled as traveling in straight lines called rays. Light may change direction when it encounters objects (such as a mirror) or in passing from one material to another (such as in passing from air to glass), but it then continues in a straight line or as a ray. The word ray comes from mathematics and here means a straight line that originates at some point. It is acceptable to visualize light rays as laser rays (or even science fiction depictions of ray guns).
Experiments, as well as our own experiences, show that when light interacts with objects several times as large as its wavelength, it travels in straight lines and acts like a ray. Its wave characteristics are not pronounced in such situations. Since the wavelength of light is less than a micron (a micrometer μm or a thousandth of a millimeter), it acts like a ray in the many common situations in which it encounters objects larger than a micron. For example, when light encounters anything we can observe with unaided eyes, such as a mirror, it acts like a ray, with only subtle wave characteristics. We will concentrate on the ray characteristics in this chapter. Since light moves in straight lines, changing directions when it interacts with materials, it is described by geometry and simple trigonometry. This part of optics, where the ray aspect of light dominates, is therefore called geometric optics. There are two laws that govern how light changes direction when it interacts with matter. These are the law of reflection, for situations in which light bounces off matter, and the law of refraction, for situations in which light passes through matter.
Section Summary
- A straight line that originates at some point is called a ray.
- The part of optics dealing with the ray aspect of light is called geometric optics.
- Light can travel in three ways from a source to another location: (1) directly from the source through empty space; (2) through various media; (3) after being reflected from a mirror.
In geometric optics, we will use a lot of, well, geometry. Here are a few problems to help you review the needed geometric concepts. If you need some review, have a look at:
- OpenStax Pre-algebra – Section 9.3: Use Properties of Angles, Triangles, and the Pythagorean Theorem.
- OpenStax Pre-algebra – Section 9.4: Properties of Rectangles, Triangles, and Trapezoids.
Problem 3: In geometric optics, we do analyses using similar triangles. This problem is here to help you practice working on these again.
Problem 4: Look at this map and determine the angle.
Problem 5: For this set of intersecting lines, use the following information to find the missing values.
The Law of Reflection
Whenever we look into a , or squint at sunlight glinting from a lake, we are seeing a reflection. When you look at the page of a printed book, you are also seeing light reflected from it. Large telescopes use reflection to form an image of stars and other astronomical objects.
The law of reflection is illustrated in Figure 1, which also shows how the angles are measured relative to the perpendicular to the surface at the point where the light ray strikes. We expect to see reflections from smooth surfaces, but Figure 1 illustrates how a rough surface reflects light. Since the light strikes different parts of the surface at different angles, it is reflected in many different directions, or diffused. Diffused light is what allows us to see a sheet of paper from any angle, as illustrated in Figure 1. Many objects, such as people, clothing, leaves, and walls, have rough surfaces and can be seen from all sides. A mirror, on the other hand, has a smooth surface (compared with the wavelength of light) and reflects light at specific angles, as illustrated in Figure 1. When the moon reflects from a lake, as shown in Figure 1, a combination of these effects takes place.
The is very simple: The angle of reflection equals the angle of incidence.
THE LAW OF REFLECTION
The angle of reflection equals the angle of incidence.
Instructor’s Note
When we see ourselves in a mirror, it appears that our image is actually behind the mirror. This is illustrated in Figure 6. We see the light coming from a direction determined by the law of reflection. The angles are such that our image is exactly the same distance behind the mirror as we stand away from the mirror. If the mirror is on the wall of a room, the images in it are all behind the mirror, which can make the room seem bigger. Although these mirror images make objects appear to be where they cannot be (like behind a solid wall), the images are not figments of our imagination. Mirror images can be photographed and videotaped by instruments and look just as they do with our eyes (optical instruments themselves). The precise manner in which images are formed by mirrors and lenses will be treated in Applications of Geometric Optics: Terminology of Images.
TAKE-HOME EXPERIMENT: LAW OF REFLECTION
Take a piece of paper and shine a flashlight at an angle at the paper, as shown in Figure 3. Now shine the flashlight at a mirror at an angle. Do your observations confirm the predictions in Figure 3 and Figure 4? Shine the flashlight on various surfaces and determine whether the reflected light is diffuse or not. You can choose a shiny metallic lid of a pot or your skin. Using the mirror and flashlight, can you confirm the law of reflection? You will need to draw lines on a piece of paper showing the incident and reflected rays. (This part works even better if you use a laser pencil.)
Section Summary
- The angle of reflection equals the angle of incidence.
- A mirror has a smooth surface and reflects light at specific angles.
- Light is diffused when it reflects from a rough surface.
- Mirror images can be photographed and videotaped by instruments
Problem 6: Indicate where the outgoing ray from a mirror intersects the dotted line.
Law of Reflection in Terms of the Particle Picture of Light
We’re going to begin with the basics of reflection. The Law of Reflection is simply, , the incident angle equals the final angle. Reflection makes the most sense in terms of the particle picture of light. It’s easiest to see if we just imagine light, a photon, as a ball. When a ball is bounced, the incident angle and the final angle are the same before and after it bounces. You can see that relative to the normal, which is how you should always measure your angles, the incident angle and the final angle are the same.
Speed of Light in Materials
REFRACTION
The changing of a light ray’s direction (loosely called bending) when it passes through variations in matter is called refraction.
Why does light change direction when passing from one material (medium) to another? It is because light changes speed when going from one material to another. So before we study the law of refraction, it is useful to discuss the speed of light and how it varies in different media.
The Speed of Light
Early attempts to measure the speed of light, such as those made by Galileo, determined that light moved extremely fast, perhaps instantaneously. The first real evidence that light traveled at a finite speed came from the Danish astronomer Ole Roemer in the late 17th century. Roemer had noted that the average orbital period of one of Jupiter’s moons, as measured from Earth, varied depending on whether Earth was moving toward or away from Jupiter. He correctly concluded that the apparent change in period was due to the change in distance between Earth and Jupiter and the time it took light to travel this distance. From his 1676 data, a value of the speed of light was calculated to be (only 25% different than today’s accepted value). In more recent times, physicists have measured the speed of light in numerous ways and with increasing accuracy. One particularly direct method, used in 1887 by the American physicist Albert Michelson (1852–1931), is illustrated in Figure 2. Light reflected from a rotating set of mirrors was reflected from a stationary mirror 35 km away and returned to the rotating mirrors. The time for the light to travel can be determined by how fast the mirrors must rotate for the light to be returned to the observer’s eye.
The speed of light is now known to great precision. In fact, the speed of light in a vacuum, , is so important that it is accepted as one of the basic physical quantities and has the fixed value.
,
where the approximate value of is used whenever three-digit accuracy is sufficient. The speed of light through matter is less than it is in a vacuum, because light interacts with atoms in a material. The speed of light depends strongly on the type of material, since its interaction with different atoms, crystal lattices, and other substructures varies. We define the of a material to be
,
where is the observed speed of light in the material. Since the speed of light is always less than in matter and equals only in a vacuum, the index of refraction is always greater than or equal to one.
VALUE OF THE SPEED OF LIGHT
INDEX OF REFRACTION
That is, Table 1 gives the indices of refraction for some representative substances. The values are listed for a particular wavelength of light, because they vary slightly with wavelength. (This can have important effects, such as colors produced by a prism.) Note that for gases, is close to 1.0. This seems reasonable, since atoms in gases are widely separated and light travels at in the vacuum between atoms. It is common to takefor gases unless great precision is needed. Although the speed of light in a medium varies considerably from its valuein a vacuum, it is still a large speed.
| Index of refraction in Various Media |
|
| Medium | |
| Gases at | |
| Air | 1.000293 |
| Carbon Dioxide | 1.00045 |
| Hydrogen | 1.000139 |
| Oxygen | 1.000271 |
| Liquids at | |
| Benzene | 1.501 |
| Carbon disulfide | 1.628 |
| Carbon tetrachloride | 1.461 |
| Ethanol | 1.361 |
| Glycerine | 1.473 |
| Water, fresh | 1.333 |
| Solids at | |
| Diamond | 2.419 |
| Fluorite | 1.434 |
| Glass, crown | 1.52 |
| Glass, flint | 1.66 |
| Ice at | 1.309 |
| Polystyrene | 1.49 |
| Plexiglass | 1.51 |
| Quartz, crystalline | 1.544 |
| Quartz, fused | 1.458 |
| Sodium chloride | 1.544 |
| Zircon | 1.923 |
Speed of Light in Matter
Calculate the speed of light in zircon, a material used in jewelry to imitate diamond.
Strategy
The speed of light in a material, , can be calculated from the index of refraction of the material using the equation
Solution
The equation for index of refraction states that , Rearranging this to determine gives
The index of refraction for zircon is given as 1.923 in Table 1, and is given in the equation for speed of light. Entering these values in the last expression gives
Discussion
This speed is slightly larger than half the speed of light in a vacuum and is still high compared with speeds we normally experience. The only substance listed in Table 1 that has a greater index of refraction than zircon is diamond. We shall see later that the large index of refraction for zircon makes it sparkle more than glass, but less than diamond.
Section Summary
- The changing of a light ray’s direction when it passes through variations in matter is called refraction.
- The speed of light in vacuum
- Index of refraction , where the speed of light in the material, is the speed of light in vacuum, and is the index of refraction.
Problem 7: What is the speed of light in water? In glycerine? The indices of refraction for water is 1.333 and for glycerine is 1.473.
Problem 8: Calculate the index of refraction for a medium in which the speed of light is 1.416×108 m/s.
Why Light Bends
A wave is a wave is a wave
We have seen in our first unit that electrons and photons are similar in many ways; “a wave is a wave is a wave.” With that in mind, consider the following situation. An electron is traveling in some region when it enters another region where it travels more slowly (perhaps because of more potential energy and thus a decrease in kinetic energy). Which path of the electron is qualitatively correct?
Solution:
A is correct.
Wave hitting interface perpendicular
If the wave comes in straight perpendicular, does it bend?
Solution:
Digging More into Wave-Particle Duality and Refraction[1]
Now, let’s think about some of the other properties of the light wave, beyond speed, and how they might change as we go from one material to another. Starting with wavelength.
Wavelength
We know from Unit I that light is made of photons and that these photons have energy
.
The in this equation, however, is trying to tell us something. The value is the speed of light in vacuum. We know now that, in a material, light will slow to some , and our resulting expression will now be
where is the speed of the light in the material. Because of conservation of energy, the energy of the photon cannot change. Thus, according to our equation, if the speed goes down, the wavelength must also decrease by the same factor.
Example: Reduction of wavelength in materials
Say we have a light source in a vacuum that emits light with a wavelength of . The light then enters a material where the speed of light is only . What is the wavelength in this new material?
Solution:
Given that
and
and given he energy of the photon cannot change due to conservation of energy:
we can set the two expressions equal to another:
.
We recognize the quantity as the index of refraction , which in this case is
Thus, we have
Substituting in our values, we have:
.
Discussion:
The speed of light went down by a factor of 2/3 and so did the wavelength!
Frequency
What happens to the frequency of a light wave in matter? Well the fundamental relationship for all waves must still be obeyed. As a light wave goes from a vacuum into a material, the speed changes , and so does the wavelength . What happens to the frequency?
cancel the and we are left with the true statement . What to make of this? It means that the frequency of the light wave does not change!
Amplitude / Number of Photons
As you know from Unit I, the amplitude of the light wave and the number of photons are both related to the light’s . Thus, these quantities are more about how much light is absorbed by the material than its index of refraction. Glass and air absorb very little light in the visible range, meaning that the amplitude and number of photons is not very much reduced in these materials. Water on the other hand, is very effective at absorbing visible light photons. As shown in the Figure, at a depth of 200m, almost no visible light penetrates resulting in creatures with special adaptations to live in complete darkness.
Problem 10: Which of the properties of a light ray change as it goes from glass to vacuum?
Problem 11: What are the wavelengths of visible light in crown glass?
The Law of Refraction
Figure 1 shows how a ray of light changes direction when it passes from one medium to another. As before, the angles are measured relative to a perpendicular to the surface at the point where the light ray crosses it. (Some of the incident light will be reflected from the surface, but for now we will concentrate on the light that is transmitted.) The change in direction of the light ray depends on how the speed of light changes. The change in the speed of light is related to the indices of refraction of the media involved. In the situations shown in Figure 1, medium 2 has a greater index of refraction than medium 1. This means that the speed of light is less in medium 2 than in medium 1. Note that as shown in Figure 1 (a), the direction of the ray moves closer to the perpendicular when it slows down. Conversely, as shown in Figure 1 (b), the direction of the ray moves away from the perpendicular when it speeds up. The path is exactly reversible. In both cases, you can imagine what happens by thinking about pushing a lawn mower from a footpath onto grass, and vice versa. Going from the footpath to grass, the front wheels are slowed and pulled to the side as shown. This is the same change in direction as for light when it goes from a fast medium to a slow one. When going from the grass to the footpath, the front wheels can move faster and the mower changes direction as shown. This, too, is the same change in direction as for light going from slow to fast.
The amount that a light ray changes its direction depends both on the incident angle and the amount that the speed changes. For a ray at a given incident angle, a large change in speed causes a large change in direction, and thus a large change in angle. The exact mathematical relationship is the law of reflection, or “Snell’s Law,” which is stated in equation form
Here and are the indices of refraction for medium 1 and 2, and and are the angles between the rays and the perpendicular in medium 1 and 2, as shown in Figure 1. The incoming ray is called the and the outgoing ray the , and the associated angles the incident angle and the refracted angle. The law of refraction is also called Snell’s law after the Dutch mathematician Willebrord Snell (1591–1626), who discovered it in 1621. Snell’s experiments showed that the law of refraction was obeyed and that a characteristic index of refraction could be assigned to a given medium. Snell was not aware that the speed of light varied in different media, but through experiments he was able to determine indices of refraction from the way light rays changed direction. Below is a simulation where you can shine light through different materials and see how it bends. I encourage you to play with it to get a feel for refraction. You can even add a protractor and see that the simulation obeys Snell’s Law.
Do this and observe the shape of the pencil when you look at the pencil sideways, that is, through air, glass, water. Explain your observations. Draw ray diagrams for the situation.
Determine the Index of Refraction form Refraction Data
Find the index of refraction for medium 2 in Figure 1 (a), assuming medium 1 is air and given the incident angle is and the angle of refraction is
Strategy
The index of reflection for air is taken to be 1 in most cases (and up to four significant figures, it is 1.00). Thus . Form the given information, and . With this information, the only unknown in Snell’s law is , so it can be used to find this unknown.
Solution
Snell’s law is
Rearranging to isolate gives
Entering known values,
Discussion
This is the index of refraction for water, and Snell could have determined it by measuring the angles and performing this calculation. He would then have found 1.33 to be the appropriate index of refraction for water in all other situations, such as when a ray passes from water to glass. Today we can verify that the index of refraction is related to the speed of light in a medium by measuring that speed directly.
A Larger Change in Direction
Find the index of refraction for medium 2 in Figure 1 (a), assuming medium 1 is air and given the incident angle is and the angle of refraction is
Strategy
Again the index of refraction for air is taken to be and we are given . We can look up the index of refraction for a diamond in Table 1 (Speed of Light in Materials), finding . The only unknown in Snell’s law is , which we wish to determine.
Solution
Solving Snell’s law for yields
Entering known values,
And angle is thus
Discussion
This is the index of refraction for water, and Snell could have determined it by measuring the angles and performing this calculation. He would then have found 1.33 to be the appropriate index of refraction for water in all other situations, such as when a ray passes from water to glass. Today we can verify that the index of refraction is related to the speed of light in a medium by measuring that speed directly.
For the same angle of incidence, the angle of refraction in diamond is significantly smaller than in water ( rather than —see the preceding example). This means there is a larger change in direction in diamond. The cause of a large change in direction is a large change in the index of refraction (or speed). In general, the larger the change in speed, the greater the effect on the direction of the ray.
Section Summary
- Snell’s law, the law of refraction, is stated in equation form as
Problem 12: Suppose you have an unknown clear substance immersed in water, and you wish to identify it by finding its index of refraction. You arrange to have a beam of light enter it at an angle of 48.6∘, and you observe the angle of refraction to be 32.4∘. What is the index of refraction of the substance? Water has an index of refraction equal to 1.333.
Problem 13: A beam of white light goes from air into water at an incident angle of 83.0∘. At what angles are the red 660 nm and violet 410 nm parts of the light refracted? Red light in water has an index of refraction equal to 1.331 and that of violet light is 1.342.
Problem 14: Given that the angle between the ray in the water and the perpendicular to the water is 28.3∘, and using information in the figure above, find the height of the instructor’s head above the water. Water has an index of refraction equal to 1.333.
- A note to more advanced readers - the following derivation of why the wavelength changes and not the frequency is not 100% correct, there are more complex effects at play due to Einstein's Theories of Relativity. However, the essence of the argument depending on energy conservation is correct and so is the result. ↵
A smooth surface that reflects light at specific angles, forming an image of the person or object in front of it
The angle of reflection equals the angle of incidence.
for a material, the ratio of the speed of light in vacuum to that in the material [latex] n = c/v [/latex]. Always greater than 1.
Power per area:
I = P/A
or, using P = E/t,
I = E/(At)
Incoming ray
A ray that has been bent by a refraction, such as in a lens. | 5,231 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | http://openbooks.library.umass.edu/toggerson-132/chapter/introduction-to-geometric-optics/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:53583 | http://openbooks.library.umass.edu/toggerson-132/chapter/introduction-to-geometric-optics/ |
xkz-RUmby9h-O_Nk | Variations in milk / [E.H. Farrington]. | SUMMARY.
The butter fat was the most changeable constituent of the milk. The per cent of solids not fat was quite uniform. Both were higher in the last part of the period of lactation than in the first when the cows were fresh and the maximum quantity of milk was produced. This was especially true of the fat. As the activity of the milk glands gradually declines until the flow of milk ceases, the formation of the fat seems to hold out better than the other constituents of the milk.
Calculations of the total amount of milk and of butter fat were made from one, two, three, and four of the weights and tests of each month. The results so obtained were found to be in many cases 99, and in no case less than 90 per cent of the totals found by the daily weights and tests.
A gradual increase of the grain feed from 12 to 24 Ib. a day per head and the change from stable to pasture feed each increased the yield of milk, but had very little if any effect on its quality.
OBJECT.
The object of this work was to get an exact record of the performance of different cows: To note what influence, if any, the changes in weather, season and feed actually had on these cows; their variation in live weight and in quantity of milk; the chemical composition of the milk in different parts of the period of lactation; how the composition was changed by any accidental or normal occurrence during the every day life of a cow for one year; the relative sensitiveness of different cows to the same cause or influence; to what extent the richness of milk was changed by a very large quantity of concentrated feed ; and whether any or all the variations which might be noticed in the quantity and quality of the milk, applied to each of the cows included in this trial.
CONDITIONS AND METHODS.
The experiment began July 6, 1891, and ended Oct. 14, 1892. Some experience in this line of work was obtained with other cows during the preceding months of May and June.
est 428, days.
An analysis of the weighed milk of each cow was made nearly every day. This included an estimation of the per cent of solids and of butter fat in the daily milk, and of casein and fat in a week's composite sample.
None of the six cows was a superior representative of its breed. They were average animals, such as are the actual producers of the greater part of the country's milk supply.
August
The milking was done between the hours of five and six both night and morning. Each cow was not milked at exactly the same hour and minute every day, but the milking time was subject to such interruptions as are common in farm practice; hence there was observed no uniform difference in amount or richness between the night and morning milk ef the cow whose milk of each milking was tested.
The cows were always tied up in the stable when milked. From May ist to Nov. ist they were either in the yard or pasture both day and night except at milking time. Beginning Nov. ist the cows were stabled and only turned out into the yard a part of each day. This continued through the winter and spring until May ist when pasture feeding began.
each milking.
A mixture of the morning and night milk of each of the other cows was tested every day. This gave a daily test of the milk from each of five cows, and of one cow's milk two tests each day.
obtained from Mr. F. D. Gardner, assistant agriculturist of the Station.
The writer is responsible only for suggesting that an accurate record be kept, and, while the cows were stable-fed in the winter, that the grain should be gradually increased till the cows' daily ration was unusually large. From the figures thus obtained, the inferences in regard to the effect of the grain on the quantity and quality of the milk have been deduced as herein described.
All the samples of milk were brought to the laboratory and tested daily. Nearly all the analyses were made by Mr. Nelson, assistant chemist of the Station. This work amounted to something over 4,550 separate tests and analyses.
All the calculations necessary in making the tabular and other records contained in this bulletin have been made by two computers, in order to insure accuracy in the figures.
fat, total solids, and solids not fat. The latter was calculated by difference.
A composite sample was collected from the milk of each cow. The per cent of casein and of butter fat was determined in each of these composite samples once a week, or after there was accumulated in them a mixture of samples taken from every milking for seven days. No preservative was added to these composite samples ; but powdered lye was used to thin the sour milk when it was tested. This operation was performed as described by the writer in bulletin No. 16, p. 510, of this Station.
TESTS OF THE COMPOSITE SAMPLES DURING THE YEAR. The butter fat tests of the composite samples wrere compared with the average of the tests made of the milk each day during the time the composite samples were collected. This comparison was made with the milk of each cow every week during the entire year. This work gave an opportunity to re-
cord observations on the use of the method in all seasons of the year, and with the milk of different breeds of cows. It also gave experience in the manipulation. We have not found it necessary to change materially the method as originally described. It can be and is successfully used by creameries in paying patrons on the " test plan," and our year's experience has taught us that with a fair amount of care it is practically accurate.
An agreement of the test of the composite sample with the average test was most difficult to obtain with very rich milk. With such milk, the composite sample test was often low. Milk of average composition (3.5 par cent fat) gave almost uniformly close agreement.
method.
[This is connected with the street electric railway of the city and makes a very convenient and useful laboratory power for grinding samples of feed. The speed is sufficiently uniform for testing milk.] During the first few months each sample of milk was tested for butter fat in duplicate ; later on the accuracy of each day's work was tested in the following way : A mixture was made of equal quantities of milk from all the samples tested at one time. A test of this mixed milk was compared with an average of the separate tests of the several samples used in making the mixture. If the two results agreed within one-tenth of one per cent, the work was not repeated. An examination was made of the correctness of the calibrations on each new test bottle used.
The per cent of total solids in each sample of milk was determined by drying in an oven surrounded by boiling water five grams of milk with about 25 grams of clean sea sand.
FEED OF THE Cows DURING THE YEAR.
The cows were at pasture from May ist to Nov. ist. The pasture was mostly blue grass with some timothy and white clover. The severe drought in the summer of 1891 made the feed rather short, and from July 28th to Oct. ist each cow was given 15 Ib. green cornfodder at milking time, or 30 Ib. a day. Oct. ist to 26th corn-fodder, with the largest ears picked out, was thrown into the pasture and 10 Ib. broken corn with 5 Ib. hay was fed at the stable daily. Oct. 26th i Ib. oil meal was added to this ration. Nov. ist the pasture feeding stopped and stable feeding began with a daily feed per head of 20 Ib. broken ear corn, 10 Ib. hay, and 2 Ib. oil meal. Nov. nth began feeding ensilage, gradually increasing the quantity to all that the cows would eat and decreasing the daily feed of broken corn. This was continued with 2 Ib. oil meal and 6 to 10 Ib. hay daily until Dec. 25th. The Shorthorn cows ate the ensilage with a relish; the one Jersey was more dainty at first but gradually developed an appetite for it.
Dec. 25th the cows were divided into two lots. Lot i contained cows No. i, 3, and 5; lot 2 No. 4, 16, and 18. The object of this separation was to increase gradually the grain feed of lot i, and .note the effect on the milk. The feed of lot 2 continued unchanged until the supply of ensilage was exhausted, Jan. i, 1892. Jan. ist to March ist the daily feed per cow was 20 Ib. broken corn (equal to 16 Ib. shelled corn), and 12 Ib. hay. After Feb. i6th No. 16 and 18 were fed oat straw instead of hay. March ist to April Sth the grain feed was changed to 20 Ib. daily of a mixture made of two parts corn and cob meal, i part wheat bran, and i part oil meal. April Sth to i4th this feed was decreased by taking out the bran. April i4th the daily feed was changed to 6 Ib. oil meal and 22 Ib. hay. April 3oth the cows were turned out to a good pasture and no other feed was given. The changes in the daily feed per head of the cows in lot i after Dec. 25th, are given on page 162.
The records of the daily weights and tests of the milk of each cow are not given here; but from them the results shown in the following tables have been calculated. These tables give the live weight of the cow each month. This is an average of the weights made every week. The average weight of milk given per day for every month, and the largest and smallest amount of milk produced on any one day of the month. The daily average per month and extremes in per cent of solids, butter fat, and solids not fat found in the milk; the average of the per cents of casein found in the four composite samples of milk collected every month and the pounds of solids, butter fat, and solids not fat calculated from those weights and analyses.
The summary at the foot of each table shows the total weight of milk, butter fat, and solids not fat produced by each cow during the period of lactation, and the average per day for the whole time. Also the extreme variations observed on any day during the experiment.
the cow was milked during the year, is given at the top of the tables.
Cow No. i — Jersey. — This cow was milked 307. days. She was nearly 4 years old when this record began, and her live weight has varied during this test from 745 to 962 Ib. She gave 5,043 Ib. milk, which contained 254 Ib. butter fat, equal to 305 Ib. of butter.
WEIGHT OF MILK.
The most milk given at any one milking was 14 Ib. ; the least, i Ib. The most milk given on any one day was 25.5 Ib., and the average per day for the whole time was 16.4 Ib.
quantity of milk was considerably smaller or larger than usual; but the total milk of the different months was quite uniform. This cow was milked about 10 months, and during 9 months of this time her average daily milk decreased only from 23 to 13 lb., then in the last month she dried up very fast. This characteristic was not so marked with any of the other cows. She gave more milk at the morning than at the night milking for the first six months. During this time the morning milk was i to 4 lb. more than the night milk. There was no great difference either way in the amount of milk given at the two daily milkings in the last 4 months of her record. The night milk was i to 2 lb. greater during the first week the cow was at pasture; but for the remainder of the time very nearly the same quantity was given at both milkings. When a change in feed was made April i5th from 12 lb. corn and cob meal, 6 lb. oil meal, and 12 lb. hay to 6 lb. oil meal and 22 lb. hay, there was a sudden drop of 4 lb. in the amount of milk given, and this loss of milk continued till May ist when pasture feeding began. Then the milk increased in quantity to about what it had been in the first part of Apri). There was a gradual decrease in the flow of milk from May
cow was dry.
As a rule the weights of the morning milk only varied onefourth to one Ib. from that of the preceding morning. The greatest variation of this kind was three and one-half Ib., which happened only once. This was also true of the night milking. A comparison of the two milkings on any one day shows that while they were generally about the same in quantity, there were times when one would be high and the other low. The greatest difference of this kind was 6 Ib. This occurred in the two milkings of the day the cow was bred.
SOLIDS OF THE MILK.
The average per cent of solids in the 614 samples of milk of this cow for the whole period of lactation was 14.4, the highest 22.4, and the lowest 11.9, a difference of 9.5. The difference between the extreme per cents of solids in the daily milk, however, was 6.4, and between the daily average per month 3, showing that, although the
particular milking, the change is not permanent.
There was only one sample of milk that showed 11.9 per cent solids; and but 9 out of the 614 that went below 13 per cent solids. A selection of the milks containing a high per cent of solids shows that four samples reached 20 per cent solids, but only one was 22 per cent, and that 26 samples were over 17 per cent of solids.
When the cow was fresh and gave the most milk, it contained the minimum amount of solids. The table shows that the milk gradually increased in richness of solids as the period of lactation advanced, until it reached the maximum, when the flow of milk was at its minimum, and the cow drying up. The per cent of solids went as low as 14.9 at one milking during the last week of the lactation period, and up to 19.9 a difference of 5; while in the first week there was a variation of only 2.3. This indicates that the milk of this cow was subject to quite extreme changes in quality, especially when the quantity was small. A comparison of the per cent of solids found in the morning milkings of each month, shows that with the exception of 3 months there was a difference of i.S to 3.8 per cent between the extremes. The greater differences observed in the 3 months were 5.6, 5.8, and 6.4. The variations of 5.6 and 5.8 per cent occurred six days apart, at the time when the heavy grain ration was begun. The difference of 6.4, between the highest and lowest of solids, was observed in the milk of the last month, when the cow was drying up. The night milkings showed similar variations. A study of the variations that occurred in the daily milk, or the sum of the analyses of the morning and night milk divided by two, shows a much smaller difference between extremes. When the heavy grain feeding was begun, there was a difference of 4.1 per cent solids between the extremes of that month, and of 4.6 in the last month of the period of lactation. With the exception of these two months there was a difference of only 1.3 to 3.1 between the highest and lowest daily per cent of solids every month. The variations occurred quite as often above as below the average, making the quality of the milk from one month to another about the same, except that it gradually increased in richness up to the end of the period of lactation. This is illustrated by the figures of the foregoing table and the diagram after page 152.
BUTTER FAT IN THE MILK.
The average per cent of fat in the milk of this cow was 5; the highest 12.3; the lowest 2.9 — a difference of 9.4. As has been stated before, the difference between the highest and lowest per cent of solids in the milk was 9.5, indicating that the fat is naturally the variable quantity in the solid matter of milk. The lowest per cent of fat, 2.9, was found in only one sample of milk, that of the morning of November 28th. Only 5 out of the 614 samples contained
less than 3.5 per cent fat. The samples of milk which contained the most fat were nearly all from the latter part of the period of lactation, only one sample reached 12 per cent fat, four were 10 per cent or over, and 25 were 7 per cent or over.
The table and the diagram show that during the first six months after calving the milk contained between 4 and 5 per cent of butter fat; after that time the average per cent was between 5 and 6. The difference between the highest and lowest per cent of fat in the morning milkings of the different months varied from 1.4 to 3.2, with the exception of two months, when the difference was 7.2 and S.i. These were the same months when the greatest variation in solids was noticed. The night milk showed the same peculiarities, while, excepting these two months, the dailv milk of each month showed a difference of only from .9 to 3 between the extreme per cents of fat observed in any one month. During the last two weeks of the period of lactation, when the cow gave only 2 to 5 Ib. of milk daily, the per cent of fat was all the way from 6 to 9.4 and varied greatly from day to day. There were also several milkings at different times in the period of lactation when the milk contained 7, 9, 10 and 1 1 per cent of fat. At such times the amount of milk was neither very much above or below the average for that time. The per cent of fat in the morning milk was not greater or less than in the night milk for any great number of days. During short periods of 3 to 10 days in the year there would be a difference in the fat contents of the morning milk as compared with the night milk for the same time, but it soon changed and neither one was higher or lower than the other for more than 10 days at a time.
SOLIDS NOT FAT.
These include the casein, milk sugar, and mineral substances of the milk. The average quantity contained in the milk of this cow was 9.4 per cent. The lowest per cent found in any sample of milk during the year was 7.6; the highest, 1 1.7 — a difference of 4.1. Only 3 samples of this cow's milk went below 8 per cent of solids not fat and 24 above 10.5 per cent. The diagram and the figures in the table show that this constituent of the milk did not make such extreme variations as were observed in the butter fat. The per cent of solids not fat in the milk was very uniform throughout the whole period of lactation. It varied from 9 to 9.5 in the first three months, gradually rising to 9.5 to 10 during the next six months and was 10 to 10.5 the last month of the milking period. The per cent of solids not fat was generally .2 to .5 higher in the morning than in the night milk, except during the last two months of the period of lactation when there was no uniform difference either way.
Excepting a few times when analyses were lost, the milk of this cow was tested 307 days. As there were two milkings each day this made 614 samples. The average of all tests showed the milk to have
the following composition: solids, 14.4; fat, 5; solids not fat, 9.4 per cent. The highest and lowest percentages found in these samples were, solids, 11.9 to 22.4; fat, 2.9 to 12.3; solids not fat, 7.6 to 11.7.
The following table has been constructed from the record of all these samples to show that the extreme per cents were exceptional and that most of the milk was of a uniform quality. The table shows how many of the 614 samples of this one cow's milk were above 15 per cent and below 13.5 per cent solids; above 5.5 and below 4 per cent fat; above 10 and below 9 per cent solids not fat.
f 307 is taken for the whole number of samples in calculating this percentage.
A study of this table shows that the quality of the morning and night milk varied about the same. From one-fourth to onethird of all the samples contained over 15 per cent solids, but most of these were between 15 and 17; only very few went over 17 per cent, while 4 to 7 per cent of the whole number of samples went under 13.5 per cent, and a still less number under 13 per cent solids.
About one-fourth of all the samples had over 5.5, a very few were above 7, and only four had 10 to 12 per cent fat. There were only four samples below 3.5 per cent, and 17 out of the 614, between 3.5 to 4 per cent fat.
VARIATIONS IX MILK.
Cow No. 3 — Shorthorn. — The weighing and testing of this cow's milk was made every day for fourteen months. This unusually long period of lactation was due to her failure to get with calf. It makes her record all the more useful, as evidence of what the quality of milk is under these conditions, which occur more or less frequently among cows. She was four years old, and her live weight varied from 888 to 1,160 Ib.
The milk of this cow was weighed every milking, but the analyses were made on one daily sample, which was a mixture of equal parts of the morning and night milk. The total quantity of milk produced was 6,193 Ib. This contained 228 Ib. fat, equal to 274 Ib. butter. The most milk given on any day was 26.5 Ib. in July, the first Cow No. 3, SHORTHORN. — THE DAILY AVERAGE AND EXTREMES OBSERVED
month after calving. The preceding table shows that the milk decreased in quantity but little in August, the second month of the lactation period, but gradually diminished in the third and fourth months, till the fifth month, November, when she gave only about 12 pounds of milk daily. The quantity increased during the winter months of stable feeding, on a liberal grain ration, and it was not till the next July that the milk flow was so small as it had been in November. In August and September, the thirteenth and fourteenth months, the flow of milk diminished till the cow " went dry."
The average amount of milk given per day, for the whole period of lactation, was 14.4 lb., and for nine months of this time the daily average per month varied very little from this figure; for one month it was 2.5 lb. more, and another month 1.7 lb. less.
gave only four pounds.
No great variation was observed in the weight of milk produced from day to day in any month. There was a difference of 7 and 10 lb. between the highest and lowest daily milk of two months; but in the other twelve months this difference between extremes was from 3.5 to 6 lb. The daily milk was increased 6 lb. by a heavy grain ration in winter, and again by change from stable feeding to pasture.
The average per cent of solids in the 428 samples of this cow's milk was 12.8; highest, 17.8; lowest, 10.8 — a difference of 7. The table shows that between the daily averages per month there was only a difference of 1.8 per cent of solids. There was only one sample that had 17.8 per cent of solids, and two that went as low as 10.8 per cent. Thirty-four samples were below 12 per cent (11.9 to 11.4); 28, above 14 per cent; but of these latter only 7 went above 15 per cent. There was a slight increase in the amount of solids in the milk from the first to the last part of the milking period; but the table shows that the per cent of solids was quite uniform through all the changes of feed and season in the 14 months of the trial.
The average per cent was 3.7 in the milk of this cow; highest, 7.9; lowest, 2.5 per cent — a difference of 5.4. Only one sample went as low as 2.5 per cent, and 17 samples gave less than 3 per cent (2.7 to 2.9). One sample only reached 7.9 per cent; three, 6 to 7 per cent; sixteen, 5 to 6 per cent, and seventeen 4.5 to 5 per cent — making out of a total of 428 samples of milk from this cow 56 that were outside the limits of 3 to 4.5 per cent fat. As a rule the minimum per cent of fat was found in the milk when the cow WAS fresh, and gave the largest quantity, and the maximum per cent
of fat was during the last part of the milking period. The table shows, however, that there were days in the last month of the period of lactation when the milk contained only 2.9 per cent fat.
The average per cent was 9.2; highest, 11.3; lowest, 7.2 per cent. With the exception of these two extremes, no sample went below 8 per cent, or above 10.5 per cent. There were only 10 other samples below 8.5 per cent, and seven above 10 per cent, making -410 out of the 428 samples that contained between 8.5 and 10 per cent of solids not fat. This illustrates what was also found true with cow No. i, that the per cent of solids not fat is very uniform, and that the fat is the variable quantity in the milk solids.
The milk of this cow was quite uniform in quality throughout the whole milking period, and the sudden changes frequently observed in the milk of cow No. I did not occur.
and quality of their milk; but quite different from the other four cows. They each gave something over 3,000 Ib. of milk, and it contained, No. 16, 146 Ib., and No. 18, 115 Ib., butter fat. Previously to this year they had been used for raising calves, and consequently had been milked very little. This undoubtedly accounts for this poor record. The tables show that there was a great variation in the daily weight of milk given each month. This was particularly true when the cows were fresh in milk. During the first month after calving No. 1 6 varied from 25 to 10.5 Ib., and No. 18 from 37.5 to 19 Ib. milk per day. There were very unexcusable deviations in the milk all through the period of lactation. This was probably caused by their lack of training as milch cows. They often refused to give down their milk. The analyses show that their milk was of average quality. The per cents of solids and of fats varied more than in
much richer.
The per cent of solids not fat in the milk of these cows, as in that of the others, was the most constant constituent of the milk, and the per cent of fat was the most variable.
Unlike the other cows' milk, that of these two did not increase in richness very much in the last part of the period of lactation. The erratic nature of these cows is illustrated by comparing the extremes observed in the first and last month of their milking period. Cows No. 1 6 AND No. 18. — EXTREMES IN MILK PRODUCT OF FIRST AND LAST MONTHS.
The uncommon features illustrated in this table are several: First, that there should be such a variation in the daily weight and composition of milk in the first month of the milking period; second, that the per cent of fat should be so high in the first month when the average of the cow's milk was 3.5; third, that the quality of the milk in the two months should be so nearly the same; and fourth, that milk of such a low per cent of solids and fat should be produced in the last month of the period of lactation.
Cow No. 16 had been giving from 16 to 18 Ib. milk daily, and the sudden change to 6.5 and 8 Ib. Oct. loth and nth, and then a return to her usual quantity without much change in the quality of the milk is a variation that the other cows did not show, except No. 18 which made nearly an equal variation in September. A sudden change from 10.5 to 22 Ib. milk was recorded on Sept. i8th and I9th ; the quality of the milk changed also from 1 1.9 to 14.8 per cent solids and from 3 to 6.4 per cent fat. Afterward the amount and richness of the milk was about what it had been before this break and continued quite uniform.
When the cows were first turned out to pasture they were not fed grain at milking time, as had been the custom previously. The feed in the pasture was ample, and, with the exception of these two cows, the flow of milk suddenly increased in quantity. The lower part of the table shows how these two cows were affected by the change to pasture and absence of grain when milked. They gave less milk of poorer quality than before and continued to do so for a week with the exception of one day, May 6th, when both amount and richness, especially the latter, were very high. May 9th, 3 Ib. bran was fed at milking time. This was continued and the milk returned to its usual record before pasture feeding began.
The complete record of the milk given by cow No. 16 during the whole period of lactation shows that the average composition of the 332 samples was solids, 13.3 per cent; fat, 3.9 per cent; solids not fat, 9.4 per cent. The per cent of solids was less than 12 in 12 samples, and only one went as low as n per cent. It was more than 14.5 in 20 samples and only once as high as 16 and 19.4 per cent. The per cent of fat was less than 3 in 12 samples and was less than 2.4 only twice. Eleven samples were over 5 and only one (9.2) was above 6 per cent fat. The per cent of solids not fat did not go below 8.5. It was above 10 per cent in 18 samples.
The average composition of the 342 samples of milk from cow No. 1 8 was solids 13.1; fat, 3.7; solids not fat, 9.4. Eleven samples went under 12 per cent, the lowest one was 10.2 per cent. 22 samples were over 14.5 per cent solids and only one (17.8) above 16.5 per cent. One sample contained 2 per cent fat, and 25 were between 2 and 3 per cent. One sample was above 6.4 per cent and 16 between 5 and 6.4 per cent. Eight samples contained less than 8.5 per cent, and 12 went over 10 per cent solids not fat.
Cows No. 4 and 5 Holstein. Each 9 years old March, 1892. The record of these two cows shows them to be producers of more but thinner milk than the other cows. No. 4 was a large cow and varied in weight from 1258 to 1457 Ib. in the 278 days of her milking period. No. 5 varied less in live weight during her period of lactation than did any other cow, 1005 to 1094 Ib. The record shows that the quantity of milk given by both cows did not decrease very much until the last two months. The most milk given on any one day by No. 4 was 37 Ib.; No.
5, 34 lb. The daily average for the year was for No. 4, 2 1.7; No. 5, 22 lb. This is a larger quantity per day than any of the other cows gave. There were no sudden changes in the weights of the daily milk of No. 5, but No. 4 often varied 6 to 10 lb. from what she gave the day previous. This happened during pasture feeding but not before. The average per cent of solids in the milk of No. 4 was 1 1.9 and of fat, 3.3. This is lower than the standard for unadulterated milk which some state laws require. The table shows for the same cow that the per cent of both solids and fat increased in the last part of the period of lactation and in the last two months was over 12 per cent solids and 3.5 per cent fat. During the whole milking period of 278 days the per cent of solids went over 13 per cent on 29 days, but was over 14.7 only 3 days. It was n to 10 per cent 16 days and less than 10 only one day. The per cent fat went above 4.5 on 25 days, but was over 6 per cent only once. It was less than 3 per cent on 72 days but under 2 per cent only 4 days.
261 .87
The following table illustrates several of ihe sudden changes that occurred in the milk of this cow, both in amount and richness. Cow No 4. SOME VARIATIONS IN MILK PRODUCT.
This table shows four or more distinct kinds of variations. The records of May 9th and loth illustrate the course the milk had been taking for some time. May nth there was an increase of 10 Ib. in the milk and a considerable increase in its quality; May 12th both decreased; May I3th the pounds of milk descended, the quality ascended; May i4th the reverse was true; from June ist to 4th there was a rising and falling in the quantity of milk of over 14 Ib., but the quality remained nearly unchanged; June 3Oth the milk tested 6.6 per cent fat and the day before was 2.8 per cent, with a change of only 4 Ib. in the quantity. These and the other groups of tests given in the above table show that with this cow there was no uniform relation between quantity and quality. A change in one was sometimes accompanied by similar variation in the other; and there were times when these deviations did not coincide. At other times one changed very noticeably and the other did not. The uniformity in the per cent of solids not fat, amidst all these changes, is very noticeable.
The record of cow No. 5 shows no such sudden changes as the above. The daily weights of milk varied only 3 Ib. and the per cent of solids and fat were very uniform until the last month of the period of lactation, when there was an increase in quality.
The per cent of solids found during the 322 days was between 12 and 14, except on 17 days when it went above 14, but only twice above 15.6; and on 27 days, below 12 per cent solids, but never below n per cent. The average per cent of fat was 3.7, it ran up to 8 on one day only, and was above 4.5 per cent on 19 days; 2.2 per cent was the minimum which it reached once, and only 10 times in the year was it below 3 per cent. The per cent of solids not fat went above 9.5 on 14 days and below 8.5 on 28 days, although it was 8.4 on 13 of these 28 days.
The table on page 146 gives the number of samples of milk out of the total number tested for cow No. i that went above and below certain percentages of solids, fat, and solids not fat. The following table shows the same for the other 5 cows, except that the standards are lower.
It also shows that by far the greater number of samples containing over 14 per cent solids were between 14 and 14.5 per cent. Those under 12 per cent solids were mostly between 12 and 11.5 per cent. A very large proportion of those over 4.5 were between 4.5 and 5 per cent fat, and those under 3 were nearly all included between 3 and 2.5. The per cent solids not fat went a few times over 10 per cent, but hardly ever under^S per cent.
TOTAL PRODUCTION OF THE Cows.
The following table shows the difference between the cows in total production and daily average during the year. The figures for milk, milk solids, and fat are found from the daily- weights and analyses. The butter equivalent of the butter fat is found by multiplying the pounds of fat by 1.2, as recommended by Fleischman. {Landw. Jahr.^ Band XX.) The butter found by the use of this factor (1.2) contains 83.33 per cent fat. Such a calculation does not take into account the butter fat lost in creaming and churning the milk. Fleischman suggests that this loss is about 6 per cent of the total product.
lactation was given by No. j, the poorest by No. 4. The richest but not the most milk was given in this lot by the smallest and youngest cow. The most and nearly the thinnest, by one of the largest and oldest cows. These differences in size and in quantity and quality of the milk are characteristics of the two breeds to which these two cows belong; hence in this experiment it cannot be justly said that a small or young cow produces a small amount of rich milk, or that a large quantity of thin milk is a characteristic of an old or large cow. There may, however, be some relation between the age or size of the cow and the amount and richness of the milk she produces, dependent somewhat on the food she eats and assimilates. ,
The table also shows that one cow was milked only 278 days, and another 428 days; one weighed 859, and another 1361 Ib. Calculating the record of each cow for a uniform length of time and live weight, as 300 days and 1,000 Ib., gives the following results:
The total amount of milk and batter produced per 1,000 Ib. live weight is calculated by multiplying the yearly product by i,oooand then dividing by the average live weight of the cow. This result divided by the number of days which the cow was milked gives the figures per day, and multiplying these by 300 shows the performance of each cow for the same live weight and length of milking period. When these cows are compared on this basis the figures for weight of milk produced, place them in the following order: No. 5 first, No. i second, No. 4 third, and then No. 3, 16, and 18. Comparing them as butter producers per 1,000 Ib. live weight and 300 days milking period puts No. i in the front rank, No. 5 second, and the others in the following order: No. 4, No. 3, No. 16, and No. 18.
The difference in value to the owner of two cows like No. i and No. 18, whose feed was the same, which were milked the same length of time, and were of uniform weight, but produced 345 and 102 Ib. butter respectively, teaches a lesson in profit and loss and shows what contrasts can be often found, probably, when cows' records are investigated by weights and tests.
The maximum and minimum figures for the year illustrate a possible error which might be made if it should so happen that an opinion of a cow's milk capacity was formed from one test only, if this test had
February
been made on the day when either one of the extreme results had been observed. The highest and lowest per cent of solids, fat, and solids not fat on any day during the whole period of lactation are as follows:
weights and tests.
These records furnish the data for calculating the total production of each cow from weights and tests made only one, two, three, or four times each month and for comparing the yearly amount thus obtained with that found from the daily weights and tests.
The accuracy of such a computation depends a great deal on the cow. If the flow of milk decreases gradually from the time the cow is fresh until she is dry, and there are no sudden fluctuations in the quality from day to day, her total production for the whole period of lactation can be quite accurately calculated from comparatively few weights and tests. A cow that does not give milk of uniform quantity or quality, but varies more or less from day to fjay, requires a greater number of weights and tests of her milk to make such a calculated product agree with that found from daily weights and tests.
The records of the six cows used in this experiment show quite a difference in milk production. They differ not only in the total production but in the relative amount of the total which is produced in the different parts of the milking period. Some gave the most milk when they were fresh, but others reached their maximum a few months after calving. This increase in quantity of milk was caused by the feed. A cow calving in January gave more milk the following May on pasture feed. This may not be true of all cow*, but it was observed with one of these. These changes in the periods of lactation, and the daily variations peculiar to each cow explain the variety of deviations from the total production found when the total production of these cows was calculated from the same number of weights and tests.
The method used for calculating the total production was as follows: Multiply the average per day of all the test days by the total number of days each cow was milked. If a cow was milked 300 days and the milk weighed and tested once every 30 days, there were 10 test
days. The average weight of milk and butter fat found per day from these 10 test days multiplied by 300 gave the calculated total product. If the milk was weighed and tested once in 15, 10 or 7 days there were 20, 30, or 43 test days, from which the daily average was obtained and multiplied by 300 in each case.
tests made once in 15, 10, and 7 days.
The results of an application of this method of calculation to the records of each cow, are given in the following tables. They show how near to the sum of all the daily weights and tests computed weights and tests can be obtained by making weights and tests once in 30, 15, 10 or 7 days, and what percentage of the whole the computed weights represent.
Once in 30 days
A summary of these results, given in the last table, shows what percentages of total production were found when one to four weights and tests per month were made of the milk of these cows.
milk produced by all these cows, weighing the milk once in seven days, gave nearest to the total amount found by daily weighings. This was not true of every cow, as the table shows that with two cows weighing the milk once in 10 days gave a total nearer that found by the daily weighings. The records of all the cows show that the difference between the extreme percentages of the whole amount was least by weekly weighings, and greatest when the milk was weighed once in 30 days.
Difference 3.4 6.6 7.6 11.2
The table also, illustrates the variety of results that are obtained by applying this method of calculation to different cows. No. 16 and 18 were very irregular in the quantity of milk given from day to day. Weighing their milk weekly gave only 96 to 97 per cent of the total found by daily weighings, while so small a percentage of the whole was only found with the other cows when their milk was weighed once in 30 days.
The results from these six cows show that calculations of the total weight of milk produced in one period of lactation gave from 96.1 to 99.5, average 98, per cent of the total quantity, when the milk was weighed on one day of each week; 101 to 91.4, average 98, per cent, when weighed once in 10 days; 101 to 93.4, average 97.6, per cent, when weighed once in 15 days; and 102 to 90.3, average 96.4, per cent, when weighed once in 30 days.
The average of all the results shows that weighing and testing the milk every seventh day gave with these six cows 98 per cent of the total milk, and 98 per cent of the total butter fat; 98 per cent of the milk, and 99.4 per cent of the butter fat, when weighed and tested every tenth day; 97.6 per cent of the milk and 98.5 per cent of the butter fat, when weighed and tested every fifteenth day; 96.4 per cent of the milk and 97 per cent of the butter fat, when weighed and tested every thirtieth day.
BULLETIN NO. 24.
rich feed makes rich milk, and -second, that the milk may be increased in quantity but not in quality. These statements are supposed to apply to the milk of one cow during one period of lactation. It is obvious that a certain amount of food is necessary to keep a cow in such condition that she neither gains nor loses weight. This maintenance ration is a variable quantity differing with cows of various sizes. It is greater for a cow weighing 1200 Ib. than for an Soo-pound cow. The disposal that is made of any excess of food over maintenance probably depends on the natural capacity of the cow. One may convert the excess into live weight; another will show an increase in milk; and it is probable that others gain neither in weight nor milk, the excess of feed passing them unassimilated.
Without further discussing the question or expressing an opinion, the following evidence in the shape of weights and analyses of feed and milk has been obtained from the daily records of three cows, No. i, 3, and 5. The history of the cows and of their care and feed up to Dec. 25th has already been given on p. 140. The changes in the daily feed per head of these cows after Dec. 25th are shown in the following table:
The cows had access to a straw stack when in the yard during the winter; but as this was only a short time each day, and as their grain ration was heavy, there probably was little straw eaten by these cows after the first feeding period.
This course of feeding was tried for the purpose of increasing the richness of the milk if such a thing were possible. The table shows that the total grain feed per day and head was gradually increased from 12 to 24 Ib. and the latter quantity, which was a high feed for these cows, was continued for two months. The change from a grain feed of 24 Ib. to pasture feed and no grain was made gradually, as the table shows.
A chemical analysis was made of these feeding stuffs and, by the use of the digestion coefficients published by Professor Jordan, a calculation shows that 100 Ib. of each feed contains pounds of digestible nutrients as follows:
An exact record of the weight of feed each cow had before Dec. 25th the writer was not able to obtain, as the ensilage or straw was not weighed; but assuming that the cows each ate 20 Ib. of ensilage daily with 10 Ib. of hay and 2 Ib. of oil meal, the digestible nutrients consumed per day and head are given in the following table. Each period includes the time a ration was fed without change.
The live weight of cows No. 3 and 5 was between 1,000 and 1,100. No. 5 did not gain much during this course of feeding. No. 3 increased in weight from 912 Ib. to 1097 Ib. No. i, from 800 Ib. to 900 Ib.
The figures of the table (page 164) show the digestible nutrients for very nearly i,coo Ib. live weight with No. 3 and 5, but fur cow No. i they would be somewhat larger as her average weight was about 850 Ib.
sition during each feeding period.
The feeding stuffs that are consumed by cows contain some water, which is sufficient in many to make them juicy, while in others it is only perceptible by the loss in weight that occurs when they are heated at such a temperature that none of the vegetable matter is volatilized. The dry matter is the water free substance of the feed. A certain part of the dry matter is digestible. The rest passes the animal undigested. Both may contain the same constituents but the digestible portion is of greater interest to feeders.
A chemical analysis of a feeding stuff shows approximately the different groups of substances contained therein. Protein is the name given to that group which contains nitrogen in addition to the carbon, hydrogen and oxygen. This nitrogenous part is the " hearty " portion of the feed, the " flesh former," that group which beans contain in a large quantity and is nearly lacking in rice; or among cattle foods a large amount of protein is found in cotton seed meal and very little in wheat straw. The carbohydrates include the starch, sugars, and cellulose, and with the fats make what is often called the " heat forming " part of the feed. The nutritive ratio shows how many times the u heat formers" are greater than the "flesh forming" part of the feed; or the proportion of protein to the sum of the carbohydrates and fats. The method of calculating the potential energy and nutritive ratio is given by the writer in bulletin No. 9, p. 319, of this Station. The organic matter represents the sum of the protein, carbohydrates and fats. The standard feed given in the table represents what is called a sufficient and
well balanced ration for a milch cow--the nutrients consumed per day and per 1,000 Ib. live weight.
Table on this page shows
that during period i the feed of these cows was considerably below the standard, in everything except fats. Period i the protein was low. Period 3 the feed was
imum feed was reached in period 5, which was 51 days long. During this time the feed eaten by each cow daily was about 8 Ib., or 33 per cent, above the standard in dry matter ; i Ib., or 40 per cent, above in protein, and .79 Ib., or 158 per cent, above in fats. No bad effect was noticed from the 6 Ib. of oil meal fed daily in this, or the following two periods, when the feed was gradually decreased until period 7. The 6 Ib. oil meal and 22 Ib. hay fed in period 7 reduced the ration to very near the standard, except that it was a little low in carbohydrates.
per day for No. i ; 5 Ib. for No. 3; and 6 Ib. for No. 5. The average per cent of solids was greater in period 2 than in i in the milk of No. i and 3, and but very little different in that of No. 5. The per cent of fat increased in the milk of No. i and 5, but decreased in that of No. 3 during period 2. After this time no great change in quantity or quality is noticeable in the milk of any of the cows until period 7. There was a slight decrease in the daily pounds of milk during the in days, between Dec. 25th and April i4th. This represents about one-third of the period of lactation, and it is probable that there would have been a much greater decrease if the feed had been less. The table shows that the quality of the milk did not increase by this long period of feeding which kept the quantity from decreasing, as it would naturally have done, with the progress of the lactation period. There is very little difference in the per cent of solids and of fat in the milk of the second and sixth periods, although during the intervening periods a ration very rich, in both protein and fat, had been fed for 93 days.
The record of each cow shows the same changes in the milk in periods 7 and 8. The nutrients in the daily feed were reduced nearly to the standard in period 7. The daily milk yield of the different cows decreased from 3 to 7 Ib.; but the richness of the milk increased in every case. This amounted to about one per cent gain in both solids and fat in the milk of No. i, and .5 per cent to one per cent in that of No. 3 and 5. The difference in feed was a substitution of 10 Ib. hay for 12 Ib. corn and cob meal. This made a reduction of 1.5 Ib. dry matter, .5 Ib. protein, and .21 Ib. fats in the daily ration per head, and a difference in the coarseness of the feed represented by a change from 18 Ib. grain, with 12 Ib. hay to 6 Ib. grain, with 22 Ib. hay. This ration was fed only 16 days, and the indications are that if continued the cows would have soon gone dry in milk. When pasture feeding began there was an increase in the yield of milk from each cow. The quality of the milk decreased from what it had been during the 16 days of period 7, which immediately preceded; but the per cent of solids and of fat in the milk was about the same in the month of May on pasture feed, as it had been during the winter, when the cows were stable fed on a grain ration.
The table gives the average per cent of solids and fat in the milk produced during each of the periods, which were from 6 to 51 days in length. Such an average does not show the extremes that may occur in the amount and richness of the daily milk. The inequalities of quantity and quality from day to day are covered up by taking the mean production for a number of days. Twice in the period of lactation of these cows quite a sudden change was made in the flow of milk: first when the grain feed was increased during the winter stable feed-
spring.
The four following diagrams on pp. 167-170 show these changes as they occurred in the weight and composition of the milk from day to day. The first two and the fourth plates give the daily record of cows No. i, 3, and 5 for a few days before and about 30 days after the grain ration was increased as indicated in the table. The third plate gives the record of cow No. 3 for a short time before and after pasture feeding began. Each diagram shows the record of one cow for 40 days, which are designated by a date every fifth day at the top of the diagram. The cows were weighed once a week and the live weight and date of weighing are indicated by the point where the dotted and solid part of the 44 weight of cow" line changes. The heaviest broken line on all the plates indicates pounds of milk, and this is numbered on the left hand margin of the record of cow No. i, but by figures enclosed by a circle on the other plates.-
The diagram for cow No. i shows the per cent of solids between the 13 and 14 per cent lines, per cent of fat between the 4 and 5 per cent lines, per cent of solids not fat between the 9 and 10 per cent lines, pounds of solids between the 2 and 3 pound lines, pounds of fat between the o and i pound lines, and pounds of solids not fat between the i and 2 pound lines. These percentages and pounds are indicated in the other three plates by the brackets and figures on the two sides of each diagram.
The grain ration was increased Dec. 25th and the change from stable to pasture made April 3oth, All the records show that the increase of feed was accompanied by a considerable increase in the pounds of milk produced and consequently in the pounds of solids, fat, and solids not fat in the milk; but with the exception of one or two days, there were no greater changes in the percentages of fat in the milk after the increase of feed than before it was made. There was, however, a slight increase in the per cent of solids not fat in the milk of all the cows during the latter part of January, when the increased grain ration had been fed about a month.
All the striking changes in the composition of the milk produced on any one day are shown by the diagrams to be due to the per cent of fat. This is illustrated by the record of cow No. i on Dec. 28th, Jan. 5th and i5th; of No. 5 on Dec. i9th, Jan. ist and i5th; of No. 3 on Jan. loth, 23d, April i9th, May 7th, 9th, and 17111 to 2Oth.
The increase in the daily weight of milk was greatest with cow No. 5. The diagram shows that she gave 22^ Ib. milk Dec. 23d, the quantity increased to 32 Ib by Jan. ist, a gain of nearly 10 Ib. per day in a little more than a week.
No. i gave 8 Ib. more milk Jan. 4th than Dec. 25th. No. 3 increased from n Ib. Dec. 25th to 175^ Jan. 9th, and when she went from stable to pasture feed she gained in four days nearly 6 Ib. milk
per day. The diagrams show that these changes in feed stimulated the milk production of the cows so that they each gave from 6 to 10 Ib. more milk per day than they had been producing; but the quality of the milk was changed very little. The tables giving the record of each cow for the whole milking period also show that the milk was of the same uniform quality peculiar to the cow in every month, except the last ones when the cows were drying up. The average per cents of solids and of fat in the milk produced each month of the lactation periods do not show so great variations as were observed in some of the different feeding periods, which were considerably less than a month in length.
for a short time.
When the pasture is abundant the amount of feed eaten is regulated by the cow, and her milk product is probably then controlled by her natural capacity. If the quality of the milk is not changed by different amounts of grain feed from what it is on full pasture feed, it seems safe to assume from this evidence that the per cent of solids and fat in a cow's milk are not greatly influenced in one period of lactation by an increase of feed. The complete records of all these cows show some peculiarities in the milk production that are characteristic of each one and others that are common to all.
There were a few days during the milking periods when the milk was very much richer or thinner than ordinarily, but it soon returned to the quality peculiar to the cow. An inspection of the daily weights and tests made during the whole period of lactation of each of the cows shows that four different combinations of quantity and quality can be found in the milk of some of the cows; more and richer, more and thinner, less and richer, and less and thinner milk than was produced oh the day before. Such changes were rare but they show that it is entirely inadmissible to assert that what one cow has done in this way another always can or will do.
BOARD OF TRUSTEES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS.
SAMUEL A. BOLLARD, Springfield, President. JOHN P. ALTGELD, Springfield, Governor of Illinois. DAVID GORE, Springfield, President State Board of Agriculture. HENRY RAAB, Springfield, Superintendent of Public Instruction. EMORY COBB, Kankakee. GEORGE R. SHAWHAN, Urbana.
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YzOn7pIVDjxUSWBm | 4.2: Financial Planning Resources | 4.2: Financial Planning Resources
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Introduction
The cost of college is something you definitely have to plan for. You might already have a good understanding of your individual income and expenses, and that is a great first step. Given this information, you can make adjustments accordingly.
During this lesson, you will learn more about the resources available to help you create your own financial plan. Good financial planning means understanding how to find information to protect your income, manage your expenses, and know the available resources to deal with unexpected challenges.
Financial Planning Resources
As you are identifying your financial goals and priorities, it is important to consider the resources available to you to help you come up with a realistic financial plan. You might consider the following resources as you are planning:
Savings. The Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC) backs individual saving accounts. The National Credit Union Administration (NCUA) offers similar protection for credit union members. If these programs protect your savings, then every penny you deposit is safe. Check your statements or ask your bank or credit union to find out if your savings is protected by the FDIC or NCUA.
Current job. The threat of layoffs increases during a recession. However, companies hesitate to shed their star employees—those who do stellar work. If you’re working right now, then think about ways to become indispensable. Gain skills and experience that will make you more valuable to your employer.
Next job. Create a career plan that describes the next job you want, the skills that you’ll develop to get it, and the next steps you’ll take to gain those skills. Stay informed about the latest developments in your field. Find people who are already working in this area, and contact them for information interviews.
Unemployment benefits. Unemployment benefits have limits and may not replace your lost wages. However, they can cushion the blow of losing a job while you put other strategies in place. You may want to research more about the benefits offered in your state.
Health insurance. A sudden illness or lengthy hospital stay can drain your savings. Health insurance can pick up all or most of the costs instead. If possible, get health insurance through your school or employer. Another option is private health insurance. This can be cheaper than extending an employer’s policy if you lose your job.
Financial advice. Avoid debt consolidators that offer schemes to wipe out your debt. What they don’t tell you is that their fees are high and that using them can lower your credit rating. Turn instead to organizations such as the National Foundation for Credit Counseling to find an accredited credit counselor. Work with someone who is open about fees and willing to work with all your creditors.
Credit report. A credit report is a record of your payment history and other credit-related items. You are entitled to get a free copy each year. You can request a copy of your credit report online.
Student Loans
It is also important to understand the various options you have regarding student loans. Determining how you will pay for school is an important part of financial planning.
Find financial aid. Millions of dollars are waiting for people who take part in higher education. The funds flow to students who know how to find them. There are many ways to pay for school. The kind of help you get depends on your financial need. In general, financial need equals how much your schooling costs minus what you can reasonably be expected to pay. A financial aid package includes three major types of assistance:
- Money you do not pay back (grants and scholarships)
- Money you do pay back (loans)
- Work-study programs
Go to your school’s financial aid office and ask whether you can get a Stafford loan. These are fixed-rate, low-interest loans from the federal government. If you qualify for a subsidized Stafford loan, the government pays the interest due while you’re in school. Unsubsidized Stafford loan does not offer this benefit, but it is still one of the cheapest student loans you can get. Remember that anyone can apply for a Stafford loan.
Many students who get financial aid receive a package that includes all of the three types of assistance.
To find out more, visit your school’s financial aid office or research student financial aid online.
Choose schools with costs in mind. If you decide to transfer to another school, you can save thousands of dollars the moment you sign your application for admission. In addition to choosing schools on the basis of reputation, consider how much they cost and the financial aid packages they offer.
Repay your loans. If you take out student loans, find out exactly when the first payment is due on each of them. Don’t assume that you can wait to start repayment until you find a job.
Consolidate your loans. Ask your financial aid office whether you can consolidate your loans— lump them all together and make just one payment every month. This can make it easier to stay on top of your payments and protect your credit score. | 1,121 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://socialsci.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Counseling_and_Guidance/OpenNow_College_Success_(Cengage)/04%3A_Understanding_Financial_Management/4.02%3A_Financial_Planning_Resources | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:28188 | https://socialsci.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Counseling_and_Guidance/OpenNow_College_Success_(Cengage)/04%3A_Understanding_Financial_Management/4.02%3A_Financial_Planning_Resources |
sQ1sK76UGg-bsfMD | Astronomy | 137 Exercises: Analyzing Starlight
Collaborative Group Activities
- “Annie Cannon: Classifier of the Stars” in The Spectra of Stars (and Brown Dwarfs) discusses some of the difficulties women who wanted to do astronomy faced in the first half of the twentieth century. What does your group think about the situation for women today? Do men and women have an equal chance to become scientists? Discuss with your group whether, in your experience, boys and girls were equally encouraged to do science and math where you went to school.
- In the section on magnitudes in The Brightness of Stars, we discussed how this old system of classifying how bright different stars appear to the eye first developed. Your authors complained about the fact that this old system still has to be taught to every generation of new students. Can your group think of any other traditional systems of doing things in science and measurement where tradition rules even though common sense says a better system could certainly be found. Explain. (Hint: Try Daylight Savings Time, or metric versus English units.)
- Suppose you could observe a star that has only one spectral line. Could you tell what element that spectral line comes from? Make a list of reasons with your group about why you answered yes or no.
- A wealthy alumnus of your college decides to give $50 million to the astronomy department to build a world-class observatory for learning more about the characteristics of stars. Have your group discuss what kind of equipment they would put in the observatory. Where should this observatory be located? Justify your answers. (You may want to refer back to the Astronomical Instruments chapter and to revisit this question as you learn more about the stars and equipment for observing them in future chapters.)
- For some astronomers, introducing a new spectral type for the stars (like the types L, T, and Y discussed in the text) is similar to introducing a new area code for telephone calls. No one likes to disrupt the old system, but sometimes it is simply necessary. Have your group make a list of steps an astronomer would have to go through to persuade colleagues that a new spectral class is needed.
Review Questions
- What two factors determine how bright a star appears to be in the sky?
- Explain why color is a measure of a star’s temperature.
- What is the main reason that the spectra of all stars are not identical? Explain.
- What elements are stars mostly made of? How do we know this?
- What did Annie Cannon contribute to the understanding of stellar spectra?
- Name five characteristics of a star that can be determined by measuring its spectrum. Explain how you would use a spectrum to determine these characteristics.
- How do objects of spectral types L, T, and Y differ from those of the other spectral types?
- Do stars that look brighter in the sky have larger or smaller magnitudes than fainter stars?
- The star Antares has an apparent magnitude of 1.0, whereas the star Procyon has an apparent magnitude of 0.4. Which star appears brighter in the sky?
- Based on their colors, which of the following stars is hottest? Which is coolest? Archenar (blue), Betelgeuse (red), Capella (yellow).
- Order the seven basic spectral types from hottest to coldest.
- What is the defining difference between a brown dwarf and a true star?
Thought Questions
- If the star Sirius emits 23 times more energy than the Sun, why does the Sun appear brighter in the sky?
- How would two stars of equal luminosity—one blue and the other red—appear in an image taken through a filter that passes mainly blue light? How would their appearance change in an image taken through a filter that transmits mainly red light?
- Table 1 in The Spectra of Stars (and Brown Dwarfs) lists the temperature ranges that correspond to the different spectral types. What part of the star do these temperatures refer to? Why?
- Suppose you are given the task of measuring the colors of the brightest stars, listed in The Chemical Elements, through three filters: the first transmits blue light, the second transmits yellow light, and the third transmits red light. If you observe the star Vega, it will appear equally bright through each of the three filters. Which stars will appear brighter through the blue filter than through the red filter? Which stars will appear brighter through the red filter? Which star is likely to have colors most nearly like those of Vega?
- Star X has lines of ionized helium in its spectrum, and star Y has bands of titanium oxide. Which is hotter? Why? The spectrum of star Z shows lines of ionized helium and also molecular bands of titanium oxide. What is strange about this spectrum? Can you suggest an explanation?
- The spectrum of the Sun has hundreds of strong lines of nonionized iron but only a few, very weak lines of helium. A star of spectral type B has very strong lines of helium but very weak iron lines. Do these differences mean that the Sun contains more iron and less helium than the B star? Explain.
- What are the approximate spectral classes of stars with the following characteristics?
- Balmer lines of hydrogen are very strong; some lines of ionized metals are present.
- The strongest lines are those of ionized helium.
- Lines of ionized calcium are the strongest in the spectrum; hydrogen lines show only moderate strength; lines of neutral and metals are present.
- The strongest lines are those of neutral metals and bands of titanium oxide.
- Look at the chemical elements in The Chemical Elements. Can you identify any relationship between the abundance of an element and its atomic weight? Are there any obvious exceptions to this relationship?
- The Nearest Stars, Brown Dwarfs, and White Dwarfs lists some of the nearest stars. Are most of these stars hotter or cooler than the Sun? Do any of them emit more energy than the Sun? If so, which ones?
- The Brightest Twenty Stars lists the stars that appear brightest in our sky. Are most of these hotter or cooler than the Sun? Can you suggest a reason for the difference between this answer and the answer to the previous question? (Hint: Look at the luminosities.) Is there any tendency for a correlation between temperature and luminosity? Are there exceptions to the correlation?
- What star appears the brightest in the sky (other than the Sun)? The second brightest? What color is Betelgeuse? Use The Brightest Twenty Stars to find the answers.
- Suppose hominids one million years ago had left behind maps of the night sky. Would these maps represent accurately the sky that we see today? Why or why not?
- Why can only a lower limit to the rate of stellar rotation be determined from line broadening rather than the actual rotation rate? (Refer to Figure 6.)
- Why do you think astronomers have suggested three different spectral types (L, T, and Y) for the brown dwarfs instead of M? Why was one not enough?
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Sam, a college student, just bought a new car. Sam’s friend Adam, a graduate student in astronomy, asks Sam for a ride. In the car, Adam remarks that the colors on the temperature control are wrong. Why did he say that?
- Would a red star have a smaller or larger magnitude in a red filter than in a blue filter?
- Two stars have proper motions of one arcsecond per year. Star A is 20 light-years from Earth, and Star B is 10 light-years away from Earth. Which one has the faster velocity in space?
- Suppose there are three stars in space, each moving at 100 km/s. Star A is moving across (i.e., perpendicular to) our line of sight, Star B is moving directly away from Earth, and Star C is moving away from Earth, but at a 30° angle to the line of sight. From which star will you observe the greatest Doppler shift? From which star will you observe the smallest Doppler shift?
- What would you say to a friend who made this statement, “The visible-light spectrum of the Sun shows weak hydrogen lines and strong calcium lines. The Sun must therefore contain more calcium than hydrogen.”?
Figuring for Yourself
- In The Brightest Twenty Stars, how much more luminous is the most luminous of the stars than the least luminous?
- Star A and Star B have different apparent brightnesses but identical luminosities. If Star A is 20 light-years away from Earth and Star B is 40 light-years away from Earth, which star appears brighter and by what factor?
- Star A and Star B have different apparent brightnesses but identical luminosities. Star A is 10 light-years away from Earth and appears 36 times brighter than Star B. How far away is Star B?
- The star Sirius A has an apparent magnitude of −1.5. Sirius A has a dim companion, Sirius B, which is 10,000 times less bright than Sirius A. What is the apparent magnitude of Sirius B? Can Sirius B be seen with the naked eye?
- Our Sun, a type G star, has a surface temperature of 5800 K. We know, therefore, that it is cooler than a type O star and hotter than a type M star. Given what you learned about the temperature ranges of these types of stars, how many times hotter than our Sun is the hottest type O star? How many times cooler than our Sun is the coolest type M star?
For the following six problems, use the equations relating magnitude and apparent brightness given in the section on the magnitude scale in The Brightness of Stars.
- Verify that if two stars have a difference of five magnitudes, this corresponds to a factor of 100 in the ratio ; that 2.5 magnitudes corresponds to a factor of 10; and that 0.75 magnitudes corresponds to a factor of 2.
- As seen from Earth, the Sun has an apparent magnitude of about −26.7. What is the apparent magnitude of the Sun as seen from Saturn, about 10 AU away? (Remember that one AU is the distance from Earth to the Sun and that the brightness decreases as the inverse square of the distance.) Would the Sun still be the brightest star in the sky?
- An astronomer is investigating a faint star that has recently been discovered in very sensitive surveys of the sky. The star has a magnitude of 16. How much less bright is it than Antares, a star with magnitude roughly equal to 1?
- The center of a faint but active galaxy has magnitude 26. How much less bright does it look than the very faintest star that our eyes can see, roughly magnitude 6?
- You have enough information from this chapter to estimate the distance to Alpha Centauri, the second nearest star, which has an apparent magnitude of 0. Since it is a G2 star, like the Sun, assume it has the same luminosity as the Sun and the difference in magnitudes is a result only of the difference in distance. Estimate how far away Alpha Centauri is. Describe the necessary steps in words and then do the calculation. (As we will learn in the Celestial Distances chapter, this method—namely, assuming that stars with identical spectral types emit the same amount of energy—is actually used to estimate distances to stars.) If you assume the distance to the Sun is in AU, your answer will come out in AU.
- Do the previous problem again, this time using the information that the Sun is 150,000,000 km away. You will get a very large number of km as your answer. To get a better feeling for how the distances compare, try calculating the time it takes light at a speed of 299,338 km/s to travel from the Sun to Earth and from Alpha Centauri to Earth. For Alpha Centauri, figure out how long the trip will take in years as well as in seconds. | 2,652 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://open.maricopa.edu/asttemp/chapter/exercises-analyzing-starlight/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:74648 | https://open.maricopa.edu/asttemp/chapter/exercises-analyzing-starlight/ |
k6ZciTlELsdIlrtd | The Book of Small | A Little Town and a Little Girl
Loyalty
Medina’s Grove, was a gentle place; its moist mildness softened even the starch in Father and begged the twinkle that sat behind his stern grey eyes to come out. The Grove had not the sombre weight that belongs to the forest, nor had it the bare coldness of a windswept clearing. It was beautifully half real, like the place you fall into after the candle is blown out, and sleep is just taking hold of you.
Victoria had to be specially loyal because she was named after the Queen. To her the most important day, after Christmas Day of course, was the Queen’s Birthday, on the twenty-fourth of May. We made more fuss over the Queen’s Birthday than did any other town in Canada.
May is just about our most lovely month. The lilacs, the hawthorn, the laburnums and the broom are all in blossom, just begging the keen Spring winds to let their petals hang on till after the twenty-fourth so that Victoria can look most splendid for the Queen’s Birthday. On the twenty-third, one often had to stand on the chopping block and, hanging onto the verandah post with rain spittering in your face, sing right up into the sky—
“Rain, rain go away.
Come again another day
When I cook and when I bake
I’ll send you up a patty-cake.”
Sometimes the rain listened, sometimes it did not. But most of our twenty-fourths were fine which was lucky because on the Queen’s Birthday we wore our Summer frocks for the first time.
Mother prepared a splendid picnic. Father left his business frown and his home sternness behind him. Rugs, food and the black billy for making tea, were packed into the old baby buggy and we trundled it straight down Simcoe Street. Simcoe Street passed the side of our place and ended in Medina’s Grove. In May, what with the new green on the bushes, the Medina’s calves skipping about, and Medina Grove birds nesting, it was like fairy land. Sea air blew in from the beach, just one field away! Seagulls swooped down to look for picnic bits. The ground was all bumpy from being crowded with more new grass than the cows could eat. There were some big trees in the Grove, but not thick enough to keep the sun out. Every kind of delicious spring smell was there. It was not like being in a garden to play; the Grove was gently wild but had not the awe of the forest. Bushes grew here in little groups like families. Each picnic could have its own place quite private; just the laughs tumbled through the bushes and mixed. There were no gates to remember to shut, no flowerbeds you must not scoot across. You might pick anything you liked and eat as much picnic as you could. These Medina Grove picnics were our first Queen’s Birthdays. The Queen’s Birthday changed then. It was not so much our own day. A shadowy little old lady owned it.
This Queen, after whom Victoria was named, did not mean any more to me than a name. The older ones knew all about her and so I suppose they thought I did. Henry, her husband, was an English nurseryman. They came from England and started a nursery garden not far from our house, at the time when farm land was being cut into small personal pieces. Mother went to see any new people who came to live near us, if she saw that they were lonely and homesick. Mrs. Mitchell was very homesick and very lonely. But I was not an English child and I didn’t love her because she was English. I loved Mrs. Mitchell because she loved creatures, and I loved her garden, too, with its long rows of nursery stock, and its beds of pinks and mignonette. Mrs. Mitchell was gentle, small and frail. She had a little weak voice, which squeaked higher and higher the more she loved. Her guinea fowl and I cracked it altogether. She had four speckled guinea fowl—she and Henry loved them as if they had been real children. They opened the door of their cottage and called, “Coom, coom, coom, pretty little dears”—and the guineas came mincing through the kitchen into the sitting-room, and jumped into their laps.
The Mitchells’ nursery garden was next to a farm rented by Jim Phillips. Jim got angry because the guinea fowl flew over the fence into his grain field and he shot three of them. The old couple cried and cried. They took it to law and got the price of the guineas but the price of the birds’ flesh meant nothing to them. It was the life gone from their birds that they cried for. Never having any children the guineas had been next best. This last bird of their four they never let out of their sight. Jim Phillips was furious that he had had to pay for the bodies of the other three especially as he knew it was only for love, not value, that they cried.
Mrs. She had a whole floor of everlasting flowers spread to dry in her front room. They smelled like hay and were just as much alive after they had been dead for a whole year. She made wreaths of them for funerals. Everlasting flowers reminded people there was no death, she said.
I went very often to Mrs. Mitchell to try to cheer her over the guinea fowl, but it seemed I could not cheer her at all. The remaining guinea’s wings were all drooped with loneliness and she held him in her lap nearly all day. I looked around the sitting-room to find something happy to say. The walls were covered with pictures of gentlemen and ladies cut out of the London News and the Daily Graphic. Grand ladies with frizzled hair and lots of necklaces, men with medals on and sashes across their chests.
“Q-u-e-e-n V-i-c-t-o-r-i-a”, I spelled out.
“Is that the lady who has the twenty-fourth of May birthday?”
“Yes, my dear,” Mrs. Mitchell sniffled into the guinea’s feathers. “Yes, our most gracious Queen Victoria.”
“Who is the man beside her?”
“The late Prince Consort, my dear, and this is the Princess Royal, and here is the Prince of Wales and Princess Beatrice.”
“Who are these people?” I asked. “I thought Princes and Princesses just belonged to fairy tales. What have they to do with Queen Victoria?”
Mrs. Mitchell was very much shocked indeed. She stopped crying and, using the guinea fowl as a pointer, she went from picture to picture telling the bird and me who all the Royalties were, how old, whom they had married and so on. “Princess Alice”, said Mrs. Mitchell with a long, long sniffle, “now a blessed saint,” and she began to cry all over again.
I thought these picture people must be relatives of Mrs. Mitchell’s, she seemed to know them so well and cried so hard about Alice. The Queen’s picture was everywhere. I knew she was someone tremendous, though to me she had been vague and far off like Job or St. Paul. I had never known she was real and had a family, only that she owned Victoria, Canada, and the twenty-fourth of May, the Church of England and all the soldiers and sailors in the world. Now suddenly she became real—a woman like Mother with a large family.
Mrs. Mitchell took a great deal of pains to get the Royal family straight in my head and it was lucky she did, because who should come out to Canada, to Victoria, that very year and pay a long visit to Government House, but the Princess Louise and the Marquis of Lorne! This excited Mrs. Mitchell so that she stopped crying. She, who never went out, found a bonnet that I had never seen before, put a dolman over her best silk dress, locked the guinea fowl safe in her kitchen and got into a hack with Henry, her smelling-bottle and her cap, in which was a new bunch of everlasting flowers. The cap was in a paper bag on Henry’s knee. They drove to the house of Dr. Ashe on Fort Street where the procession was to pass and sat in a bow window and waved at the Princess. When she saw the Princess smiling and dressed in gay colours, she realized that her beloved Princess Alice had been dead longer than she thought and that Court mourning was finished. She went home and took the crêpe off Alice but she left the everlasting flowers.
Mrs. Mitchell watched the papers for every crumb of news of her Princess while the visitors were in Victoria—how she had gone sketching in the Park, how she used to go into the shops and chat with people; how once she went into a bake-shop to buy some cakes and stepped behind the counter to point out the kind to the baker who ordered her back, saying gruffly, “Nobody ain’t allowed behind my counter, mum,” and then when she gave the address, the baker nearly died of shame and so did Mrs. Mitchell as she read it.
Seeing Royalty waked again all Mrs. Mitchell’s homesickness for England. They sold everything and she and Henry went back to the Old Country to die. She gave me a doctor’s book on diseases and an empty box with a lock and key. I did not like the disease book and could never find anything important enough to lock up in the box; so I put it away on a high shelf. Mrs. Mitchell cried dreadfully when she left Victoria but kept saying “I’m going home, my dear, going home.”
The journey nearly killed her, and England did quite. All her people were dead except distant cousins. England was different from what she had remembered. She sent me Gray’s Elegy in a Country Churchyard and Henry wrote saying she was crying for me and for Victoria now as she had cried for England and Princess Alice and the guinea fowl. | 2,195 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca/thebookofsmall/chapter/loyalty/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:32188 | https://pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca/thebookofsmall/chapter/loyalty/ |
VAYg5npIXCKJojXN | 8.9: Riemann Integration. Stieltjes Integrals | 8.9: Riemann Integration. Stieltjes Integrals
I. In this section, \(\mathcal{C}\) is the family of all intervals in \(E^{n},\) and \(m\) is an additive finite premeasure on \(\mathcal{C}\) (or \(\mathcal{C}_{s}\)), such as the volume function \(v\) (Chapter 7, §§1-2).
By a \(\mathcal{C}\)-partition of \(A \in \mathcal{C}\) (or \(A \in \mathcal{C}_{s}\)), we mean a finite family
\[\mathcal{P}=\left\{A_{i}\right\} \subset \mathcal{C}\]
such that
\[A=\bigcup_{i} A_{i} \text { (disjoint).}\]
As we noted in §5, the Riemann integral,
\[R \int_{A} f=R \int_{A} f dm,\]
of \(f : E^{n} \rightarrow E^{1}\) can be defined as its Lebesgue counterpart,
\[\int_{A} f,\]
with elementary maps replaced by simple step functions ("\(\mathcal{C}\)-simple" maps.) Equivalently, one can use the following construction, due to J. G. Darboux.
(a) Given \(f : E^{n} \rightarrow E^{*}\) and a \(\mathcal{C}\)-partition
\[\mathcal{P}=\left\{A_{1}, \ldots, A_{q}\right\}\]
of \(A,\) we define the lower and upper Darboux sums, \(\underline{S}\) and \(\overline{S},\) of \(f\) over \(\mathcal{P}\) (with respect to \(m\)) by
\[\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=\sum_{i=1}^{q} m A_{i} \cdot \inf f\left[A_{i}\right] \text { and } \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=\sum_{i=1}^{q} m A_{i} \cdot \sup f\left[A_{i}\right].\]
(b) The lower and upper Riemann integrals ("R-integrals") of \(f\) on \(A\) (with respect to \(m)\) are
\[\left. \begin{array}{l}{R \underline{\int}_{A} f=R \underline{\int}_{A} f dm=\sup_{\mathcal{P}} \underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) \text { and }} \\ {R \overline{\int}_{A} f=R \overline{\int}_{A} f dm=\inf_{\mathcal{P}} \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}),}\end{array} \right\} \]
where the "inf" and "sup" are taken over all \(\mathcal{C}\)-partitions \(\mathcal{P}\) of \(A\).
(c) We say that \(f\) is Riemann-integrable ("R-integrable") with respect to \(m\) on \(A\) iff \(f\) is bounded on \(A\) and
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f=R \overline{\int}_{A} f.\]
If \(A=[a, b] \subset E^{1},\) we also write
\[R \int_{a}^{b} f=R \int_{a}^{b} f(x) dm(x)\]
instead.
If \(m\) is Lebesgue measure (or premeasure) in \(E^{1},\) we write "\(dx\)" for "\(dm(x)\)."
For Lebesgue integrals, we replace "\(R\)" by "\(L\)," or we simply omit "\(R.\)"
If \(f\) is R-integrable on \(A,\) we also say that
\[R \int_{A} f\]
exists (note that this implies the boundedness of \(f);\) note that
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f \text { and } R \overline{\int}_{A} f\]
are always defined in \(E^{*}\).
Below, we always restrict \(f\) to a fixed \(A \in \mathcal{C}\) (or \(A \in \mathcal{C}_{s}\)); \(\mathcal{P}, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}, \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}, \mathcal{P}^{*}\) and \(\mathcal{P}_{k}\) denote \(\mathcal{C}\)-partitions of \(A.\)
We now obtain the following result for any additive \(m : \mathcal{C} \rightarrow[0, \infty)\).
If \(\mathcal{P}\) refines \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime}\) (§1), then
\[\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right) \leq \underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) \leq \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) \leq \overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right).\]
- Proof
-
Let \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime}=\left\{A_{i}\right\}, \mathcal{P}=\left\{B_{i k}\right\},\) and
\[(\forall i) \quad A_{i}=\bigcup_{k} B_{i k}.\]
By additivity,
\[m A_{i}=\sum_{k} m B_{i k}.\]
Also, \(B_{i k} \subseteq A_{i}\) implies
\[\begin{aligned} f\left[B_{i k}\right] & \subseteq f\left[A_{i}\right]; \\ \sup f\left[B_{i k}\right] & \leq \sup f\left[A_{i}\right]; \text { and } \\ \inf f\left[B_{i k}\right] & \geq \inf f\left[A_{i}\right]. \end{aligned}\]
So setting
\[a_{i}=\inf f\left[A_{i}\right] \text { and } b_{i k}=\inf f\left[B_{i k}\right],\]
we get
\[\begin{aligned} \underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right)=\sum_{i} a_{i} m A_{i} &=\sum_{i} \sum_{k} a_{i} m B_{i k} \\ & \leq \sum_{i, k} b_{i k} m B_{i k}=\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}). \end{aligned}\]
Similarly,
\[\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right) \leq \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}),\]
and
\[\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) \leq \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})\]
is obvious from (1).\(\quad \square\)
For any \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime}\) and \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\),
\[\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right) \leq \overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\right).\]
Hence
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f \leq R \overline{\int}_{A} f.\]
- Proof
-
Let \(\mathcal{P}=\mathcal{P}^{\prime} \cap \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\) (see §1). As \(\mathcal{P}\) refines both \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime}\) and \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\), Corollary 1 yields
\[\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right) \leq \underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) \leq \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) \leq \overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\right).\]
Thus, indeed, no lower sum \(\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right)\) exceeds any upper sum \(\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\right)\).
Hence also,
\[\sup _{\mathcal{P}^{\prime}} \underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right) \leq \inf _{\mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}} \overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\right),\]
i.e.,
\[R\underline{\int}_{A} f \leq R \overline{\int}_{A} f,\]
as claimed.\(\quad \square\)
A map \(f : A \rightarrow E^{1}\) is \(R\)-integrable iff \(f\) is bounded and, moreover,
\[(\forall \varepsilon>0) \text{ } (\exists \mathcal{P}) \quad \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})-\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})<\varepsilon.\]
Hence (3) implies
\[\left|R \overline{\int}_{A} f-R \underline{\int}_{A} f\right|<\varepsilon.\]
As \(\varepsilon\) is arbitrary, we get
\[R \overline{\int}_{A} f=R \underline{\int}_{\underline{A}} f;\]
so \(f\) is R-integrable.
Conversely, if so, definitions (b) and (c) imply the existence of \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime}\) and \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\) such that
\[\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right)>R \int_{A} f-\frac{1}{2} \varepsilon\]
and
\[\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\right)<R \int_{A} f+\frac{1}{2} \varepsilon.\]
Let \(\mathcal{P}\) refine both \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime}\) and \(\mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}.\) Then by Corollary 1,
\[\begin{aligned} \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})-\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) & \leq \overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime \prime}\right)-\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{\prime}\right) \\ &<\left(R \int_{A} f+\frac{1}{2} \varepsilon\right)-\left(R \int_{A} f-\frac{1}{2} \varepsilon\right)=\varepsilon, \end{aligned}\]
as required.\(\quad \square\)
Let \(f\) be \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple; say, \(f=a_{i}\) on \(A_{i}\) for some \(\mathcal{C}\)-partition \(\mathcal{P}^{*}=\) \(\left\{A_{i}\right\}\) of \(A\) (we then write
\[f=\sum_{i} a_{i} C_{A_{i}}\]
on \(A;\) see Note 4 of §4).
Then
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f=R \overline{\int}_{A} f=\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{*}\right)=\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{*}\right)=\sum_{i} a_{i} m A_{i}.\]
Hence any finite \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple function is R-integrable, with \(R \int_{A} f\) as in (4).
- Proof
-
Given any \(\mathcal{C}\)-partition \(\mathcal{P}=\left\{B_{k}\right\}\) of \(A,\) consider
\[\mathcal{P}^{*} \acdot \mathcal{P}=\left\{A_{i} \cap B_{k}\right\}.\]
As \(f=a_{i}\) on \(A_{i} \cap B_{k}\) (even on all of \(A_{i}\)),
\[a_{i}=\inf f\left[A_{i} \cap B_{k}\right]=\sup f\left[A_{i} \cap B_{k}\right].\]Also,
\[A=\bigcup_{i, k}\left(A_{i} \cap B_{k}\right) \text { (disjoint)}\]
and
\[(\forall i) \quad A_{i}=\bigcup_{k}\left(A_{i} \cap B_{k}\right);\]
so
\[mA_{i}=\sum_{k} m\left(A_{i} \cap B_{k}\right)\]
and
\[\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=\sum_{i} \sum_{k} a_{i} m\left(A_{i} \cap B_{k}\right)=\sum_{i} a_{i} m A_{i}=\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}^{*}\right)\]
for any such \(\mathcal{P}\).
Hence also
\[\sum_{i} a_{i} m A_{i}=\sup_{\mathcal{P}} \underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=R \underline{\int}_{A} f.\]
Similarly for \(R \overline{\int}_{A} f.\) This proves (4).
If, further, \(f\) is finite, it is bounded (by max \(\left|a_{i}\right|\)) since there are only finitely many \(a_{i};\) so \(f\) is R-integrable on \(A,\) and all is proved.\(\quad \square\)
Note 1. Thus \(\underline{S}\) and \(\overline{S}\) are integrals of \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple maps, and definition (b) can be restated:
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f=\sup_{g} R \int_{A} g \text { and } R \overline{\int}_{A} f=\inf_{h} R \int_{A} h,\]
taking the sup and inf over all \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple maps \(g, h\) with
\[g \leq f \leq h \text { on } A.\]
(Verify by properties of glb and lub!)
Therefore, we can now develop R-integration as in §§4-5, replacing elementary maps by \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple maps, with \(S=E^{n}.\) In particular, Problem 5 in §5 works out as before.
Hence linearity (Theorem 1 of §6) follows, with the same proof. One also obtains additivity (limited to \(\mathcal{C}\)-partitions). Moreover, the R-integrability of \(f\) and \(g\) implies that of \(f g, f \vee g, f \wedge g,\) and \(|f|.\) (See the Problems.)
If \(f_{i} \rightarrow f\) (uniformly) on \(A\) and if the \(f_{i}\) are R-integrable on \(A\), so also is \(f.\) Moreover,
\[\lim_{i \rightarrow \infty} R \int_{A}\left|f-f_{i}\right|=0 \text { and } \lim_{i \rightarrow \infty} R \int_{A} f_{i}=R \int_{A} f.\]
- Proof
-
As all \(f_{i}\) are bounded (definition (c)), so is \(f,\) by Problem 10 of Chapter 4, §12.
Now, given \(\varepsilon>0,\) fix \(k\) such that
\[(\forall i \geq k) \quad\left|f-f_{i}\right|<\frac{\varepsilon}{m A} \quad \text {on } A.\]
Verify that
\[(\forall i \geq k) \text{ } (\forall \mathcal{P}) \quad\left|\underline{S}\left(f-f_{i}, \mathcal{P}\right)\right|<\varepsilon \text { and }\left|\overline{S}\left(f-f_{i}, \mathcal{P}\right)\right|<\varepsilon;\]
fix one such \(f_{i}\) and choose a \(\mathcal{P}\) such that
\[\overline{S}\left(f_{i}, \mathcal{P}\right)-\underline{S}\left(f_{i}, \mathcal{P}\right)<\varepsilon,\]
which one can do by Lemma 1. Then for this \(\mathcal{P}\),
\[\overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})-\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})<3 \varepsilon.\]
(Why?) By Lemma 1, then, \(f\) is R-integrable on \(A\).
Finally,
\[\begin{aligned}\left|R \int_{A} f-R \int_{A} f_{i}\right| & \leq R \int_{A}\left|f-f_{i}\right| \\ & \leq R \int_{A}\left(\frac{\varepsilon}{m A}\right)=m A\left(\frac{\varepsilon}{m A}\right)=\varepsilon \end{aligned}\]
for all \(i \geq k.\) Hence the second clause of our theorem follows, too.\(\quad \square\)
If \(f : E^{1} \rightarrow E^{1}\) is bounded and regulated (Chapter 5, §10) on \(A=[a, b],\) then \(f\) is R-integrable on \(A.\)
In particular, this applies if \(f\) is monotone, or of bounded variation, or relatively continuous, or a step function, on \(A.\)
- Proof
-
By Lemma 2, this applies to \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple maps.
Now, let \(f\) be regulated (e.g., of the kind specified above).
Then by Lemma 2 of Chapter 5, §10,
\[f=\lim _{i \rightarrow \infty} g_{i} \quad \text {(uniformly)}\]
for finite \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple \(g_{i}\).
Thus \(f\) is R-integrable on \(A\) by Theorem 1.\(\quad \square\)
II. Henceforth, we assume that \(m\) is a measure on a \(\sigma\)-ring \(\mathcal{M} \supseteq \mathcal{C}\) in \(E^{n}\), with \(m<\infty\) on \(\mathcal{C}\). (For a reader who took the "limited approach," it is now time to consider §§4-6 in full.) The measure \(m\) may, but need not, be Lebesgue measure in \(E^{n}.\)
If \(f : E^{n} \rightarrow E^{1}\) is R-integrable on \(A \in \mathcal{C},\) it is also Lebesgue integrable (with respect to \(m\) as above) on \(A,\) and
\[L \int_{A} f=R \int_{A} f,\]
- Proof
-
Given a \(\mathcal{C}\)-partition \(\mathcal{P}=\left\{A_{i}\right\}\) of \(A,\) define the \(\mathcal{C}\)-simple maps
\[g=\sum_{i} a_{i} C_{A_{i}} \text { and } h=\sum_{i} b_{i} C_{A_{i}}\]
with
\[a_{i}=\inf f\left[A_{i}\right] \text { and } b_{i}=\sup f\left[A_{i}\right].\]
Then \(g \leq f \leq h\) on \(A\) with
\[\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=\sum_{i} a_{i} m A_{i}=L \int_{A} g\]
and
\[\overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=\sum_{i} b_{i} m A_{i}=L \int_{A} h.\]
By Theorem 1(c) in §5,
\[\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=L \int_{A} g \leq L \underline{\int}_{A} f \leq L \overline{\int}_{A} f \leq L \int_{A} h=\overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}).\]
As this holds for any \(\mathcal{P},\) we get
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f=\sup_{\mathcal{P}} \underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P}) \leq L \underline{\int}_{A} f \leq L \overline{\int}_{A} f=\inf_{\mathcal{P}} \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=R \overline{\int}_{A} f.\]
But by assumption,
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f=R \overline{\int}_{A} f.\]
Thus these inequalities become equations:
\[R \int_{A} f=\underline{\int}_{A} f=\overline{\int}_{A} f=R \int_{A} f.\]
Also, by definition (c), \(f\) is bounded on \(A;\) so \(|f|<K<\infty\) on \(A.\) Hence
\[\left|\int_{A} f\right| \leq \int_{A}|f| \leq K \cdot m A<\infty.\]
Thus
\[\underline{\int}_{A} f=\overline{\int}_{A} f \neq \pm \infty,\]
i.e., \(f\) is Lebesgue integrable, and
\[L \int_{A} f=R \int_{A} f,\]
as claimed.\(\quad \square\)
Note 2. The converse fails. For example, as shown in the example in §4 , \(f=C_{R}\) (\(R=\) rationals) is L-integrable on \(A=[0,1].\)
Yet \(f\) is not \(R\)-integrable.
For \(\mathcal{C}\)-partitions involve intervals containing both rationals (on which \(f=1\)) and irrationals (on which \(f=0\)). Thus for any \(\mathcal{P}\),
\[\underline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=0 \text { and } \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=1 \cdot m A=1.\]
(Why?) So
\[R \overline{\int}_{A} f=\inf \overline{S}(f, \mathcal{P})=1,\]
while
\[R \underline{\int}_{A} f=0 \neq R \overline{\int}_{A} f.\]
Note 3. By Theorem 1, any \(R \int_{A} f\) is also a Lebesgue integral. Thus the rules of §§5-6 apply to R-integrals, provided that the functions involved are R-integrable. For a deeper study, we need a few more ideas.
(d) The mesh \(|\mathcal{P}|\) of a \(\mathcal{C}\)-partition \(\mathcal{P}=\left\{A_{1}, \ldots, A_{q}\right\}\) is the largest of the diagonals \(d A_{i}:\)
\[|\mathcal{P}|=\max \left\{d A_{1}, d A_{2}, \ldots, d A_{q}\right\}.\]
Note 4. For any \(A \in \mathcal{C},\) there is a sequence of \(\mathcal{C}\)-partitions \(\mathcal{P}_{k}\) such that
(i) each \(P_{k+1}\) refines \(P_{k}\) and
(ii) \(\lim _{k \rightarrow \infty}\left|P_{k}\right|=0\).
To construct such a sequence, bisect the edges of \(A\) so as to obtain \(2^{n}\) subintervals of diagonal \(\frac{1}{2} dA\) (Chapter 3, §7). Repeat this with each of the subintervals, and so on. Then
\[\left|P_{k}\right|=\frac{d A}{2^{k}} \rightarrow 0.\]
Let \(f : A \rightarrow E^{1}\) be bounded. Let \(\left\{\mathcal{P}_{k}\right\}\) satisfy (i) of Note 4. If \(P_{k}=\left\{A_{1}^{k}, \ldots, A_{q_{k}}^{k}\right\},\) put
\[g_{k}=\sum_{i=1}^{q_{k}} C_{A_{i}^{k}} \inf f\left[A_{i}^{k}\right]\]
and
\[h_{k}=\sum_{i=1}^{q_{k}} C_{A_{i}^{k} \sup } f\left[A_{i}^{k}\right].\]
- Proof
-
As in Theorem 2, we obtain \(g_{k} \leq f \leq h_{k}\) on \(A\) with
\[\int_{A} g_{k}=\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right)\]
and
\[\int_{A} h_{k}=\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right).\]
Since \(\mathcal{P}_{k+1}\) refines \(\mathcal{P}_{k},\) it also easily follows that
\[g_{k} \leq g_{k+1} \leq \sup _{k} g_{k}=g \leq f \leq h=\inf _{k} h_{k} \leq h_{k+1} \leq h_{k}.\]
(Verify!)
Thus \(\left\{g_{k}\right\} \uparrow\) and \(\left\{h_{k}\right\} \downarrow,\) and so
\[g=\sup _{k} g_{k}=\lim _{k \rightarrow \infty} g_{k} \text { and } h=\inf _{k} h_{k}=\lim _{k \rightarrow \infty} h_{k}.\]
Also, as \(f\) is bounded
\[\left(\exists K \in E^{1}\right) \quad|f|<K \text { on } A.\]
The definition of \(g_{k}\) and \(h_{k}\) then implies
\[(\forall k) \quad\left|g_{k}\right| \leq K \text { and }\left|h_{k}\right| \leq K \text { (why?),}\]
with
\[\int_{A}(K)=K \cdot m A<\infty.\]
The \(g_{k}\) and \(h_{k}\) are measurable (even simple) on \(A,\) with \(g_{k} \rightarrow g\) and \(h_{k} \rightarrow h\).
Thus by Theorem 5 and Note 1, both from §6, \(g\) and \(h\) are Lebesgue integrable, with
\[\int_{A} g=\lim_{k \rightarrow \infty} \int_{A} g_{k} \text { and } \int_{A} h=\lim_{k \rightarrow \infty} \int_{A} h_{k}.\]
As
\[\int_{A} g_{k}=\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right) \leq R \underline{\int}_{A} f\]
and
\[\int_{A} h_{k}=\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right) \geq R \overline{\int}_{A} f,\]
passage to the limit in equalities yields (6). Thus the lemma is proved.\(\quad \square\)
With all as in Lemma 3, let \(B\) be the union of the boundaries of all intervals from all \(\mathcal{P}_{k}.\) Let \(\left|\mathcal{P}_{k}\right| \rightarrow 0.\) Then we have the following.
(i) If \(f\) is continuous at \(p \in A,\) then \(h(p)=g(p)\).
(ii) The converse holds if \(p \in A-B\).
- Proof
-
For each \(k, p\) is in one of the intervals in \(\mathcal{P}_{k};\) call it \(A_{kp}\).
If \(p \in A-B, p\) is an interior point of \(A_{kp};\) so there is a globe
\[G_{p}\left(\delta_{k}\right) \subseteq A_{kp}.\]
Also, by the definition of \(g_{k}\) and \(h_{k}\),
\[g_{k}(p)=\inf f\left[A_{k p}\right] \text { and } h_{k}=\sup f\left[A_{k p}\right].\]
(Why?)
Now fix \(\varepsilon>0.\) If \(g(p)=h(p),\) then
\[0=h(p)-g(p)=\lim _{k \rightarrow \infty}\left[h_{k}(p)-g_{k}(p)\right];\]
so
\[(\exists k) \quad\left|h_{k}(p)-g_{k}(p)\right|=\sup f\left[A_{k p}\right]-\inf f\left[A_{k p}\right]<\varepsilon.\]
As \(G_{p}\left(\delta_{k}\right) \subseteq A_{k p},\) we get
\[\left(\forall x \in G_{p}\left(\delta_{k}\right)\right) \quad|f(x)-f(p)| \leq \sup f\left[A_{k p}\right]-\inf f\left[A_{k p}\right]<\varepsilon,\]
proving continuity (clause (ii)).
For (i), given \(\varepsilon>0,\) choose \(\delta>0\) so that
\[\left(\forall x, y \in A \cap G_{p}(\delta)\right) \quad|f(x)-f(y)|<\varepsilon.\]
Because
\[(\forall \delta>0)\left(\exists k_{0}\right)\left(\forall k>k_{0}\right) \quad\left|\mathcal{P}_{k}\right|<\delta\]
for \(k>k_{0}, A_{k p} \subseteq G_{p}(\delta).\) Deduce that
\[\left(\forall k>k_{0}\right) \quad\left|h_{k}(p)-g_{k}(p)\right| \leq \varepsilon. \quad \square\]
Note 5. The Lebesgue measure of \(B\) in Lemma 4 is zero; for \(B\) consists of countably many "faces" (degenerate intervals), each of measure zero.
A map \(f : A \rightarrow E^{1}\) is R-integrable on \(A\) (with \(m=\) Lebesgue measure) iff \(f\) is bounded on \(A\) and continuous on \(A-Q\) for some \(Q\) with \(m Q=0\).
Note that relative continuity on \(A-Q\) is not enough-take \(f=C_{R}\) of Note 2.
- Proof
-
If these conditions hold, choose \(\left\{\mathcal{P}_{k}\right\}\) as in Lemma 4.
Then by the assumed continuity, \(g=h\) on \(A-Q, m Q=0\).
Thus
\[\int_{A} g=\int_{A} h\]
(Corollary 2 in §5).
Hence by formula (6), \(f\) is R-integrable on \(A\).
Conversely, if so, use Lemma 1 with
\[\varepsilon=1, \frac{1}{2}, \ldots, \frac{1}{k}, \ldots\]
to get for each \(k\) some \(\mathcal{P}_{k}\) such that
\[\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right)-\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right)<\frac{1}{k} \rightarrow 0.\]
By Corollary 1, this will hold if we refine each \(\mathcal{P}_{k},\) step by step, so as to achieve properties (i) and (ii) of Note 4 as well. Then Lemmas 3 and 4 apply.
As
\[\overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right)-\underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right) \rightarrow 0,\]
formula (6) show that
\[\int_{A} g=\lim_{k \rightarrow \infty} \underline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right)=\lim_{k \rightarrow \infty} \overline{S}\left(f, \mathcal{P}_{k}\right)=\int_{A} h.\]
As \(h\) and \(g\) are integrable on \(A\),
\[\int_{A}(h-g)=\int_{A} h-\int_{A} g=0.\]
Also \(h-g \geq 0;\) so by Theorem 1(h) in §5, \(h=g\) on \(A-Q^{\prime}, m Q^{\prime}=0\) (under Lebesgue measure). Hence by Lemma 4, \(f\) is continuous on
\[A-Q^{\prime}-B,\]
with \(mB=0\) (Note 5).
Let \(Q=Q^{\prime} \cup B.\) Then \(m Q=0\) and
\[A-Q=A-Q^{\prime}-B;\]
so \(f\) is continuous on \(A-Q.\) This completes the proof.\(\quad \square\)
Note 6. The first part of the proof does not involve \(B\) and thus works even if \(m\) is not the Lebesgue measure. The second part requires that \(mB=0\).
Theorem 3 shows that R-integrals are limited to a.e. continuous functions and hence are less flexible than L-integrals: Fewer functions are R-integrable, and convergence theorems (§6, Theorems 4 and 5) fail unless \(R \int_{A} f\) exists.
III. Functions \(f : E^{n} \rightarrow E^{s}\left(C^{s}\right).\) For such functions, R-integrals are defined componentwise (see §7). Thus \(f=\left(f_{1}, \ldots, f_{s}\right)\) is R-integrable on \(A\) iff all \(f_{k}\) \((k \leq s)\) are, and then
\[R \int_{A} f=\sum_{k=1}^{s} \overline{e}_{k} R \int_{A} f_{k}.\]
A complex function \(f\) is R-integrable iff \(f_{re}\) and \(f_{im}\) are, and then
\[R \int_{A} f=R \int_{A} f_{re}+i R \int_{A} f_{im}.\]
Via components, Theorems 1 to 3, Corollaries 3 and 4, additivity, linearity, etc., apply.
IV. Stieltjes Integrals. Riemann used Lebesgue premeasure \(v\) only. But as we saw, his method admits other premeasures, too.
Thus in \(E^{1},\) we may let \(m\) be the \(LS\) premeasure \(s_{\alpha}\) or the \(LS\) measure \(m_{\alpha}\) where \(\alpha \uparrow\) (Chapter 7, §5, Example (b), and Chapter 7, §9).
Then
\[R \int_{A} f dm\]
is called the Riemann-Stieltjes (RS) integral of \(f\) with respect to \(\alpha,\) also written
\[R \int_{A} f d \alpha \quad \text {or} \quad R \int_{a}^{b} f(x) d \alpha(x)\]
(the latter if \(A=[a, b]\)); \(f\) and \(\alpha\) are called the integrand and integrator, respectively.
If \(\alpha(x)=x, m_{\alpha}\) becomes the Lebesgue measure, and
\[R \int f(x) d \alpha(x)\]
turns into
\[R \int f(x) dx.\]
Our theory still remains valid; only Theorem 3 now reads as follows.
If \(f\) is bounded and a.e. continuous on \(A=[a, b]\) (under an LS measure \(m_{\alpha}\)) then
\[R \int_{a}^{b} f d \alpha\]
exists. The converse holds if \(\alpha\) is continuous on \(A\).
For by Notes 5 and 6, the "only if" in Theorem 3 holds if \(m_{\alpha} B=0.\) Here consists of countably many endpoints of partition subintervals. But (see Chapter §9) \(m_{\alpha}\{p\}=0\) if \(\alpha\) is continuous at \(p.\) Thus the later implies \(m_{\alpha} B=0\).
RS-integration has been used in many fields (e.g., probability theory, physics, etc.), but it is superseded by LS-integration, i.e., Lebesgue integration with respect to \(m_{\alpha},\) which is fully covered by the general theory of §§1-8.
Actually, Stieltjes himself used somewhat different definitions (see Problems 10-13), which amount to applying the set function \(\sigma_{\alpha}\) of Problem 9 in Chapter 7, §4, instead of \(s_{\alpha}\) or \(m_{\alpha}.\) We reserve the name "Stieltjes integrals," denoted
\[S \int_{a}^{b} f d \alpha,\]
for such integrals, and "RS-integrals" for those based on \(m_{\alpha}\) or \(s_{\alpha}\) (this terminology is not standard).
Observe that \(\sigma_{\alpha}\) need not be \(\geq 0.\) Thus for the first time, we encounter integration with respect to sign-changing set functions. A much more general theory is presented in §10 (see Problem 10 there). | 3,684 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Analysis/Mathematical_Analysis_(Zakon)/08%3A_Measurable_Functions_and_Integration/8.09%3A_Riemann_Integration._Stieltjes_Integrals | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:46639 | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Analysis/Mathematical_Analysis_(Zakon)/08%3A_Measurable_Functions_and_Integration/8.09%3A_Riemann_Integration._Stieltjes_Integrals |
Nvw_JuUNO-iXY4iV | 16.2: Distribution of Volcanoes | 16.2: Distribution of Volcanoes
Volcanic activity is widespread over the earth, but tends to be concentrated in specific locations. Volcanoes are most likely to occur along the margins of tectonic plates, especially in subduction zones where oceanic plates dive under continental plates. As the oceanic plate subducts beneath the surface, intense heat and pressure melts the rock. Molten rock material, magma, can then ooze its way toward the surface where it accumulates at the surface to create a volcano. Volcanic activity can be found along the Mid-ocean ridge system as well. Here, oceanic plates are diverging and magma spreads across the ocean floor, ultimately being exposed at the surface. Crustal spreading long the ridge is partly responsible for the volcanic activity of Iceland. It is also thought that a "hot spot" lies beneath the island that contributes to volcanism.
Hot spots are places where a chamber of magma has accumulated at depth beneath the surface. The volcanic islands of Hawaii are a notable example of this. The Hawaiian Islands ride atop the Pacific plate as it moves in a northwesterly direction over the hot spot that creates the volcanoes. Therefore, the oldest volcanic island is found at the northwest end of the chain and the youngest to the southeast. Volcanic activity ceases as the older islands move off the hot spot.
Rather than forming a mountain like the volcanoes in the Hawaiian Islands, some places have been covered by massive flows of basaltic lava due to volcanic activity. One of the best known sites in North America is the Columbia Plateau. The Columbia Plateau is located in the eastern Washington, south through eastern Oregon and most of southern Idaho. | 362 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://geo.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Geography_(Physical)/The_Physical_Environment_(Ritter)/16%3A_Volcanic_Processes_and_Landforms/16.02%3A_Distribution_of_Volcanoes | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:33379 | https://geo.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Geography_(Physical)/The_Physical_Environment_(Ritter)/16%3A_Volcanic_Processes_and_Landforms/16.02%3A_Distribution_of_Volcanoes |
rBDKbVX8udCHcSh0 | SINGING CIA AGENT GEORGE SHRUB SPEAKS | 7/90
The Pentagon wants to suspend Northrop from Defense contracting for faking tests on nuclear cruise missiles, saying they endangered the American public. But the Air Force is arguing against the suspension, saying that cruise missiles that don’t work are no more dangerous than those that do. The Air Force has been hit by allegations that it failed to move against Northrop for its overcharging on the B-2 Stealth bomber account. The Air Force counters that Stealth fraud is difficult to detect.
Poster child Neil Bush continues to suffer persecution for his alleged role in the Silverado Savings and Loan mishap, which is costing taxpayers something in the low ten figures. Bush had loaned developer Kenneth Good $30 million that was never repaid, and Bush himself received a $100,000 loan on condition that he not repay it. Bush admits that mistakes were made, but insists that creative financing is essential to high-performance banking.
Early installation of the first phase of Star Wars is threatened by the incorporation of “Brilliant Pebbles” technology, which was formerly thought to have been made up by me. Continued development of the program is said to be necessary in order to defend our forces in Guantanamo against Cuban aggression and to defend our Mideast Oil against solar researchers.
The national debate continues to rage over Roseanne Barr’s rendition of the national anthem at the San Diego Padres game on Thursday. Padres pitcher Eric Show said “There are people who died for that song,” and now, many have almost died from hearing it. There may soon be more: Congress is considering a constitutional amendment mandating the death penalty for citizens who don’t sing the anthem right.
The new nominee for the Supreme Court, New Hampshire judge David Souter, is described as having a narrow view on civil rights—that is, not.
In northern California, long-haired, naive Earth First? terrorists continue to harass traditional American families trying to make a living. Contacts have increased throughout the summer between the self-styled environmentalists and the local loggers, and there is now talk of building a coalition based on common “interests” and common perceived threats from alleged corporations engaged in so-called logging. Congress is considering a constitutional amendment against such coalitions, or at least, against the perceptions that lead to them.
Education President Bush has stepped aside and allowed International Trade President Bush to lead an investigation of California’s “Big Green” initiative, which would phase out pesticides, pesticide companies and table settings of pretty fruit.
The last bastion of Stalinism in Europe, tiny Albania, continues to reel from recent convulsions. One refugee summed up the drive for human rights there: “We want discotheques, not Communism.”
Controversy is brewing over alleged racial stereotyping in advertising. Recent ads feature veiled references to the small stature of the Japanese, along with photographs of ominous Samurai warriors. Advertisers protest that the commercials are meant to be humorous, like Andrew Dice Clay, and say the ads are not anti-Japanese but rather pro-American. Critics charge the ads may cross the thin line between pro-Americanism and racism, but the industry counters that internment camps provided jobs.
Imelda Marcos has been acquitted on the charge of loving her husband for 35 years. Marcos Attorney Gerry Spence never elaborated on his charge that then-Vice President George Bush knew as early as 1981 that the Marcos’s were moving millions of dollars into secret bank accounts, but legal experts point out that it’s no crime to know about crimes, especially if no one finds out until after the next election.
U.S. presidents for four decades have relied on vastly overstated CIA estimates of the Soviet Union’s strength, a CIA analyst has told a Senate committee. This may have in some small measure contributed to the American public’s tendency to support military expenditures in the low twelve figures and forego luxuries such as multi-walled dwellings and post-nursery education. No charges have been filed in the case.
The new U.S. ambassador to Nicaragua is Harry Shlaudeman. He has a long record in the struggle for democracy, having been present in the Dominican Republic in 1965 and Chile in 1973, but says his days of organizing coups are over and that he will support the Nicaraguan government he has installed. Shlaudeman has worked in Argentina and Brazil to support U.S.-flavored candidates, and the democratically rejected Sandinistas assert that he will meddle in Nicaragua’s internal affairs, funneling National Endowment for Democracy funds to the right wing. The complaining Sandinistas risk being extradited to the United States to stand trial on libel charges, which would provide them with the visas they have long sought to visit the land of opportunity.
The discredited Sandinistas are attempting to maintain their iron-fisted control of Nicaragua’s schools, dosing the children with militarism in literacy, such as “A is for army: we will never permit foreign intervention.” The new vice-minister of education, Humberto Belli, wrote a book that was published by an Institute that was founded and funded by the CIA, and the terrorist opposition is attempting to discredit Belli through guilt by association with an association that may have had some association with an organization known to use creative financing of high-performance covert democracy.
August 3, 1990
The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait has been denounced throughout the world and even brought the US and the Soviet Union together on an arms embargo. Iraq claims it was invited in by a Kuwaiti revolutionary government-in-waiting, and the US is readying a suit in the World Court for copyright infringement. Oil companies are nervous and have already begun to share their concern with consumers.
Operation Green Sweep has brought the war home to California in an effort to wipe out the most dangerous non-legal drug grown in Humboldt County. The joint military operation is seen as a show of force to impress Colombian authorities who had complained that the US is dispatching troops to South America while failing to clean up its act at home. The Bureau of Land Management spokesman said, “We are perfectly willing to invade ourselves.” Critics have said attacking pot plants to stop crack use is like attacking Grenada to strike at the Soviet Union, but President Bush defended the action, saying studies show cleanup of marijuana leads to cleanup of the harder stuff.
Congress is considering a program to help workers who lose their jobs due to defense cuts and environmental protection survive and retrain for new occupations. Some Congresspersons have noted that the program could resolve the conflict between environmentalists and loggers. The rest of the members agreed, and voted the measure down.
A new environmental study by the Roper Organization finds five categories of peoples responding to environmental problems. “Basic browns” show no concern, “grousers” tend to grouse, “sprouts” are concerned but don’t believe they can do anything, “green-back greens” give money, and “true-blue greens” believe that individuals can make a difference. There is a sixth category, those who believe that corporations are responsible for environmental destruction and should take responsibility for cleaning it up. This group is known as “reds” and was dismissed as being outside the US color spectrum.
August 10, 1990
“The Iraqi aggression proves that talk of a peace dividend is premature,” President Bush told the press yesterday, raising his hand to cover a slight smile. Celebrations have broken out all over America except among young men, their mothers, and a few other relatives. The president went on to denounce rumors that Saddam Hussein is on the CIA payroll. “We did not plan this crisis to divert attention from the S&L-deficit-recession question,” he asserted. “That was a side benefit.” Mr. Bush denounced Hussein for using the weapons we have provided him to launch an unauthorized war. He said he will ask Iran to come into the conflict to help destroy the weapons we had sent to destroy Iran, back when we were enemies, last year. The president said the 38 Americans confined by Iraq were not taken hostage, merely detained, and cautioned that we are not at war. Polls indicate the public supports the President’s position, with 68% saying they do not believe we are at war with Iraq, although 57% said they believed Iraq believes it is at war with us. 73% said they arrived at their views by reading opinion polls in the newspapers.
The question of sovereignty for Kuwait has been clouded by the fact that the tiny principality was formerly a province ruled from what is now Iraq. Iraq received its independence from Britain only in 1961, and Arab borders in general were manipulated by the departing British to maintain control over the We always support self-determination throughout the world, in this case. region’s resources. But the administration has insisted that the colonially-established borders remain firm. “If Saddam wanted to invade Syria, we would consider that on its merits,” said a White House aide who wished to remain a White House aide, “but Kuwait has lots of oil and a port. Therefore we always support self-determination throughout the world, in this case.” This last statement sent the stock market tumbling.
Defense Secretary Dick Cheney reported that he had met with Saudi Arabia’s King Fahd and held discussions on the situation, after which the King requested US troops be deployed. Mr. Cheney was surprised by this request, but after much thought he decided, with a heavy heart, to grant it.
August 18, 1990
Protesters marched in London today against the so-called Poll Tax, or Community Charge, which is designed to give rich and poor alike the right to sleep under bridges. The protesters attacked police with firebombs purchased with their welfare checks. The police denied charges they had provoked the crowd, saying they had merely told the demonstrators what time it was, namely, time to go home.
With the Cold War over, the CIA has ended its covert support to the UNITA guerrillas in Angola. The $60 million per year program has been formally declared overt.
August 24, 1990
Desert Shield: 40,000 reservists have been called up by President Bush, who has explained to the American people what we are defending in Saudi Arabia by jumping aboard his boat Fidelity, which uses only nine times as much gas as the average car. “I’m going to keep using my boat,” said Bush,” and I hope the rest of America will prudently recreate.” Other officials endorsed the President’s call for safe play.
Mr. Bush defended his holiday steadfastness by saying “I don’t want anyone asking ‘Where Was George’ later on.” He added that he would not become a prisoner of the White House like Jimmy Carter, preferring to be a prisoner of the Golf Course.
Proclaiming the reliability of America in fulfilling its commitments, the President said we will defend the Emir of Kuwait for all he’s worth—about $18 billion—and warned Iraq he would not tolerate an Iraqi puppet regime in Kuwait. “We want our puppet back,” Mr. Bush said forcefully, allowing himself to gently pound the lectern a bit and then confiscating reporters’ tapes.
Meanwhile, the US restrictees in Iraq and Kuwait were upgraded, first to Inconvenienced People and later to Hostages, but were never “guests,” as claimed by the Hitler-like Hussein, Bush told a Veterans of Foreign Wars gathering.
The President continued, “I salute the many countries who courageously responded to Saudi Arabia’s request, and I salute Saudi Arabia for courageously responding to our request for a request.” One sign-holder summed up the lofty goals of the defensive deployment: “Get their gas and kick their ass.” King Hussein of Jordan has implied that Iraq did not mass troops at the Saudi border, as claimed by President Bush, and that the crisis might have been avoided if Bush had not sent troops. The President rejected these protests, asking “How can we protect world peace if we don’t protect our piece?”
Public reaction has been favorable: Citizens seem to be thankful for something more virile to focus on than the wimpish, recession-prone, bailout-plagued economy. In the most recent poll, 59% said they supported the President’s Gulf policy, including 64% supporting it if it is about oil, 58% in support if it’s about the rights of Kuwait, 51% if it’s about the rights of the Emir, and 96% if it’s about America’s self-image. The poll has a sampling error of plus or minus four gallons of crude.
In addition, 71% of the respondents agreed with President Bush that Saddam Hussein is a new Hitler, while only 31% felt he had been a new Hitler when he gassed thousands of Kurds in the mid-80s. Sixty-two percent felt he was not a Hitler then because Bush hadn’t said it yet, while another 62% said it was because Kurds have no oil.
A few Americans revealed their inability to get on board by demonstrating against the deployment. One demonstrator in Amherst, Massachusetts said she had protested the war in Vietnam and knew what it was like to demonstrate “at the beginning, before the protest becomes prevalent,” implying that opposition to the Vietnam war had somehow increased over time and that this was likely to happen again. Passing motorists slowed down to discuss the issue with the picketers, criticizing their failure to give the new war a fair shake. One driver reasoned, “Get out of America.”
White House sources dismissed any parallel between the seizure of Kuwait and Israel’s seizure of territories in the West Bank and Lebanon, saying “There is a Butcher of Baghdad, but there is no Terror of Tel Aviv. Israel is a Democracy, governed by a Kind and Gentle Jerusalem.” The source conceded that the US could make up all the oil lost from Iraq and Kuwait by driving five fewer miles per day, but said that would cause a recession, and we can’t afford two.
September 14, 1990
The race for the California Governor’s mansion has turned from attack videos to more positive themes, with Dianne Feinstein backing the death penalty.
Hundreds of children in the cities of Brazil have been shot by death squads or beaten by police seeking to “clean up the streets,” but the White House says there are no plans for an embargo or troop deployment against the Butchers of Brazil because they are not upsetting the balance of butchery in the region.
A US government White Paper named Saddam Hussein as the next officially-designated enemy of the United States in May of this year, two months before Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait, according to terrorist sympathizers outside the mainstream of American popular opinion.
Los Angeles police chief Daryl Gates, who last year declared that casual drug users “ought to be taken out and shot,” contends that casual marijuana smokers are responsible for the 300,000 babies born addicted to crack each year. Scientific studies so far are mixed. The Chief appeared at a local youth seminar and gave a lengthy talk on drugs, but his statements were clear.
In the latest chapter of the Gates-gate affair, the Chief has been placed on a sixty-day leave. Reaction in the city today has tended to divide along racial lines, for reasons that psychologists are working hard to uncover. Whites are saying the temporary leave was ordered as a cooling down period, while blacks maintain the Chief needs to chill.
October 9, 1990
A Florida jury has exonerated the Loud Noise group 2 Live Crew on obscenity charges. The decision, while not considered a major victory for feminism, is considered a victory for free speech. No word yet on a possible Constitutional amendment protecting citizens from having to hear four-letter words accompanied by non-melodic, insistent rhythms above a socially-sanc-tioned decibel level.
The US Department of Education will prohibit colleges that receive federal funds from offering scholarships earmarked for minority students. The Department says that “race-exclusive” scholarships discriminate in favor of minorities, instead of against them.
Recent polls indicate nearly six in ten Americans say the nation is in a recession. According to federal statutes, if eight in ten say it, it becomes law.
Cuba is trying to export its problems, according to a new scholarly report released by the US State Department. Charges that the US might be engaging in the same practice were heatedly denied by President Bush, speaking on behalf of his son.
British Prime Minister Thatcher has reacted with repulsion to the Iraqi taking of hostages, saying “We only came for their oil, not to have our heads tousled.” Hussein’s broadcasts have been reminiscent of earlier propaganda devices used in other countries, that is, not ours.
The British government is in a tizzy over the state of the economy. Last week, Chancellor of the Exchequer John Major said the country was in a recession, but today Prime Minister John Major disclaimed the Exchequer’s remarks and claimed it is merely a rapid economic slowdown.
October 30, 1990
President Bush has vetoed the civil rights quota bill because it would have denied the driving force of the American economy, that is, employers, the freedom to hire and fire when ready, regardless of color, that is, whatever color that pleases them, or doesn’t. But the President denies the veto is intended to help Republican candidates in white neighborhoods in the upcoming elections. Mr. Bush insisted he helps white neighborhoods year round.
And due to the continuing budget crunch, the President has threatened to shut down the government for the second time, but the shutdown will not affect essential services, that is, Operation Desert Shield, since that pre-war exercise has been contracted out. And with the CIA obtaining much of its funding from private and foreign sources, it looks like no one will be hurt by the shutdowns, except people.
November 4, 1990
Three Senators under investigation for helping a constituent, namely Charles Keating, have struck back, calling the charges a violation of the average American’s sense of fair play. The investigations reveal that as early as 1986 Mr. Keating warned that Edwin Gray, the head of the bank board, was creating a police state, in which the state would regulate the banks instead of the other way around.
November 10, 1990
President Bush has defended his veto of the civil rights bill, saying the measure would have pitted one group against the other, instead of the other way around.
The “Throw the Rascals Out” campaign against incumbent politicians scored a clear victory yesterday, with a two-thirds majority voting no to all the candidates, that is, not voting for any of them, that is, not voting. The runners-up conceded defeat gingerly in their victory statements. A New York Times article reveals a wide range of lack of motivations to vote, ranging from “I don’t know who to trust” to “I don’t know who not to trust.” Others disagreed, saying those who did vote are just as cynical.
The Times’ approach to the article was questioned by a far left think tank for allegedly failing to mention the actual organizations and persons that do so well in looking out for themselves on election day. A Times spokesperson explained, “We didn’t fail to mention that. We succeeded in not mentioning that.” The spokesperson added that this was an article about elections, not about who runs the country.
The proposal went down to defeat, with four million votes for and sixteen million dollars against.
A final note: In California the so-called Big Green initiative, an environmental proposition that was opposed by fair-sized chemical and oil concerns, went down to defeat, with four million votes for and sixteen million dollars against.
19 November 1990
London: A new poll reveals 46% of Americans believe that if the US launched a war in the Gulf, the Bush administrations would lie and say Iraq had started it. The 46% were questioned and released. The pollster was shot.
24 November 1990
London: President Bush says the US will fight for the rights of Kuwaitis, just as it has for Palestinians, only more so, since in this case we are able to find their leaders. Asked whether a war in the Gulf could end US influence in the Middle East, as the Suez conflict had ended European colonialism there, the President responded, “Oh, you mean the History thing?”
26 November 1991
London: Junk dealer-bond king Michael Milken has been savagely sentenced to ten years in prison. The sentencing judge wanted to send a warning to those who would deal junk on Wall Street instead of further uptown. “The sentence would have been twice as stiff,” said Judge Wood, “but we didn’t find any marijuana in his car.”
Observers of the New York Daily News strike note that violence is endemic in US labor history, owing to the workers’ long-standing frustration at not “owning” the “means” of “production.” The Tribune company, owners of the News, have conceded they may have given advance consideration to possible action in the event of a strike they might have hoped to help happen.
As Britain’s greatest peace-time Prime Minister surrendered the reins of power, pundits took a look back at her legacy. She came to power under the slogan “Labour Isn’t Working,” and promptly made sure of it. In fairness, some are. With the withdrawal of housing benefits and income support, more students are working than ever before. Granted, they are mostly female, and engaged in selling their bodies rather than their labour, but then, labour isn’t just working with your hands, is it?
6 December 1990
London: The European participants in the GATT talks are threatening to torpedo the current round by refusing to even consider a polite request by the United States that they cut farm subsidies. The US declared that the recalcitrant nations want to compete unfairly with the US, instead of the other way around. No word yet on a possible rescue of Europe by the Marines.
The British High Court has ruled that the working class still exists. In the case of the Millbank estate, left by the second Duke of Westminster to the council as workers’ housing, Mr. Justice Harman ruled that although Parliament had since chosen not to speak of the working class, it had not sought to prohibit others from speaking of it, nor to prevent the class from existing, but only from working. | 4,802 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.pub/shrubspeaks/chapter/news-speak-13/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:32740 | https://pressbooks.pub/shrubspeaks/chapter/news-speak-13/ |
NLkwKQ6-i73fcIJM | Last Words on Evolution: A Popular Retrospect and Summary | E-text prepared by MWS, Adrian Mastronardi, John Campbell, and the Online
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book.
LAST WORDS ON EVOLUTION
[Illustration: Bräunlich & Tesch (Emil Tesch), Hofphot. Jena.
Published by A. Owen & Co., London.
Ernst Haeckel.]
LAST WORDS ON EVOLUTION
A Popular Retrospect and Summary
by
ERNST HAECKEL
Professor at Jena University
Translated from the Second Edition by Joseph McCabe
With Portrait and Three Plates
London
A. Owen & Co.
28 Regent Street, S.W.
1906
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 7
PREFACE 11
CHAPTER I
THE CONTROVERSY ABOUT CREATION
Evolution and Dogma 15
PLATE I.--Genealogical Tree of the Vertebrates 17
CHAPTER II
THE STRUGGLE OVER OUR GENEALOGICAL TREE
Our Ape-Relatives and the Vertebrate-Stem 49
PLATE II.--Skeletons of Five Anthropoid Apes 51
THE CONTROVERSY OVER THE SOUL
The Ideas of Immortality and God 83
PLATE III.--Embryos of Three Mammals 85
APPENDIX
EVOLUTIONARY TABLES
Geological Ages and Periods 115
Man's Genealogical Tree--_First Half_ 116
Man's Genealogical Tree--_Second Half_ 117
Classification of the Primates 118
Genealogical Tree of the Primates 119
Explanation of Genealogical Table 1. 120
POSTSCRIPT
Evolution and Jesuitism 121
INTRODUCTION
A few months ago the sensational announcement was made that
Professor Haeckel had abandoned Darwinism and given public support
to the teaching of a Jesuit writer. There was something piquant
in the suggestion that the "Darwin of Germany" had recanted the
conclusions of fifty years of laborious study. Nor could people
forget that only two years before Haeckel had written with some
feeling about the partial recantation of some of his colleagues.
Many of our journals boldly declined to insert the romantic news,
which came through one of the chief international press agencies.
Others drew the attention of their readers, in jubilant editorial
notes, to the lively prospect it opened out. To the many inquiries
addressed to me as the "apostle of Professor Haeckel," as Sir
Oliver Lodge dubs me in a genial letter, I timidly represented that
even a German reporter sometimes drank. But the correction quickly
came that the telegram had exactly reversed the position taken up
by the great biologist. It is only just to the honourable calling
of the reporter to add that, according to the theory current in
Germany, the message was tampered with by subtle and ubiquitous
Jesuistry. Did they not penetrate even into the culinary service at
Hatfield?
I have pleasure in now introducing the three famous lectures
delivered by Professor Haeckel at Berlin, and the reader will
see the grotesqueness of the original announcement. They are the
last public deliverance that the aged professor will ever make.
His enfeebled health forbids us to hope that his decision may yet
be undone. He is now condemned, he tells me, to remain a passive
spectator of the tense drama in which he has played so prominent
a part for half a century. For him the red rays fall level on the
scene and the people about him. It may be that they light up too
luridly, too falsely, the situation in Germany; but the reader will
understand how a Liberal of Haeckel's temper must feel his country
to be between Scylla and Charybdis--between an increasingly clear
alternative of Catholicism or Socialism--with a helmsman at the
wheel whose vagaries inspire no confidence.
The English reader will care to be instructed on the antithesis of
Virchow and Haeckel which gives point to these lectures, and which
is often misrepresented in this country. Virchow, the greatest
pathologist and one of the leading anthropologists of Germany, had
much to do with the inspiring of Haeckel's Monistic views in the
fifties. Like several other prominent German thinkers, Virchow
subsequently abandoned the positive Monistic position for one of
agnosticism and scepticism, and a long and bitter conflict ensued.
It is hardly too much to say that Virchow's ultra-timid reserve in
regard to the evolution of man and other questions has died with
him. Apart from one or two less prominent anthropologists, and
the curious distinction drawn by Dr. A. R. Wallace, science has
accepted the fact of evolution, and has, indeed, accepted the main
lines of Haeckel's ancestral tree of the human race.
In any case, Haeckel had the splendid revenge of surviving his old
teacher and almost lifelong opponent. Berlin had for years been
dominated by the sceptical temper of Virchow and Du Bois-Reymond.
The ardent evolutionist and opponent of Catholicism was impatient
of a reserve that he felt to be an anachronism in science and an
effective support of reactionary ideas. It was, therefore, with
a peculiar satisfaction that he received the invitation, after
Virchow's death, to address the Berlin public. Among the many and
distinguished honours that have been heaped upon him in the last
ten years this was felt by him to hold a high place. He could at
last submit freely, in the capital of his country, the massive
foundations and the imposing structure of a doctrine which he holds
to be no less established in science than valuable in the general
cause of progress.
The lectures are reproduced here not solely because of the
interest aroused in them by the "Jesuit" telegram. They contain a
very valuable summary of his conclusions, and include the latest
scientific confirmation. Rarely has the great biologist written
in such clear and untechnical phrases, so that the general reader
will easily learn the outlines of his much-discussed Monism. To
closer students, who are at times impatient of the Lamarckian
phraseology of Haeckel--to all, in fact, who would like to see how
the same evolutionary truths are expressed without reliance on the
inheritance of acquired characters--I may take the opportunity
to say that I have translated, for the same publishers, Professor
Guenther's "Darwinism and the Problems of Life," which will shortly
be in their hands.
JOSEPH MCCABE.
_November, 1905._
PREFACE
In the beginning of April, 1905, I received from Berlin a very
unexpected invitation to deliver a popular scientific lecture
at the Academy of Music in that city. I at first declined this
flattering invitation, with thanks, sending them a copy of a
printed declaration, dated 17th July, 1901, which I had made
frequent use of, to the effect that "I could not deliver any more
public lectures, on account of the state of my health, my advanced
age, and the many labours that were still incumbent on me."
I was persuaded to make one departure from this fixed resolution,
firstly, by the pressing entreaties of many intimate friends
at Berlin. They represented to me how important it was to give
an account myself to the educated Berlin public of the chief
evolutionary conclusions I had advocated for forty years. They
pointed out emphatically that the increasing reaction in higher
circles, the growing audacity of intolerant orthodoxy, the
preponderance of Ultramontanism, and the dangers that this involved
for freedom of thought in Germany, for the university and the
school, made it imperative to take vigorous action. It happened
that I had just been following the interesting efforts that the
Church has lately made to enter into a peaceful compromise with
its deadly enemy, Monistic science. It has decided to accept
to a certain extent, and to accommodate to its creed (in a
distorted and mutilated form) the doctrine of evolution, which it
has vehemently opposed for thirty years. This remarkable change
of front on the part of the Church militant seemed to me so
interesting and important, and at the same time so misleading and
mischievous, that I chose it as the subject of a popular lecture,
and accepted the invitation to Berlin.
After a few days, when I had written my discourse, I was advised
from Berlin that the applications for admission were so numerous
that the lecture must either be repeated or divided into two. I
chose the latter course, as the material was very abundant. In
compliance with an urgent request, I repeated the two lectures
(17th and 18th April); and as demands for fresh lectures continued
to reach me, I was persuaded to add a "farewell lecture" (on 19th
April), in which I dealt with a number of important questions that
had not been adequately treated.
The noble gift of effective oratory has been denied me by Nature.
Though I have taught for eighty-eight terms at the little
University of Jena, I have never been able to overcome a certain
nervousness about appearing in public, and have never acquired
the art of expressing my thoughts in burning language and with
appropriate gesture. For these and other reasons, I have rarely
consented to take part in scientific and other congresses; the few
speeches that I have delivered on such occasions, and are issued
in collected form, were drawn from me by my deep interest in the
great struggle for the triumph of truth. However, in the three
Berlin lectures--my _last_ public addresses--I had no design of
winning my hearers to my opinions by means of oratory. It was
rather my intention to put before them, in connected form, the
great groups of biological facts, by which they could, on impartial
consideration, convince themselves of the truth and importance of
the theory of evolution.
Readers who are interested in the evolution-controversy, as I
here describe it, will find in my earlier works (_The History of
Creation_, _The Evolution of Man_, _The Riddle of the Universe_,
and _The Wonders of Life_) a thorough treatment of the views I
have summarily presented. I do not belong to the amiable group
of "men of compromise," but am in the habit of giving candid and
straightforward expression to the convictions which a half-century
of serious and laborious study has led me to form. If I seem to be
a tactless and inconsiderate "fighter," I pray you to remember that
"conflict is the father of all things," and that the victory of
pure reason over current superstition will not be achieved without
a tremendous struggle. But I regard _ideas_ only in my struggles:
to the _persons_ of my opponents I am indifferent, bitterly as they
have attacked and slandered my own person.
Although I have lived in Berlin for many years as student and
teacher, and have always been in communication with scientific
circles there, I have only once before delivered a public lecture
in that city. That was on "The Division of Labour in Nature and
Human Life" (17th December, 1868). I was, therefore, somewhat
gratified to be able to speak there again (and for the last time),
after thirty-six years, especially as it was in the very spot, the
hall of the Academy of Music, in which I had heard the leaders of
the Berlin University speak fifty years ago.
It is with great pleasure that I express my cordial thanks to those
who invited me to deliver these lectures, and who did so much to
make my stay in the capital pleasant; and also to my many hearers
for their amiable and sympathetic attention.
ERNST HAECKEL.
JENA, _9th May, 1905_.
CHAPTER I
THE CONTROVERSY ABOUT CREATION
EVOLUTION AND DOGMA
EXPLANATION OF PLATE I
GENEALOGICAL TREE OF THE VERTEBRATES
The genetic relationship of all vertebrates, from the earliest
acrania and fishes up to the apes and man, is proved in its
main lines by the concordant testimony of paleontology,
comparative anatomy, and embryology. All competent and
impartial zoologists now agree that the vertebrates are all
descended from a _single_ stem, and that the root of this is
to be sought in extinct pre-Silurian _Acrania_ (1), somewhat
similar to the living lancelet. The _Cyclostoma_ (2) represent
the transition from the latter to the _Fishes_ (3); and the
_Dipneusts_ (4) the transition from these to the _Amphibia_
(5). From the latter have been developed the _Reptiles_ (6)
on the one hand, and the _Mammals_ (7) on the other. The
most important branch of this most advanced class is the
_Primates_ (8); from the half-apes, or lemurs, a direct line
leads, through the baboons, to the anthropoid apes, and
through these on to man. (_Cf._ the tables on pp. 115-120).
Further information will be found in chapters xxiv.-xxvii. of
the _History of Creation_, and chapters xxi.-xxiii. of the
_Evolution of Man_.
PLATE I.
[Illustration: GENEALOGICAL TREE OF THE VERTEBRATES]
LAST WORDS ON EVOLUTION
CHAPTER I
THE CONTROVERSY ABOUT CREATION
EVOLUTION AND DOGMA
The controversy over the idea of evolution is a prominent feature
in the mental life of the nineteenth century. It is true that a
few great thinkers had spoken of a natural evolution of all things
several thousand years ago. They had, indeed, partly investigated
the laws that control the birth and death of the world, and the
rise of the earth and its inhabitants; even the creation-stories
and the myths of the older religions betray a partial influence
of these evolutionary ideas. But it was not until the nineteenth
century that the idea of evolution took definite shape and was
scientifically grounded on various classes of evidence; and it
was not until the last third of the century that it won general
recognition. The intimate connection that was proved to exist
between all branches of knowledge, once the continuity of
historical development was realised, and the union of them all
through the Monistic philosophy, are achievements of the last few
decades.
The great majority of the older ideas that thoughtful men had
formed on the origin and nature of the world and their own frame
were far removed from the notion of "self-development." They
culminated in more or less obscure creation-myths, which generally
put in the foreground the idea of a personal Creator. Just as man
has used intelligence and design in the making of his weapons and
tools, his houses and his boats, so it was thought that the Creator
had fashioned the world with art and intelligence, according to
a definite plan. Among the many legends of this kind the ancient
Semitic story of creation, familiar to us as the Mosaic narrative,
but drawn for the most part from Babylonian sources, has obtained
a very great influence on European culture owing to the general
acceptance of the Bible. The belief in miracles, that is involved
in these religious legends, was bound to come in conflict,
at an early date, with the evolutionary ideas of independent
philosophical research. On the one hand, in the prevalent religious
teaching, we had the supernatural world, the miraculous, teleology:
on the other hand, in the nascent science of evolution, only
natural law, pure reason, mechanical causality. Every step that was
made by this science brought into greater relief its inconsistency
with the predominant religion.[1]
If we glance for a moment at the various fields in which the idea
of evolution is scientifically applied we find that, firstly,
the whole universe is conceived as a unity; secondly, our earth;
thirdly, organic life on the earth; fourthly, man, as its highest
product; and fifthly, the soul, as a special immaterial entity.
Thus we have, in historical succession, the evolutionary research
of cosmology, geology, biology, anthropology, and psychology.
The first comprehensive idea of cosmological evolution was put
forth by the famous critical philosopher Immanuel Kant, in 1755,
in the great work of his earlier years, _General Natural History
of the Heavens, or an Attempt to Conceive and to Explain the
Origin of the Universe mechanically, according to the Newtonian
Laws_. This remarkable work appeared anonymously, and was
dedicated to Frederick the Great, who, however, never saw it. It
was little noticed, and was soon entirely forgotten, until it
was exhumed ninety years afterwards by Alexander von Humboldt.
Note particularly that on the title-page stress is laid on the
_mechanical_ origin of the world and its explanation on Newtonian
principles; in this way the strictly Monistic character of the
whole cosmogony and the absolutely universal rule of natural law
are clearly expressed. It is true that Kant speaks much in it of
God and his wisdom and omnipotence; but this is limited to the
affirmation that God created once for all the unchangeable laws of
nature, and was henceforward bound by them and only able to work
through them. The Dualism which became so pronounced subsequently
in the philosopher of Koenigsberg counts for very little here.
The idea of a natural development of the world occurs in a clearer
and more consistent form, and is provided with a firm mathematical
basis, forty years afterwards, in the remarkable _Mécanique
Céleste_ of Pierre Laplace. His popular _Exposition du Système du
Monde_ (1796) destroyed at its roots the legend of creation that
had hitherto prevailed, or the Mosaic narrative in the Bible.
Laplace, who had become Minister of the Interior, Count, and
Chancellor of the Senate, under Napoleon, was merely honourable
and consistent when he replied to the emperor's question, "What
room there was for God in his system?": "Sire, I had no need
for that unfounded hypothesis." What strange ministers there
are sometimes![2] The shrewdness of the Church soon recognised
that the personal Creator was dethroned, and the creation-myth
destroyed, by this Monistic and now generally received theory
of cosmic development. Nevertheless it maintained towards it
the attitude which it had taken up 250 years earlier in regard
to the closely related and irrefutable system of Copernicus. It
endeavoured to conceal the truth as long as possible, or to oppose
it with Jesuitical methods, and finally it yielded. If the Churches
now silently admit the Copernican system and the cosmogony of
Laplace and have ceased to oppose them, we must attribute the fact,
partly to a feeling of their spiritual impotence, partly to an
astute calculation that the ignorant masses do not reflect on these
great problems.
In order to obtain a clear idea and a firm conviction of this
cosmic evolution by natural law, the eternal birth and death of
millions of suns and stars, one needs some mathematical training
and a lively imagination, as well as a certain competence in
astronomy and physics. The evolutionary process is much simpler,
and more readily grasped in geology. Every shower of rain or wave
of the sea, every volcanic eruption and every pebble, gives us a
direct proof of the changes that are constantly taking place on
the surface of our planet. However, the historical significance
of these changes was not properly appreciated until 1822, by Karl
von Hoff of Gotha, and modern geology was only founded in 1830
by Charles Lyell, who explained the whole origin and composition
of the solid crust of the earth, the formation of the mountains,
and the periods of the earth's development, in a connected system
by natural laws. From the immense thickness of the stratified
rocks, which contain the fossilised remains of extinct organisms,
we discovered the enormous length--running into millions of
years--of the periods during which these sedimentary rocks were
deposited in water. Even the duration of the _organic_ history of
the earth--that is to say, the period during which the plant and
animal population of our planet was developing--must itself be put
at more than a hundred million years. These results of geology and
paleontology destroyed the current legend of the six days' work of
a personal Creator. Many attempts were made, it is true, and are
still being made, to reconcile the Mosaic supernatural story of
creation with modern geology.[3] All these efforts of believers
are in vain. We may say, in fact, that it is precisely the study
of geology, the reflection it entails on the enormous periods of
evolution, and the habit of seeking the simple mechanical causes
of their constant changes, that contribute very considerably to
the advance of enlightenment. Yet in spite of this (or, possibly,
because of this), geological instruction is either greatly
neglected or entirely suppressed in most schools. It is certainly
eminently calculated (in connection with geography) to enlarge
the mind, and acquaint the child with the idea of evolution. An
educated person who knows the elements of geology will never
experience _ennui_. He will find everywhere in surrounding nature,
in the rocks and in the water, in the desert and on the mountains,
the most instructive stimuli to reflection.
The evolutionary process in organic nature is much more difficult
to grasp. Here we must distinguish two different series of
biological development, which have only been brought into proper
causal connection by means of our biogenetic law (1866); one series
is found in embryology (or ontogeny), the other in phylogeny (or
race-development). In Germany "evolution" always meant embryology,
or a part of the whole, until forty years ago. It stood for a
microscopic examination of the wonderful processes by means of
which the elaborate structure of the plant or animal body is
formed from the simple seed of the plant or the egg of the bird.
Until the beginning of the nineteenth century the erroneous
view was generally received that this marvellously complicated
structure existed, completely formed, in the simple ovum, and that
the various organs had merely to grow and to shape themselves
independently by a process of "evolution" (or unfolding), before
they entered into activity. An able German scientist, Caspar
Friedrich Wolff (son of a Berlin tailor), had already shown the
error of this "pre-formation theory" in 1759. He had proved, in his
dissertation for the doctorate, that no trace of the later body,
of its bones, muscles, nerves, and feathers, can be found in the
hen's egg (the commonest and most convenient object for study),
but merely a small round disk, consisting of two thin superimposed
layers. He had further showed that the various organs are only
built up gradually out of these simple elements, and that we can
trace, step by step, a series of real new growths. However, these
momentous discoveries, and the sound "theory of epigenesis" that
he based on them, were wholly ignored for fifty years, and even
rejected by the leading authorities. It was not until Oken had
re-discovered these important facts at Jena (1806), Pander had more
carefully distinguished the germinal layers (1817), and finally
Carl Ernst von Baer had happily combined observation and reflection
in his classical _Animal Embryology_ (1828), that embryology
attained the rank of an independent science with a sound empirical
base.
A little later it secured a well-merited recognition in botany
also, especially owing to the efforts of Matthias Schleiden of
Jena, the distinguished student who provided biology with a new
foundation in the "cell theory" (1838). But it was not until the
middle of the nineteenth century that people generally recognised
that the ovum of the plant or animal is itself only a simple cell,
and that the later tissues and organs gradually develop from this
"elementary organism" by a repeated cleavage of, and division of
labour in, the cells. The most important step was then made of
recognising that our human organism also develops from an ovum
(first discovered by Baer in 1827), in virtue of the same laws, and
that its embryonic development resembles that of the other mammals,
especially that of the ape. Each of us was, at the beginning of
his existence, a simple globule of protoplasm, surrounded by a
membrane, about 1/120 of an inch in diameter, with a firmer nucleus
inside it. These important embryological discoveries confirmed the
rational conception of the human organism that had been attained
much earlier by comparative anatomy: the conviction that the
human frame is built in the same way, and develops similarly from
a simple ovum, as the body of all other mammals. Even Linné had
already (1735) given man a place in the mammal class in his famous
_System of Nature_.
Differently from these embryological facts, which can be directly
observed, the phenomena of phylogeny (the development of species),
which are needed to set the former in their true light, are usually
outside the range of immediate observation. What was the origin of
the countless species of animals and plants? How can we explain the
remarkable relationships which unite similar species into genera
and these into classes? Linné answers the question very simply
with the belief in creation, relying on the generally accepted
Mosaic narrative: "There are as many different species of animals
and plants as there were different forms created by God in the
beginning." The first scientific answer was given in 1809 by the
great French scientist, Lamarck. He taught, in his suggestive
_Philosophie Zoologique_, that the resemblances in form and
structure of groups of species are due to real affinity, and that
all organisms descend from a few very simple primitive forms (or,
possibly, from a single one). These primitive forms were developed
out of lifeless matter by spontaneous generation. The resemblances
of related groups of species are explained by _inheritance_ from
common stem-forms; their dissimilarities are due to _adaptation_
to different environments, and to variety in the action of the
modifiable organs. The human race has arisen in the same way, by
transformation of a series of mammal ancestors, the nearest of
which are ape-like primates.
These great ideas of Lamarck, which threw light on the whole
field of organic life, and were closely approached by Goethe in
his own speculations, gave rise to the theory that we now know
as transformism, or the theory of evolution or descent. But the
far-seeing Lamarck was--as Caspar Friedrich Wolff had been fifty
years before--half a century before his time. His theory obtained
no recognition, and was soon wholly forgotten.
It was brought into the light once more in 1859 by the genius
of Charles Darwin, who had been born in the very year that the
_Philosophie Zoologique_ was published. The substance and the
success of his system, which has gone by the name of Darwinism
(in the wider sense) for forty-six years, are so generally known
that I need not dwell on them. I will only point out that the
great success of Darwin's epoch-making works is due to two causes:
firstly, to the fact that the English scientist most ingeniously
worked up the empirical material that had accumulated during
fifty years into a systematic proof of the theory of descent; and
secondly, to the fact that he gave it the support of a second
theory of his own, the theory of natural selection. This theory,
which gives a causal explanation of the transformation of species,
is what we ought to call "Darwinism" in the strict sense. We cannot
go here into the question how far this theory is justified, or how
far it is corrected by more recent theories, such as Weismann's
theory of germ-plasm (1844), or De Vries's theory of mutations
(1900). Our concern is rather with the unparalleled influence that
Darwinism, and its application to man, have had during the last
forty years on the whole province of science; and at the same time,
with its irreconcilable opposition to the dogmas of the Churches.
The extension of the theory of evolution to man was, naturally,
one of the most interesting and momentous applications of it. If
all other organisms arose, not by a miraculous creation, but by a
natural modification of earlier forms of life, the presumption is
that the human race also was developed by the transformation of the
most man-like mammals, the primates of Linné--the apes and lemurs.
This natural inference, which Lamarck had drawn in his simple way,
but Darwin had at first explicitly avoided, was first thoroughly
established by the gifted zoologist, Thomas Huxley, in his three
lectures on _Man's Place in Nature_ (1863). He showed that this
"question of questions" is unequivocally answered by three chief
witnesses--the natural history of the anthropoid apes, the anatomic
and embryological relations of man to the animals immediately
below him, and the recently discovered fossil human remains.
Darwin entirely accepted these conclusions of his friend eight
years afterwards, and, in his two-volume work, _The Descent of Man
and Sexual Selection_ (1871), furnished a number of new proofs in
support of the dreaded "descent of man from the ape." I myself
then (1874) completed the task I had begun in 1866, of determining
approximately the whole series of the extinct animal ancestors of
the human race, on the ground of comparative anatomy, embryology,
and paleontology. This attempt was improved, as our knowledge
advanced, in the five editions of my _Evolution of Man_. In the
last twenty years a vast literature on the subject has accumulated.
I must assume that you are acquainted with the contents of one
or other of these works, and will turn to the question, that
especially engages our attention at present, how the inevitable
struggle between these momentous achievements of modern science and
the dogmas of the Churches has run in recent years.
It was obvious that both the general theory of evolution and
its extension to man in particular must meet from the first
with the most determined resistance on the part of the Churches.
Both were in flagrant contradiction to the Mosaic story of
creation, and other Biblical dogmas that were involved in it,
and are still taught in our elementary schools. It is creditable
to the shrewdness of the theologians and their associates, the
metaphysicians, that they at once rejected Darwinism, and made a
particularly energetic resistance in their writings to its chief
consequence, the descent of man from the ape. This resistance
seemed the more justified and hopeful as, for seven or eight years
after Darwin's appearance, few biologists accepted his theory, and
the general attitude amongst them was one of cold scepticism. I can
well testify to this from my own experience. When I first openly
advocated Darwin's theory at a scientific congress at Stettin in
1863, I was almost alone, and was blamed by the great majority
for taking up seriously so fantastic a theory, "the dream of an
after-dinner nap," as the Göttinger zoologist, Keferstein, called
it.
The general attitude towards Nature fifty years ago was so
different from that we find everywhere to-day, that it is difficult
to convey a clear idea of it to a young scientist or philosopher.
The great question of creation, the problem how the various species
of plants and animals came into the world, and how man came into
being, did not exist yet in exact science. There was, in fact, no
question of it.
Seventy-seven years ago Alexander von Humboldt delivered, in this
very spot, the lectures which afterwards made up his famous
work, _Cosmos, the Elements of a Physical Description of the
World_. As he touched, in passing, the obscure problem of the
origin of the organic population of our planet, he could only say
resignedly: "The mysterious and unsolved problem of how things
came to be does not belong to the empirical province of objective
research, the description of what _is_." It is instructive to
find Johannes Müller, the greatest of German biologists in the
nineteenth century, speaking thus in 1852, in his famous essay,
"On the Generation of Snails in Holothurians": "The entrance of
various species of animals into creation is certain--it is a
fact of paleontology; but it is _supernatural_ as long as this
entrance cannot be perceived in the act and become an element of
observation." I myself had a number of remarkable conversations
with Müller, whom I put at the head of all my distinguished
teachers, in the summer of 1854. His lectures on comparative
anatomy and physiology--the most illuminating and stimulating I
ever heard--had captivated me to such an extent that I asked and
obtained his permission to make a closer study of the skeletons and
other preparations in his splendid museum of comparative anatomy
(then in the right wing of the buildings of the Berlin University),
and to draw them. Müller (then in his fifty-fourth year) used to
spend the Sunday afternoon alone in the museum. He would walk to
and fro for hours in the spacious rooms, his hands behind his
back, buried in thought about the mysterious affinities of the
vertebrates, the "holy enigma" of which was so forcibly impressed
by the row of skeletons. Now and again my great master would turn
to a small table at the side, at which I (a student of twenty
years) was sitting in the angle of a window, making conscientious
drawings of the skulls of mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and fishes.
I would then beg him to explain particularly difficult points in
anatomy, and once I ventured to put the question: "Must not all
these vertebrates, with their identity in internal skeleton, in
spite of all their external differences, have come originally from
a common form?" The great master nodded his head thoughtfully, and
said: "Ah, if we only knew that! If ever you solve that riddle,
you will have accomplished a supreme work." Two months afterwards,
in September, 1854, I had to accompany Müller to Heligoland, and
learned under his direction the beautiful and wonderful inhabitants
of the sea. As we fished together in the sea, and caught the lovely
medusæ, I asked him how it was possible to explain their remarkable
alternation of generations; if the medusæ, from the ova of which
polyps develop to-day, must not have come originally from the more
simply organised polyps? To this precocious question, I received
the same resigned answer: "Ah, that is a very obscure problem! We
know nothing whatever about the origin of species."
Johannes Müller was certainly one of the greatest scientists of the
nineteenth century. He takes rank with Cuvier, Baer, Lamarck, and
Darwin. His insight was profound and penetrating, his philosophic
judgment comprehensive, and his mastery of the vast province
of biology was enormous. Emil du Bois-Reymond happily compared
him, in his fine commemorative address, to Alexander the Great,
whose kingdom was divided into several independent realms at his
death. In his lectures and works Müller treated no less than four
different subjects, for which four separate chairs were founded
after his death in 1858--human anatomy, physiology, pathological
anatomy, and comparative anatomy. In fact, we ought really to add
two more subjects--zoology and embryology. Of these, also, we
learned more from Müller's classic lectures than from the official
lectures of the professors of those subjects. The great master died
in 1858, a few months before Charles Darwin and Alfred R. Wallace
made their first communications on their new theory of selection
in the Journal of the Linnæan Society. I do not doubt in the least
that this surprising answer of the riddle of creation would have
profoundly moved Müller, and have been fully admitted by him on
mature reflection.
To these leading masters in biology, and to all other anatomists,
physiologists, zoologists, and botanists up to 1858, the question
of organic creation was an unsolved problem; the great majority
regarded it as insoluble. The theologians and their allies, the
metaphysicians, built triumphantly on this fact. It afforded a
clear proof of the limitations of reason and science. A miracle
only could account for the origin of these ingenious and carefully
designed organisms; nothing less than the Divine wisdom and
omnipotence could have brought man into being. But this general
resignation of reason, and the dominance of supernatural ideas
which it encouraged, were somewhat paradoxical in the thirty years
between Lyell and Darwin, between 1830 and 1859, since the natural
evolution of the earth, as conceived by the great geologist, had
come to be universally recognised. Since the earlier of these dates
the iron necessity of natural law had ruled in inorganic nature,
in the formation of the mountains and the movement of the heavenly
bodies. In organic nature, on the contrary, in the creation and the
life of animals and plants, people saw only the wisdom and power of
an intelligent Creator and Controller; in other words, everything
was ruled by mechanical causality in the inorganic world, but by
teleological finality in the realm of biology.
Philosophy, strictly so called, paid little or no attention to
this dilemma. Absorbed almost exclusively in metaphysical and
dialectical speculations, it looked with supreme contempt or
indifference on the enormous progress that the empirical sciences
were making. It affected, in its character of "purely mental
science," to build up the world out of its own head, and to have no
need of the splendid material that was being laboriously gathered
by observation and experiment. This is especially true of Germany,
where Hegel's system of "absolute idealism" had secured the highest
regard, particularly since it had been made obligatory as "the
royal State-philosophy of Prussia"--mainly because, according to
Hegel, "in the State the Divine will itself and the monarchical
constitution alone represent the development of reason; all
other forms of constitution are lower stages of the development
of reason." Hegel's abstruse metaphysics has also been greatly
appreciated because it has made so thorough and consistent a use
of the idea of evolution. But this pretended "evolution of reason"
floated far above real nature in the pure ether of the absolute
spirit, and was devoid of all the material ballast that the
empirical science of the evolution of the world, the earth, and its
living population, had meantime accumulated. Moreover, it is well
known how Hegel himself declared, with humorous resignation, that
only _one_ of his many pupils had understood him, and this one had
misunderstood him.
From the higher standpoint of general culture the difficult
question forces itself on us: What is the real value of the idea
of evolution in the whole realm of science? We are bound to
answer that it varies considerably. The facts of the evolution of
the individual, or of ontogeny, were easy to observe and grasp:
the evolution of the crust of the earth and of the mountains in
geology seemed to have an equally sound empirical foundation; the
physical evolution of the universe seemed to be established by
mathematical speculation. There was no longer any serious question
of _creation_, in the literal sense, of the deliberate action
of a personal Creator, in these great provinces. But this made
people cling to the idea more than ever in regard to the origin of
the countless species of animals and plants, and especially the
creation of man. This transcendental problem seemed to be entirely
beyond the range of natural development; and the same was thought
of the question of the nature and origin of the soul, the mystic
entity that was appropriated by metaphysical speculation as its
subject. Charles Darwin suddenly brought a clear light into this
dark chaos of contradictory notions in 1859. His epoch-making work,
_The Origin of Species_, proved convincingly that this historical
process is not a supernatural mystery, but a physiological
phenomenon; and that the preservation of improved races in the
struggle for life had produced, by a natural evolution, the whole
wondrous world of organic life.
To-day, when evolution is almost universally recognised in biology,
when thousands of anatomic and physiological works are based on
it every year, the new generation can hardly form an idea of the
violent resistance that was offered to Darwin's theory and the
impassioned struggles it provoked. In the first place, the Churches
at once raised a vigorous protest; they rightly regarded their
new antagonist as the deadly enemy of the legend of creation,
and saw the very foundations of their creed threatened. The
Churches found a powerful ally in the dualistic metaphysics that
still claims to represent the real "idealist philosophy" at most
universities. But most dangerous of all to the young theory
was the violent resistance it met almost everywhere in its own
province of empirical science. The prevailing belief in the fixity
and the independent creation of the various species was much more
seriously menaced by Darwin's theory than it had been by Lamarck's
transformism. Lamarck had said substantially the same thing fifty
years before, but had failed to convince through the lack of
effective evidence. Many scientists, some of great distinction,
opposed Darwin because either they had not an adequate acquaintance
with the whole field of biology, or it seemed to them that his bold
speculation advanced too far from the secure base of experience.
When Darwin's work appeared in 1859, and fell like a flash of
lightning on the dark world of official biology, I was engaged in a
scientific expedition to Sicily and taken up with a thorough study
of the graceful radiolarians, those wonderful microscopic marine
animals that surpass all other organisms in the beauty and variety
of their forms. The special study of this remarkable class of
animals, of which I afterwards described more than 4,000 species,
after more than ten years of research, provided me with one of the
solid foundation-stones of my Darwinian ideas. But when I returned
from Messina to Berlin in the spring of 1860, I knew nothing as yet
of Darwin's achievement. I merely heard from my friends at Berlin
that a remarkable work by a crazy Englishman had attracted great
attention, and that it turned upside down all previous ideas as to
the origin of species.
I soon perceived that almost all the experts at Berlin--chief
amongst them were the famous microscopist, Ehrenberg; the
anatomist, Reichert; the zoologist, Peters; and the geologist,
Beyrich--were unanimous in their condemnation of Darwin. The
brilliant orator of the Berlin Academy, Emil du Bois-Reymond,
hesitated. He recognised that the theory of evolution was
the only natural solution of the problem of creation; but he
laughed at the application of it as a poor romance, and declared
that the phylogenetic inquiries into the relationship of the
various species had about as much value as the research of
philologists into the genealogical tree of the Homeric heroes.
The distinguished botanist, Alexander Braun, stood quite alone
in his full and warm assent to the theory of evolution. I found
comfort and encouragement with this dear and respected teacher,
when I was deeply moved by the first reading of Darwin's book,
and soon completely converted to his views. In Darwin's great and
harmonious conception of Nature, and his convincing establishment
of evolution, I had an answer to all the doubts that had beset me
since the beginning of my biological studies.
My famous teacher, Rudolf Virchow, whom I had met at Würtzburg in
1852, and was soon associated with in the most friendly relations
as special pupil and admiring assistant, played a very curious
part in this great controversy. I am, I think, one of those
elderly men who have followed Virchow's development, as man and
thinker, with the greatest interest during the last fifty years.
I distinguish three periods in his psychological metamorphoses.
In the first decade of his academic life, from 1847 to 1858,
mainly at Würtzburg, he effected the great reform of medicine that
culminated brilliantly in his cellular pathology. In the following
twenty years (1858-1877) he was chiefly occupied with politics
and anthropology. He was at first favourable to Darwinism, then
sceptical, and finally rejected it. His powerful and determined
opposition to it dates from 1877, when, in is famous speech on "The
Freedom of Science in the Modern State," he struck a heavy blow
at that freedom, denounced the theory of evolution as dangerous
to the State, and demanded its exclusion from the schools. This
remarkable metamorphosis is so important, and has had so much
influence, yet has been so erroneously described, that I will
deal with it somewhat fully in the next chapter, especially as
I have then to treat one chief problem, the descent of man from
the ape. For the moment, I will merely recall the fact that in
Berlin, the "metropolis of intelligence," as it has been called,
the theory of evolution, now generally accepted, met with a more
stubborn resistance than in most of our other leading educational
centres, and that this opposition was due above all to the powerful
authority of Virchow.
We can only glance briefly here at the victorious struggle that
the idea of evolution has conducted in the last three decades of
the nineteenth century. The violent resistance that Darwinism
encountered nearly everywhere in its early years was paralysed
towards the end of the first decade. In the years 1866-1874 many
works were published in which not only were the foundations of the
theory scientifically strengthened, but its general recognition
was secured by popular treatment of the subject. I made the first
attempt in 1866, in my _General Morphology_, to present connectedly
the whole subject of evolution and make it the foundation of a
consistent Monistic philosophy; and I then gave a popular summary
of my chief conclusions in the ten editions of my _History of
Creation_. In my _Evolution of Man_ I made the first attempt to
apply the principles of evolution thoroughly and consistently to
man, and to draw up a hypothetical list of his animal ancestors.
The three volumes of my _Systematic Phylogeny_ (1894-1896)
contain a fuller outline of a natural classification of organisms
on the basis of their stem-history. There have been important
contributions to the science of evolution in all its branches in
the Darwinian periodical, _Cosmos_, since 1877; and a number of
admirable popular works helped to spread the system.
However, the most important and most welcome advance was made by
science when, in the last thirty years, the idea of evolution
penetrated into every branch of biology, and was recognised as
fundamental and indispensable. Thousands of new discoveries and
observations in all sections of botany, zoology, protistology,
and anthropology, were brought forward as empirical evidence of
evolution. This is especially true of the remarkable progress of
paleontology, comparative anatomy, and embryology, but it applies
also to physiology, chorology (the science of the distribution
of living things), and œcology (the description of the habits of
animals). How much our horizon was extended by these, and how
much the unity of our Monistic system gained, can be seen in any
modern manual of biology. If we compare them with those that gave
us extracts of natural history forty or fifty years ago, we see
at once what an enormous advance has taken place. Even the more
remote branches of anthropological science, ethnography, sociology,
ethics, and jurisprudence, are entering into closer relations with
the theory of evolution, and can no longer escape its influence. In
view of all this, it is ridiculous for theological and metaphysical
journals to talk, as they do, of the failure of evolution and "the
death-bed of Darwinism."
Our science of evolution won its greatest triumph when, at the
beginning of the twentieth century, its most powerful opponents,
the Churches, became reconciled to it, and endeavoured to bring
their dogmas into line with it. A number of timid attempts to
do so had been made in the preceding ten years by different
free-thinking theologians and philosophers, but without much
success. The distinction of accomplishing this in a comprehensive
and well-informed manner was reserved for a Jesuit, Father Erich
Wasmann of Luxemburg. This able and learned entomologist had
already earned some recognition in zoology by a series of admirable
observations on the life of ants, and the captives that they
always keep in their homes, certain very small insects which have
themselves been curiously modified by adaptation to their peculiar
environment. He showed that these striking modifications can only
be rationally explained by descent from other free-living species
of insects. The various papers in which Wasmann gave a thoroughly
Darwinian explanation of the biological phenomena first appeared
(1901-1903) in the Catholic periodical, _Stimmen aus Maria-Laach_,
and are now collected in a special work entitled, _Modern Biology
and the Theory of Evolution_.
This remarkable book of Wasmann's is a masterpiece of Jesuitical
sophistry. It really consists of three entirely different sections.
The first third gives, in the introduction, what is, for Catholics,
a clear and instructive account of modern biology, especially the
cell-theory, and the theory of evolution (chapters i.-viii.). The
second third, the ninth chapter, is the most valuable part of the
work. It has the title: "The Theory of Fixity or the theory of
Evolution?" Here the learned entomologist gives an interesting
account of the results of his prolonged studies of the morphology
and the œcology of the ants and their captives, the myrmecophilæ.
He shows impartially and convincingly that these complicated and
remarkable phenomena can only be explained by evolution, and that
the older doctrine of the fixity and independent creation of the
various species is quite untenable. With a few changes this ninth
chapter could figure as a useful part of a work by Darwin or
Weismann or some other evolutionist. The succeeding chapter (the
last third) is flagrantly inconsistent with the ninth. It deals
most absurdly with the application of the theory of evolution to
man. The reader has to ask himself whether Wasmann really believes
these confused and ridiculous notions, or whether he merely aims at
befogging his readers, and so preparing the way for the acceptance
of the conventional creed.
Wasmann's book has been well criticised by a number of competent
students, especially by Escherich and Francé. While fully
recognising his great services, they insist very strongly on
the great mischief wrought by this smuggling of the Jesuitical
spirit into biology. Escherich points out at length the glaring
inconsistencies and the obvious untruths of this "ecclesiastical
evolution." He summarises his criticism in the words: "If the
theory of evolution can really be reconciled with the dogmas of the
Church only in the way we find here, Wasmann has clearly proved
that any such reconciliation is impossible. Because what Wasmann
gives here as the theory of evolution is a thing mutilated beyond
recognition and incapable of any vitality." He tries, like a good
Jesuit, to prove that it does not tend to undermine, but to give a
firm foundation to, the story of supernatural creation, and that it
was really not Lamarck and Darwin, but St. Augustin and St. Thomas
of Aquin, who founded the science of evolution. "God does not
interfere directly in the order of Nature when he can act by means
of natural causes." Man alone constitutes a remarkable exception;
because "the human soul, being a spiritual entity, cannot be
derived from matter even by the Divine omnipotence, like the vital
forms of the plants and animals" (p. 299).
In an instructive article on "Jesuitical Science" (in the Frankfort
_Freie Wort_, No. 22, 1904), R. H. Francé gives an interesting
list of the prominent Jesuits who are now at work in the various
branches of science. As he rightly says, the danger consists "in
a systematic introduction of the Jesuitical spirit into science,
a persistent perversion of all its problems and solutions, and an
astute undermining of its foundations; to speak more precisely,
the danger is that people are not sufficiently conscious of it,
and that they, and even science itself, fall into the cleverly
prepared pit of believing that there is such a thing as _Jesuitical
science_, the results of which may be taken seriously."[4]
While fully recognising these dangers, I nevertheless feel that the
Jesuit Father Wasmann, and his colleagues, have--unwittingly--done
a very great service to the progress of pure science. The Catholic
Church, the most powerful and widespread of the Christian sects,
sees itself compelled to capitulate to the idea of evolution. It
embraces the most important application of the idea, Lamarck and
Darwin's theory of descent, which it had vigorously combated until
twenty years ago. It does, indeed, mutilate the great tree, cutting
off its roots and its highest branch; it rejects spontaneous
generation or archigony at the bottom, and the descent of man
from animal ancestors above. But these exceptions will not last.
Impartial biology will take no notice of them, and the religious
creed will at length determine that the more complex species have
been evolved from a series of simpler forms according to Darwinian
principles. The belief in a supernatural creation is restricted
to the production of the earliest and simplest stem-forms, from
which the "natural species" have taken their origin; Wasmann gives
that name to all species that are demonstrably descended from a
common stem-form; in other words, to what other classifiers call
"stems" or "phyla." The 4,000 species of ants in his system, which
he believes to be genetically related, are comprised by him in
one "natural species." On the other hand, man forms one isolated
"natural species" for himself, without any connection with the
other mammals.
The Jesuitical sophistry that Wasmann betrays in this ingenious
distinction between "systematic and natural species" is also
found in his philosophic "Thoughts on Evolution" (chap. viii.),
his distinction between philosophic and scientific evolution,
or between evolution in one stem and in several stems. His
remarks (in chap. vii.) on "the cell and spontaneous generation"
are similarly marred by sophistry. The question of spontaneous
generation or archigony--that is to say, of the first appearance of
organic life on the earth, is one of the most difficult problems
in biology, one of those in which the most distinguished students
betray a striking weakness of judgment. Dr. Heinrich Schmidt, of
Jena, has lately written an able and popular little work on that
subject. In his _Spontaneous Generation and Professor Reinke_
(1903), he has shown to what absurd consequences the ecclesiastical
ideas lead on this very question. The botanist Reinke, of Kiel,
is now regarded amongst religious people as the chief opponent of
Darwinism; for many conservatives this is because he is a member
of the Prussian Herrenhaus (a very intelligent body, of course!).
Although he is a strong evangelical, many of his mystic deductions
agree surprisingly with the Catholic speculations of Father
Wasmann. This is especially the case with regard to spontaneous
generation. They both declare that the first appearance of life
must be traced to a miracle, to the work of a personal deity,
whom Reinke calls the "cosmic intelligence." I have shown the
unscientific character of these notions in my last two works,
_The Riddle of the Universe_, and _The Wonders of Life_. I have
drawn attention especially to the widely distributed monera of the
chromacea class--organisms of the simplest type conceivable, whose
whole body is merely an unnucleated, green, structureless globule
of plasm (Chroococcus); their whole vital activity consists of
growth (by forming plasm) and multiplication (by dividing into
two). There is little theoretical difficulty in conceiving the
origin of these new simple monera from inorganic compounds of
albumen, or their later transformation into the simplest nucleated
cells. All this, and a good deal more that will not fit in his
Jesuitical frame, is shrewdly ignored by Wasmann.
In view of the great influence that Catholicism still has on public
life in Germany, through the Centre party, this change of front
should be a great gain to education. Virchow demanded as late as
1877 that the dangerous doctrine of evolution should be excluded
from the schools. The Ministers of Instruction of the two chief
German States gratefully adopted this warning from the leader of
the progressive party, forbade the teaching of Darwinian ideas,
and made every effort to check the spread of biological knowledge.
Now, twenty-five years afterwards, the Jesuits come forward, and
demand the opposite. They recognise openly that the hated theory of
evolution is established, and try to reconcile it with the creed!
What an irony of history! And we find much the same story when we
read the struggles for freedom of thought and for the recognition
of evolution in the other educated countries of Europe.
In Italy, its cradle and home, educated people generally look
upon the papacy with the most profound disdain. I have spent many
years in Italy, and have never met an educated Italian of such
bigoted and narrow views as we usually find amongst educated
German Catholics--represented with success in the Reichstag by the
Centre party. It is proof enough of the reactionary character of
German Catholics that the Pope himself describes them as his most
vigorous soldiers, and points them out as models to the faithful
of other nations. As the whole history of the Roman Church shows,
the charlatan of the Vatican is the deadly enemy of free science
and free teaching. The present German Emperor ought to regard it as
his most sacred duty to maintain the tradition of the Reformation,
and to promote the formation of the German people in the sense
of Frederick the Great. Instead of this we have to look on with
heavy hearts while the Emperor, badly advised and misled by those
in influence about him, suffers himself to be caught closer and
closer in the net of the Catholic clergy, and sacrifices to it
the intelligence of the rising generation. In September, 1904,
the Catholic journals announced triumphantly that the adoption of
Catholicism by the Emperor and his Chancellor was close at hand.[5]
The firmness of the belief in conventional dogmas, which hampers
the progress of rational enlightenment in orthodox Protestant
circles as well as Catholic, is often admired as an expression of
the deep emotion of the German people. But its real source is their
confusion of thought and their credulity, the power of conservative
tradition, and the reactionary state of political education. While
our schools are bent under the yoke of the creeds, those of our
neighbours are free. France, the pious daughter of the Church,
gives anxious moments to her ambitious mother. She is breaking the
chains of the Concordat, and taking up the work of the Reformation.
In Germany, the birthplace of the Reformation, the Reichstag and
the Government vie with each other in smoothing the paths for the
Jesuits, and fostering, instead of suppressing, the intolerant
spirit of the sectarian school. Let us hope that the latest episode
in the history of evolution, its recognition by Jesuitical science,
will bring about the reverse of what they intend--the substitution
of rational science for blind faith.
CHAPTER II
THE STRUGGLE OVER OUR GENEALOGICAL TREE
OUR APE-RELATIVES AND THE VERTEBRATE-STEM
EXPLANATION OF PLATE II
SKELETONS OF FIVE ANTHROPOID APES
These skeletons of the five living genera of anthropomorpha
are reduced to a common size, in order to show better the
relative proportions of the various parts. The human skeleton
is 1/20th natural size, the gorilla 1/18th, the chimpanzee
1/7th, the orang 1/7th, the gibbon 1/9th. Young specimens of
the chimpanzee and orang have been selected, because they
approach nearer to man than the adult. No one of the living
anthropoid apes is nearest to man in all respects; this cannot
be said of either of the African (gorilla and chimpanzee) or
the Asiatic (orang and gibbon). This anatomic fact is explained
phylogenetically on the ground that none of them are direct
ancestors of man; they represent divergent branches of the
stem, of which man is the crown. However, the small gibbon is
nearest related to the hypothetical common ancestor of all the
anthropomorpha to which we give the name of Prothylobates.
Further information will be found in my _Last Link_ and
_Evolution of Man_ (chap. xxiii.).
PLATE II.
SKELETONS OF FIVE ANTHROPOID APES.
1/20 MAN (Homo)
1/18 GORILLA
1/7 Young CHIMPANZEE (Anthropithecus)
1/7 Young ORANG (Satyrus)
1/9 GIBBON (Hylobates)]
CHAPTER II
THE STRUGGLE OVER OUR GENEALOGICAL TREE
OUR APE-RELATIVES AND THE VERTEBRATE-STEM
In the previous chapter I tried to give you a general idea of
the present state of the controversy in regard to evolution.
Comparing the various branches of thought we found that the older
mythological ideas of the creation of the world were driven long
ago out of the province of inorganic science, but that they did
not yield to the rational conception of natural development until
a much later date in the field of organic nature. Here the idea of
evolution did not prove completely victorious until the beginning
of the twentieth century, when its most zealous and dangerous
opponent, the Church, was forced to admit it. Hence the open
acknowledgment of the Jesuit, Father Wasmann, deserves careful
attention, and we may look forward to a further development. If his
force of conviction and his moral courage are strong enough, he
will go on to draw the normal conclusions from his high scientific
attainments and leave the Catholic Church, as the prominent
Jesuits, Count Hoensbroech and the able geologist, Professor Renard
of Ghent, one of the workers on the deep-sea deposits in the
_Challenger_ expedition, have lately done. But even if this does
not happen, his recognition of Darwinism, in the name of Christian
belief, will remain a landmark in the history of evolution. His
ingenious and very Jesuitical attempt to bring together the
opposite poles will have no very mischievous effect; it will
rather tend to hasten the victory of the scientific conception of
evolution over the mystic beliefs of the Churches.
You will see this more clearly if we go on to consider the
important special problem of the "descent of man from the ape,"
and its irreconcilability with the conventional belief that God
made man according to His own image. That this ape or pithecoid
theory is an irresistible deduction from the general principle
of evolution was clearly recognised forty-five years ago, when
Darwin's work appeared, by the shrewd and vigilant theologians;
it was precisely in this fact that they found their strongest
motive for vigorous resistance. It is quite clear. _Either_ man
was brought into existence, like the other animals, by a special
creative act, as Moses and Linné taught (an "embodied idea of the
Creator," as the famous Agassiz put it so late as 1858); _or_ he
has been developed naturally from a series of mammal ancestors, as
is claimed by the systems of Lamarck and Darwin.
In view of the very great importance of this pithecoid theory,
we will first cast a brief glance at its founders and then
summarise the proofs in support of it. The famous French biologist,
Jean Lamarck, was the first scientist definitely to affirm the
descent of man from the ape and seek to give scientific proof
of it. In his splendid work, fifty years in advance of his time,
the _Philosophie Zoologique_ (1809), he clearly traced the
modifications and advances that must have taken place in the
transformation of the man-like apes (the primate forms similar to
the orang and the chimpanzee); the adaptation to walking upright,
the consequent modification of the hands and feet, and later,
the formation of speech and the attainment of a higher degree of
intelligence. Lamarck's remarkable theory, and this important
consequence of it, soon fell into oblivion. When Darwin brought
evolution to the front again fifty years afterwards, he paid no
attention to the special conclusion. He was content to make the
following brief prophetic observation in his work: "Light will be
thrown on the origin and the history of man." Even this innocent
remark seemed so momentous to the first German translator of the
work, Bronn, that he suppressed it. When Darwin was asked by
Wallace whether he would not go more fully into it, he replied: "I
think of avoiding the whole subject, as it is so much involved in
prejudice; though I quite admit that it is the highest and most
interesting problem for the thinker."
The first thorough works of importance on the subject appeared
in 1863. Thomas Huxley in England, and Carl Vogt in Germany,
endeavoured to show that the descent of man from the ape was a
necessary consequence of Darwinism, and to provide an empirical
base for the theory by every available argument. Huxley's work
on _Man's Place in Nature_ was particularly valuable. He first
gave convincingly, in three lectures, the empirical evidence on
the subject--the natural history of the anthropoid apes, the
anatomical and embryological relations of man to the next lowest
animals, and the recently discovered fossil human remains. I then
(1866) made the first attempt to establish the theory of evolution
comprehensively by research in anatomy and embryology, and to
determine the chief stages in the natural classification of the
vertebrates that must have been passed through by our earlier
vertebrate ancestors. Anthropology thus becomes a part of zoology.
In my _History of Creation_ I further developed these early
evolutionary sketches, and improvements were made in the successive
editions.
In the meantime, the great master, Darwin, had decided to deal
with this chief evolutionary problem in a special work. The two
volumes of his _Descent of Man_ appeared in 1871. They contained an
able discussion of sexual selection, or the selective influence of
sexual love and high psychic activities connected therewith, and
their significance in regard to the origin of man. As this part of
Darwin's work was afterwards attacked with particular virulence, I
will say that, in my opinion, it is of the greatest importance, not
only for the general theory of evolution, but also for psychology,
anthropology, and æsthetics.
My own feeble early efforts (1866), not only to establish the
descent of man from the nearest related apes, but also to determine
more precisely the long series of our earlier and lower vertebrate
ancestors, had not at all satisfied me. In particular, I had had to
leave unanswered in my _General Morphology_ the very interesting
question: from which invertebrate animals the vertebrate stem
originally came. A clear and unexpected light was thrown on it some
time afterwards by the astounding discoveries of Kowalevsky, which
revealed an essential agreement in embryonic development between
the lowest vertebrate (Amphioxus) and a lowly tunicate (Ascidia).
In the succeeding years, the numerous discoveries in connection
with the formation of the germinal layers in different animals so
much enlarged our embryological outlook that I was able to prove
the complete homology of the two-layered _gastrula_ (a cup-shaped
embryonic form) in all the tissue-forming animals (_metazoa_) in
my _Monograph on the Sponges_. From this I inferred, in virtue of
the biogenetic law, the common descent of all the metazoa from
one and the same gastrula-shaped stem-form, the _gastræa_. This
hypothetical stem-form, to which man's earliest multicellular
ancestors also belong, was afterwards proved by Monticelli's
observations to be still in existence. The evolution of these
very simple tissue-forming animals from still simpler unicellular
forms (_protozoa_) is shown by the corresponding processes that
we witness in what is called the segmentation of the ovum or
gastrulation, in the development of the two-layered germ from the
single cell of the ovum.
Encouraged by these great advances of modern phylogeny, and with
the support of many new discoveries in comparative anatomy and
embryology, in which a number of distinguished observers were at
work, I was able in 1874 to venture on the first attempt to trace
continuously the whole story of man's evolution. In doing so, I
took my stand on the firm ground of the biogenetic law, seeking
to give a phylogenetic cause for each fact of embryology. My
_Evolution of Man_, which made the first attempt to accomplish this
difficult task, was materially improved and enlarged as new and
important discoveries were made. The latest edition (1903 [1904 in
English]) contains thirty chapters distributed in two volumes, the
first of which deals with embryology (or ontogeny), and the second
with the development of species (or phylogeny).
Though I was quite conscious that there were bound to be gaps
and weak points in these first attempts to frame a natural
anthropogeny, I had hoped they would have some influence on
modern anthropology, and especially that the first sketches of a
genealogical tree of the animal world would prove a stimulus to
fresh research and improvement. In this I was much mistaken. The
dominant school of anthropology, especially in Germany, declined to
suffer the introduction of the theory of evolution, declaring it to
be an unfounded hypothesis, and described our carefully prepared
ancestral trees as mere figments. This was due, in the first place,
to the great authority of the founder and president (for many
years) of the German Anthropological Society, Rudolf Virchow, as I
briefly pointed out in the previous chapter. In view of the great
regard that is felt for this distinguished scientist, and the
extent to which his powerful opposition prevented the spread of the
theory, it is necessary to deal more fully with his position on the
subject. I am still further constrained to do this because of the
erroneous views of it that are circulating, and my own fifty years'
acquaintance with my eminent teacher enables me to put them right.
Not one of Virchow's numerous pupils and friends can appreciate
more than I do his real services to medical science. His _Cellular
Pathology_ (1858), his thorough application of the cell-theory to
the science of disease, is, in my opinion, one of the greatest
advances made by modern medicine. I had the good fortune to
begin my medical studies at Würzburg in 1852, and to spend six
valuable terms under the personal guidance of four biologists of
the first rank--Albert Kölliker, Rudolf Virchow, Franz Leydig
and Carl Gegenbaur. The great stimulus that I received from
these distinguished masters in every branch of comparative and
microscopic biology was the starting-point of my whole training
in that science, and enabled me subsequently to follow with ease
the higher intellectual flight of Johannes Müller. From Virchow
especially I learned, not only the analytic art of careful
observation and judicious appreciation of the detailed facts of
anatomy, but also the synthetic conception of the whole human
frame, the profound conviction of the _unity_ of our nature, the
inseparable connection of body and mind, to which Virchow gave a
fine expression in his classic essay on "The Efforts to bring about
Unity in Scientific Medicine" (1849). The leading articles which
he wrote at that time for the Journal of Pathological Anatomy and
Physiology, which he had founded, contain much new insight into the
wonders of life, and a number of excellent general reflections on
their significance--pregnant ideas that we can make direct use of
for Monistic purposes. In the controversy that broke out between
empirical rationalism and materialism and the older vitalism and
mysticism, he took the side of the former, and fought together
with Jacob Moleschott, Carl Vogt, and Ludwig Büchner. I owe the
firm conviction of the unity of organic and inorganic nature, of
the mechanical character of all vital and psychic activity, which
I have always held to be the foundation of my Monistic system,
in a great measure to Virchow's teaching and the exhaustive
conversations I had with him when I was his assistant. The profound
views of the nature of the cell and the independent individuality
of these elementary organisms, which he advanced in his great
work _Cellular Pathology_, remained guiding principles for me in
the prolonged studies that I made thirty years afterwards of the
organisation of the radiolaria and other unicellular protists;
and also in regard to the theory of the cell-soul, which followed
naturally from the psychological study of it.
His life at Würtzburg was the most brilliant period of Virchow's
indefatigable scientific labours. A change took place when he
removed to Berlin in 1856. He then occupied himself chiefly with
political and social and civic interests. In the last respect
he has done so much for Berlin and the welfare of the German
people that I need not enlarge on it. Nor will I go into his
self-sacrificing and often thankless political work as leader of
the progressive party; there are differences of opinion as to its
value. But we must carefully examine his peculiar attitude towards
evolution, and especially its chief application, the ape-theory.
He was at first favourable to it, then sceptical, and finally
decidedly hostile.
When the Lamarckian theory was brought to light again by Darwin in
1859, many thought that it was Virchow's vocation to take the lead
in defending it. He had made a thorough study of the problem of
heredity; he had realised the power of adaptation through his study
of pathological changes; and he had been directed to the great
question of the origin of man by his anthropological studies. He
was at that time regarded as a determined opponent of all dogmas;
he combated transcendentalism either in the form of ecclesiastical
creeds or anthropomorphism. After 1862 he declared that "the
possibility of a transition from species to species was a necessity
of science." When I opened the first public discussion of Darwinism
at the Stettin scientific congress in 1863, Virchow and Alexander
Braun were among the few scientists who would admit the subject
to be important and deserving of the most careful study. When I
sent to him in 1865 two lectures that I had delivered at Jena on
the origin and genealogical tree of the human race, he willingly
received them amongst his _Collection of Popular Scientific
Lectures_. In the course of many long conversations I had with
him on the matter, he agreed with me in the main, though with the
prudent reserve and cool scepticism that characterised him. He
adopts the same moderate attitude in the lecture that he delivered
to the Artisans' Union at Berlin in 1869 on "Human and Ape Skulls."
His position definitely changed in regard to Darwinism from 1877
onward. At the Scientific Congress that was then held at Munich I
had, at the pressing request of my Munich friends, undertaken the
first address (on 18th September) on "Modern Evolution in Relation
to the whole of Science." In this address I had substantially
advanced the same general views that I afterwards enlarged in my
_Monism_, _Riddle of the Universe_, and _Wonders of Life_. In the
ultramontane capital of Bavaria, in sight of a great university
which emphatically describes itself as Catholic, it was somewhat
bold to make such a confession of faith. The deep impression that
it had made was indicated by the lively manifestations of assent on
the one hand, and displeasure on the other, that were at once made
in the Congress itself and in the Press. On the following day I
departed for Italy (according to an arrangement made long before).
Virchow did not come to Munich until two days afterwards, when he
delivered (on 22nd September, in response to entreaties from people
of position and influence) his famous antagonistic speech on "The
Freedom of Science in the Modern State." The gist of the speech
was that this freedom ought to be restricted; that evolution is
an unproved hypothesis, and ought not to be taught in the school
because it is dangerous to the State: "We must not teach," he said,
"that man descends from the ape or any other animal." In 1849, the
young Monist, Virchow, had emphatically declared this conviction,
"that he would never be induced to deny the thesis of the unity
of human nature and its consequences"; now, twenty-eight years
afterwards, the prudent Dualistic politician entirely denied it.
He had formerly taught that all the bodily and mental processes in
the human organism depend on the mechanism of the cell-life; now
he declared the soul to be a special immaterial entity. But the
crowning feature of this reactionary speech was his compromise with
the Church, which he had fought so vigorously twenty years before.
The character of Virchow's speech at Munich is best seen in the
delight with which it was at once received by the reactionary and
clerical papers, and the profound concern of all Liberal journals,
either in the political or the religious sense. When Darwin read
the English translation of the speech he--generally so gentle in
his judgments--wrote: "Virchow's conduct is shameful, and I hope he
will some day feel the shame." In 1878, I made a full reply to it
in my _Free Science and Free Teaching_, in which I collected the
most important press opinions on the matter.[6]
From this very decided turn at Munich until his death, twenty-five
years afterwards, Virchow was an indefatigable and very influential
opponent of evolution. In his annual appearances at congresses he
has always contested it, and has obstinately clung to his statement
that "it is quite certain that man does not descend from the ape or
any other animal." To the question: "Whence does he come, then?"
he had no answer, and retired to the resigned position of the
Agnostic, which was common before Darwin's time: "We do not know
how life arose, and how the various species came into the world."
His son-in-law, Professor Rabl, has tried to draw attention once
more to his earlier conception, and has declared that even in
later years Virchow often recognised the truth of evolution in
private conversation. This only makes it the more regrettable that
he always said the contrary in public. The fact remains that ever
since the opponents of evolution, especially the reactionaries and
clericals, have appealed to the authority of Virchow.
The wholly reactionary system that this led to has been well
described by Robert Drill (1902) in his _Virchow as a Reactionary_.
How little qualified the great pathologist was to appreciate the
scientific bases of the pithecoid theory is clear from the absurd
statement he made, in the opening speech of the Vienna Congress
of Anthropologists, in 1894, that man might just as well be
claimed to descend from a sheep or an elephant as from an ape. Any
competent zoologist can see from this the little knowledge Virchow
had of systematic zoology and comparative anatomy. However, he
retained his authority as president of the German Anthropological
Society, which remained impervious to Darwinian ideas. Even such
vigorous controversialists as Carl Vogt, and such scientific
partisans of the ape-man of Neanderthal as Schaafhausen, could
make no impression. Virchow's authority was equally great for
twenty years in the Berlin Press, both Liberal and Conservative.
The _Kreutzzeitung_ and the _Evangelische Kirchenzeitung_ were
delighted that "the learned progressist was conservative in the
best sense of the word as regards evolution." The ultramontane
_Germania_ rejoiced that the powerful representative of pure
science had, "with a few strokes of his cudgel, reduced to
impotence" the absurd ape-theory and its chief protagonist, Ernst
Haeckel. The _National-Zeitung_ could not sufficiently thank the
free-thinking, popular leader for having lifted from us for ever
the oppressive mountain of the theory of simian descent. The editor
of the _Volks-Zeitung_, Bernstein, who has done so much for the
spread of knowledge in his excellent popular manuals of science,
obstinately refused to admit articles that ventured to support the
erroneous ape-theory "refuted" by Virchow.
It would take up too much space to attempt to give even a general
survey of the remarkable and enormous literature of the subject
that has accumulated in the last three decades in the shape of
thousands of learned treatises and popular articles. The greater
part of these works have been written under the influence of
conventional religious prejudice, and without the necessary
acquaintance with the subject, that can only be obtained by a
thorough training in biology. The most curious feature of them is
that most of the authors restrict their genealogical interests to
the most manlike apes, and do not deal with their origin, or with
the deeper roots of our common ancestral tree. They do not see the
wood for the trees. Yet it is far easier and safer to penetrate
the great mysteries of our animal origin, if we look at the
subject from the higher standpoint of vertebrate phylogeny and go
deeper into the earlier records of the evolutionary history of the
vertebrates.
Since the great Lamarck established the idea of the vertebrate at
the beginning of the nineteenth century (1801), and his Parisian
colleague, Cuvier, shortly afterwards recognised the vertebrates
as one of his four chief animal groups, the natural unity of this
advanced section of the animal world has not been contested. In
all the vertebrates, from the lowest fishes and amphibians up to
the apes and man, we have the same type of structure, the same
characteristic disposition and relations of the chief organs; and
they differ materially from the corresponding features in all other
animals. The mysterious affinities of the vertebrates induced
Goethe, 140 years ago, long before Cuvier, to make prolonged and
laborious studies in their comparative anatomy at Jena and Weimar.
Just as he had, in his _Metamorphosis of Plants_, established the
unity of organisation by means of the leaf as the common primitive
organ, he, in the metamorphosis of the vertebrates, found this
common element in the vertebral theory of the skull. And when
Cuvier established comparative anatomy as an independent science,
this branch of biology was developed to such an extent by the
classic research of Johannes Müller, Carl Gegenbaur, Richard Owen,
Thomas Huxley, and many other morphologists, that Darwinism found
its most powerful weapons in this arsenal. The striking differences
of external form and internal structure that we find in the fishes,
amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals, are due to _adaptation_
to the various uses of their organs and their environments.
On the other hand, the astonishing agreement in their typical
character, that persists in spite of their differences, is due to
_inheritance_ from common ancestors.
The evidence thus afforded by comparative anatomy is so cogent that
anyone who goes impartially and attentively through a collection of
skeletons can convince himself at once of the morphological unity
of the vertebrate stem. The evolutionary evidence of comparative
ontogeny, or embryology, is less easy to grasp and less accessible,
but not less important. It came to light at a much later date, and
its extreme value was only made clear, by means of the biogenetic
law, some forty years ago. It shows that every vertebrate, like
every other animal, develops from a single cell, but that the
course of its embryonic development is peculiar, and characterised
by embryonic forms that are not found in the invertebrates. We
find in them especially the _chordula_, or chorda-larva, a very
simple worm-shaped embryonic form, without limbs, head, or higher
sense-organs; the body consists merely of six very simple primitive
organs. From these are developed steadily the hundreds of different
bones, muscles, and other organs that we afterwards distinguish in
the mature vertebrate. The remarkable and very complex course of
this embryonic development is essentially the same in man and the
ape, and in the amphibians and fishes. We see in it, in accordance
with the biogenetic law, a new and important witness to the common
descent of all vertebrates from a single primitive form, the
_chordæa_.
But, important as these arguments of comparative embryology are,
one needs many years' study in the unfamiliar and difficult
province of embryology before one can realise their evolutionary
force. There are, in fact, not a few embryologists (especially of
the modern school of experimental embryology) who do not succeed
in doing so. It is otherwise with the palpable proofs that we take
from a remote science, paleontology. The remarkable fossil remains
and impressions of extinct animals and plants give us directly the
historical evidence we need to understand the successive appearance
and disappearance of the various species and groups. Geology has
firmly established the chronological order of the sedimentary
rocks, which have been successively formed of mud at the floor of
the ocean, and has deduced their age from the thickness of the
strata, and determined the relative date of their formation. The
vast period during which organic life has been developing on the
earth runs to many million years. The number is variously estimated
at less than a hundred or at several hundred million years.[7]
If we take the smaller number of 200 million years, we find them
distributed amongst the five chief periods of the earth's organic
development in such a way that the earlier or archeozoic period
absorbs nearly one half. As the sedimentary rocks of this period,
chiefly gneisses and crystalline schists, are in a metamorphosed
condition, the fossil remains in them are unrecognisable. In
the next succeeding strata of the paleozoic period we find the
earliest remains of fossilised vertebrates, Silurian primitive
fishes (selachii) and ganoids. These are followed, in the Devonian
system, by the first dipneust fishes (a transitional form from the
fishes to the amphibia). In the next, the Carboniferous system, we
find the first terrestrial or four-footed vertebrates--amphibians
of the order of the stegocephala. A little later, in the Permian
rocks, the earliest amniotes, lowly, lizard-like reptiles
(tocosauria), make their appearance; the warm-blooded birds
and mammals are still wanting. We have the first traces of the
mammals in the Triassic, the earliest sedimentary rocks of the
mesozoic age; these are of the monotreme sub-class (pantotheria
and allotheria). They are succeeded by the first marsupials
(prodidelphia) in the Jurassic, the ancestral forms of the
placentals (mallotheria), in the Cretaceous. See p. 115.
But the richest development of the mammal class takes place in
the next or Tertiary age. In the course of its four periods--the
eocene, oligocene, miocene, and pliocene--the mammal species
increase steadily in number, variety, and complexity, down to
the present time. From the lowest common ancestral group of the
placentals proceed four divergent branches, the legions of the
carnassia, rodents, ungulates, and primates. The primate legion
surpasses all the rest. In this Linné long ago included the
lemurs, apes, and man. The historical order in which the various
stages of vertebrate development make their successive appearance
corresponds entirely to the morphological order of their advance in
organisation, as we have learned it from the study of comparative
anatomy and embryology.
These paleontological facts are among the most important proofs
of the descent of man from a long series of higher and lower
vertebrates. There is no other explanation possible except
evolution for the chronological succession of these classes,
which is in perfect harmony with the morphological and systematic
distribution. The anti-evolutionists have not even attempted to
give any other explanation. The fishes, dipneusts, amphibians,
reptiles, monotremes, marsupials, placentals, lemurs, apes,
anthropoid apes, and ape-men (pithecanthropi), are inseparable
links of a long ancestral chain, of which the last and most perfect
link is man. (_Cf._ the tables pp. 116-118.)
One of the paleontological facts I have quoted, namely, the
late appearance of the mammal class in geology--is particularly
important. This most advanced group of the vertebrates comes on
the stage in the Triassic period, in the second and shorter half
of the organic history of the earth. It is represented only by
low and small forms in the whole of the mesozoic age, during the
domination of the reptiles. Throughout this long period, which is
estimated by some geologists at 8-11, by others at 20 or more,
million years, the dominant reptile class developed its many
remarkable and curious forms; there were swimming marine reptiles
(halisauria), flying reptiles (pterosauria), and colossal land
reptiles (dinosauria). It was much later, in the Tertiary period,
that the mammal class attained the wealth of large and advanced
placental forms that secured its predominance over this more recent
period.
The many and thorough investigations made during the last few
decades into the ancestral history of the mammals have convinced
all zoologists who were engaged in them that they may be traced
to a common root. All the mammals, from the lowest monotremes and
marsupials to the ape and man, have a large number of striking
characteristics in common, and these distinguish them from all
other vertebrates: the hair and glands of the skin, the feeding of
the young with the mother's milk, the peculiar formation of the
lower jaw and the ear-bones connected therewith, and other features
in the structure of the skull; also, the possession of a knee-cap
(_patella_), and the loss of the nucleus in the red blood-cells.
Further, the complete diaphragm, which entirely separates the
pectoral cavity from the abdominal, is only found in the mammals;
in all the other vertebrates there is still an open communication
between the two cavities. The monophyletic (or single) origin
of the whole mammalian class is therefore now regarded by all
competent experts as an established fact.
In the face of this important fact, what is called the
"ape-question" loses a good deal of the importance that was
formerly ascribed to it. All the momentous consequences that follow
from it in regard to our human nature, our past and future, and our
bodily and psychic life, remain undisturbed whether we derive man
directly from one of the primates, an ape or lemur, or from some
other branch, some unknown lower form, of the mammalian stem. It is
important to point this out, because certain dangerous attempts
have been made lately by Jesuitical zoologists and zoological
Jesuits to cause fresh confusion on the matter.
In a richly illustrated and widely read work that Hans Kraemer
published a few years ago, under the title, _The Universe and
Man_, an able and learned anthropologist, Professor Klaatsch of
Heidelberg, deals with "the origin and development of the human
race," and admirably describes the primitive history of man and
his civilisation. However, he denounces the idea of man's descent
from the ape as "irrational, narrow-minded, and false"; he grounds
this severe censure on the fact that none of the living apes can
be the ancestor of humanity. But no competent scientist had ever
said anything so foolish. If we look closer into this fight with
windmills, we find that Klaatsch holds substantially the same
view of the pithecoid theory as I have done since 1866. He says
expressly: "The three anthropoid apes, the gorilla, chimpanzee,
and orang, seem to diverge from a common root, which was near
to that of the gibbon and man." I had long ago given the name
of _archiprimas_ to this single hypothetical root-form of the
primates, which he calls the "primatoid." It lived in the earliest
part of the Tertiary period, and had probably been developed in
the Cretaceous from older mammals. The very forced and unnatural
hypothesis by means of which Klaatsch goes on to make the primates
depart very widely from the other mammals, seems to me to be quite
untenable, like the similar hypothesis that Alsberg, Wilser, and
other anthropologists who deny our pithecoid descent, have lately
advanced.
All these attempts have a common object--to save man's privileged
position in Nature, to widen as much as possible the gulf between
him and the rest of the mammals, and to conceal his real origin. It
is the familiar tendency of the _parvenu_, which we so often notice
in the aristocratic sons of energetic men who have won a high
position by their own exertions. This sort of vanity is acceptable
enough to the ruling powers and the Churches, because it tends
to support their own fossilised pretensions to a "Divine image"
in man and a special "Divine grace" in princes. The zoologist or
anthropologist who studies our genealogy in a strictly scientific
spirit takes no more notice of these tendencies than of the
_Almanach de Gotha_. He seeks to discover the naked truth, as it
is yielded by the great results of modern science, in which there
is no longer any doubt that man is really a descendant of the
ape--that is to say, of a long extinct anthropoid ape. As has been
pointed out over and over again by distinguished supporters of this
opinion, the proofs of it are exceptionally clear and simple--much
clearer and simpler than they are in regard to many other mammals.
Thus, for instance, the origin of the elephants, the armadilloes,
the sirena, or the whales, is a much more difficult problem than
the origin of man.
When Huxley published his powerful essay on "Man's Place in Nature"
in 1863, he gave it a frontispiece showing the skeletons of man and
the four living anthropoid apes, the Asiatic orang and gibbon,
and the African chimpanzee and gorilla. Plate II. in the present
work differs from this in giving two young specimens of the orang
and the chimpanzee, and raising their size to correspond with the
other three skeletons. Candid comparison of these five skeletons
shows that they are not only very like each other generally, but
are _identical_ in the structure, arrangement, and connection of
all the parts. The same 200 bones compose the skeleton in man and
in the four tailless anthropoid apes, our nearest relatives. The
same 300 muscles serve to move the various parts of the skeleton.
The same hair covers the skin; the same mammary glands provide
food for the young. The same four-chambered heart acts as central
pump of the circulation; the same 32 teeth are found in our jaws;
the same reproductive organs maintain the species; the same groups
of neurona or ganglionic cells compose the wondrous structure
of the brain, and accomplish that highest function of the plasm
which we call the soul, and many still believe to be an immortal
entity. Huxley has thoroughly established this profound truth, and
by further comparison with the lower apes and lemurs he came to
formulate his important pithecometra principle: "Whatever organ
we take, the differences between man and the anthropoid apes are
slighter than the corresponding differences between the latter
and the lower apes." If we make a superficial comparison of our
skeletons of the anthropomorpha, we certainly notice a few salient
differences in the size of the various parts; but these are purely
quantitative, and are due to differences in growth, which in turn
are caused by adaptation to different environments. There are, as
is well known, similar differences between human beings; their arms
are sometimes long, sometimes short; the forehead may be high or
low, the hair thick or thin, and so on.
These anatomic proofs of the pithecoid theory are most happily
supplemented and confirmed by certain recent brilliant discoveries
in physiology. Chief amongst these are the famous experiments of
Dr. Hans Friedenthal at Berlin. He showed that the human blood acts
poisonously on and decomposes the blood of the lower apes and other
mammals, but has not that effect on the blood of the anthropoid
apes.[8]
From previous transfusion experiments it had been learned that the
affinity of mammals is connected to a certain extent with their
chemical blood-relationship. If the living blood of two nearly
related animals of the same family, such as the dog and the fox, or
the rabbit and the hare, is mixed together, the living blood-cells
of each species remain uninfluenced. But if we mix the blood of the
dog and the rabbit, or the fox and the hare, a struggle for life
immediately takes place between the two kinds of blood-cells. The
watery fluid or serum destroys the blood-cells of the rodent, and
_vice versâ_. It is the same with specimens of the blood of the
various primates. The blood of the lower apes and lemurs, which are
close to the common root of the primate stem, has a destructive
effect on the blood of the anthropoid apes and man, and _vice
versâ_. On the other hand, the human blood has no injurious effect
when it is mixed with that of the anthropoid apes.
In recent years these interesting experiments have been continued
by other physiologists and physicians, such as Professor Uhlenhuth
at Greifswald and Nuttall at London, and they have proved directly
the blood-relationship of various mammals. Nuttall studied them
carefully in 900 different kinds of blood, which he tested by
16,000 reactions. He traced the gradation of affinity to the
lowest apes of the New World; and Uhlenhuth continued as far
as the lemurs. By these results the affinity of man and the
anthropoid apes, long established by anatomy, has now been proved
physiologically to be in real "blood-relationship."[9]
Not less important are the embryological discoveries of the
deceased zoologist, Emil Selenka. He made two long journeys to the
East Indies, in order to study on the spot the embryology of the
Asiatic anthropoid apes, the orang and gibbon. By means of a number
of embryos that he collected he showed that certain remarkable
peculiarities in the formation of the placenta, that had up to
that time been considered as exclusively human, and regarded as a
special distinction of our species, were found in just the same way
in the closely related anthropoid apes, though not in the rest of
the apes. On the ground of these and other facts, I maintain that
the descent of man from extinct Tertiary anthropoid apes is proved
just as plainly as the descent of birds from reptiles, or the
descent of reptiles from amphibians, which no zoologist hesitates
to admit to-day. The relationship is as close as was claimed by my
former fellow-student, the Berlin anatomist, Robert Hartmann (with
whom I sat at the feet of Johannes Müller fifty years ago), in his
admirable work on the anthropoid apes (1883). He proposed to divide
the order of primates into two families, the _primarii_ (man and
the anthropoid apes), and _simianæ_ (the real apes, the catarrhine
or eastern, and the platyrrhine or western apes).
Since the Dutch physician, Eugen Dubois, discovered the famous
remains of the fossil ape-man (_pithecanthropus erectus_) eleven
years ago in Java, and thus brought to light "the missing
link," a large number of works have been published on this very
interesting group of the primates. In this connection we may
particularly note the demonstration by the Strassburg anatomist,
Gustav Schwalbe, that the previously discovered Neanderthal skull
belongs to an extinct species of man, which was midway between the
pithecanthropus and the true human being--the _homo primigenus_.
After a very careful examination, Schwalbe at the same time refuted
all the biassed objections that Virchow had made to these and
other fossil discoveries, trying to represent them as pathological
abnormalities. In all the important relics of fossil men that
prove our descent from anthropoid apes Virchow saw pathological
modifications, due to unsound habits, gout, rickets, or other
diseases of the dwellers in the diluvial caves. He tried in every
way to impair the force of the arguments for our primate affinity.
So in the controversy over the pithecanthropus he raised the most
improbable conjectures, merely for the purpose of destroying its
significance as a real link between the anthropoid apes and man.
Even now, in the controversy over this important ape-question,
amateurs and biassed anthropologists often repeat the false
statement that the gap between man and the anthropoid ape is not
yet filled up and the "missing link" not yet discovered. This is a
most perverse statement, and can only arise either from ignorance
of the anatomical, embryological, and paleontological facts, or
incompetence to interpret them aright. As a fact, the morphological
chain that stretches from the lemurs to the earlier western
apes, from these to the eastern tailed apes, and to the tailless
anthropoid apes, and from these direct to man, is now uninterrupted
and clear. It would be more plausible to speak of missing links
between the earliest lemurs and their marsupial ancestors, or
between the latter and their monotreme ancestors. But even these
gaps are unimportant, because comparative anatomy and embryology,
with the support of paleontology, have dissipated all doubt as
to the _unity of the mammalian stem_. It is ridiculous to expect
paleontology to furnish an unbroken series of positive data, when
we remember how scanty and imperfect its material is.
I cannot go further here into the interesting recent research in
regard to special aspects of our simian descent; nor would it
greatly advance our object, because all the general conclusions as
to man's primate descent remain intact, whichever way we construct
hypothetically the special lines of simian evolution. On the other
hand, it is interesting for us to see how the most recent form of
Darwinism, so happily described by Escherich as "ecclesiastical
evolution," stands in regard to these great questions. What does
its astutest representative, Father Erich Wasmann, say about
them? The tenth chapter of his work, in which he deals at length
with "the application of the theory of evolution to man," is a
masterpiece of Jesuitical science, calculated to throw the clearest
truths into such confusion and so to misrepresent all discoveries
as to prevent any reader from forming a clear idea of them. When
we compare this tenth chapter with the ninth, in which Wasmann
represents the theory of evolution as an irresistible truth on the
strength of his own able studies, we can hardly believe that they
both came from the same pen--or, rather, we can only understand
when we recollect the rule of the Jesuit Congregation: "The end
justifies the means." Untruth is permitted and meritorious in the
service of God and his Church.
The Jesuitical sophistry that Wasmann employs in order to save
man's unique position in Nature, and to prove that he was
immediately created by God, culminates in the antithesis of
his two natures. The "purely zoological conception of man,"
which has been established beyond question by the anatomical and
embryological comparison with the ape, is said to fail because it
does not take into account the chief feature, his "mental life."
It is "psychology that is best fitted to deal with the nature and
origin of man." All the facts of anatomy and embryology that I
have gathered together in my _Evolution of Man_ in proof of the
series of his ancestors are either ignored or misconstrued and
made ridiculous by Wasmann. The same is done with the instructive
facts of anthropology, especially the rudimentary organs, which
Robert Wiedersheim has quoted in his _Man's Structure as a
Witness to his Past_. It is clear that the Jesuit writer lacks
competence in this department; that he has only a superficial and
inadequate acquaintance with comparative anatomy and embryology. If
Wasmann had studied the morphology and physiology of the mammals
as thoroughly as those of the ants, he would have concluded,
if he were impartial, that it is just as necessary to admit a
monophyletic (or single) origin for the former as for the latter.
If, in Wasmann's opinion, the 4,000 species of ants form a single
"natural system"--that is to say, descend from one original
species--it is just as necessary to admit the same hypothesis for
the 6,000 (2,400 living and 3,600 fossil) species of mammals,
including the human species.
The severe strictures that I have passed on the sophisms and
trickery of this "ecclesiastical evolution" are not directed
against the person and the character of Father Wasmann, but the
Jesuitical system which he represents. I do not doubt that this
able naturalist (who is personally unknown to me) has written his
book in good faith, and has an honourable ambition to reconcile the
irreconcilable contradictions between natural evolution and the
story of supernatural creation. But this reconciliation of reason
and superstition is only possible at the price of a sacrifice
of the reason itself. We find this in the case of all the other
Jesuits--Fathers Cathrein, Braun, Besmer, Cornet, Linsmeier, and
Muckermann--whose ambiguous "Jesuitical science" is aptly dealt
with in the article of R. H. Francé that I mentioned before (No. 22
of the _Freie Wort_, 16th February, 1904, Frankfort).
This interesting attempt of Father Wasmann's does not stand alone.
Signs are multiplying that the Church militant is about to enter on
a systematic campaign. I heard from Vienna on the 17th of February,
that on the previous day (which happened to be my birthday), a
Jesuit, Father Giese, had, in a well-received address, admitted
not only evolution in general, but even its application to man,
and declared it to be reconcilable with Catholic dogmas--and this
at a crowded meeting of "catechists"! It is important to note that
in a new Catholic cyclopædia, Benziger's _Library of Science_,
the first three volumes (issued at Einsiedeln and Cologne, 1904)
deal very fully and ably with the chief problems of evolution: the
first with the formation of the earth, the second with spontaneous
generation, the third with the theory of descent. The author of
them, Father M. Gander, makes most remarkable concessions to our
theory, and endeavours to show that they are not inconsistent
with the Bible or the dogmatic treatises of the chief fathers
and schoolmen. But, though there is a profuse expenditure of
sophistical logic in these Jesuitical efforts, Gander will hardly
succeed in misleading thoughtful people. One of his characteristic
positions is that spontaneous generation (as the development
of organised living things by purely material processes) is
inconceivable, but that it might be made possible "by a special
Divine arrangement." In regard to the descent of man from other
animals (which he grants), he makes the reserve that the soul must
in any case have been produced by a special creative act.
It would be useless to go through the innumerable fallacies
and untruths of these modern Jesuits in detail, and point out
the rational and scientific reply. The vast power of this most
dangerous religious congregation consists precisely in its device
of accepting one part of science in order to destroy the other part
more effectively with it. Their masterly act of sophistry, their
equivocal "probabilism," their mendacious "reservatio mentalis,"
the principle that the higher aim sanctifies the worst means, the
pernicious casuistry of Liguori and Gury, the cynicism with which
they turn the holiest principles to the gratification of their
ambition, have impressed on the Jesuits that black character that
Carl Hoensbroech has so well exposed recently.
The great dangers that menace real science, owing to this smuggling
into it of the Jesuitical spirit, must not be undervalued. They
have been well pointed out by Francé, Escherich, and others.
They are all the greater in Germany at the present time, as the
Government and the Reichstag are working together to prepare the
way for the Jesuits, and to yield a most pernicious influence
on the school to these deadly enemies of the free spirit of
the country. However, we will hope that this clerical reaction
represents only a passing episode in modern history. We trust that
one permanent result of it will be the recognition, in principle,
even by the Jesuits, of the great idea of evolution. We may then
rest assured that its most important consequence, the descent of
man from other primate forms, will press on victoriously, and soon
be recognised as a beneficent and helpful truth.
THE CONTROVERSY OVER THE SOUL
THE IDEAS OF IMMORTALITY AND GOD
EXPLANATION OF PLATE III
EMBRYOS OF THREE MAMMALS AT THREE CORRESPONDING STAGES OF DEVELOPMENT
The embryos of man (M), the anthropoid ape (gibbon, G), and
the bat (rhinolophus, B) can hardly be distinguished in the
earlier stage (the upper row), although the five cerebral
vesicles, the gill-clefts, and the three higher sense-organs
are already visible. On the curved dorsal surface we see the
sections of the primitive vertebræ. Even later, when the two
pairs of limbs have appeared in the form of roundish fins (the
middle row), the differences are not great. It is not until
a further development of the limbs and head has taken place
(lowest row) that the characteristic forms are clearly seen. It
is particularly notable that the primitive brain, the organ of
the mind, with its five cerebral vesicles, is the same in all.
PLATE III.
[Illustration: EMBRYOS OF THREE MAMMALS
(_At three corresponding stages of development_).
B = BAT (Rhinolophus) G = GIBBON (Hylobates) M = MAN (Homo)]
THE CONTROVERSY OVER THE SOUL
THE IDEAS OF IMMORTALITY AND GOD
Though it was my original intention to deliver only two lectures, I
have been moved by several reasons to add a supplementary one. In
the first place, I notice with regret that I have been compelled
by pressure of time to leave untouched in my earlier lectures, or
to treat very inadequately, several important points in my theme;
there is, in particular, the very important question of the nature
of the soul. In the second place, I have been convinced by the
many contradictory press-notices during the last few days that
many of my incomplete observations have been misunderstood or
misinterpreted. And, thirdly, it seemed advisable to give a brief
and clear summary of the whole subject in this farewell lecture,
to take a short survey of the past, present, and future of the
theory of evolution, and especially its relation to the three great
questions of personal immortality, the freedom of the will, and the
personality of God.
I must claim the reader's patience and indulgence even to a greater
extent than in the previous chapters, as the subject is one of the
most difficult and obscure that the human mind approaches. I have
dealt at length in my recent works, _The Riddle of the Universe_
and _The Wonders of Life_, with the controversial questions of
biology that I treat cursorily here. But I would like to put before
you now, in a general survey, the powerful arguments that modern
science employs against the prevailing superstition in regard to
evolution, and to show that the Monistic system throws a clear
light on the great questions of God and the world, the soul and
life.
In the previous chapters I have tried to give a general idea of
the present state of the theory of evolution and its victorious
struggle with the older legend of creation. We have seen that
even the most advanced organism, man, was not brought into being
by a creative act, but gradually developed from a long series of
mammal ancestors. We also saw that the most man-like mammals,
the anthropoid apes, have substantially the same structure as
man, and that the evolution of the latter from the former can
now be regarded as a fully established hypothesis, or, rather,
an historical fact. But in this study we had in view mainly the
structure of the body and its various organs. We touched very
briefly on the evolution of the human mind, or the immaterial
soul that dwells in the body for a time, according to a venerable
tradition. To-day we turn chiefly to the development of the soul,
and consider whether man's mental development is controlled by
the same natural laws as that of his body, and whether it also is
inseparably bound up with that of the rest of the mammals.
At the very threshold of this difficult province we encounter
the curious fact that there are two radically distinct tendencies
in psychology at our universities to-day. On one side we have the
metaphysical and professional psychologists. They still cling
to the older view that man's soul is a special entity, a unique
independent individuality, which dwells for a time only in the
mortal frame, leaving it and living on as an immortal spirit after
death. This dualistic theory is connected with the doctrine of
most religions, and owes its high authority to the fact that it is
associated with the most important ethical, social, and practical
interests. Plato gave prominence to the idea of the immortality of
the soul in philosophy long ago. Descartes at a later date gave
emphasis to it by ascribing a true soul to man alone and refusing
it to the animals.
This metaphysical psychology, which ruled alone for a considerable
period, began to be opposed in the eighteenth, and still more in
the nineteenth, century by _comparative psychology_. An impartial
comparison of the psychic processes in the higher and lower animals
proved that there were numerous transitions and gradations. A long
series of intermediate stages connects the psychic life of the
higher animals with that of man on the one side, and that of the
lower animals on the other. There was no such thing as a sharp
dividing line, as Descartes supposed.
But the greatest blow was dealt at the predominant metaphysical
conception of the life of the soul thirty years ago by the
new methods of _psychophysics_. By means of a series of able
experiments the physiologists, Theodor Fechner and Ernst Heinrich
Weber of Leipsic, showed that an important part of the mental
activity can be measured and expressed in mathematical formulæ
just as well as other physiological processes, such as muscular
contractions. Thus the laws of physics control a part of the
life of the soul just as absolutely as they do the phenomena of
inorganic nature. It is true that psychophysics has only partially
realised the very high expectations that were entertained in regard
to its Monistic significance; but the fact remains that a part of
the mental life is just as unconditionally ruled by physical laws
as any other natural phenomena.
Thus _physiological psychology_ was raised by psychophysics to
the rank of a physical and, in principle, exact science. But it
had already obtained solid foundations in other provinces of
biology. Comparative psychology had traced connectedly the long
gradation from man to the higher animals, from these to the lower,
and so on down to the very lowest. At the lowest stage it found
those remarkable beings, invisible with the naked eye, that were
discovered in stagnant water everywhere after the invention of
the microscope (in the second half of the seventeenth century)
and called "infusoria." They were first accurately described and
classified by Gottfried Ehrenberg, the famous Berlin microscopist.
In 1838 he published a large and beautiful work, illustrating on
64 folio pages the whole realm of microscopic life; and this is
still the base of all studies of the protists. Ehrenberg was a very
ardent and imaginative observer, and succeeded in communicating
his zeal for the study of microscopic organisms to his pupils. I
still recall with pleasure the stimulating excursions that I made
fifty years ago (in the summer of 1854) with my teacher, Ehrenberg,
and a few other pupils--including my student-friend, Ferdinand von
Richthofen, the famous geographer--to the Zoological Gardens at
Berlin. Equipped with fine nets and small glasses, we fished in
the ponds of the Zoological Gardens and in the Spree, and caught
thousands of invisible micro-organisms, which then richly rewarded
our curiosity by the beautiful forms and mysterious movements they
disclosed under the microscope.
The way in which Ehrenberg explained to us the structure and the
vital movements of his infusoria was very curious. Misled by the
comparison of the real infusoria with the microscopic but highly
organised rotifers, he had formed the idea that all animals are
alike advanced in organisation, and had indicated this erroneous
theory in the very title of his work: _The Infusoria as Perfect
Organisms: a Glance at the Deeper Life of Organic Nature_. He
thought he could detect in the simplest infusoria the same distinct
organs as in the higher animals--stomach, heart, ovaries, kidneys,
muscles, and nerves--and he interpreted their psychic life on the
same peculiar principle of equally advanced organisation.
Ehrenberg's theory of life was entirely wrong, and was radically
destroyed in the hour of its birth (1838) by the cell-theory which
was then formulated, and to which he never became reconciled. Once
Matthias Schleiden had shown the composition of all the plants,
tissues, and organs from microscopic cells, the last structural
elements of the living organism, and Theodor Schwann had done the
same for the animal body, the theory attained such an importance
that Kölliker and Leydig based on it the modern science of tissues,
or histology, and Virchow constructed his cellular pathology by
applying it to diseased human beings. These are the most important
advances of theoretical medicine. But it was still a long time
before the difficult question of the relation of these microscopic
beings to the cell was answered. Carl Theodor von Siebold had
already maintained (in 1845) that the real infusoria and the
closely related rhizopods were _unicellular organisms_, and had
distinguished these _protozoa_ from the rest of the animals.
At the same time, Carl Naegeli had described the lowest algæ
as "unicellular plants." But this important conception was not
generally admitted until some time afterwards, especially after I
brought all the unicellular organisms under the head of "protists"
(1872), and defined their psychic functions as the "cell-soul."
I was led to make a very close study of these unicellular
protists and their primitive cell-soul through my research on the
radiolaria, a very remarkable class of microscopic organisms that
float in the sea. I was engaged most of my time for more than
thirty of the best years of my life (1856-87) in studying them
in every aspect, and if I came eventually to adopt a strictly
Monistic attitude on all the great questions of biology, I owe it
for the most part to my innumerable observations and uninterrupted
reflections on the wonderful vital movements that are disclosed by
these smallest and frailest, and at the same time most beautiful
and varied, of living things.
I had undertaken the study of the radiolaria as a kind of souvenir
of my great master, Johannes Müller. He had loved to study these
animals (of which only a few species were discovered for the first
time in the year of my birth, 1834) in the last years of his
life, and had in 1855 set up the special group of the rhizopods
(protozoa). His last work, which appeared shortly after his death
(1858), and contained a description of 50 species of radiolaria,
went with me to the Mediterranean when I made my first long voyage
in the summer of 1859. I was so fortunate as to discover about 150
new species of radiolaria at Messina, and based on these my first
monograph of this very instructive class of protists (1862). I
had no suspicion at that time that fifteen years afterwards the
deep-sea finds of the famous _Challenger_ expedition would bring
to light an incalculable wealth of these remarkable animals. In my
second monograph on them (1887), I was able to describe more than
4,000 different species of radiolaria, and illustrate most of them
on 140 plates. I have given a selection of the prettiest forms on
ten plates of my _Art-forms in Nature_.
I have not space here to go into the forms and vital movements of
the radiolaria, of the general import of which my friend, Wilhelm
Bölsche, has given a very attractive account in his various
popular works. I must restrict myself to pointing out the general
phenomena that bear upon our particular subject, the question of
the mind. The pretty flinty skeletons of the radiolaria, which
enclose and protect the soft unicellular body, are remarkable, not
only for their extraordinary gracefulness and beauty, but also
for the geometrical regularity and relative constancy of their
forms. The 4,000 species of radiolaria are just as constant as the
4,000 known species of ants; and, as the Darwinian Jesuit, Father
Wasmann, has convinced himself that the latter have all descended
by transformation from a common stem-form, I have concluded on the
same principles that the 4,000 species of radiolaria have developed
from a primitive form in virtue of adaptation and heredity. This
primitive form, the stem-radiolarian (_Actissa_) is a simple round
cell, the soft living protoplasmic body of which is divided into
two different parts, an inner central capsule (in the middle of
which is the solid round nucleus) and an outer gelatinous envelope
(_calymma_). From the outer surface of the latter, hundreds and
thousands of fine plasmic threads radiate; these are mobile and
sensitive processes of the living internal substance, the plasm (or
protoplasm). These delicate microscopic threads, or pseudopodia,
are the curious organs that effect the sensations (of touch),
the locomotion (by pushing), and the orderly construction of the
flinty house; at the same time, they maintain the nourishment of
the unicellular body, by seizing infusoria, diatoms, and other
protists, and drawing them within the plasmic body, where they
are digested and assimilated. The radiolaria generally reproduce
by the formation of spores. The nucleus within the protoplasmic
globule divides into two small nuclei, each of which surrounds
itself with a quantity of plasm, and forms a new cell.
What is this plasm? What is this mysterious "living substance"
that we find everywhere as the material foundation of the "wonders
of life"? Plasm, or protoplasm, is, as Huxley rightly said
thirty years ago, "the physical basis of organic life"; to speak
more precisely, it is a chemical compound of carbon that alone
accomplishes the various processes of life. In its simplest form
the living cell is merely a soft globule of plasm, containing
a firmer nucleus. The inner nuclear matter (called caryoplasm)
differs somewhat in chemical composition from the outer cellular
matter (or cytoplasm); but both substances are composed of carbon,
oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and sulphur; both belong to the
remarkable group of the albuminates, the nitrogenous carbonates
that are distinguished for the extraordinary size of their
molecules and the unstable arrangement of the numerous atoms (more
than a thousand) that compose them.
There are, however, still simpler organisms in which the nucleus
and the body of the cell have not yet been differentiated. These
are the _monera_, the whole living body of which is merely a
homogeneous particle of plasm (the chromacea and bacteria). The
well-known bacteria which now play so important a part as the
causes of most dangerous infectious diseases, and the agents of
putrefaction, fermentation, etc., show very clearly that organic
life is only a chemical and physical process, and not the outcome
of a mysterious "vital force."
We see this still more clearly in our radiolaria, and at the same
time they show us unmistakably that even the psychic activity is
such a physico-chemical process. All the different functions of
their cell-soul, the sense-perception of stimuli, the movement
of their plasm, their nutrition, growth, and reproduction, are
determined by the particular chemical composition of each of the
4,000 species; and they have all descended, in virtue of adaptation
and heredity, from the common stem-form of the naked, round
parent-radiolarian (_Actissa_).
We may instance, as a peculiarly interesting fact in the psychic
life of the unicellular radiolaria, the extraordinary power of
memory in them. The relative constancy with which the 4,000
species transmit the orderly and often very complex form of their
protective flinty structure from generation to generation can
only be explained by admitting in the builders, the invisible
plasma-molecules of the pseudopodia, a fine "plastic sense of
distance," and a tenacious recollection of the architectural
power of their fathers. The fine, formless plasma-threads are
always building afresh the same delicate flinty shells with an
artistic trellis-work, and with protective radiating needles
and supports always at the same points of their surface. The
physiologist, Ewald Hering (of Leipsic), had spoken in 1870 of
memory as "a general function of organised matter." I myself had
tried to explain the molecular features of heredity by the memory
of the plasma-molecules, in my essay on "The Perigenesis of the
Plastidules" (1875). Recently one of the ablest of my pupils,
Professor Richard Semon (of Munich, 1904), made a profound study
of "Mneme as the principle of constancy in the changes of organic
phenomena," and reduced the mechanical process of reproduction to a
purely physiological base.
From the cell-soul and its memory in the radiolaria and other
unicellular protists, we pass directly to the similar phenomenon in
the ovum, the unicellular starting-point of the individual life,
from which the complex multicellular frame of all the histona, or
tissue-forming animals and plants, is developed. Even the human
organism is at first a simple nucleated globule of plasm, about
1/125 inch in diameter, barely visible to the naked eye as a tiny
point. This stem-cell (_cytula_) is formed at the moment when the
ovum is fertilised, or mingled with the small male spermatozoon.
The ovum transmits to the child by heredity the personal traits of
the mother, the sperm-cell those of the father; and this hereditary
transmission extends to the finest characteristics of the soul as
well as of the body. The modern research as to heredity, which
occupies so much space now in biological literature, but was only
started by Darwin in 1859, is directed immediately to the visible
material processes of impregnation.
The very interesting and important phenomena of impregnation have
only been known to us in detail for thirty years. It has been
shown conclusively, after a number of delicate investigations,
that the individual development of the embryo from the stem-cell
or fertilised ovum is controlled by the same laws in all cases.
The stem-cell divides and subdivides rapidly into a number of
simple cells. From these a few simple organs, the germinal layers,
are formed at first; later on the various organs, of which there
is no trace in the early embryo, are built up out of these. The
biogenetic law teaches us how, in this development, the original
features of the ancestral history are reproduced or recapitulated
in the embryonic processes; and these facts in turn can only be
explained by the unconscious memory of the plasm, the "_mneme_ of
the living substance" in the germ-cells, and especially in their
nuclei.
One important result of these modern discoveries was the prominence
given to the fact that the personal soul has a beginning of
existence, and that we can determine the precise moment in which
this takes place; it is when the parent cells, the ovum and
spermatozoon, coalesce. Hence what we call the soul of man or the
animal has not pre-existed, but begins its career at the moment of
impregnation; it is bound up with the chemical constitution of the
plasm, which is the material vehicle of heredity in the nucleus of
the maternal ovum and the paternal spermatozoon. One cannot see how
a being that thus has a beginning of existence can afterwards prove
to be "immortal."
Further, a candid examination of the simple cell-soul in the
unicellular infusoria, and of the dawn of the individual soul in
the unicellular germ of man and the higher animals, proves at once
that psychic action does not necessarily postulate a fully formed
nervous system, as was previously believed. There is no such system
in many of the lower animals, or any of the plants, yet we find
psychic activities, especially sensation, irritability, and reflex
action everywhere. All living plasm has a psychic life, and in this
sense the psyche is a partial function of organic life generally.
But the higher psychic functions, particularly the phenomena of
consciousness, only appear gradually in the higher animals, in
which (in consequence of a division of labour among the organs) the
nervous system has assumed these functions.
It is particularly interesting to glance at the central nervous
system of the vertebrates, the great stem of which we regard
ourselves as the crowning point. Here again the anatomical and
embryological facts speak a clear and unambiguous language. In all
vertebrates, from the lowest fishes up to man, the psychic organ
makes its appearance in the embryo in the same form--a simple
cylindrical tube on the dorsal side of the embryonic body, in
the middle line. The anterior section of this "medullary tube"
expands into a club-shaped vesicle, which is the beginning of
the brain; the posterior and thinner section becomes the spinal
cord. The cerebral vesicle divides, by transverse constrictions,
into three, then four, and eventually five vesicles. The most
important of these is the first, the _cerebrum_, the organ of
the highest psychic functions. The more the intelligence develops
in the higher vertebrates, the larger, more voluminous, and more
specialised does the cerebrum become. In particular, the grey
mantle or cortex of the cerebrum, its most important part, only
attains in the higher mammals the degree of quantitative and
qualitative development that qualifies it to be the "organ of mind"
in the narrower sense. Through the famous discoveries of Paul
Flechsig eleven years ago we were enabled to distinguish eight
fields in the cortex, four of which serve as the internal centres
of sense-perception, and the four that lie between these are the
thought-centres (or association-centres) of the higher psychic
faculties--the association of impressions, the formation of ideas
and concepts, induction and deduction. This real organ of mind, the
_phronema_, is not yet developed in the lower mammals. It is only
gradually built up in the more advanced, exactly in proportion as
their intelligence increases. It is only in the most intelligent
forms of the placentals, the higher ungulates (horse, elephant),
the carnivores (fox, dog), and especially the primates, that the
phronema attains the high grade of development that leads us from
the anthropoid apes direct to the savage, and from him to civilised
man.
We have learned a good deal about the special significance of the
various parts of the brain, as organs of specific functions, by the
progress of the modern science of experimental physiology. Careful
experiments by Goltz, Munk, Bernard, and many other physiologists,
have shown that the normal consciousness, speech, and the internal
sense-perceptions, are connected with definite areas of the cortex,
and that these various _parts of the soul_ are destroyed when
the organic areas connected with them are injured. But in this
respect Nature has unconsciously given us the most instructive
experiments. Diseases in these various areas show how their
functions are partially or totally extinguished when the cerebral
cells that compose them (the _neurona_ or ganglionic cells) are
partially or entirely destroyed. Here again Virchow, who was the
first to make a careful microscopic study of the finest changes in
the diseased cells, and so explain the nature of the disease, did
pioneer work. I still remember very well a spectacle of this kind
(in the summer of 1855, at Würzburg), which made a deep impression
on me. Virchow's sharp eye had detected a small suspicious spot
in the cerebrum of a lunatic, though there seemed to be nothing
remarkable about it on superficial examination. He handed it to me
for microscopic examination, and I found that a large number of the
ganglionic cells were affected, partly by fatty degeneration and
partly by calcification. The luminous remarks that my great teacher
made on these and similar finds in other cases of mental disorder,
confirmed my conviction of the unity of the human organism and
the inseparable connection of mind and body, which he himself
at that time expressly shared. When he abandoned this Monistic
conception of the psychic life for Dualism and Mysticism twenty
years afterwards (especially after his Munich speech in 1877), we
must attribute this partly to his psychological metamorphosis,
and partly to the political motives of which I spoke in the last
chapter.
We find another series of strong arguments in favour of our
Monistic psychology in the individual development of the soul in
the child and the young animal. We know that the new-born child
has as yet no consciousness, no intelligence, no independent
judgment and thought. We follow the gradual development of these
higher faculties step by step in the first years of life, in
strict proportion to the anatomical development of the cortex
with which they are bound up. The inquiries into the child-soul
which Wilhelm Preyer began in Jena twenty-five years ago, his
careful "observations of the mental development of man in his early
years," and the supplementary research of several more recent
physiologists, have shown, from the ontogenetic side, that the soul
is not a special immaterial entity, but the sum-total of a number
of connected functions of the brain. When the brain dies, the soul
comes to an end.
We have further proof in the stem-history of the soul, which we
gather from the comparative psychology of the lower and higher
mammals, and of savage and civilised races. Modern ethnography
shows us in actual existence the various stages through which the
mind rose to its present height. The most primitive races, such as
the Veddahs of Ceylon, or the Australian natives, are very little
above the mental life of the anthropoid apes. From the higher
savages we pass by a complete gradation of stages to the most
civilised races. But what a gulf there is, even here, between
the genius of a Goethe, a Darwin, or a Lamarck, and an ordinary
philisthine or third-rate official. All these facts point to one
conclusion: the human soul has only reached its present height by
a long period of gradual evolution; it differs in degree, not in
kind, from the soul of the higher mammals; and thus it cannot in
any case be immortal.
That a large number of educated people still cling to the dogma of
personal immortality in spite of these luminous proofs, is owing to
the great power of conservative tradition and the evil methods of
instruction that stamp these untenable dogmas deep on the growing
mind in early years. It is for that very reason that the Churches
strive to keep the schools under their power at any cost; they can
control and exploit the adults at will, if independent thought and
judgment have been stifled in the earlier years.
This brings us to the interesting question: What is the position of
the "ecclesiastical evolution" of the Jesuits (the "latest course
of Darwinism"), as regards this great question of the soul? Man is,
according to Wasmann, the image of God and a unique, immaterial
being, differing from all other animals in the possession of an
immortal soul, and therefore having a totally different origin from
them. Man's immortal soul is, according to this Jesuit sophistry,
"spiritual and sensitive," while the animal soul is sensitive only.
God has implanted his own spirit in man, and associated it with
an animal soul for the period of life. It is true that Wasmann
believes even man's body to have been created directly by God;
but, in view of the overwhelming proofs of our animal descent, he
leaves open the possibility of a development from a series of other
animals, in which case the Divine spirit would be breathed into him
in the end. The Christian Fathers, who were much occupied with the
introduction of the soul into the human embryo, tell us that the
immortal soul enters the soulless embryo on the fortieth day after
conception in the case of the boy, and on the eightieth day in the
case of the girl. If Wasmann supposes that there was a similar
introduction of the soul in the development of the race, he must
postulate a moment in the history of the anthropoid apes when God
sent his spirit into the hitherto unspiritual soul of the ape.
When we look at the matter impartially in the light of pure reason,
the belief in immortality is wholly inconsistent with the facts of
evolution and of physiology. The ontogenetic dogma of the older
Church, that the soul is introduced into the soulless body at a
particular moment of its embryonic development, is just as absurd
as the phylogenetic dogma of the most modern Jesuits, that the
Divine spirit was breathed into the frame of an anthropoid ape at
a certain period (in the Tertiary period), and so converted it
into an immortal soul. We may examine and test this belief as we
will, we can find in it nothing but a piece of mystic superstition.
It is maintained solely by the great power of tradition and the
support of Conservative governments, the leaders of which have no
personal belief in these "revelations," but cling to the practical
conviction that throne and altar must support each other. They
unfortunately overlook the circumstance that the throne is apt
to become merely the footstool to the altar, and that the Church
exploits the State for its own, not the State's, good.
We learn further, from the history of this dogma, that the
belief in immortality did not find its way into science until a
comparatively late date. It is not found in the great Monistic
natural philosophers who, six centuries before the time of Christ,
evinced a profound insight into the real nature of the world. It
is not found in Democritus and Empedocles, in Seneca and Lucretius
Carus. It is not found in the older Oriental religions, Buddhism,
the ancient religion of the Chinese, or Confucianism; in fact,
there is no question of individual persistence after death in
the Pentateuch or the earlier books of the Old Testament (which
were written before the Babylonian Exile). It was Plato and his
pupil, Aristotle, that found a place for it in their dualistic
metaphysics; and its agreement with the Christian and Mohammedan
teaching secured for it a very widespread acceptance.
Another psychological dogma, the belief in man's free-will, is
equally inconsistent with the truth of evolution. Modern physiology
shows clearly that the will is never really free in man or in the
animal, but determined by the organisation of the brain; this in
turn is determined in its individual character by the laws of
heredity and the influence of the environment. It is only because
the _apparent_ freedom of the will has such a great practical
significance in the province of religion, morality, sociology, and
law, that it still forms the subject of the most contradictory
claims. Theoretically, determinism, or the doctrine of the
necessary character of our volitions, was established long ago.
With the belief in the absolute freedom of the will and the
personal immortality of the soul is associated, in the minds of
many highly educated people, a third article of faith, the belief
in a personal God. It is well known that this belief, often wrongly
represented as an indispensable foundation of religion, assumes
the most widely varied shapes. As a rule, however, it is an open
or covert anthropomorphism. God is conceived as the "Supreme
Being," but turns out, on closer examination, to be an idealised
man. According to the Mosaic narrative, "God made man to his own
image and likeness," but it is usually the reverse; "Man made
God according to his own image and likeness." This idealised man
becomes creator and architect and produces the world, forming the
various species of plants and animals like a modeller, governing
the world like a wise and all-powerful monarch, and, at the "Last
Judgment," rewarding the good and punishing the wicked like a
rigorous judge. The childish conceptions of this extramundane God,
who is set over against the world as an independent being, the
personal creator, maintainer, and ruler of all things, are quite
incompatible with the advanced science of the nineteenth century,
especially with its two greatest triumphs, the law of substance and
the law of Monistic evolution.
Critical philosophy, moreover, long ago pronounced its doom. In
the first place, the most famous critical thinker, Immanuel Kant,
proved in his _Critique of Pure Reason_ that absolute science
affords no support to the three central dogmas of metaphysics,
the personal God, the immortality of the soul, and the freedom
of the will. It is true that he afterwards (in the course of his
dualistic and dogmatic metamorphosis) taught that we must _believe_
these three great mystic forces, and that they are indispensable
postulates of practical reason; and that the latter must take
precedence over pure reason. Modern German philosophy, which
clamours for a "return to Kant," sees his chief distinction in this
impossible reconciliation of polar contradictions. The Churches,
and the ruling powers in alliance with them, accord a welcome to
this diametrical contradiction, recognised by all candid readers of
the Königsberg philosopher, between the two reasons. They use the
confusion that results for the purpose of putting the light of the
creeds in the darkness of doubting reason, and imagine that they
save religion in this way.
Whilst we are engaged with the important subject of religion, we
must refute the charge, often made, and renewed of recent years,
that our Monistic philosophy and the theory of evolution that
forms its chief foundation destroy religion. It is only opposed
to those lower forms of religion that are based on superstition
and ignorance, and would hold man's reason in bondage by empty
formalism and belief in the miraculous, in order to control it
for political purposes. This is chiefly the case with Romanism
or Ultramontanism, that pitiful caricature of pure Christianity
that still plays so important a part in the world. Luther would
turn in his grave if he could see the predominance of the Roman
Centre party in the German Empire to-day. We find the papacy, the
deadly enemy of Protestant Germany, controlling its destiny, and
the Reichstag submitting willingly to be led by the Jesuits. Not
a voice do we hear raised in it against the three most dangerous
and mischievous institutions of Romanism--the obligatory celibacy
of the clergy, the confessional, and indulgences. Though these
later institutions of the Roman Church have nothing to do with the
original teaching of the Church and pure Christianity; though their
immoral consequences, so prejudicial to the life of the family and
the State, are known to all, they exist just as they did before the
Reformation. Unfortunately, many German princes foster the ambition
of the Roman clergy, making their "Canossa-journey" to Rome, and
bending the knee to the great charlatan at the Vatican.
It is also very regrettable that the increasing tendency to
external show and festive parade at what is called "the new court"
does grave injury to real and inner religion. We have a striking
instance of this external religion in the new cathedral at Berlin,
which many would have us regard as "Catholic," not Protestant
and Evangelical. I often met in India priests and pilgrims who
believed they were pleasing their God by turning prayer-wheels, or
setting up prayer-mills that were set in motion by the wind. One
might utilise the modern invention of automatic machines for the
same purposes, and set up praying automata in the new cathedral,
or indulgence-machines that would give relief from lighter sins
for one mark [shilling], and from graver sins for twenty marks. It
would prove a great source of revenue to the Church, especially if
similar machines were set up in the other churches that have lately
been erected in Berlin at a cost of millions of marks. It would
have been better to have spent the money on schools.
These observations on the more repellent characters of modern
orthodoxy and piety may be taken as some reply to the sharp attacks
to which I have been exposed for forty years, and which have lately
been renewed with great violence. The spokesmen of Catholic and
Evangelical beliefs, especially the Romanist _Germania_ and the
Lutheran _Reichsbote_, have vied with each other in deploring my
lectures as "a desecration of this venerable hall," and in damning
my theory of evolution--without, of course, making any attempt
to repute its scientific truth. They have, in their Christian
charity, thought fit to put sandwich-men at the doors of this room,
to distribute scurrilous attacks on my person and my teaching to
those who enter. They have made a generous use of the fanatical
calumnies that the court chaplain, Stöcker, the theologian, Loofs,
the philologist, Dennert, and other opponents of my _Riddle of the
Universe_, have disseminated, and to which I make a brief reply at
the end of that work. I pass by the many untruths of these zealous
protagonists of theology. We men of science have a different
conception of truth from that which prevails in ecclesiastical
circles.[10]
As regards the relation of science to Christianity, I will only
point out that it is quite irreconcilable with the mystic and
supernatural Christian beliefs, but that it fully recognises the
high ethical value of Christian morality. It is true that the
highest commands of the Christian religion, especially those of
sympathy and brotherly love, are not discoveries of its own; the
golden rule was taught and practised centuries before the time of
Christ. However, Christianity has the distinction of preaching
and developing it with a fresh force. In its time it has had a
beneficial influence on the development of civilisation, though
in the Middle Ages the Roman Church became, with its Inquisition,
its witch-drowning, its burning of heretics, and its religious
wars, the bloodiest caricature of the gentle religion of love.
Orthodox _historical_ Christianity is not directly destroyed by
modern science, but by its own learned and zealous theologians.
The enlightened Protestantism that was so effectively advocated
by Schleiermacher in Berlin eighty years ago, the later works of
Feuerbach, the inquiries into the life of Jesus of David Strauss
and Ernest Renan, the lectures recently delivered here by Delitzsch
and Harnack, have left very little of what strict orthodoxy regards
as the indispensable foundations of historical Christianity.
Kalthoff, of Bremen, goes so far as to declare that all Christian
traditions are myths, and that the development of Christianity is a
necessary outcome of the civilisation of the time.
In view of this broadening tendency in theology and philosophy
at the beginning of the twentieth century, it is an unfortunate
anachronism that the Ministers of Public Instruction of Prussia and
Bavaria sail in the wake of the Catholic Church, and seek to instil
the spirit of the Jesuits in both lower and higher education. It
is only a few weeks since the Prussian Minister of Worship made a
dangerous attempt to suppress academic freedom, the palladium of
mental life in Germany. This increasing reaction recalls the sad
days of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when thousands
of the finest citizens of Germany migrated to North America, in
order to develop their mental powers in a free atmosphere. This
selective process formed a blessing to the United States, but it
was certainly very injurious to Germany. Large numbers of weak
and servile characters and sycophants were thus favoured. The
fossilised ideas of many of our leading jurists seem to take us
back sometimes to the Cretaceous and Jurassic periods, while the
palæozoic rhetoric of our theologians and synods even goes back to
the Permian and Carboniferous epochs.
However, we must not take too seriously the anxiety that this
increasing political and clerical reaction causes us. We must
remember the vast resources of civilisation that are seen to-day in
our enormous international intercourse, and must have confidence
in the helpful exchange of ideas between east and west that is
being effected daily by our means of transit. Even in Germany
the darkness that now prevails will at length give place to the
dazzling light of the sun. Nothing, in my opinion, will contribute
more to that end than the unconditional victory of the idea of
evolution.
Beside the law of evolution, and closely connected with it, we have
that great triumph of modern science, the law of substance--the
law of the conservation of matter (Lavoisier, 1789), and of the
conservation of energy (Robert Mayer, 1842). These two laws are
irreconcilable with the three central dogmas of metaphysics,
which so many educated people still regard as the most precious
treasures of their spiritual life--the belief in a personal God,
the personal immortality of the soul, and the liberty of the human
will. But these great objects of belief, so intimately bound up
with numbers of our treasured achievements and institutions, are
not on that account driven out of the world. They merely cease
to pose as truths in the realm of pure science. As imaginative
creations, they retain a certain value in the world of poetry.
Here they will not only, as they have done hitherto, furnish
thousands of the finest and most lofty motives for every branch of
art--sculpture, painting, or music--but they will still have a high
ethical and social value in the education of the young and in the
organisation of society. Just as we derive artistic and ethical
inspiration from the legends of classical antiquity (such as the
Hercules myth, the _Odyssey_ and the _Iliad_) and the story of
William Tell, so we will continue to do in regard to the stories of
the Christian mythology. But we must do the same with the poetical
conceptions of other religions, which have given the most varied
forms to the transcendental ideas of God, freedom, and immortality.
Thus the noble warmth of art will remain, together with--not in
opposition to, but in harmony with--the splendid light of science,
one of the most precious possessions of the human mind. As Goethe
said: "He who has science and art has religion; he who has not
these two had better have religion." Our Monistic system, the
"connecting link between religion and science," brings God and the
world into unity in the sense that Goethe willed, the sense that
Spinoza clearly expressed long ago and Giordano Bruno had sealed
with his martyrdom. It has been said repeatedly of late that Goethe
was an orthodox Christian. A few years ago a young orator quoted
him in support of the wonderful dogmas of the Christian religion.
We may point out that Goethe himself expressly said he was "a
decided non-Christian." The "great heathen of Weimar" has given
the clearest expression to his Pantheistic views in his noblest
poems, _Faust_, _Prometheus_, and _God and the World_. How could
so vigorous a thinker, in whose mind the evolution of organic life
ran through millions of years, have shared the narrow belief of a
Jewish prophet and enthusiast who sought to give up his life for
humanity 1,900 years ago?
Our Monistic god, the all-embracing essence of the world, the
Nature-god of Spinoza and Goethe, is identical with the eternal,
all-inspiring energy, and is one, in eternal and infinite
substance, with space-filling matter. It "lives and moves in
all things," as the Gospel says. And as we see that the law of
substance is universal, that the conservation of matter and of
energy is inseparably connected, and that the ceaseless development
of this substance follows the same "eternal iron laws," we find God
in natural law itself. The will of God is at work in every falling
drop of rain and every growing crystal, in the scent of the rose
and the spirit of man.
APPENDIX
EVOLUTIONARY TABLES
1.--GEOLOGICAL AGES AND PERIODS
-----------------+------------------+------------------+------------------
Ages in the | | |Approximate length
Organic History | Periods of | Vertebrate |of Paleontological
of the Earth. | Geology | Fossils. | Periods.
-----------------+------------------+------------------+------------------
| {1. Laurentian | |
I. Archeozoic age| { | | 52 million years
(primordial) | { | No fossil |Sedimentary strata
| {2. Huronian | remains of | 63,000 ft. thick
| | vertebrates |
Age of | 3. Cambrian | |
invertebrates | | |
-----------------+------------------+------------------+------------------
| | |
| 4. Silurian | Fishes |
| | |
II. Paleozoic age| 5. Devonian | Dipneusts | 34 million years
(primary) | | |Sedimentary strata
Age of fishes | 6. Carboniferous| Amphibia | 41,200 ft. thick
| | |
| 7. Permian | Reptiles |
-----------------+------------------+------------------+------------------
| | |
| 8. Triassic | Monotremes |
III. Mesozoic age| | | 11 million years
(secondary) | 9. Jurassic | Marsupials |Sedimentary strata
Age of reptiles| | | 12,200 ft. thick
| 10. Cretaceous | {_Mallotheria_ |
| | {Pro-placentals |
-----------------+------------------+------------------+------------------
| | |
| 11. Eocene | {_Prosimiæ_ |
| | { Lemurs |
| | |
| 12. Oligocene | {_Cynopitheca_ |
IV. Cenozoic age | | { Baboons |
(tertiary) | | | 3 million years
Age of mammals | 13. Miocene | {_Anthropoides_ | 3,600 ft. thick
| | { Man-like apes |
| | |
| 14. Pliocene | {_Pithecanthropi_|
| | { Ape-men |
-----------------+------------------+------------------+------------------
| | |
V. Anthropozoic | 15. Glacial | Pre-historic man |
age (quaternary)| | | 300,000 years
Age of man | 16. Post-glacial | Savage and |Sedimentary strata
| | civilised man | little thickness
-----------------+------------------+------------------+------------------
2A.--MAN'S GENEALOGICAL TREE--_First Half_
EARLIER ANCESTRAL SERIES, WITHOUT FOSSIL REMAINS, BEFORE THE
SILURIAN PERIOD
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
Chief Stages.| Ancestral | Living Relatives |Pale-|Onto-|Mor-
| Stem-Groups. | of our Ancestors. |onto-|geny.|phol-
| | |logy.| |ogy.
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
Stages 1-5: | { 1. MONERA | 1. CHROMACEA | O | I? | I
PROTIST- | { (Plasmodoma) | (_Chroococcus_) | | |
ANCESTORS | { without nuclei | _Phycochromacea_ | | |
Unicellular | { 2. ALGARIA | 2. PAULOTOMEA | O | I? | I
organisms | { Unicellular algæ | _Palmellacea_ | | |
| { with nuclei | _Eremosphaera_ | | |
| | | | |
| { 3. LOBOSA | 3. AMŒBINA | O | II | II
| { Unicellular | _Amœba_ | | |
| { (Amœboid) | _Lecocyta_ | | |
1-2: | { Rhizopods | | | |
Plasmodomous | { 4. INFUSORIA | 4. FLAGELLATA | O | ? | II
Protophyta | { (Unicellular) | _Euflagellata_ | | |
3-5: | { | _Zoomonades_ | | |
Plasmophagous| { 5. BLASTÆADES | 5. CATALLACTA | O | III | III
Protozoa | { Multicellular | _Magosphaera_ | | |
| { cell-colonies | _Volvocina_ | | |
| { | _Blastula?_ | | |
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
| { 6. GASTRÆADES | 6. GASTRULA | O | III | III
Stages 6-11: | { with two | _Hydra, Olynthus_,| | |
INVERTEBRATE | { germinal layers | _Orthonectida_ | | |
METAZOA- | { 7. PLATODES I. | 7. CRYPTOCŒLA | O | ? | I
ANCESTORS | { _Platodaria_ | (_Convoluta_) | | |
6-8: | { (without nephridia)| (_Proporus_) | | |
Cœlenteria, | { 8. PLATODES II. | 8. RHABDOCŒLA | O | ? | I
without anus | { _Platodinia_ | (_Vortex_) | | |
anus or | { (with nephridia) | (_Monotus_) | | |
body-cavity | | | | |
| | | | |
| { 9. PROVERMALIA | 9. GASTROTRICHA | O | ? | I
| { _Rotatoria_ | _Trochozoa_ | | |
| { Primitive worms | _Trochophora_ | | |
9-11: | {10. FRONTONIA | 10. ENTEROPNEUSTA | O | ? | I
Vermalia, | {(_Rhynchelminthes_)| _Balanoglossus_ | | |
with anus and| { Snouted worms | _Cephalodiscus_ | | |
body-cavity | {11. PROCHORDONIA | 11. COPELATA | O | II | II
| Worms with chorda | _Appendicaria_ | | |
------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
| {12. ACRANIA I. | 12. LARVÆ OF | O | III | II
| { (Prospondylia) | AMPHIOXUS | | |
Stages 12-15:| {13. ACRANIA II. | 13. LEPTOCARDIA | O | I | III
MONORRHINA- | { Later skull-less | Amphioxus | | |
ANCESTORS | { animals | (Lancelet) | | |
Earliest | {14. CYCLOSTOMA I. | 14. LARVÆ OF | O | III | II
vertebrates, | { (Archicrania) | PETROMYZON | | |
without jaws| {15. CYCLOSTOMA II. | 15. MARSIPOBRAN- | O | I | III
or pairs of | { Later round- | CHIA | | |
limbs, with | { mouthed animals | Myxinoides | | |
single | { | Petromyzontes | | |
nostril | | | | |
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
2B.--MAN'S GENEALOGICAL TREE--_Second Half_
LATER ANCESTRAL SERIES, WITH FOSSIL REMAINS, BEGINNING IN THE
SILURIAN
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
Geological | Stem-Groups of | Living Relatives |Pale-|Onto-|Mor-
Periods. | Ancestors. | of our Ancestors. |onto-|geny.|phol-
| | |logy.| |logy.
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
|{16. SELACHII |16. NOTIDANIDES | I | II | III
Silurian |{ Primitive fishes| Chlamydoselachus| | |
|{ _Proselachii_ | _Heptanchus_ | | |
|{17. GANOIDES |17. ACCIPENSERIDES | II | I | II
Silurian |{ Plated fishes | Sturgeon, | | |
|{ _Proganoides_ | Polypterus | | |
|{18. DIPNEUSTA |18. NEODIPNEUSTA | I | II | II
Devonian |{ _Paladipneusta_ | Ceratodus, | | |
|{ | Protopterus | | |
|{19. AMPHIBIA |19. PHANEROBRANCHIA| III | III | III
Carboniferous|{ _Stegocephala_ | and Salamandrina | | |
|{ | (Proteus, Triton)| | |
|{20. REPTILIA |20. RHYNCOCEPHALIA | III | II | II
Permian |{ _Proreptilia_ | Primitive lizards| | |
|{ | Hatteria | | |
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
|{21. MONOTREMA |21. ORNITHODELPHIA | I | III | III
Triassic |{ _Promammalia_ | Echnida | | |
|{ | Ornithorhyncus | | |
|{22. MARSUPIALIA |22. DIDELPHIA | I | II | II
Jurassic |{ _Prodidelphia_ | Didelphys, | | |
|{ | Perameles | | |
|{23. MALLOTHERIA |23. INSECTIVORA | III | I | I
Cretaceous |{ _Prochoriata_ | Erinaceida | | |
|{ | (Ictopsida+) | | |
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
|{24. LEMURAVIDA |24. PACHYLEMURES | III | I? | II
Older Eocene |{ Earlier lemurs | (_Hypopsodus_+) | | |
|{ Dent. 3, 1, 4, 3 | (_Adapis_+) | | |
|{25. LEMUROGONA |25. AUTOLEMURES | II | I? | II
Later Eocene |{ Later lemurs | (_Eulemur_) | | |
|{ Dent. 2, 1, 4, 3 | (_Stenops_) | | |
|{26. DYSMOPITHECA |26. PLATYRRHINÆ | I | I | II
Oligocene |{ Western apes | (_Anthropops_+) | | |
|{ Dent. 2, 1, 3, 3 | (_Homunculus_+) | | |
|{27. CYNOPITHECA |27. PAPIOMORPHA | I | I | III
Older Miocene|{ Baboons (tailed) | (_Cynocephalus_)| | |
|{28. ANTHROPOIDES |28. HYLOBATIDA | I | II | III
Later Miocene|{ Anthropoid apes | Hylobates | | |
|{ (tailless) | Satyrus | | |
|{29. PITHECANTHROPI |29. ANTHROPITHECA | II | III | III
Pliocene |{ Ape-like men | Chimpanzee | | |
|{ (alali=speechless) | Gorilla | | |
|{30. HOMINES |30. WEDDAHS | I | III | III
Pleistocene |{ (loquaces=with | Australian | | |
|{ speech) | natives | | |
-------------+---------------------+-------------------+-----+-----+-----
3.--CLASSIFICATION OF THE PRIMATES
[[TRANSCRIBER NOTE: This 4-column Table has been split into two parts.
The first part has columns 1, 2 and 3. The second part has columns
2, 3 and 4 (2 and 3 are repeated from the first part).]]
_N.B_.-- * indicates extinct forms, + living groups, ++ the
hypothetical stem-form. _Cf._ _History of Creation_, chap. xxvii.;
_Evolution of Man_, chap. xxiii.
[[First Part]]
----------------------+------------------------+--------------------------
Orders. | Sub-Orders. | Families.
----------------------+------------------------+--------------------------
| |
I | |
PROSIMIAE | { 1. LEMURAVIDA | {1. PACHYLEMURES*
Lemurs | { (_Palalemures_) | {(_Hypopsodina_)
(Hemipitheci) | { Early lemurs | {
The orbits imper- | { (generalists) | {Dent. 44=3.1.4.3/3.1.4.3
fectly separated | { Originally with | {Primitive dentition
from the temporal | { claws on all or | {
depression by a | { most fingers: later | {2. NECROLEMURES
bony arch. Womb | { transition to nails. | {(_Anaptomorpha_)
double or two-horned. | { Tarsus primitive. | {
Placenta diffuse, in- | { | {Dent. 40=2.1.4.3/2.1.4.3
deciduate (as a rule).| { | {Reduced dentition
Cerebrum relatively | { |
small, smooth, or | { | {3. AUTOLEMURES+
little furrowed. | { | {(_Lemurida_)
| { 2. LEMUROGONA | {
| { (_Neolemures_) | {Dent. 36=2.1.3.3/2.1.3.3
| { Modern lemures | {Specialised dentition
| { (specialists) | {
| { All fingers usually | {4. CHIROLEMURES+
| { have nails (except | {(_Chiromyida_)
| { the second toe). | {
| { Tarsus modified. | {Dent. 18=1.0.1.3/1.0.0.3
| | {Rodent dentition
| |
----------------------+------------------------+--------------------------
| |
II | | {5. ARCTOPITHECA+
SIMIAE | { 3. PLATYRRHINAE | {
Apes | { Flat-nosed apes | {Dent. 32=2.1.3.2/2.1.3.2
(_Pitheci_ or | { _Hesperopitheca_ | {Nail on hallux only
_simiales_) | { Western apes | {
Orbits completely | { (American) | {6. DYSMOPITHECA+
separated from the | { Nostrils lateral, | {
temporal depression | { with wide partition | {Dent. 36=2.1.3.3/2.1.3.3
by a bony septum. | { 3 premolars | {Nails on all fingers
Womb simple, pear- | { |
shaped. Placenta | { | {7. CYNOPITHECA+
discoid, deciduate. | { | {
Cerebrum relatively | { | {Dent 32=2.1.2.3/2.1.2.3
large and much | { | {Generally with tail
furrowed. | { 4. CATARRHINAE | {and cheek-pouches
| { Narrow-nosed | {Sacrum with 3 or
| { apes | {4 vertebræ
| { _Eopitheca_ | {
| { Eastern apes | {8. ANTHROPOMORPHA+
| { (Arctogoea) | {
| { Europe, Asia, and | {Dent. 32=2.1.2.3/2.1.2.3
| { Africa. | {No tail or cheek-pouches
| { Nostrils forward, | {Sacrum with 5
| { with narrow septum | {vertebræ
| { 2 premolars |
| { Nails on all |
| { fingers |
| |
----------------------+------------------------+--------------------------
[[Second Part]]
-----------------------+---------------------------+-----------------
Sub-Orders. | Families. | Genera.
-----------------------+---------------------------+-----------------
| |
| | {_Archiprimas_++
{ 1. LEMURAVIDA | {1. PACHYLEMURES* | {_Lemuravus_*
{ (_Palalemures_) | {(_Hypopsodina_) | { Early Eocene
{ Early lemurs | { | {_Pelycodus_*
{ (generalists) | {Dent. 44=3.1.4.3/3.1.4.3 | { Early Eocene
{ Originally with | {Primitive dentition | {_Hypopsodus_*
{ claws on all or | { | { Late Eocene
{ most fingers: later | {2. NECROLEMURES |
{ transition to nails. | {(_Anaptomorpha_) | {_Adapis_*
{ Tarsus primitive. | { | {_Plesiadapis_*
{ | {Dent. 40=2.1.4.3/2.1.4.3 | {Necrolemur*
{ | {Reduced dentition |
{ | | {_Eulemur_
{ | {3. AUTOLEMURES+ | {_Hapalemur_
{ | {(_Lemurida_) | {_Lepilemur_
{ 2. LEMUROGONA | { | {_Nycticebus_
{ (_Neolemures_) | {Dent. 36=2.1.3.3/2.1.3.3 | {_Stenops_
{ Modern lemures | {Specialised dentition | {_Galago_
{ (specialists) | { |
{ All fingers usually | {4. CHIROLEMURES+ | {_Chiromys_
{ have nails (except | {(_Chiromyida_) | { (Claws on all
{ the second toe). | { | { fingers except
{ Tarsus modified. | {Dent. 18=1.0.1.3/1.0.0.3 | { first)
| {Rodent dentition |
| |
-----------------------+---------------------------+-----------------
| |
| {5. ARCTOPITHECA+ | {_Hapale_
{ 3. PLATYRRHINAE | { | {_Midas_
{ Flat-nosed apes | {Dent. 32=2.1.3.2/2.1.3.2 |
{ _Hesperopitheca_ | {Nail on hallux only |
{ Western apes | { | {_Callithrix_
{ (American) | {6. DYSMOPITHECA+ | {_Nyctipithecus_
{ Nostrils lateral, | { | {_Cebus_
{ with wide partition | {Dent. 36=2.1.3.3/2.1.3.3 | {_Mycetes_
{ 3 premolars | {Nails on all fingers | {_Ateles_
{ | |
{ | {7. CYNOPITHECA+ | {_Cynocephalus_
{ | { | {_Cercopithecus_
{ | {Dent 32=2.1.2.3/2.1.2.3 | {_Inuus_
{ | {Generally with tail | {_Semnopithecus_
{ 4. CATARRHINAE | {and cheek-pouches | {_Colobus_
{ Narrow-nosed | {Sacrum with 3 or 4 | {_Nasalis_
{ apes | {vertebræ |
{ _Eopitheca_ | { | {_Hylobates_
{ Eastern apes | {8. ANTHROPOMORPHA+ | {_Satyrus_
{ (Arctogoea) | { | {_Pliopithecus_*
{ Europe, Asia, and | {Dent. 32=2.1.2.3/2.1.2.3 | {_Gorilla_
{ Africa. | {No tail or cheek-pouches | {_Anthropithecus_
{ Nostrils forward, | {Sacrum with 5 | {_Dryopithecus_*
{ with narrow septum | {vertebræ | {_Pithe-
{ 2 premolars | | { canthropus_*
{ Nails on all | | {_Homo_
{ fingers | |
| |
-----------------------+---------------------------+-----------------
4.--GENEALOGICAL TREE OF THE PRIMATES
[Illustration: Anthropomorpha]
EXPLANATION OF GENEALOGICAL TABLE 1
CHRONOMETRIC REDUCTION OF BIOGENETIC PERIODS
The enormous length of the biogenetic periods (_i.e._, the periods
during which organic life has been evolving on our planet) is still
very differently estimated by geologists and paleontologists,
astronomers and physicists, because the empirical data of the
calculation are very incomplete and admit great differences of
estimate. However, most modern experts aver that their length
runs to 100 and 200 million years (some say double this, and even
more). If we take the lesser figure of 100 millions, we find this
distributed over the five chief periods of organic geology very
much as is shown on Table 1. In order to get a clearer idea of the
vast duration of these evolutionary periods, and to appreciate
the relative shortness of the "historical period," Dr. H. Schmidt
(Jena) has reduced the 100,000,000 years to a day. In this scheme
the twenty-four hours of "creation-day" are distributed as follows
over the five evolutionary periods:
I. Archeozoic period (52 million years) = 12h. 30m.
II. Paleozoic period (34 million years) = 8h. 7m.
III. Mesozoic period (11 million years) = 2h. 38m.
IV. Cenozoic period (3 million years) = 43m.
V. Anthropozoic period (0·1-0·2 million years) = 2m.
If we put the length of the "historic period" at 6,000 years, it
only makes _five seconds_ of "creation-day"; the Christian era
would amount to _two_ seconds.
POSTSCRIPT
EVOLUTION AND JESUITISM
The relation of the theory of evolution to the teaching of
the Jesuits is in many respects so important and so liable to
misunderstanding that I have felt it very desirable to make it
clear in the present work. I have, I think, clearly showed that
the two doctrines are diametrically and irreconcilably opposed,
and that the attempt of the modern Jesuits to reconcile the two
antagonists is mere sophistry. I wrote with special reference
to the works of the learned Jesuit, Father Erich Wasmann, not
only because that writer deals with the subject more ably and
comprehensively than most of his colleagues, but because he is more
competent to make a scientific defence of his views on account of
his long studies of the ants and his general knowledge of biology.
He has made a vigorous reply to my strictures in an "open letter"
to me, which appeared on 2nd May, 1905, in the Berlin (or Roman)
_Germania_, and in the _Kölnische Volkszeitung_.
The sophistical objections that Wasmann raises to my lectures, and
his misleading statement of the most important problems, oblige me
to make a brief reply in this "Postscript." It will be impossible,
of course, to meet all his points here, and convince him of their
futility. Not even the clearest and most rigorous logic makes a man
a match for a Jesuit; he adroitly employs the facts themselves for
the purpose of concealing the truth by his perverse misstatements.
It is vain to hope to convince my opponent by rational argument,
when he believes that religious faith is "higher than all reason."
A good idea can be formed of his position from the conclusion of
the eleventh chapter of his work, _Modern Biology and the Theory
of Evolution_ (p. 307). "There can never be a real contradiction
between natural knowledge and supernatural revelation, because
both have their origin in the same Divine spirit." This is a
fine comment on the incessant struggle that "natural science" is
compelled to maintain against "supernatural revelation," and that
fills the whole philosophical and theological literature of the
last half century.
Wasmann's orthodox position is shown most clearly by the following
statement: "The theory of evolution, to which I subscribe as a
scientist and a philosopher, rests on the foundations of the
Christian doctrine which I hold to be the only true one: 'In the
beginning God created the heavens and the earth.'" Unfortunately,
he does not tell us how he conceives this "creation out of
nothing," and what he means by "God" and "heavens." I would
recommend him to consult Troelslund's excellent work, _The Idea of
Heaven and of the World_.
Almost at the same time that I was delivering my lectures at
Berlin, Wasmann was giving a series of thoroughly Jesuitical
lectures on the subject at Lucerne. The Catholic Lucerne journal,
_Vaterland_, describes these lectures as "a work of emancipation"
and "a critical moment in the intellectual struggle." It quotes
the following sentence: "At the highest stage of the theistic
philosophy of evolution is God, the omnipotent creator of heaven
and earth; next to him, created by him, is the immortal soul of
man. We reach this conclusion, not only by faith, but by inductive
and strictly scientific methods. The system that is reared on the
theistic doctrine of evolution is the sole rational and truly
scientific system; the atheistic position is irrational and
unscientific."
In order to see the untruth of this and the succeeding statements
of the modern Jesuits, we have to remember that the Churches--both
Protestant and Catholic--have vigorously combated the theory of
evolution with all their power for thirty years, ever since the
first appearance of Darwinism. The shrewd clergy saw more clearly
than many of our naïve philosophers that Darwin's theory of descent
is the inevitable key-stone of the whole theory of evolution,
and that "the descent of man from other mammals" is a rigorous
deduction from it. As Karl Escherich well says: "Hitherto we read
in the faces of our clerical opponents only hatred, bitterness,
contempt, mockery, or pity in regard to the new invader of their
dogmatic structure, the idea of evolution. Now (since Wasmann's
apostasy) the assurances of the Catholic journals, that the Church
has admitted the theory of evolution for decades, make us smile.
Evolution has now pressed on to its final victory, and these people
would have us believe that they were never unfriendly to it, never
shrieked and stormed against it. How, they say, could anyone have
been so foolish, when the theory of evolution puts the wisdom
and power of the creator in a nobler light than ever." We find
a similar diplomatic retreat in the popular work of the Jesuit,
Father Martin Gander, _The Theory of Descent_ (1904): "Thus the
modern forms of matter were not immediately created by God; they
are effects of the formative forces, which were put by the creator
in the primitive matter, and gradually came into view in the course
of the earth's history, when the external conditions were given in
the proper combination." That is a remarkable change of front on
the part of the clergy.
We see the astonishing system of the Jesuits, and of the papacy of
which they are the bodyguard, not only in this impossible jumble
of evolution and theology, but also in other passages of Wasmann,
Gander, Gutberlet, and their colleagues. The serious dangers that
threaten our schools, and the whole of our higher culture, from
this Jesuitical sham-science, have been well pointed out lately
by Count von Hoensbroech in the preface to his famous work, _The
Papacy in its Social and Intellectual Activity_ (1901). "The
papacy," he says, "in its claim to a Divine authority, transmitted
to it by Christ, endowed with infallibility in all questions
of faith and morals, is the greatest, the most fatal, the most
successful error in the whole of history. This great error is
girt about by the thousands of lies of its supporters; this error
and these lies work for a system of power and domination, for
ultramontanism. The truth can but struggle against it.... Nowhere
do we find so much and such systematic lying as in Catholic
science, and in the history of the Church and the papacy; nowhere
are the lies and misrepresentations more pernicious than here; they
have become part and parcel of the Catholic religion. The facts
of history tell plainly enough that the papacy is anything but a
Divine institution; that it has brought more curses and ruin, more
bloody turmoil and profanation, into humanity's holiest of holies,
religion, than any other power in the world."
This severe judgment on the papacy and Jesuitism is the more
valuable as Count von Hoensbroech was himself in the service of the
Jesuit Congregation for forty years, and learned thoroughly all
its tricks and intrigues. In making them public, and basing his
charges on numerous official documents, he has done great service
to the cause of truth and civilisation. I was merely repeating
his well-founded verdict when, at the close of my first lecture,
I described the papacy as the greatest swindle the world has ever
submitted to.
A curious irony of Fate gave me an opportunity, the same evening,
to experience in my own person the correctness of this verdict. A
Berlin reporter telegraphed to London that I had fully accepted
the new theory of Father Wasmann, and recognised the error of
Darwinism; that the theory of evolution is not applicable to man on
account of his mental superiority. This welcome intelligence passed
from London to America and many other countries. The result was a
flood of letters from zealous adherents of the theory of evolution,
interrogating me as to my unintelligible change of front. I thought
at first that the telegram was due to the misunderstanding or the
error of a reporter, but I was afterwards informed from Berlin that
the false message was probably due to a deliberate corruption by
some religious person who thought to render a service to his faith
by this untruth. He had substituted "supported" for "refuted," and
"error" for "truth."
The struggle for the triumph of truth, in which I have had the most
curious experiences during the last forty years, has brought me a
number of new impressions through my Berlin lectures. The flood
of calumnies of all kinds that the religious press (especially
the Lutheran _Reichsbote_ and the Catholic _Germania_) poured
over me exceeded any that had gone before. Dr. Schmidt gave a
selection from them in the _Freie Wort_ (No. 4, p. 144). I have
already pointed out, in the Appendix to the popular edition of the
_Riddle of the Universe_ [German edition], what unworthy means are
employed by my clerical and metaphysical opponents for the purpose
of bringing my popular scientific works into disrepute. I can only
repeat here that the calumniation of my person does not move me,
and does not injure the cause of truth which I serve. It is just
this unusually loud alarm of my clerical enemies that tells me my
sacrifices have not been in vain, and that I have put the modest
key-stone to the work of my life--"The advancement of knowledge by
the spread of the idea of evolution."
THE END
_Printed by Cowan & Co., Limited, Perth._
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The word "evolution" is still used in so many different ways
in various sciences that it is important to fix it in the general
significance which we here give it. By "evolution," in the widest
sense, I understand the unceasing "mutations of substance,"
adopting Spinoza's fundamental conception of substance; it unites
inseparably in itself "matter and force (or energy)," or "nature
and mind" (= the world and God). Hence the science of evolution in
its broader range is "the history of substance," which postulates
the general validity of "the law of substance." In the latter are
combined "the law of the constancy of matter" (Lavoisier, 1789)
and "the law of the conservation of energy" (Robert Mayer, 1842),
however varied may be the changes of _form_ of these elements in
the world-process. _Cf._ Chapter XII. of _The Riddle_.
[2] Certain orthodox periodicals have lately endeavoured to deny
this famous atheistical confession of the great Laplace, which was
merely a candid deduction of his splendid cosmic system. They say
that this Monistic natural philosopher acknowledged the Catholic
faith on his death-bed; and in proof of this they offer us the
later testimony of an Ultramontane priest. We need not point out
how uncertain is the love of truth of these heated partisans. When
testimony of this kind tends to "the good of religion" (_i.e._,
their own good), it is held to be a pious work (_pia fraus_). On
the other hand, it is interesting to recall the reply of a Prussian
Minister of Religion, Von Zedlitz, 120 years ago, to the Breslau
Consistory, when it urged that "those who believe most are the best
subjects." He wrote in reply: "His majesty [Frederick the Great] is
not disposed to rest the security of his State on the stupidity of
his subjects."
[3] See, for instance, _Moses and Geology, or Harmony of the Bible
with Science_, by Samuel Kinns (1882). In this work the pious
Biblical astronomer executes the most incredible and Jesuitical
manœuvres in order to bring about an impossible reconciliation
between science and the Biblical narrative.
[4] The eel-like sophistry of the Jesuits, which has been brought
to such a wonderful pitch in their political system, cannot, as
a rule, be met by argument. An interesting illustration of this
was given by Father Wasmann himself in his controversy with the
physician, Dr. Julian Marcuse. The "scientific" Wasmann had gone so
far in his zeal for religion as to support a downright swindle of
a "miraculous cure" in honour of the "Mother of God of Oostacker"
(the Belgian Lourdes). Dr. Marcuse succeeded in exposing the
whole astounding story of this "pious fraud" (_Deutsche Stimmen_,
Berlin, 1903, iv. Jahrg., No. 20). Instead of giving a scientific
refutation, the Jesuit replied with sophistic perversion and
personal invective (Scientific [?] Supplement to _Germania_,
Berlin, 1902, No. 43, and 1903, No. 13). In his final reply, Dr.
Marcuse said: "I have accomplished my object--to let thoughtful
people see once more the kind of ideas that are found in the
world of dead and literal faith, which tries to put the crudest
superstition and reverence for the myth of miraculous cures in the
place of science, truth and knowledge" (_Deutsche Stimmen_, 1903,
v. Jahrgang, No. 3).
[5] While these pages are in the press the journals announce a
fresh humiliation of the German empire that will cause great
grief. On the 9th of May the nation celebrated the centenary of
the death of Friedrich Schiller. With rare unanimity all the
political parties of Germany, and all the German associations
abroad, came together to do honour to the great poet of German
idealism. Professor Theobald Ziegler delivered a very fine address
at Strassburg University. The Emperor, who happened to be in the
town, was invited, but did not attend; instead of doing so, he held
a military parade in the vicinity. A few days afterwards he sat at
table with the German Catholic cardinals and bishops, amongst them
being the fanatical Bishop Benzler, who declared that a Christian
cemetery was desecrated by the interment of a Protestant. At these
festive dinners German Catholics always give the first toast to the
Pope, the second to the Emperor; they rejoice at present that the
Emperor and Pope are _allies_. But the whole history of the papacy
(a pitiful caricature of the ancient Catholic faith) shows clearly
that they are natural and irreconcilable enemies. Either emperor
must rule _or_ pope.
[6] The manuscript letter in which the gentle Darwin expresses so
severe a judgment on Virchow is printed in my Cambridge lecture,
_The Last Link_. My answer to Virchow's speech is contained in the
second volume of my _Popular Lectures_, and has lately appeared in
the _Freie Wort_ (April, 1905).
[7] In his presidential speech at the last meeting of the British
Association, Professor Darwin said: "It does not seem unreasonable
to suppose that 500 to 1,000 million years may have elapsed since
the birth of the moon." [Trans.]
[8] See account of similar experiments in the _Lancet_, 18th
January, 1902. [Trans.]
[9] Wasmann meets these convincing experiments with mere Jesuitical
sophistry. Of the same character is his attack on my _Evolution of
Man_, and on the instructive work of Robert Wiedersheim, _Man's
Structure as a Witness to his Past_.
[10] I may remind those who think that the hall of the Musical
Academy is "desecrated" by my lectures, that it was in the very
same place that Alexander von Humboldt delivered, seventy-seven
years ago (1828), the remarkable lectures that afterwards made up
his _Cosmos_. The great traveller, whose clear mind had recognised
the unity of Nature, and had, with Goethe, discovered therein
the real knowledge of God, endeavoured to convey his thoughts in
popular form to the educated Berlin public, and to establish the
universality of natural law. It was my aim to establish, as regards
the organic world, precisely what Humboldt had proved to exist
in inorganic nature. I wanted to show how the great advance of
modern biology (since Darwin's time) enables us to solve the most
difficult of all problems, the historical development of plants and
animals in humanity. Humboldt in his day earned the most lively
approval and gratitude of all free-thinking and truth-seeking men,
and the displeasure and suspicion of the orthodox and conservative
courtiers at Berlin.
Transcriber's note:
In Tables 2A and 2B, 'Ontogeny' column, the character ! was used in
the original text. This was probably a printer's error, and has been
replaced with I. So ! !! and !!! are displayed as I II and III.
Notation for dentition in Table 2B (p. 117), where lower dentition is
assumed the same as upper, is unchanged; for example "3, 1, 4, 3".
In Table 3 (p.118) it is given as a fraction, and represented in the
etext as "upper/lower"; for example "44 = 3.1.4.3/3.1.4.3".
Table 3 has been split into two parts in the etext.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example,
manlike, man-like; paleozoic, palæozoic; to-day; unspiritual; instil.
Pg 44, 'Christain sects' replaced by 'Christian sects'.
Pg 53, '_Philosophie Zoologique_ (1899)' replaced by
'_Philosophie Zoologique_ (1809)'.
Pg 53, 'and the champanzee)' replaced by 'and the chimpanzee)'.
Pg 72, 'familar tendency' replaced by 'familiar tendency'.
Pg 88, 'acurately described' replaced by 'accurately described'.
Pg 115, '5. Jurassic' replaced by '9. Jurassic'.
Pg 123, 'irrational and inscientific' replaced by 'irrational and
unscientific'. | 45,600 | common-pile/project_gutenberg_filtered | 53639 | project gutenberg | project_gutenberg-dolma-0009.json.gz:2673 | https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53639.txt.utf-8 |
VHU3Ley60AOvRWu0 | 8.1: Introduction to Photosynthesis | 8.1: Introduction to Photosynthesis
The processes in all organisms—from bacteria to humans—require energy. To get this energy, many organisms access stored energy by eating, that is, by ingesting other organisms. But where does the stored energy in food originate? All of this energy can be traced back to photosynthesis.
Contributors and Attributions
-
Connie Rye (East Mississippi Community College), Robert Wise (University of Wisconsin, Oshkosh), Vladimir Jurukovski (Suffolk County Community College), Jean DeSaix (University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill), Jung Choi (Georgia Institute of Technology), Yael Avissar (Rhode Island College) among other contributing authors. Original content by OpenStax (CC BY 4.0; Download for free at<EMAIL_ADDRESS>). | 137 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://bio.libretexts.org/Courses/Reedley_College/Biology_for_Science_Majors_I/08%3A_Photosynthesis/8.01%3A_Introduction_to_Photosynthesis | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:31294 | https://bio.libretexts.org/Courses/Reedley_College/Biology_for_Science_Majors_I/08%3A_Photosynthesis/8.01%3A_Introduction_to_Photosynthesis |
pUngiajTgPo5Pt81 | Swallowing and its Disorders Across the Lifespan | References
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Zhang, C., Ruan, D., He, Q., Wen, T., & Yang, P. (2014). Progressive dysphagia and neck pain due to diffuse idiopathic skeletal hyperostosis of the cervical spine: a case report and literature review. Clinical Interventions | 3,796 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://nmoer.pressbooks.pub/swallowingdisorders/chapter/references-2/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:56620 | https://nmoer.pressbooks.pub/swallowingdisorders/chapter/references-2/ |
I4lpDQmU9yNmKifn | Forest Measurements | 6.1 Forest Site Productivity
Just as farmers might wish to know how “good” their ground might be for various crops, so foresters wish to know how “good” their forestland is. Since forests are dominated by trees, this generally translates to predicting how well trees will grow. Decisions about what species to grow, how intensely to manage the trees, or whether or not trees are the best crop for a particular piece of ground, are all tied to how plants grow on a site. For example, temperatures may dictate a shift from Douglas-fir to noble fir (Abies procera) once a certain elevation is reached. Trees growing on a very productive site may be thinned more frequently over a rotation than trees growing on a less productive site. Marginal pine forestland may be more suitably managed for wildlife habitat than for timber.
Site quality refers to the inherent ability of a forest to produce biomass; that is, grow trees. It is the composite expression of a variety of physical and chemical attributes of a forested area, including its soil, topography and climate. Site characteristics such as:
- soil depth, texture, and fertility;
- slope, aspect, and elevation; and
- precipitation, temperature and length of growing season;
all combine to influence how well trees grow (Figure 6.1).
Note: many people use the terms site quality and site productivity interchangeably. Purists, however, prefer “site quality” as a baseline indicator, as the productivity of a site can be altered by fertilizing, irrigating, mulching or altering the soil makeup.
To obtain a measure of site quality, one might first think of examining these site variables and correlating them to tree growth. There have been some attempts at doing just that, but the amount of work and expense required to get meaningful data are generally too great for the range of conditions found in most forest ownerships.
Intuitively, if one is interested in tree growth, then one solution is simply to measure how trees grow on a site. When measuring the trees, correlations are not required; the summation of all variables that influence tree growth is expressed in the biomass itself. The “proof is in the pudding” so to speak. And although the causal reasons for the productivity are not identified, as would be the case if all the influential variables were measured, a reliable indicator for tree growth on the site can be obtained. The question then becomes, “What is the best way to measure tree growth?”
Many measurable tree growth attributes are strongly influenced by stand density. If few trees are present on a site, the individual trees will have large crowns, and thus large diameters and wide growth rings. Conversely, trees of the same age in a denser stand will have narrower crowns, smaller diameters, and tighter growth rings (Figure 6.2).
Since tree volume is a function of tree diameter and height, volume is also tied directly to stand density. Therefore, diameter, crown volume, tree volume or tree ring growth do not make good measures of overall forest productivity. Average tree height, on the other hand, is not confounded in this manner except at extreme densities. Tree height is relatively independent of tree density for most forest tree species. Therefore, tree height is a more reliable measure of the site’s inherent productivity than most other measures. It is also a quick and easy measurement to take in the field, unlike parameters such as soil fertility or microclimate. | 744 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://openoregon.pressbooks.pub/forestmeasurements/chapter/forest-site-productivity-2/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:12782 | https://openoregon.pressbooks.pub/forestmeasurements/chapter/forest-site-productivity-2/ |
s8k1au5BXK3ahS5h | Adoption Guide - 2nd Edition | 20
The OER Student Toolkit (BCcampus) and Textbook Affordability Toolkit Revised 2018 Edition (Open Oregon) provide useful information for students wanting to talk with their instructors about open textbooks.
The OER Student Toolkit suggests that students talk to their professors or instructors about open educational resources. It says:
The final say about what resources will be used in a course usually lies with faculty, to whom students have unique, direct access. One easy way to do this is through anonymous midterm or end of term course evaluations that take place at many institutions.
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Tell faculty whom you think may be interested about open education. If you know of any examples of OER that would be useful in a course you have taken, tell the instructor about it. You can also refer them to resources or OER repositories (see below), or share stories of other faculty adopting OER at your institution.[1]
Below is a sample script from the Textbook Affordability Toolkit that can be used when talking to an instructor about open textbooks.
Sample talking points for meeting with a faculty member
Intro: Hi, Professor. I’m [Name] from [Student Group]. Thank you for letting me come talk to you about our campaign to make textbooks affordable.
Introduce the problem: Textbook costs are a big issue for students here on campus. Textbooks are expensive—$1200 per student per year for books and supplies, and prices have been rising at three times the rate of inflation. Students are even opting not to buy the books—65 percent of students surveyed reported not buying or renting a required book because of the price. [If relevant, tell a brief personal story about how textbook costs have affected you.]
Ask: Is this a problem that’s come to your attention before?
Introduce the solution: The good news is that affordable alternatives exist that can save students a lot of money. Open textbooks are books that are published under an open licence that allows them to be used and shared for free.
Open textbooks are comparable to traditional textbooks: They are written and reviewed by experts and cover the standard material for a course. Open textbooks have benefits that make them preferable to traditional textbooks because instructors can adapt the text by adding their own content or problem sets or removing unwanted material.
Ask: Have you come across open textbooks before?
Call to action: Open textbooks are a great solution, but the challenge is that not enough professors have the support they need to use them. I wanted to discuss a couple ways you might be able to help.
Sample ask: Would you be willing to talk with a librarian about using open textbooks in your classes?
Sample ask: Would you be willing to share information about open textbooks with your colleagues?
Sample ask: Would you be willing to support our campaign to expand the use of open textbooks?
Closing: Thank you for agreeing to [Action]. I will email you in a couple weeks to follow up and see how it went.[2]
Open Textbook Research
Below are three studies about open textbooks that can be shared with faculty members.
- Hendricks, Christina, Stefan A. Reinsberg, and Georg W. Rieger. “The Adoption of an Open Textbook in a Large Physics Course: An Analysis of Cost, Outcomes, Use, and Perceptions.” The International Review of Research in Open and Distributed Learning 18, no. 4 (2017). https://doi.org/10.19173/irrodl.v18i4.3006.
- Jhangiani, Rajiv S., Farhad N. Dastur, Richard Le Grand, and Kurt Penner. “As Good or Better than Commercial Textbooks: Students’ Perceptions and Outcomes from Using Open Digital and Open Print Textbooks.” The Canadian Journal for the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning 9, no. 1 (2018). https://doi.org/10.5206/cjsotl-rcacea.2018.1.5.
- Jhangiani, Rajiv Sunil, and Surita Jhangiani. “Investigating the Perceptions, Use, and Impact of Open Textbooks: A Survey of Post-Secondary Students in British Columbia.” The International Review of Research in Open and Distributed Learning 18, no. 4 (2017). https://doi.org/10.19173/irrodl.v18i4.3012. | 845 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://opentextbooks.uregina.ca/adoptopentextbook/chapter/talking-to-instructors/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:6204 | https://opentextbooks.uregina.ca/adoptopentextbook/chapter/talking-to-instructors/ |
VyQGuK1J8F4C2Ka4 | Corporate Finance | 2.19 Solution for “Questions #6 & #7”
Question #6
| NPV Calculation | Machine A | |
| Cost = | $100,000 | ($100,000) |
| PV of CF | ||
| (Stage 1) | $30,000 x 3.4331= | 102,993 |
| PV of Cost (Stage 2) | $105,000 x 0.5194= | (54,537) |
| PV of CF (Stage 2) | $102,993 x 0.5194= | 53,495 |
| NPV= | $1,951 |
AAA
1,951 / 5.2161= AAA = $373.32
Notes:
- Can you think of a slightly shorter way in which to calculate the NPV for “A”? Hint: We have a $30 million annuity for ten years.
- There really is no point in calculating the AAA. Because the machine’s anticipated replacement cost has been changed, the AAA for Stage 1 and the combined AAA for both stages will be different. In comparing the two machines’ respective AAAs (see below), the PVAF denominator is the same in each calculation therefore, of course A will be preferred, as its NPV/numerator is greater.
| NPV Calculation | Machine B | |
| Cost = | $132,000 | ($132,000) |
| PV of CF | $25,000 X 5.2161 | 130,403 |
| NPV= | ($1,597) |
AAA
(1,597) / 5.2161 = AAA= ($306.87)
Recommendation: While Machine A is not terribly attractive, we would prefer it over B. The corporation may choose not to replace it after the first five years, because the second five years are projected at a loss.
Question #7
A: -$10,000 + 4,000 (3.1699) – 12,000 (0.6830) + 4,200 (3.1699) (0.6830) = $3,576
B: -15,000 + 3,500 (5.3349) = $3,672
Recommendation: Choose B.
Note: In this case, both the machine’s anticipated replacement cost and the cash flows were changed, not “replicated.” | 378 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://touro.pressbooks.pub/corporatefinance/chapter/2-18-solution-for-questions-6-7-2/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:29117 | https://touro.pressbooks.pub/corporatefinance/chapter/2-18-solution-for-questions-6-7-2/ |
_5aV3XHQ6aQeTJEf | Writing and Critical Thinking Skills - practice clone winter 2024 | General Reading Techniques
For most purposes, following these general reading techniques will help with reading comprehension.
- Read the title and subtitle.
- If you don’t understand the words in the title look them up.
- Try to guess what the article is going to be about.
- Read the entire article over. Don’t stop. Just read for a general idea.
- Reread the article a second time.
- Annotate (write questions and comments as you read).
- Reread a third time if necessary.
Two Specific Techniques: Skimming and Scanning
While skimming and scanning techniques both employ rapid eye movement, each is performed for a distinct purpose.
Skimming
Skimming is performed to obtain a general overview of an article.
In business contexts, the use of skimming can save time.
Skimming can function as a preview to a more detailed report or article that will be read later or to review a previously read report or article that will be discussed.
Follow the steps listed below to improve your skimming technique.
- Read the title and table of contents. For articles, read the title.
- Look at the main headings in the report or article. Lengthier articles often include sub-headings.
- Read the report abstract (an abstract is a summary of the report’s contents). For articles, read the entire introductory paragraph.
- Read the first and last sentences in each paragraph of the report or article.
- Note any words in boldface or italics.
- When you discover a significant or confusing point, stop to read the entire sentence to ensure comprehension.
Scanning
Scanning is performed to locate specific information. In business contexts, scanning can be used to locate information to answer a question or to retrieve information required for a report.
- Determine what you are looking for. Decide on a few key words or phrases to use to locate information.
- Look for only one keyword at a time.
- Once you locate one of your keywords, read the surrounding material carefully.
Exercises
Activity 1
To learn about the importance of strong business writing and to practice your skimming and scanning skills locate and read the following article “The Science of Strong Business Writing: Lessons from Neurobiology” by Bill Birchard.
Activity 2
To learn an author’s opinion about the impact of remote work on business and to practice your skimming and scanning skills locate and read the following article “We’re losing connection to the workplace” by Jennifer Moss.
References
- Birchard, B. (2021). The science of strong business writing. Harvard Business Review, 99(4), 139-143.
- Moss, J. (2021, October 12). We’re losing connection to the workplace; Opinion. Globe & Mail, A13. https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A678832100/AONE?u=ko_acd_cec&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=923ad7ad [Link accessible only to Centennial students] | 583 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://ecampusontario.pressbooks.pub/centennialbsn732clone2/chapter/reading-strategies-skimming-and-scanning-techniques-part-two/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:22872 | https://ecampusontario.pressbooks.pub/centennialbsn732clone2/chapter/reading-strategies-skimming-and-scanning-techniques-part-two/ |
4U_csxTuHeWT3mk7 | 4.8: Review Questions | 1
The nurse is caring for a client with a small bowel obstruction. The client asks why they are experiencing vomiting of stool. What response by the nurse is appropriate?
-
The gastrointestinal tract is one long tube, so a blockage will cause contents to move backward.
-
The pyloric valve prevents stool from flowing into the stomach when the intestines are blocked.
-
Peristaltic movement prevents the backflow of contents when the intestines are blocked.
-
Obstruction of the small bowel will not cause vomiting of stool.
2
The nurse is assessing a client who has flatus. What finding would the nurse expect to assess in this client?
-
Scaphoid abdomen
-
Jaundice of the abdomen
-
Tympany on percussion
-
Dullness on percussion
3
The nurse is assessing a 3-year-old client who has been brought in by their parents due to refusal to eat and seems to choke on fluids easily. The nurse assesses that the client has uncontrolled drooling, is hyperthermic, and has a very muffled cry. What precaution should the nurse take when assessing the gastrointestinal system of this client?
-
Avoid use of tongue blade/depressor.
-
Avoid deep palpation of the abdomen.
-
Avoid percussion of the abdomen.
-
Avoid assessment of liver margins.
4
The nurse is educating a client on the normal function of the digestive system. The nurse teaches the client that which organ is responsible for the most water absorption?
-
Esophagus
-
Stomach
-
Small intestine
-
Large intestine
5
The nurse is caring for a client with lower gastrointestinal bleeding. What test would the nurse anticipate being ordered for this client?
-
Comprehensive metabolic panel
-
Guaiac test
-
Ovum and parasite stool test
-
White blood cell count
6
The nurse is assessing the nutritional status of a healthy older client. Which finding would the nurse anticipate in this client?
-
Decreased stomach size
-
Decreased vitamin B
12
absorption
-
Increased esophageal motility
-
Increased diarrhea
7
The nurse is educating a client on gut homeostasis. Which instruction would the nurse give the client?
-
Reduce intake of palm oil.
-
Increase sodium intake.
-
Limit fluids.
-
Reduce fiber intake.
8
The nurse is caring for a client on long-term antibiotic therapy. Which food should the nurse recommend the client include in the diet to maintain gut homeostasis?
-
Fish
-
Yogurt
-
Broccoli
-
Carrots
9
The nurse is caring for a client taking multiple medications. Which should the nurse teach as supportive to the microbiome of the gut?
-
Gentamycin
-
Pantoprazole
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Lactobacillus
-
Lovastatin
10
The nurse is caring for a client with multiple health problems. Which finding in the client’s history supports the client’s gut homeostasis?
-
Metformin use for type 2 diabetes
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Increased intake of saturated fats
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Regular use of laxatives
-
High intake of whole grains | 622 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nutrition/Nutrition_for_Nurses_(OpenStax)/04%3A_The_Digestive_Process/4.08%3A_Review_Questions | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:30469 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nutrition/Nutrition_for_Nurses_(OpenStax)/04%3A_The_Digestive_Process/4.08%3A_Review_Questions |
6ReP7zOkVu2jivGo | 1.9: Solving Problems Using Percents | 1.9: Solving Problems Using Percents
Learning Outcome
- Evaluate expressions and word problems involving percents
In this section we will solve percent questions by identifying the parts of the problem. We’ll look at a common application of percent—tips to a server at a restaurant—to see how to set up a basic percent application.
When Aolani and her friends ate dinner at a restaurant, the bill came to \(\text{\$80}\). They wanted to leave a \(20\%\) tip. What amount would the tip be?
To solve this, we want to find what amount is \(20\%\) of \(\$80\). The \(\$80\) is called the base . The percent is the given \(20\%\). The amount of the tip would be \(0.20(80)\), or \(\$16\) — see the image below. To find the amount of the tip, we multiplied the percent by the base.
A \(20\%\) tip for an \(\$80\) restaurant bill comes out to \(\$16\).
Pieces of a Percent Problem
Percent problems involve three quantities: the base amount (the whole), the percent , and the amount (a part of the whole or partial amount).
The amount is a percent of the base.
Let’s look at another example:
Jeff has a Guitar Strings coupon for \(15\%\) off any purchase of \($100\) or more. He wants to buy a used guitar that has a price tag of \($220\) on it. Jeff wonders how much money the coupon will take off the original \($220\) price. Problems involving percents will have some combination of these three quantities to work with: the percent , the amount , and the base . The percent has the percent symbol (%) or the word percent. In the problem above, \(15\%\) is the percent off the purchase price. The base is the whole amount or original amount. In the problem above, the “whole” price of the guitar is \($220\), which is the base. The amount is the unknown and what we will need to calculate.
There are thee cases: a missing amount, a missing percent or a missing base. Let’s take a look at each possibility.
Solving for the Amount
When solving for the amount in a percent problem, you will multiply the percent (as a decimal or fraction) by the base. Typically we choose the decimal value for percent.
\(\text{percent}\cdot{\text{base}}=\text{amount}\)
Example
Find \(50\%\) of \(20\)
Solution:
First identify each piece of the problem:
percent: \(50\%\) or \(.5\)
base: \(20\)
amount: unknown
Now plug them into your equation \(\text{percent}\cdot{\text{base}}=\text{amount}\)
\(.5\cdot{20}= ?\)
\(.5\cdot{20}= 10\)
Therefore, \(10\) is the amount or part that is \(50\%\) of \(20\).
Example
What is \(25\%\) of \(80\)?
[reveal-answer q=”813233″]Show Answer[/reveal-answer]
[hidden-answer a=”813233″]
The base is \(80\) and the percent is \(25\%\), so amount \(= 80(0.25) = 20\)
[/hidden-answer]
Try It
[ohm_question]80094[/ohm_question]
Solving for the Percent
When solving for the percent in a percent problem, you will divide the amount by the base. The equation above is rearranged and the percent will come back as a decimal of fraction you can report in the form asked of you.
\(\Large{\frac{\text{amount}}{\text{base}}}\normalsize=\text{percent}\)
Example
What percent of \(320\) is \(80\)?
Solution:
First identify each piece of the problem:
percent: unknown
base: \(320\)
amount: \(80\)
Now plug the values into your equation \(\Large{\frac{\text{amount}}{\text{base}}}\normalsize=\text{percent}\)
\(\large\frac{80}{320}\normalsize=?\)
\(\large\frac{80}{320}\normalsize=.25\)
Therefore, \(80\) is \(25\%\) of \(320\).
TRY IT
[ohm_question]80097[/ohm_question]
Solving for the Base
When solving for the base in a percent problem, you will divide the amount by the percent (as a decimal or fraction). The equation above is rearranged and you will find the base after plugging in the values.
\(\Large{\frac{\text{amount}}{\text{percent}}}\normalsize=\text{base}\)
EXample
\(60\) is \(40\%\) of what number?
Solution:
First identify each piece of the problem:
percent:\(40\%\) or \(.4\)
base: unknown
amount: \(60\)
Now plug the values into your equation \(\Large{\frac{\text{amount}}{\text{percent}}}\normalsize=\text{base}\)
\((60)\div(.4)=?\)
\((60)\div(.4)=150\)
Therefore, \(60\) is \(40\%\) of \(150\).
Example
An article says that \(15\%\) of a non-profit’s donations, about \($30,000\) a year, comes from individual donors. What is the total amount of donations the non-profit receives?
[reveal-answer q=”731314″]Show Answer[/reveal-answer]
[hidden-answer a=”731314″]
The percent is \(15\%\), and \($30,000\) is the amount (or part of the whole). We are looking for the base.
base = \(30000\div(.15)=$200000\)
The non-profit receives \($200000\) a year in donations
[/hidden-answer]
TRY IT
[ohm_question]157022[/ohm_question]
Here are a few more percent problems for you to try.
try it
[ohm_question]146672[/ohm_question]
try it
[ohm_question]146692[/ohm_question]
try it
[ohm_question]146693[/ohm_question]
Many applications of percent occur in our daily lives, such as tips, sales tax, discount, and interest. To solve these applications we’ll translate to a basic percent equation, just like those we solved in the previous examples in this section. Once you translate the sentence into a percent equation, you know how to solve it.
example
Dezohn and his girlfriend enjoyed a dinner at a restaurant, and the bill was \(\text{\$68.50}\). They want to leave an \(\text{18%}\) tip. If the tip will be \(\text{18%}\) of the total bill, how much should the tip be?
Solution
| What are you asked to find? | the amount of the tip |
| What formula/equation should you use? | \(\text{percent}\cdot{\text{base}}=\text{amount}\) |
| Substitute in the correct values. | \((.18)\cdot{68.50}\) |
| Solve. | \((.18)\cdot{68.50}=12.33\) |
| Write a complete sentence that answers the question. | The couple should leave a tip of \(\text{\$12.33}\). |
try it
[ohm_question]146694[/ohm_question]
In the next video we show another example of finding how much tip to give based on percent.
example
The label on Masao’s breakfast cereal said that one serving of cereal provides \(85\) milligrams (mg) of potassium, which is \(\text{2%}\) of the recommended daily amount. What is the total recommended daily amount of potassium?
[reveal-answer q=”744443″]Show Answer[/reveal-answer]
[hidden-answer a=”744443″]
Solution
| What are you asked to find? | the total daily amount of potassium recommended (whole) |
| What formula/equation should you use? | \(\Large{\frac{\text{amount}}{\text{percent}}}\normalsize=\text{base}\) |
| Substitute in the correct values. | \(\Large{\frac{85}{.02}}\) |
| Solve. | \(\Large{\frac{85}{.02}}\normalsize=4250\) |
| Write a complete sentence that answers the question. | The amount of potassium that is recommended is \(4,250\) mg. |
[/hidden-answer]
try it
[ohm_question]146697[/ohm_question]
[ohm_question]146702[/ohm_question]
try it
[ohm_question]146703[/ohm_question] | 1,284 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://biz.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Accounting/Accounting_for_Managers_(Lumen)/01%3A_Whole_Numbers_Fractions_Decimals_Percents_and_Problem_Solving/1.09%3A_Solving_Problems_Using_Percents | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:31538 | https://biz.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Accounting/Accounting_for_Managers_(Lumen)/01%3A_Whole_Numbers_Fractions_Decimals_Percents_and_Problem_Solving/1.09%3A_Solving_Problems_Using_Percents |
VSnrjm8xaoZR2_xZ | The California poultry industry : a statistical study / Edwin C. Voorhies. | BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA
This bulletin has been made possible through the cooperation of many agencies which have generously contributed from their data and time. Among these are the Bureau of Agricultural Economics of the United States Department of Agriculture, the California State Department of Agriculture, the United States Department of Commerce, the Agricultural Legislative Committee, the Produce Exchange of Los Angeles, the Poultry Producers of Central California, the Poultry Producers of Southern California, the Poultrymen's Cooperative Milling Association (Los Angeles), the Sperry Flour Company, Albers Brothers Milling Company, Swift and Company, Armour and Company, Petaluma Egg and Poultry Company, Pacific Egg Producers, Southern Pacific Railroad, Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, San Francisco Wholesale Dairy Produce Exchange, and Poultry Producers of San Diego.
Thanks are due G. A. Read, Field Service Department Pioneer Hatchery, Petaluma; Bert L. Smith, Assistant Farm Advisor, Oroville, Butte County; Herbert E. Barker, Itinerant Assistant Farm Advisor, Berkeley, California, J. Murray Davison, Senior student, College of Agriculture, and S. A. Mosk, Senior student, College of Commerce, for their assistance in the statistical computations for this bulletin. At the time of the preparation of the manuscript for this paper the above mentioned were advanced students in the University of California.
SUMMARY
Poultry and eggs are produced in almost all parts of the civilized world. California produces approximately 4 per cent of the chicken eggs and less than 3 per cent of the chickens raised in the United States. During the past few years, and more especially during the past ten years, a number of important changes have taken place in the poultry industry. These changes are summarized in the following discussion under (1) eggs and (2) poultry. Since California produces only a small part of the nation 's supply of both, it is evident that this state cannot be considered entirely separate from the nation as a whole.
(1) Eggs. — Eggs are the primary poultry product of California. Since egg production is increasing more rapidly in both the nation as a whole and in California than is the human population, the purchasing power of eggs has shown a marked decline. This decline has been more rapid in California than in the country at large. Until the decade 1910-1920, California was an importer of eggs. During this period egg production increased so rapidly that the state became an exporter. Indications point to the necessity of proceeding on this new basis.
the eastern markets.
California's poultry industry, being highly specialized, uses large amounts of concentrated feedstuffs. The poultryman is therefore interested in the relationship between egg prices and feed prices. Although feed prices have been low as compared with general commodity prices, they have advanced slightly faster than egg prices since 1910. This advance has been offset largely by the increase in the egg production per hen in this state. The California poultry industry
4 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA EXPERIMENT STATION
not only pays the freight on eggs which are exported but in many instances pays freight on feedstuffs that are imported, a fact which is shown by the importation of a large percentage of the concentrated feedstuffs used. Inferior eggs cannot pay freight both ways.
California's principal outside market has been New York City, where a demand has arisen for Pacific Coast white eggs. Washington and Oregon have been California's main Pacific Coast competitors, and during the past three years especially have been increasing their offerings on this market more rapidly than has California. Other outlets for California eggs have been opened up in various eastern seaboard cities and in some of the cities of the Middle West and South. California eggs should aim to fill the premium class, as ordinary eggs are plentiful the country over, especially in the Middle West ; in addition, the long haul makes it advisable to ship out only a product of high value.
Eggs from the Pacific Coast have been placed on eastern markets especially during the fall and winter months — the period of relatively high returns. Prices for California eggs are determined largely by conditions outside of the state; the more fall and winter eggs produced, therefore, the more remunerative are the returns likely to be. It is not probable that any considerable change in seasonal production will take place in the nation as a whole.
The proportion of pullet eggs to extra eggs has been increasing during the past few years. This is due to a more careful grading of eggs and perhaps to faulty feeding which often forces the young hen into early laying. A slight downward trend in the ratio of the prices of pullet eggs to extra eggs has been noticeable — a trend brought about in part perhaps by the larger proportion of pullet eggs produced.
Cold storage of eggs has been especially beneficial to California producers because processing of eggs in this state is facilitated by the concentration of the industry. Eggs are stored in the spring, during the flush season of production, thus tending to maintain prices.
(2) Poultry for meat. — Poultry for meat is a by-product of egg production. Chicken prices in the country as a whole have risen since 1910 more rapidly than the prices of other commodities; hence, the purchasing power has tended to advance slightly. This movement has been decidedly in the opposite direction for California, since this state specializes in the egg-laying breeds. The purchasing powers of broilers, fryers, and Leghorn hens on both the San Francisco and Los Angeles markets have declined since 1910.
In view of the favorable price obtained for the heavy breeds since the war, the question of the advisability of raising the meat breeds in this state has been raised. Attention is called to the seeming swing back to the meat breeds in parts of the Middle West. At the present time the meat birds of this country are being produced in the section of the nation where feed is abundant and where express is paid on the finished product shipped from that section. The principal source of income even in the Middle West, however, is from eggs, not meat. Whether California could compete under such conditions is, in the opinion of the writer, questionable.
Foreign demand. — Violent disturbances of the egg trade of the world were brought about by the war. On account of the increase in production in this country, exports of shell eggs have risen rather rapidly. On the other hand, the imports of egg products such as frozen eggs, etc. (p. 122), from abroad have increased during the past few years so that the nation is just about self -sufficient in its egg supply. The prospect for additional foreign markets for eggs does not look particularly favorable, as nearly all egg surplus nations are endeavoring to increase their exports. The exports and imports of poultry are of minor importance.
The present outlook does not justify a marked increase in the production of eggs and poultry. If the expansion of the California poultry industry is to continue, it should be directed toward a more efficient production of the highest quality eggs possible. It is doubtful whether California can compete in producing inferior eggs, if these are to be used for out-of-state shipments.
THE GENERAL SITUATION
Importance of the industry. — The production and consumption of the products of an industry determine its importance. Probably more widely engaged in than any other agricultural industry, the raising of poultry is of more direct concern to the consumer than are many other farm activities.
According to the census of 1920, poultry was raised on 90.8 per cent of the farms of the United States and poultry was reported from practically every county in the country. In addition, there are a great many back-yard flocks not reported. These must be considered along with the census figures. Although the cash returns of such individual flocks are small, the aggregate value is large. There are few other commodities so wideky used in the occidental world as poultry meat and eggs.
Fig. 1. — Poultry in the United States, 1920. Over 70 per cent of the poultry are in the Mississippi Valley where approximately 50 per cent of the nation's people make their homes. The northeastern section of the United States with its large industrial population is the great deficiency area of the country with respect to poultry and eggs. The number of poultry in the western states is relatively small compared with the remainder of the country, but it is of importance because of the surplus of poultry in comparison with human population. Figure used by courtesy of the U. S. D. A.
Sources of data: Years 1890, 1900, 1910, 1920. Dept. of Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, 5: 610. (1922). Years 1921-1926 from estimates of U. S. D. A., Bureau Agricultural Economics, published in Monthly Supplement to Crops and Markets during February of each year. Figures for 1890 and 1900 are of June 1; for 1910 of April 15; for 1920-1925, of January 1. Note: The 1925 Farm Census returns are complete (November 1926) for the following divisions as of Jan. 1, 1925— North Atlantic States 42,966,993, East North Central 89,652,590, West North Central 123,076,892. Based on partial census returns, the author makes the following estimates for the remaining divisions — South Atlantic 41,600,000, South Central, 79,400,000, Far Western 33,700,000, United States total 410,300,000.
On the basis of aggregate value, poultry products ranked seventh among farm products in the United States in 1924, being exceeded by that of corn, dairy products, hay and forage crops, cotton, wheat, and swine. Their value was practically the same as that of beef cattle. The Division of Crop and Livestock Estimates of the Bureau of Agricultural Economics estimated the farm value of poultry raised and eggs produced for the year as $968,000,000. For 1925 it reached the sum of over one billion dollars ($1,117,000,000).*
The importance of poultry in California. — The value of the chickens raised and eggs produced in California in 1924, according to the Bureau of the Census, was $44,423,606. f This was exclusive of other poultry products which would have added considerably to the aggregate, if such had been available.
In a state with such varied production as California, it is difficult to make comparisons between the products of various agricultural industries. According to the estimates of the Bureau of Agricultural Economics and the California State Department of Agriculture on the value of crops within the state in 1924, poultry products were exceeded only by hay and forage, dairy products, grapes (including raisins). The farm value of the oranges produced was only slightly more than that of chicken eggs produced and chickens raised.
The chicken eggs produced in California accounted for over twothirds the aggregate value of chicken products, while in the country as a whole, eggs represented 57.4 per cent of the total for all poultry products. On a relative basis, eggs are of far more importance in the poultry industry of California than they are in the nation. In 1919 (Census) California produced 3.88 per cent of all the eggs produced in the United States, but only 2.73 per cent of the chickens raised. It is interesting to note, however, that the value of eggs produced in California in 1919 ($31,420,704) accounted for 4.6 per cent of the total for chicken eggs produced in the entire nation ($661,082,083) during the same year. Indications from the preliminary data on hand are that the value of eggs produced and of chickens raised in California during 1924 will total considerably over the 1919 percentage of the total aggregate for chicken eggs produced and chickens raised in the United States.
GEOGRAPHIC DISTRIBUTION OF THE POULTRY INDUSTRY
The most important chicken, egg, and meat producing territories of the United States can be divided, according to their geographical location and the character of the industry, into three fairly distinct sections.
Million
Fig. 2. — The above chart shows the number of laying hens in the United States by geographical distribution in 1920 and 1925. Numerically the increase was greatest in the Middle Western States. Eelatively, the greatest increase was in the North Atlantic States, followed by the Far Western States. California is represented in the Far Western classification and has about two-fifths of the laying hens in this grouping. Data from table 1. See note under table 1.
Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Missouri, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas and Tennessee. According to the estimates made by the United States Department o£ Agriculture, the entire Mississippi Valley area contained over 72 per cent (72.3) of the chickens in the United States on January 1, 1925, while the human population made up approximately 50 per cent of the total.* The enormous quantity of eggs and poultry meat from farms in this area, especially on those of the corn belt, are produced on grain and stock farms. Up to the present time, there has not been a large number of
Sources of data: Years 1910 and 1920, arranged by author from data in Dept. Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, U. S. 5: 610, 1922. Year 1925 from preliminary figures furnished author by Bureau Census. Remaining data for January 1, 1925, is being compiled by Census Bureau.
Sources of data: Years 1909 and 1919 arranged by author from data in Dept. Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, U. S. 5: 679, 1922. Year 1924 from preliminary figures furnished author by Bureau Census. Remaining data for 1924 being compiled by Bureau Census.
specialized chicken farms, although the district produces eggs and chicken meat far in excess of the requirements of the area, so that a considerable proportion of the product must find markets elsewhere. During the past five years information received from these states indicates a development of the commercial flocks.* This apparently is true in those sections which have become largely industralized.
Northeastern States. — The second section includes Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York, and the New England states. Approximately 30 per cent of the population of the United States in 1920 was in this area, while only 10.5 per cent of the chicken population was found there. Although many large and specialized poultry farms have been developed in this area, the supply of poultry products from it is wholly inadequate to meet the demand. It is this section of the country which has attracted the attention of the producers of the Pacific Coast during the past few years, the major portion of the interstate egg shipments from the Pacific Coast, therefore, has been unloaded in this area.
Pacific Coast States. — The third section comprises the Pacific Coast states of Washington, Oregon, and California. Commercial poultry farming has been developing rapidly in this section, especially since 1910, and considerable quantities of eggs are shipped annually to other sections of the United States and to foreign countries ; the principal shipments being made to Atlantic Coast markets, although of late there have been shipments to cities in the Middle West and South. Washington and Oregon are the main western competitors of California in this trade. Not only are eggs from these states found in quantity on California markets, but with California, these two states furnish the bulk of the " Pacific Coast White Eggs" on the markets of the eastern seaboard.
Rocky Mountain and Southern States. — In addition to the three principal areas of chicken and egg production mentioned above, the southeastern states should be mentioned on account of the aggregate chicken population, which is comparatively high in spite of the fact that the number of chickens per farm is low. The production in several of these states does not meet the demand for poultry products.
The Rocky Mountain and southwestern states confine the chicken industry largely to flocks of relatively limited size. The states of Idaho and Utah are of interest to the California producer, as eggs from these two states are to be found not only on the California
CALIFORNIA POULTRY INDUSTRY
markets but, in addition, have recently been shipped to the markets on the eastern seaboard. Some of the remaining states in this area furnish at times a market for California eggs — Arizona, Nevada, New Mexico, Montana, Colorado. (See table 34, page 68.)
t Preliminary announcement, subject to correction.
Sources of data: Years 1909 and 1919 arranged by author from data in Dept. Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, U. S. 5: 682, 1922. Year 1924 from preliminary figures furnished author by Bureau Census. Remaining data for 1924 being compiled by Bureau Census.
For the census and for purposes of estimation, the country is often divided into the North Atlantic, East North Central, West North Central, South Atlantic, South Central, and Far Western states. Yearly estimates are now made for each of these regions on the chickens on hand January 1, together with the number and value of chickens and chicken eggs produced. (Table 1, page 6.)
DEVELOPMENT OF THE POULTRY INDUSTRY
United States. — The chicken industry of the United States has grown markedly since the first census of the poultry industry was taken in 1880. The number of chickens increased far more rapidly
than population from 1880 to 1890; while during the next decade, 1890-1900, an actual decrease was registered. From 1900 to 1920, and especially from 1910-1920, the number increased more rapidly than did the population. From January 1, 1920, to January 1, 1925, estimates* show an increase of 19 per cent (18.75) in the chicken population of the entire country, while the human population shows an increase of only 9 per cent (9.15) between January 1, 1920, and July 1, 1925. Later estimates based on partial census returns indicate
that the percentage increase in chicken population 1920-1925 was approximately 15 per cent. See table 1, p. 6. The chicken population during the five years, 1920-1925, has therefore increased far more than the human population. The estimate for the number of hens and pullets of laying age on farms for January 1, 1926, was about 4.7 per cent greater than for January 1, 1925, according to reports received by the United States Department of Agriculture from about 45,000 farmers representing all parts of the United States, t
The rate of increase in poultry has been greater since 1880 than for any other kind of livestock, being most nearly approached by dairy cattle. It might be added that numbers alone do not depict the poultry industry today as compared with a decade or even four
decades ago. It is estimated that the hen of today in certain sections of the country is more efficient than she was in 1900. This statement would doubtless also hold for all classes of livestock.
The growth in the chicken population of the far western states was relatively greater from 1890 to 1920 than that of the other geographical divisions of the country. From 1920 to 1925 the greatest relative growth in chicken population was in the North Atlantic States, followed by the Far Western States. The greatest numerical
Fig. 4. — The average egg production per hen in 1919 was lowest in the Southern States. Production varied from 38.5 eggs in Georgia to 85.3 per hen in Maine. Excluding chickens which were not layers, the average production per layer was about 77 eggs. It is probable that the number of eggs reported to the census enumerator in the winter of 1920 as produced by the farm flock in 1919 is less than the actual production because of a lack of records, and of a tendency on the part of some to judge by the number of eggs being laid at the time of the year the census was taken, when production was at the low point of the year. It will be noted that California is among the high states. The census of 1925 indicates that the average for California is approximately 92 eggs per hen. This latter figure has been computed by dividing the 1924 production by the number of chickens on hand, January 1, 1925. No correction is made for males. Data from table 115, p. 166. Photo from U. S. D. A. Yearbook 1924, p. 402.
growth was in the Middle West (fig. 2). From January 1, 1925, to January 1, 1926, estimates of the Bureau of Agricultural Economics indicate an increase of 14 per cent in hens and pullets in the western states, about 6 per cent in the north central states, and 4 per cent in the south central states, while the south Atlantic and the north Atlantic states show a decrease of 1 per cent and 2 per cent, respectively.
Statistics of egg production indicate a substantial increase for the country during each decade for which figures are available. From 1880 to 1890 the increase was 80 per cent; 1890 to 1900, 50 per cent; 1900 to 1910, 25 per cent ; and 5 per cent from 1910 to 1920. Egg production per capita also increased from 1880 to 1910 but decreased slightly between 1910 and 1920. In 1880 the per capita production in dozens was 9.00; 1890, 13.09; 1900, 16.96; 1910, 17.30; and in 1920, 15.65.* If estimates of both egg production (Bureau of Agricultural Economics) and population (Bureau of the Census) were used for 1925 the per capita production would be between 17 and 18 dozen.
California. — The increase in the number of chickens in California was especially marked during the decades 1880 to 1890 and 1910 to 1920, the growth during the latter decade being the greatest since census enumerations have been taken. During these two decades, the increase was far greater than the increase in human population. It was during 1910 to 1920 that the state began to ship eggs in large quantities to the eastern seaboard, thus becoming an exporter rather than an importer. According to the 1925 farm census the increase in the number of chickens from 1920 to 1925, was 22.6 per cent or approximately the same as that of the human population for this period. The rate in the increase of chickens has been greater than for an}' other class of livestock, being most nearly approached by dairy cattle.
The 1925 farm census showed that one-fourth of all the chickens in the state were in Sonoma County, popularly referred to as the Petaluma district. The largest percentage increases during the period 1920 to 1925 have been in certain coast counties and in a number of interior counties — Eiverside, San Bernardino, Sacramento. (See table 108, p. 160.) Private estimates of the number of chickens on hand in California on January 1, 1925, range from 15,000,000 to 18,000,000. The lower estimate is based upon a carefully revised mailing list of 50,000 poultrymen kept by a large feed concern in California. The list contains no names of poultrymen having less than 150 hens. The 1925 Farm Census did not enumerate the chickens within certain city limits where many flocks in this state are found.
The production of eggs in California shows even a greater growth than the number of chickens since 1880 (table 6, p. 17). The production of eggs per hen has increased. In 1910 the production per hen was 87 eggs, although in 1920 the average production had dropped to 74 eggs. This drop might have been expected owing to the marked
increase in the number of poultry. In very few of the animal industries is a rapid expansion accompanied by the exercise of the greatest care in breeding. In 1925 the average production was 92 eggs per hen.
Fig. 5. — There is a concentration of chickens in Sonoma, Alameda, Santa Cruz, Los Angeles and San Diego counties. The beginnings of a considerable concentration in several Sacramento and San Joaquin valley sections and in Eiverside and San Bernardino counties can be discerned. One dot equals 10,000 chickens.
These figures are only approximate — the 1925 figure being obtained by dividing the number of eggs produced during 1924 by the number of hens on hand January 1, 1925 (table 6, p. 17). While these statistics are satisfactory for purposes of comparison the writer esti-
mates that the number of eggs produced per layer in 1924 was between 120 and 132. This estimate is based upon the conservative statements of poultrymen in various sections of the state.
The production of eggs per capita in California increased from approximately 6.7 dozens in 1880 to 16.5 dozens in 1900. In 1920 it amounted to 18.7 dozens, while in 1925 it was between 22 and 23 dozens, or 5 or 6 dozen more per capita than the average for the United States.
Sources of data: Eggs produced and chickens raised — data for years previous to those listed, e.g., 1879, 1889, etc., 1879-1919, Bureau of Census, 14th Census 5, pp. 682, 685. 1925, Bureau of Census, U. S. Census of Agriculture, 1925, Cal. p. 7. Chickens on Farms, 1880, 10th Census,3, p. 250; 1890-1920, 14th Census 5, p. 610; 1925, U. S. Census Agriculture, 1925, Cal. p. 7. All Cattle, 1880-1920, 14th Census 5, p. 572; 1925, U. S. Census Agriculture, 1925, Cal. p. 7. Note that all cattle includes Dairy Cows and Heifers over 2 years. Figures for censuses prior to 1900 were nominally exclusive of calves. Dairy Cattle, 18801920, 14th Census 5, p. 573; 1925, U. S. Census Agriculture, 1925, Cal. p. 7. Swine, 1880-1920, 14th Census 5, p. 598; 1925, U. S. Census Agriculture, 1925, Cal. p. 7. Sheep, 1880-1920, 14th Census 5, p. 586; 1925, U. S. Census Agriculture 1925, Cal. p. 7. Human Population, 1880-1920, 14th Census 1, p. 95; 1925, Estimate furnished author by Bureau of Census. Relative numbers computed by author.
A comparison of egg production per hen in California and in other states in 1920 is made in figure 4, p. 14. California reported not only a large number of poultry of all descriptions per farm, but a relatively larger number of chickens than most other states. Since California is a state of specialized agriculture, it will be found that in comparing the number of chickens per farm on only those farms reporting chickens, California stands second to Iowa. Farms in California reporting chickens showed 113 chickens per farm in comparison with
Fig. 6. — Since 1880 California's human population has increased slightly under five times (1926 — 5 times), while the chickens on farms have increased almost nine times and the eggs produced have increased almost seventeen times. Data from table 6, p. 17. (Eggs in dozens.)
62 for the country as a whole.* Although a production of only 74 eggs per chicken was reported for 1920, this was high in comparison with the production of other states, California being exceeded only by the four New England States of Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont — all with small chicken populations. California outranked all other states in the number of eggs laid per farm during 1919 on account of both the large number of chickens per farm and the high egg production per hen. Partial returns from the 1925 Farm Census indicate that at present California is second only to Washington in the number of eggs per hen. (Table 106, p. 157.) Of great interest in this connection is the inquiry which the United States Department of Agriculture is conducting annually on records of egg production in all parts of the United States (table 115, p. 166). Returns for California for 1925 in this preliminary study indicate that of the 22,000 farms in the country reporting, those in California had a production of 197 eggs per hen — a record closely approached by Washington and New Hampshire, each with 188 eggs per hen. These figures are over twice as large as those reported by calculations based upon the census. It should be emphasized that the returns are from only a few farms and the number of eggs per hen is undoubtedly too high. While the number of farms reporting for California in this inquiry evidently is small (22,000 for the entire country), the average percentage production per month in the different states should be of interest, and with additional information, this work should prove of great value. The Western States enjoy a decided advantage over the United States as a whole in that a greater percentage of eggs is laid during the months from August to February, inclusive, than in the United States as a whole. This statement is also true for California in this inquiry, except during January.
Trend toward egg breeds in the middle west.\ — During the past decade there has been a trend toward the strictly egg-laying breeds, notably the White Leghorn, and away from the heavier dual purpose breeds in those sections of the Mississippi Valley in which commercial or semi-commercial flocks of five hundred or more birds have been developed. In some sections a scarcity of good stock has hastened the trend toward the egg breeds. At the present time there seems to be on the farms in many sections of the Mississippi Valley a tendency to swing back toward the heavier breeds, a change which has been
hens and broilers.
The American breeds are probably still preferred for small farmflocks ; and most brown eggs will continue to be the small farm-flock product, while most white eggs will come from the hennery. For this reason many believe the white eggs found in our eastern markets are usually superior to the browns. If this be true, the preference for white eggs should gradually increase and the average price for white eggs should continue to rise.
5, 1922.
Poultry other than chickens. — Compared with chickens, turkeys, ducks, and geese are relatively unimportant in the United States. There was a decline in numbers in all three of these classes of poultry in the United States and in California from 1890 to 1920.
PRICES AND PURCHASING POWER OF EGGS
Egg prices and general commodity prices, United States. — High prices for eggs do not necessarily mean prosperity, nor low prices unprofitableness for the egg producer. If the prices received for eggs are high compared to the things the egg producer must buy, the poultryman is prosperous; if they are low compared with the things he must buy, he is not prosperous. Consequently, a comparison of
other commodities is of interest and value.
Figure 7 shows comparisons between the relative farm prices received in the United States for eggs and for all commodities, together with the "purchasing power" of eggs. This comparison is termed "purchasing power."
Source of data: Dept. Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, U. S. 5: 611. 1922.
The index of wholesale prices compiled by the United States Bureau of Labor Statistics is used in converting prices of eggs to purchasing power. This index is now based upon the prices of 404 commodities. The purchasing power of eggs, therefore, indicates the value of eggs in exchange for all commodities, making up the commodity index of the United States Bureau of Labor Statistics at wholesale prices compared with pre-war exchange values.
Fig. 7. — From 1910 to 1915 the price indices for eggs and all commodities were approximately the same. In 1916 the "All Commodity Index" began to advance more rapidly than the "Egg Price Index." The "All Commodity Index" remained above the ' ' Egg Index ' ' until 1921, when all commodities declined to a lower point than eggs. In 1922, however, eggs fell far below all commodities. This figure applies to the United States as a whole and not to California.* For California see figures 9 and 12. Data from table 10, p. 23.
The purchasing power is often calculated by a comparison with non-agricultural commodities on the assumption that farmers exchange their products more generally for non-agricultural commodities than for ' ' all commodities, ' ' as used in this publication. The poultryman, however, in California is a purchaser of agricultural as well as nonagricultural products. Owing to the intense specialization in the
poultry districts of the state, the specialized poultryman is perhaps more interested in the prices of agricultural commodities, such as feed, than he is in the prices of non-agricultural commodities. Standards of living are constantly changing. Expenditures are different today than they were five, ten or fifteen years ago. Too much stress should not be placed upon purchasing power as the "All Commodity Index"
Sources of data: Columns I and II, computed from the Monthly Supplements to Crops and Markets, U. S. D. A., Bureau Agricultural Economics. The relative price is in this case obtained by dividing the actual price for each year by the average (arithmetical mean) of the prices for the five years 1910-1914. The average of the prices 1910-1914 is 21.6 cents. The relative price for 1910 is, therefore, 22.6^-216 = 105: 1911, 19.4-7-21.4 = 90, etc.
lished by the Bureau of Agricultural Econonmics.
does not take into consideration many manufactured articles which have been actually cheapened by mass production. In conjunction with purchasing power the egg-feed price ratio should be consulted p. 36.
Two types of changes are apparent in each of the curves in figure 7, (1) a long-time movement, and (2) short-time fluctuations. (1) Longtime changes are known as secular trends. "The secular trend is that part of the fluctuation which is due to the gradual and persistent tendency to change which exists for an interval of several years, an interval the definite length of which cannot be assigned but which may
Fig. 8. — Between 1910 and 1915 the price index for eggs and the price index for agricultural commodities in the United States ran almost parallel. From 1916 to 1919 the prices of agricultural commodities in the country as a whole were relatively higher than the prices for eggs. Since 1920 relative prices for eggs have been higher than relative prices for agricultural commodities in general and farmers have increased their poultry flocks. The downward trend in the purchasing power of eggs has been less rapid than the downward trend in the purchasing power of other agricultural commodities. Figure 8 should be viewed in connection with figure 38, page 93, giving the price indices for chickens in the country.* (Table 50, page 92). Data from table 10, and Bureau of Agricultural Economics.
* Equation for the line of trend of purchasing power of eggs is y = 96.1 — .24 x origin January 1, 1918. Equation for the line of trend of purchasing power of all commodities is 2/ = 93.6 — .55 x, origin January 1, 1918.
extend over a generation and sometimes for a longer period."* The causes of the secular trend are those which operate persistently year after year, such as increase in population, consumption and standards of living. (2) About the secular trend are cyclical fluctuations, which in the case of eggs, are rather irregular. In times of small profits,
Fig. 9. — The period 1890-1914 shows a purchasing power favorable to the poultryman. In spite of the rise in the price of eggs from 1916 to 1920, the prices of all commodities increased even more rapidly, with a lower purchasing power as a result. 1925 showed not only an increase in price but an increase in purchasing power. t Data from table 11, p. 27.
decreased production has usually resulted, flocks have been cut down, and under-production has been brought about. If eggs are relatively high in price, chickens are raised in too large numbers, and consequently prices begin to fall as soon as there are too many laying hens.
From 1910 to 1915 (fig. 7) there is a close correlation between the purchasing power of eggs and that of "All Commodities " in the United States. In 1916 "All Commodity" prices advanced more rapidly than egg prices and this lead was maintained until 1921 when the purchasing power of eggs exceeded 100 per cent (104) of the 1910-1914 average. In 1922, the purchasing power of eggs was at a disadvantage to the poultryman (88). The improvement has been marked since 1922, 1925 being only slightly under 100 per cent (96). Since 1910, in spite of the peak in 1921, the trend has been downward, the decline during the period 1910-1925 in the purchasing power being 7.2 per cent (trend values) on the basis of 1910-1914 average.
Fig. 10. — Two long time movements in egg prices have been evident on the San Francisco market. A pronounced decline took place from 1860-1897. Since 1897 there has been an upward trend in prices. The peaks do not necessarily mean prosperity for the poultryman. This figure should be consulted in connection with figure 9, p. 25.* Data from table 11, p. 27.
Purchasing power of eggs, California. — The wholesale prices of eggs on the San Francisco market are plotted in figure 10, p. 26, while actual wholesale farm prices (B. A. E.) were used in the discussion with reference to the United States as a whole. There is in California a high degree of correlation between the wholesale price and the price received by the producer shipping his products to the main markets. Two long-time movements are perceptible on the San Francisco market, 1860 to 1896 and 1896 to 1925 (fig. 10). Wholesale prices previous to 1860 are not obtainable. The total decline for the period 1860 to 1896 was 55.23 per cent while the increase from 1896 to 1925 has been 93 per cent (trend values).
Sources of data: Column I. Computed by author on average of monthly net wholesale quotations. Monthly quotations computed by taking arithmetic mean of Wednesday quotations for each month. Original quotations obtained from California Farmer 1854-1870, Pacific Rural Press, 1871-1926. The author has computed the net quotations as discounts were applicable to the quotations published between Jan. 1, 1918 and Dec. 31,1925. Column II. Computations by the author. Base 1910-1914=31.84 cents equals 100. Column III. Computations by author based on Relative Prices of Eggs and Relative Prices of All Commodities (Bureau of Labor Statistics).
The general tendency has been for eggs to be higher in price than "all commodities," when referring both to the base period 1910-1914. California had an import rather than an export balance in eggs, as it has been exporting them only for the past decade or two. The results as shown in figure 11 might thus be expected.
Since 1914, "All Commodities" have been relatively higher than eggs on either the San Francisco or the Los Angeles markets (figs. 9, and 12) — this in common with the trend in the United States as a whole. If, however, the purchasing power of eggs on California markets is compared with that on eastern markets, California is at a disadvantage, for it has become a surplus instead of a deficiency state with reference to eggs. Until 1915, quotations on the San Francisco and Los Angeles markets were relatively higher than those on other large markets of the country (tables 111, p. 163, and 112, p. 164 for
Fig. 11. — The California poultryman since 1860 has been in a relatively advantageous position compared with the producers of other commodities. From 1868 to 1915 the purchasing power of eggs was favorable during the major portion of the years. In spite of the prices obtained from 1915 to 1920 the poultryman was in an unfavorable position owing to the high prices which he had to pay for other commodities. It should be remembered that until 1910 California imported eggs and a freight differential acted in favor of the state. Data from table 11, p. 27.
Too much stress must not be placed on the purchasing power of eggs in California. For the state as a whole, no entirely satisfactory weighting system for obtaining the yearly price on the farm has been developed. Both the seasonal production and the seasonal price render it difficult to gauge the returns to the producer accurately, although an excellent start has been made toward obtaining more certain statistics for production within the state. In the first part of this discussion it should be borne in mind constantly that the yearly average prices used in the computation of purchasing power are simply the averages of the monthly average wholesale prices for eggs.
It should also be remembered that the term ''purchasing power" is used in comparison with the wholesale prices of 404 commodities. It is highly improbable that the poultryman purchases any considerable percentage of some of these commodities, and even if he did purchase all of them, the prices listed are for the country as a whole and
1911...
Sources of data : Column I. Based upon computations made by author. Wholesale price is the arithmetic averaeg of monthly quotations. Monthly quotation obtained by computing the arithmetic means of Wednesday quotations in each month. Original quotations from Cal. Cultivator. All quotations are net as the trade discount has been subtracted by the author. Column II. Computed by author, based upon 1910-1914 =33 . 50 = 100. Column III. Computations by author based upon Column II and "All Commodity" index (Bureau of Labor Statistics).
not especially for California. From the preliminary cost of production studies carried on to date (pages 146-155), it should be noted that the poultrymen in the Petaluma section purchased feeding stuffs amounting to 50 per cent or over of the costs of production. While the purchasing power studies are of interest — especially to the industry, as a whole, the individual poultryman is perhaps more interested in the ratio of feed costs to egg prices.
Comparative prices of eggs in certain cities. — Higher prices were realized for fresh extra eggs on the San Francisco and Los Angeles markets for the first part of the decade 1910-1920 than on eastern markets. In comparison with the 1910-1914 quotations as a base, prices in the east since 1918 have been relatively higher than those in California. In certain cases, California quotations were actually below those in some of the eastern centers.
Eveiy effort should be made to decrease costs of production, to produce ' ' quality ' ' products, and to lessen the cost of transportation. Under the stimulus of relatively high prices, a great expansion took place in the poultry industry of the state and large shipments of eggs were sent to the eastern markets. California was thus placed in the role of an exporter rather than an importer. This surplus in the state has made the price relatively lower in California than on the
Fig. 13. — The average price per dozen for certain grades of eggs at three cities of the country gives a partial explanation of the reason for the purchasing power of eggs in California failing to hold up as well as the purchasing power in the country as a whole. It should be especially noted that from 1910 to 1915 quotations of extra eggs in San Francisco were far above the quotations for certain grades of eggs in New York and Chicago. Since 1916 the quotations in San Francisco have been more nearly equal to quotations for standard grades in eastern cities. Data for New York and Chicago from U. S. D. A. Yearbook 1924, pp. 1002 and 1003. 1925 prices furnished by courtesy of Bureau of Agricultural Economics. Data for San Francisco from table 11, p. 27.
eastern markets. It is to these markets, especially New York, that California has been sending the larger part of the surplus. The increase in production, placing the state on an exporting basis, has made competition keener than before the war, and from all indi-
cations has established this as the basis on which the state will have to compete in the future. Isolation, which at one time tended to make prices higher in California has, together with the surplus, made prices lower during the past few years.
Purchasing power of eggs and other agricultural commodities in the United States. — The census statistics for 1925 show a large increase in the number of poultry in the country as a whole. The diagram shown in figure 8, page 24, presents a partial explanation at least of this expansion in the poultry industry. A comparison is made between the relative prices for eggs in the United States and the price index of thirty other agricultural commodities. (Bureau of Agricultural Economics statistics as published in the Supplement to the Agricultural Situation, June, 1925, pp. 54-62.) In 1910 the purchasing power of eggs was above that of the combined agricultural products. During the year 1911 it showed a considerable decline, but in 1912 it advanced and remained above that of the other commodities until 1916. From 1916 to 1919 other agricultural products advanced more rapidly in price and hence in purchasing power than did eggs. From 1920 through 1925 the relative price of eggs and the purchasing power have been higher than for other agricultural products. For the country as a whole, the price changes of eggs from year to year have not been as violent as in the case of other commodities. From 1920 to 1921, it should be noted that although the price of eggs declined it did not decline as much as that of other farm products. In spite of the adverse agricultural conditions existing in 1921, eggs showed a favorable purchasing power, being over 100 per cent. Although the differences between the purchasing power of other agricultural products are less than in 1920 or 1921, eggs have been relatively of a higher value than the aggregate of the other farm products since 1920.
The trends of relative prices show that during the sixteen-year period the general tendency has been for eggs to advance more rapidly in price than other agricultural products. Of more interest are the lines of trends for purchasing power. The sixteen-year period shows a decline for both eggs and other commodities — but less for eggs than for other products.
Being relatively higher in price than most other agricultural products during the past six-year period, the reasons for the large increase in the chicken population of the nation are obvious. The bulk of the nation's eggs is produced as by-products in other lines of agricultural endeavor on hundreds of thousands of farms where it is comparatively easy to increase or decrease production.
Monthly index of purchasing power. — Since seasonal variation in price and production make it difficult to arrive at a satisfactory yearly price, an attempt has been made to compile a monthly index of purchasing power at both San Francisco and Los Angeles. The producer is more interested in obtaining a cent more per dozen for his eggs in March and April than he is in October or November ; consequently, he is more desirous of seeing the purchasing power 100 per cent in the months of flush production.
December
The ' ' All Commodity Index ' ' by months was then computed in the same manner as the egg prices. The monthly arithmetic mean (19101914) for the "All Commodity Index" is:
A monthly relative price for eggs was next obtained by dividing the price for each month by the average price for each month of the base period, 1910-1914. Likewise, a monthly relative for "All Commodities" was obtained by dividing the "All Commodity Index" for each month by the average of each month during the base period, 1910-1914.
Seasonal variation in the prices of extra and pullet eggs. — Quotations at San Francisco and Los Angeles show the same general seasonal variation, February to July, inclusive, being the months of relatively low quotations on extra eggs. While pullet eggs do not decline relatively as much as extra eggs, neither do they advance as much. One interesting difference between the quotations at Los Angeles and San
Francisco is that during February pullet eggs have been relatively higher than extras at San Francisco without there being any considerable difference at Los Angeles. During December on the other hand, pullet eggs have been relatively higher at Los Angeles than extra eggs, while the reverse has been true at San Francisco.
A comparison of prices on the San Francisco market during the five-year period 1921-1925 with those of the period 1900-1904, show the relative prices in general to have dropped during the winter months and risen during the period March to July, inclusive. This same general tendency is apparent on the Los Angeles market except for the fact that the prices during the fall months were relatively higher during 1921-1925 than from 1900 to 1904.
A valuable conception of the status of the egg industry is gained by a study of the purchasing power of the product in terms of feed rather than in dollars and cents. The fact that eggs sell high in November of one year and somewhat lower in the same month of the next year is not of as much concern to the producer as whether the product will purchase feed at a favorable ratio.
Egg-feed price ratio, Petaluma. — The egg-feed price ratio used in this study indicates the number of dozens of fresh extra eggs required to purchase 100 pounds of feed (50 pounds of grain, 50 pounds of mash). The ration used in the study of the egg-feed price ratio is as follows :
This egg-feed price ratio is not comparable with an egg-feed price ratio for the United States as a whole or for any of its geographic subdivisions. Such a ratio, to be of any value, must necessarily take into consideration other pertinent factors. It is obvious that other factors such as (1) average egg yield per hen, (2) seasonal yield per hen, (3) quality of product, (4) economy of production, and (5) efficiency of marketing, play an important part in the study of the egg-feed ratio.
The proportions of feed ingredients given above remained the same for the fifteen years (1911-1925) except in 1918, 1919, and 1920, when wheat was eliminated from the ration on account of the war emergency. Equal parts of corn, barley, and milo were substituted during this period for the grain portion of the ration.
Fig. 14. — From 1910 to 1915 the differences between the relative prices of feed and eggs in the Petaluma district were not great. In 1916, however, the feed price index began to advance more rapidly than the egg price index and remained higher until 1921, which was a favorable year for the poultryman buying all of his feed as the feed price index fell below the egg price index for that year. The tendency since 1913 has been for the prices of feeds to advance more rapidly than the price of eggs. Data from table 18, p. 41.
Comparisons throughout the year are based upon weekly feed and egg quotations in the Petaluma poultry district of California. The feed quotations used are wholesale quotations published in the Petaluma Weekly Poultry Journal. The costs of mixing and grinding the feeds have been added to the feed costs. The egg quotations used are the net wholesale quotations of fresh extra eggs on the San Francisco Wholesale Dairy Produce Exchange. These quotations were
The number of dozen extra eggs required to purchase 100 pounds of the following mixture: 50 pounds mash (20 pounds bran, 10 pounds corn meal, 10 pounds ground barley, 5 pounds meat scrap, 5 pounds fish scrap); 50 pounds grain (equal parts corn, barley, milo and wheat).
Source of data: All computations by author. The aggregate price of each ration for the period was computed by using the wholesale prices of feed quoted weekly in the Petaluma Weekly Poultry Journal. The wholesale prices of eggs at San Francisco were used in the study. The figures above were obtained by dividing the wholesale price of eggs into the wholesale price of one hundred pounds of the ration, plus a charge for grinding and mixing.
87.0 eggs.
There has been an upward trend in the egg-feed ratio as is shown by the line of trend in figure 15. From 1911 to 1925, the number of dozen extra eggs required to purchase 100 pounds of feed increased 5.4 per cent (trend values).
The relative prices for eggs and feeds (for the ration used) are shown in figure 14. Both indices are based on the period 1910-1914 as 100, and it may be noted that there is a fairly close agreement between these two. During 1916, however, feed increased far more rapidly in price than did eggs. The drop in the feed index in 1921, however, was greater than that in the egg index, although in 1922 the egg index fell below that of feed. The tendency in 1925 and during the first ten months of 1926 was for the egg index to gain on the feed index. The general trend during the past thirteen years, 19131926, has been for feed to rise somewhat more rapidly in price than
Fig. 15. — The chart shows the number of dozen eggs at the average wholesale price per year which are required to purchase one hundred pounds of a standard poultry ration. Since 1910 there has been a slight tendency for the prices of feed in the Petaluma area to increase more rapidly than the prices for extra eggs. The years 1914, 1919 and 1921 were especially favorable for the poultryman buying his feed while 1912, 1917 (in spite of the high prices for eggs) and 1924 were unfavorable.* Data from table 17, p. 40.
eggs. This is shown quite plainly in figure 14 by the trend of the relative prices of feed and eggs. The ratio fluctuates above and below the trend, being sometimes above and sometimes below it. These fluctuations are caused in part by cyclical changes and in part by accidental changes. During nine of the fifteen years covered by the study, namely, in 1911, 1912, 1913, 1917, 1920, 1922, 1924, and 1925, the ratio was less favorable than normal. Two or three years apparently are required to complete the upward or downward movement of the cycle, viz, 1912-1914, 1914-1917, 1917-1919, 1921-1924.
The wide fluctuations in egg prices month by month and over a period of years constitute one of the most important problems with which the poultry industry has to deal. A study of table 17 and figure 16 (fifteen-year period) shows that March stands out as the month of high egg-feed price ratio and low egg prices while November has the lowest ratio and is the month of highest egg prices. The order of the months in the egg-feed price ratio is the inverse of what is found in the variation of wholesale egg prices.
There is no considerable difference in the prices of feed for the various months. Therefore, the comparison of the prices received for eggs and the resulting ratio to feed costs has value. More eggs should be produced during the last five months of the year. This is a fact generally admitted ; and the most efficient poultryman is managing his flock now with this end in view. The majority of the people engaged in the poultry industry have a long way to go, however, before production will materially change the fall and winter prices.
A study of the egg-feed ratio coupled with a study of the increase in average egg production gives a partial explanation of how persons already in the industry in California continue to make a profit, and in addition, it offers a partial explanation for the expansion which has taken place.
Seasonal variation. — The seasonal variation in the egg-feed price ratio is shown in table 17 and in figure 16 (page 41). In table 17 the average month is taken as 100, all percentages above or below 100 being deviations from the average. The seasonal variation in the wholesale prices of fresh extra eggs at San Francisco is also given.
March 136 November 154
Source of data: Column I— computations by the author based upon data in Table 16. _ The median link relative method was used. Column II — computations by author based upon compilations of wholesale monthly prices obtained weekly from the files of the Pacific Rural Press. The median link relative method was used.
Fig. 16. — Eggs produced in August, September, October, November, December and January purchase relatively more feed than eggs produced during the remaining six months of the year. When the egg-feed ratio is high the price of extras is low, e.g., in March, whereas the reverse is true in November. Data from table 17, p. 40.
1924... .
Sources of data: Weekly wholesale poultry feed quotations were obtained from the Petaluma Weekly Poultry Journal. The arithmetic mean of the weekly quotations was used as the quotation for each month. The wholesale price of 100 pounds of feed used in the egg-feed ratio was then computed and a fixed sum for mixing and grinding the feed was added. The wholesale quotations of eggs are for the San Francisco market.
SOURCES OF CALIFORNIA POULTRY FEEDS
California poultry men are users of large amounts of raw materials which are manufactured into eggs and poultry, and are naturally interested in the sources of supply for the various feeds purchased.
Data furnished the author by various concerns in California give some indication concerning the sources of supply of concentrated feeds. This information will give the poultrymen some idea as to current demands for various feeds. The feeds listed below have been sold to California poultrymen during the year 1925. In explanation of table 19, it will be noted that 50,868,683 pounds of corn, or' 30.9
per cent of the total amount of feed sold, have been bought by California poultrymen. The highest amount originating in California was 15 per cent. Estimates of the percentage of corn coming from the Middle West ranged from 70 to 100 per cent.
Table 19 indicates rather a serious problem to the poultry industry of the state. On the most conservative basis it is estimated that California imports over half the poultry feeds sold within the state. It is hoped that by some method California farmers growing feed and poultrymen buying feed can be brought to a realization of the feed needs of the poultry industry of the state. Feedstuffs are relatively bulky and heavy, hence the freight rates per pound are necessarily high. The poultryman in many instances is paying freight on the raw material in the shape of feedstuffs and is paying freight on the manufactured product exported from the state.
PRICE RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN GRADES OF EGGS
Ratios between the quotations of pullet and extra eggs on the San Francisco and Los Angeles markets. — Both pullet and extra eggs have been quoted regularly in San Francisco since 1912, and in Los Angeles since January 1, 1917. Comparisons between these two grades have been made by the use of a percentage relationship.
The following will illustrate the method of obtaining the ratio used in this study. Net quotations on the Los Angeles market, January 3, 1917, were : Pullets $0.34, Extras $0.38, making the ratio 34/38, or 89.47 per cent. One net quotation for both pullets and extras was obtained on the same day during every week of this entire period, and the average (arithmetic mean) of the four or five ratios obtained for each month was then taken as the average for that month.
That there is not a constant relationship between these quotations can be seen from table 20, p. 45. The ratios on the San Francisco market have ranged from 66.2 per cent (October 19, 1922) to 100 per cent (October 29, 1913, February 17, 1915), and at Los Angeles from 66.3 per cent (October 12, 1925) to 100 per cent (May 1, 1918).
On account of the standardization in grades, the demand for pullets is at times comparatively inelastic, a situation caused by the requirements of chain stores, markets, and restaurants.
The trend for San Francisco is slightly downward from 1912 to 1925. During the period 1916-1920 the ratio was especially high, but this might have been expected since certain concerns undoubtedly shifted their demand from extras to pullets during periods of relatively high prices. Since 1922, however, the tendency has been to
Fig. 17. — A pronounced seasonal variation can be seen in the relationship between the prices of pullet and extra eggs. Pullet eggs are usually relatively higher during the first months of the year and lower during the fall months. There has been a tendency during the entire period for pullet eggs to be relatively lower than extras. Data based on calculations from table 111, p. 163, and table 113, p. 165.
downward.
There is a considerable fluctuation from day to day and from week to week, and it is evident that there can be no wide variation in the nutritive value of the two grades within such a short period.
Seasonal variation. — There is a pronounced seasonal variation in the relationship, as can be seen from table 20, p. 45 and figure 18. January stands out as the month of high relative value while October is low.
Quotations, Los Angeles and San Francisco
Fig. 18. — The data used in connection with the chart are the percentage relationships between the prices of extra and pullet eggs. The normal ratio (represented by 100 per cent or unit y) is high during the first months of the year. The same general seasonal variation in the relationship between pullet and extra eggs is evident in Los Angeles as in San Francisco. Although receipts are not segregated, available data point to low comparative receipts of pullets during the first months of the year and high receipts in the fall. Data from table 20, p. 45.
Note. — From the above table it will be seen that if the average monthly relationship between the prices of pullet and extra eggs equals 100, in January the San Francisco index is 105.8 or 5.8 per cent higher than the average; whereas in October the relationship is 91.5 or 8.5 per cent below the average relationship. Pullet eggs are therefore relatively high in January and low in October.
Source of data: Computations of the percentage relationship between the prices of pullet and extra eggs were made for Wednesdays of each week by the author. The arithmetic mean of the Wednesday percentage relationship for each month was then taken as the percentage relationship for the particular month involved. The seasonal variations were then computed from these monthly relationships by the link relative method.
Data for Los Angeles (computed from 1917-1925) evidence the same general seasonal variation as does San Francisco, except that the variations from March to June are comparatively nothing and the decline in the ratio from August to September is more abrupt than is the case on the San Francisco market.
Fig. 19. — A comparison between the relationship of pullet to extra eggs in Los Angeles and San Francisco shows plainly that the relationship does not vary greatly as between the two markets. During the period of relatively high prices the relationship was high. In the comparatively unfavorable years pullet eggs have apparently been worth less. The general trend in the relationship on the San Francisco market, has been downward.* Data based on calculations, tables 111, 112, 113, 114, pp. 163-165.
Fig. 20. — The percentage represents the percentage relationship between the wholesale quotations of pullet and extra eggs. Pullets are low in price when compared to extras during the months of August to November, inclusive. With only slight variations, San Francisco and Los Angeles follow the same trend. The ratio has been consistently lower, however, for September in Los Angeles. During the five years 1921-1925 there has been a pronounced decline in the ratio during September and October. Data based upon table 112, p. 164, and table 114, p. 165.
United States. — In 1918-19 the United States Department of Labor, through the Bureau of Labor Statistics, working in cooperation with the National War Labor Board, made an investigation into the cost of living in industrial centers of the United States. This covered white families in 92 cities or localities in 42 states. According to estimates obtained, the apparent per capita consumption of eggs in the United States (industrial centers) amounted to 12.49 dozens. It is of interest to note that California's largest markets, California and the North Atlantic States, claimed the highest per capita consumption. The western states led the entire country with 14.59 dozens, two dozens more than the average for the country as a whole. The North Atlantic States- followed with 13.90 dozens. For the other sections, the per capita consumption was as follows:
North Central States 10.75 dozens
The states producing the largest total surplus of eggs, and having the lowest prices, apparently consumed the smallest quantities of eggs. This may be due to the larger consumption of cereal products (bread, etc.) and potatoes in the Central States.
The per capita consumption of eggs in the rural districts is considerably larger than that of the industrial centers. Investigations by the United States Department of Agriculture during 1913-19141 indicated that the per capita annual consumption of 800 northern rural families was 33.6 dozens, while similar data from 150 southern families showed it to be 30.8 dozens.
Consumption of eggs in the United States compared with other countries. — British authorities! have estimated the per capita consumption of eggs in certain countries of the world to be as follows :
The U. S. Standards and grades for eggs in commercial use.* — The establishment in San Francisco and Petaluma of a Federal-State Inspection service on eggs, in conjunction with the use of the tentative wholesale grades as formulated by the U. S. Department of Agriculture, Bureau of Agricultural Economics, marks a distinct advance in the marketing of this product.
The wholesale grades as used today are the result of a careful and intensive study of poultry production and marketing conditions throughout the United States over a period of years. They have grown out of the results of practical experience, and as at present constituted, are designed for nation-wide application. They are of a nature to lend themselves to refrigerator as well as fresh grades, and consequently will eventually bring about a common standard that will be understood wherever eggs are bought and sold in the United States.
This common standard is the thing that is at present lacking. Eggs bought or sold on one market under certain trade names, are resold on some other market under a name which may be similar to the first but interpreted differently. The term " Extra first" in Boston may also be used in New York or San Francisco, but each of these markets places a different construction on the term, relative to the eggs in question. This lack of a common terminology has complicated the entire economic scheme of marketing this product.
The grades used are based on the U. S. standards of quality for individual eggs, which were accepted by representative members of the trade in the United States at Chicago on January 19, 1925. With a thorough understanding of the points considered in determining the interior quality of an egg as presented in these standards, no real difficulty should be experienced in the interpretation of the various grades.
The U. S. standards of quality for individual eggs, as well as the tentative wholesale grades are presented in tables 21 and 22, and show the seven standard types or kinds, from which the grades have been developed. The four standard qualities for clean sound shell eggs are named — U. S. Special, U. S. Extra, U. S. Standard, and U. S. Trade. The two standard qualities of stained or dirty shelled eggs are named U. S. Standard Dirty and U. S. Trade Dirty. Those which are checked or cracked are named U. S. Checks or Cracks.
Since the U. S. Standards of quality relate to the condition of the shell as well as to the interior quality, color, size, and weight are not considered factors of quality, but of grade. Color of shell also is considered as a factor in establishing various color classes within the grades.
COMMERCIAL HATCHERIES IN CALIFORNIA
There were on January 1, 1926, two hundred sixty-two commercial hatcheries, each with a capacity of 1000 eggs or over, in 37 different counties of the state. One hundred thirty-five of these in twelve different counties are accredited. An accredited hatchery is one which follows certain rules and regulations prescribed by a Farm Bureau Accredited Hatchery Project. These include a rigid inspection of stock with reference to health and vigor, by persons over which the breeder has no control, and in addition conformation to certain standards which are set up with respect to the pedigree of the males used.
The total egg capacity of the larger hatcheries in the state is 7,781,342. The capacity of those accredited is 3,414,000 or 43 per cent of the total. Since small hatcheries were not listed, it is estimated* that the total capacity of the state is approximately 8,000,000, and as
state. Each dot represents one hatchery.
6. An incubator capacity of 50,000 eggs in the state is represented by each dot. Sonoma County far outranks all other counties in the state with an incubator capacity of 3,489,000, or over 40 per cent of the capacity of the entire state. Los Angeles County ranks second with slightly over 900,000 egg capacity, followed by Santa Clara with 750,000.
Data from table 23, p. 53.
two or three chicks are sold during the year for each egg capacity, it will be readily seen that this business in California has reached large proportions. It is felt by the author that regular reports, on hatchings, by the hatcheries would prove invaluable in judging the industry's future.
RECEIPTS OF EGGS
San Francisco and Los Angeles. — Since 1891 there lias been a steady increase in the receipts of eggs on the San Francisco market. The average yearly receipts 1891-1895 totaled 166,059 cases, while the average for 1921-1925 was 802,133 cases. The latter figure was somewhat greater than that for many of the larger egg markets of the country (fig. 26). The peak was reached in 1923 with a total of 854,989 cases. During 1924 and 1925, there was a decided decrease, due perhaps not to a decrease in production or consumption but to the tendency to ship directly from the centers of production to those of consumption. This has been the case especially since the development of processing and storage facilities at the production centers. Though San Francisco is becoming of less importance as a shipping point, the receipts there give rather illuminating evidence on the apparent progress that has been made in the industry of the state. Comparisons between three five-year periods, 1901-1905, 1910-1914, and 1921-1925 (fig. 24) point to a pronounced tendency to a more even distribution of receipts throughout the year, though they continue larger in spring and smaller in fall and winter. This probably has meant an increase in returns to the shippers as the increase has occurred during the period of relatively higher prices — September, October, November, December, and January. The more even distribution throughout the season has tended to raise prices slightly (relatively) during the months of heavy production. The development of cold storage facilities at production centers and direct shipments have also had an effect on San Francisco receipt distribution.
Since the pioneer days of the forties and fifties, California has received eggs from other states and foreign countries. At first they came largely from the New England and Middle Atlantic States and even from China. Since the fifties, Oregon has shipped to California.
At the time of the opening of the transcontinental railroad, dire predictions were made as to the future of California's egg industry and immediately after the railroad 's completion, shipments were made from middle western points. The data with reference to the volume of receipts from eastern points were most fragmentary until comparatively recent years.
During 1884, 2,980,254 dozen eggs were received at San Francisco, of which 1,356,250 dozens, or 45.5 per cent, were shipped from outside the state over the Central Pacific Railroad.* In 1901 the volume
of eastern shipments had been decreased materially, as the reports for that year show that of 10,112,010 dozen eggs arriving at San Francisco 1,779,630 dozens, or 17.6 per cent, arrived from eastern points.* Eggs from out-of-state points are still arriving on the San Francisco market, although California has swung into the position of an exporter during the past two decades. During 1925 shipments from outside states
San Francisco Office, 1926.
made up 8.1 per cent of the receipts at San Francisco (60,345 cases of the 746,706) most of which originated in states west of the Mississippi River, particularly in Oregon and Washington. These
two states supplied 48,128 cases of the 60,345 originating outside the state in 1925. The first nine months of 1926 show that 14.3 per cent originated outside of California compared with 7.5 per cent in 1925.
During the past two years there has been a tendency to increase the total quantities of outside eggs on the San Francisco market, most of which have arrived during the season of heaviest receipts (fig. 22) — a time when arrivals are heavy on the markets of the country.
Unfortunately, Los Angeles returns are available only for 1925. The receipts from out-of-state points at Los Angeles were larger than at San Francisco, amounting to 118,592 cases or 20.6 per cent of a reported total of 575,050. The receipts by truck at Los Angeles offer obstacles to the collection of statistics; hence, the total reported is perhaps too low. Idaho, Oregon, and Utah furnished the bulk of the out-of-state receipts at Los Angeles during 1925 and these arrived chiefly during the period April- August.
Los Angeles is not only the market for large quantities of eggs from the Petaluma area but in addition during 1925 received large shipments from western states, notably Idaho, Utah, and Oregon. The larger number of outside receipts came to market from April to August during the period of relatively high production and low prices. The statistics are undoubtedly incomplete as receipts have been difficult to ascertain in Los Angeles. Data from table 25, p. 56. Current receipts obtainable in Eeview of the Butter Market at San Francisco, issued by U. S. D. A. Bureau of Agricultural Economics, San Francisco.
The movement of eggs from the states west of the Mississippi will be regulated by the prices obtainable in the various consumption centers of the country. It will be rather difficult for any one center to be far out of line in prices with others because of the ease of transportation. This fact merely emphasizes the necessity of producing ' ' quality ' ' eggs which will command a premium over the ordinary product found on the market.
Source of data: Compilations by author based upon statistics published by the Pacific Dairy Review, San Francisco, during January of each year. Current statistics are published monthly in the Weekly Review of the Butter Market at San Francisco, Bureau of Agricultural Economics.
Seasonal Variation of Egg Eeceipts, San Francisco
Fig. 24. — There has been a marked tendency during the past few years for a lessening in the seasonal fluctuations indicating a greater proportionate production during the fall and winter months compared with the summer months although increase of storage facilities at centers of production have had some influence especially during the past five years. Data from table 27, p. 60.
Daily receipts and prices of eggs. — The daily receipts of eggs on the San Francisco market are quite evenly distributed among the six days of the week with the exception of Monday, which is naturally the day of largest arrivals. During 1925 shipments arriving on Monday constituted 19.95 per cent of the week's total. Receipts on
Per cent
Fig. 25. — Eeceipts on the San Francisco market were fairly evenly distributed during 1925 — Monday and Tuesday being the days of heaviest receipts — Wednesday the lowest. During the year higher prices prevailed on Tuesdays. Differences between the other days of the week were negligible. Data based on Daily Market Reports, Butter, Eggs and Cheese. Bureau of Agricultural Economics, San Francisco.
the remaining days of the week were: Tuesday, 17.20 per cent; Wednesday, 14.83 per cent; Thursday, 16.06 per cent; Friday, 15.04 per cent ; Saturday, 15.20 per cent.
Thousands
Fig. 26. — New York has been the principal egg market of the country since 1916, with Chicago second in volume of receipts. A general upward trend has taken place in all of the markets although there is considerable variation from year to year. Data from table 28, p. 63.
A., Bureau of Agricultural
Economics; 1924-1925 for New York, Boston, and Chicago based upon compilations made by the author from the New York Produce Review and American Creamery. 1924-1925 figures for Cincinnati furnished to the author by Cincinnati Produce Exchange. 1924-1925 figures for Milwaukee furnished to author by the Milwaukee Produce Exchange. 1924-1925 figures for San Francisco furnished by the U. S. D. A., Bureau of Agricultural Economics, San Francisco office.
Receipts of extra and pullet eggs. — At the present time, no specific division is made between the receipts of pullets and extras at the principal markets. It has been possible, however, to obtain records from certain large receivers, which will be of interest and value.
Source of data: Information furnished to the author.
Although these are only a portion of the eggs received, some idea at least of the percentage of the various grades produced in the vicinity can be obtained (table 29). These figures are also of interest, because of the decrease in the percentage of extras and the increase in pullets and pewees. This latter increase may be due to an augmentation of certain flocks or to the faulty feeding of mature birds.* In addition, more careful grading is now practiced than in former years. At times in the past dealers refused to accept very small and off-eggs, which are at present received. Heavy culling is more common at present than formerly.
Records have been obtained for partial receipts at San Diego. The percentages there vary slightly from those at Los Angeles. The same general tendencies, however, are evident. The receipts are in the main from the same producers during the three years.
In addition to the receipts in central California segregated by months as in table 32, two additional firms have given the author a partial record of their segregated receipts. For the year, March 1, 1925, to February 28, 1926, one of these, a Petaluma receiver (not included in table 32), reports the following:
the segregation into grades can be obtained.
One of the most illuminating tables (table 32) available is that giving the segregation of receipts from certain groups of producers in central California. The volume of these perhaps indicates that the records were representative of the central portion of the state. The receipts are segregated into clean extras, clean pullets, dirty extras, dirty pullets, and others (firsts and thin shells, and No. 3's). Bakers and checks were not obtained for the monthly periods in table 32. Of the 618,873 cases (18,566,190 dozens) received in the above grades in 1923, only 79 per cent were classed as clean extras and pullets. Over one-fifth received were dirty extras, firsts, thin shells and No. 3's. The clean extras amounted to less than 60 per cent of the total (57.8 per cent).
Considerable variation exists among the different months of the year. It will be noted that of the clean extras and pullets, the former are relatively more plentiful in January, February, and March, while pullets are relatively far more numerous during the last four months
* In addition to monthly receipts segregated above a total of 9,713 cases of bakers' eggs were received during 1924. The percentages were therefore computed on the basis of 627,423 cases— the total receipts of bakers being included in column VIII total percentages.
t In addition to monthly receipts segregated above, a total of 11,642 cases of bakers' eggs were received during 1925. The percentages were therefore computed on the basis of 782,033 cases— the total receipts of bakers being included in column VIII total percentages.
of the year. Largely on account of this fact, pullet eggs are relatively lower in value during the fall months (table 20, p. 45 and fig. 18, p. 45). The winter months naturally account for a certain proportion of dirties; nevertheless, the number at other times of the year is surprising. Rainfall was of longer duration and of greater magnitude in the spring of 1925 than in the spring of 1924. This condition is reflected in the percentage of dirties. The months of September and October stand out as the months of high numerical and high percentage receipts of No. 3's. Managerial measures increasing the production of clean extras during the fall and winter are financially remunerative to the producer.
Statistics for 1924 and 1925 are not encouraging, as the percentage of clean extras and pullets dropped from 79 per cent of the total receipts in 1923 to 71 per cent in 1925 ;* clean extras dropped from 57.8 per cent to 50.4* per cent of the total, while the dirty extras were 36.8* per cent as numerous as the clean extras in 1925 (compared with 22.6 per cent in 1923). More careful grading is responsible in part for the results in table 32. These tables are worthy of the most serious and careful thought by those interested in California's poultry industry.
EGG SHIPMENTS
California's interstate egg shipments. — Imports from other states and foreign countries started in the fifties, while the out-of-state shipments are of comparatively recent origin. It was not until the winter of 1911-1912 that the agricultural pressf stated, "The state is having a new experience in egg shipments. During the week four cars of eggs have been exported to the frozen East." From this small beginning, shipments and exports have increased to large proportions. Unfortunately, data are not available for the earlier years of this movement. In 1925 interstate shipments totaled 1195 cars, the largest on record, although for the past five years, the tendency has been for shipments to increase only slightly.
Markets for California eggs. — The larger proportion of California eggs is marketed east of the Mississippi River. The Bureau of Agricultural Economics reports the destination of cars loaded in the state and over 95 per cent of these were unloaded east of the Mississippi during 1925 (interstate shipments).
Source of data: Computed by the author on the basis of the Daily Market Reports on Butter, Cheese, Eggs, and Dressed Poultry, issued by the San Francisco Office, Bureau Agricultural Economics. The shipments represent between 95 and 100 per cent of the total interstate shipments. All figures subject to revision.
Source: Computations by author based upon mimeographed Daily Market Reports on Butter, Cheese, Eggs and Dressed Poultry, issued by the San Francisco Office, Bureau Agricultural Economics. The shipments are for 1,174 cars out of a total of 1,195. All figures subject to revision.
There has been a marked tendency for a wider distribution of California eggs during the past two years. During 1923 these were unloaded in ten states, while in 1924 this number increased to twelve. In 1925 shipments were made to nineteen different states and the District of Columbia.
There has been during the past year a considerable movement into the Southern States (Texas, Louisiana, Florida, Virginia, Maryland, Alabama, Tennessee), together with an increase to certain of the Middle Western States (Missouri, Michigan, Illinois, Nebraska and Ohio). These two movements have also been accompanied by a wider distribution of eggs from this state on the north Atlantic seaboard (Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania), (table 34, p. 68), although the tendency has been more marked in increasing shipments to the middle west.
New York is the most important out of state market for California eggs and during 1925 took approximately 70 per cent of the interstate shipments table 34, p. 68). New Jersey was the second market, its receipts from this state being approximately 12 per cent of the total interstate shipments. NewT Jersey should be considered as part of the New York market as eggs are often unloaded in New Jersey terminals.
York to develop a demand for a white egg of highest quality.
Shipping districts for eggs in California. — The principal points of origin for interstate shipments are Petaluma, Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz, San Francisco, Sacramento, Los Angeles, San Diego, Modesto, and
* The 38 cars represent shipments from Santa Cruz plus other California points not listed. Source of data: 1920 U. S. D. A. Crops and Markets, 1922, p. 526; 1921-1925, mimeographed Daily Market Report on Butter, Cheese, Eggs and Dressed Poultry, San Francisco. No. 12, 1926.
Oakland (table 35, p. 69). Indications point to a decrease in eastern shipments from the large cities of the state and a corresponding increase in the shipments from points nearest production centers. This has come about through the development of cold storage facilities in production centers, the necessity for applying processing as soon after laying as possible, and the saving of time and expense in shipments. All of these factors make for a shipping product of higher quality. Obviously, the decrease in eastern shipments from the larger centers of population may be accounted for by the increasing population of these cities. Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz, and Sacramento especially stand out in connection with the increase in cars loaded for interstate shipment.
Egg shipments from Petaluma. — Petaluma far outdistances every other shipping point in the number of eggs shipped. From 1900 to 1921, the rate of increase was very rapid; from 1921 to 1925, it has been proportionately less rapid than during the war and pre-war period.
• A study of the graph (fig. 28, p. 72) gives a very clear indication of the relatively large spring and the small winter and fall shipments. This variation is more noticeable in the 1910-1914 period than in the 1921-1925 period. The season of above-normal shipments coincides with the period of low prices, while the season of below-normal shipments coincides with increased prices.
Such a condition is what might naturally be expected because of supply and demand. Similar reasoning might indicate that there would be little benefit to the poultryman in bringing about an equalization of production throughout the year. However, since California's contribution to the egg supply of the United States is not a prime factor in setting the price level, and since there is little likelihood of any such equalization in the largest producing areas of the country because of the greater seasonal changes in climate, advantage would accrue to the California poultryman from an increased fall and winter production. Egg shipments are somewhat indicative of production in the Petaluma district, and a realization of the advantage of higher fall and winter production is expressed by the marked difference in the curves. Whereas, the peak of shipments in 1910-1914 was 160 per cent of normal ; in 1921-1925, it was only 128 per cent. For the former period, "low" was 57 per cent normal; for the latter period, 80 per cent. The significant point is not so much the lowering of the high peak, as it is the raising of shipments in those months in which a high price obtains. Moreover, this has not been accomplished at the
expense of lowering the yearly production ; as the latter, on the contrary, has been on the increase. The real explanation is that a re-distribution of the production has caused the change in shipments, advantageous to the producer. Some of these changes have been
Fig. 27. — In 22 years shipments of eggs from Petaluma have increased from 3,407,333 dozen eggs to over 30,000,000. More rapid than the increase in the egg shipments has been the phenomenal increase in the shipments of poultry since 1919. Data for poultry shipments for 1924 and 1925 is incomplete. Data from table 36, p. 72, and table 64, p. 108.
Petaluma.
For five months in the 1921-1925 period the relative seasonal variations of shipments were below those of the 1910-1914 period, while in one month they were practically the same and in six months higher. These facts indicate a relatively higher production in July, August, September, October, November, December, and January.
Fig. 28. — The graph shows the variation throughout the year in the shipments of eggs from Petaluma for the five-year periods of 1910-1914 and 1921-1925. The heavy horizontal or normal line represents shipments which would be uniform throughout the year and deviations above the line show an increase above normal shipments while deviations below the line show a decrease from the normal. A study of the graph gives a very clear indication of the large spring shipments and the relatively small fall and winter shipments. This is more noticeable in the 1910-1914 period than for the 1921-1924 period. The season of above normal shipments coincides with the period of low prices while the season of below normal shipments is coincident with that of increased prices. Data from table 38, p. 73.
Source of data: Computations by the author on the basis of the monthly shipments of eggs from Petaluma furnished by the Petaluma Weekly Poultry Journal (Table 37; 1910-1914 monthly figures in possession of author). Both sets of indices were computed by the link relative method. On the basis of 100 for each month the shipments during April of the period 1910-1914 were 60.3 per cent above the average of 100, etc.
those from California.
During 1925 eggs from thirty-two different states, located in every geographical division of the United States (table 39, p. 74) were received on this market. The largest part of the supply came
The two outstanding competitors of California on this market are (a) those states near to New York City (New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland and the New England states) — table 40, p. 76, and (6) the Pacific Coast states of Washington and Oregon. The states of Utah and Idaho are grouped with Washington and Oregon in the discussion of this. competition.
There has been a steady increase in the receipts from the Pacific Coast (plus Utah and Idaho) both in quantity and in the percentage of the total receipts (fig. 30). Table 41, page 77 shows the total yearly receipts from the Pacific Coast states. The average prices received represent those for white eggs and brown or mixed eggs.
The heaviest shipments of eggs to New York occur during the seven months, February-August, inclusive. During these months 76 per cent of the receipts arrive (76 per cent, 1925; 76 per cent, 1924; 76 per cent, 1923 ; 77 per cent, 1922 ; 75 per cent, 1921 ; 75 per cent, 1920).
The bulk of the shipments of Pacific Coast eggs, both in quantity and percentage especially during the past two years has been received from October to March, inclusive (table 43, p. 79).
During 1925, two-thirds of the Pacific Coast receipts (66 per cent) arrived during the winter half year (1924, 70 per cent). The receipts from California have followed the same general seasonal variation as those from the remaining Pacific Coast area, although the percentage of receipts from California during the winter half-year has been slightly higher than the above mentioned (1925, 71 per cent; 1924, 78 per cent). Oregon and Washington especially have had less of a seasonal variation in interstate shipments, maintaining relatively higher levels during the summer months. The shipments from California during the fall and winter are high in comparison with actual egg production. Many eastern buyers store eggs in the spring for shipment in the fall and winter. Fresh eggs are used in the fall as local buyers store their own supply in the spring. Oregon and Washington produce relatively far more eggs for export than California. Receipts at producers associations in the two former states indicate a more even production throughout the year.
During the past year (1925-26) there has been a material increase in New York's supply of white eggs from the Pacific Coast. Notwithstanding the influx of this greater quantity, both actually and relatively to the total supply, the price obtained for them showed an
average gain over 1924 as compared with that of western firsts (table 41, p. 77). The greatest premiums of Pacific Coast whites over western firsts are usually obtained in the period July to November, this excess being especially noteworthy in November, because arrivals of white eggs on the New York market from points nearby are relatively small at this time.
: Q
Fig. 29. — The largest shipments of eggs have been made from California from October to March during the past three years. It would be fortunate for the egg producer if a greater fall production could be brought about. The shipments in March and April in spite of the low relative price tend to prevent the price from declining further (table 33, p. 68).
American Creamery.
Competition with the other Pacific Coast states in supplying this market has been particularly keen. During the past few years the other western states, especially Washington and Oregon, have been increasing their shipments more rapidly than California (fig. 32, p. 82 and table 42, p. 77). During the twelve months ending February 28, 1926, Washington crowded California for first place in shipments from the Pacific Coast, California supplying 44.6 per cent of this total, and Washington 43.1 per cent. The proportion of the receipts furnished by the various western states is shown by the following table :
Fig. 30. — Receipts of eggs from the Pacific Coast States (including Utah and Idaho) on the New York market have increased proportionately more rapidly than the total volume of receipts. There has not been a pronounced tendency for the receipts from California to increase. The receipts from the State of Washington have increased relatively more rapidly than the total receipts on the New York market and in addition more rapidly than the total volume of receipts from the Pacific Coast and far more rapidly than the receipts from California. The general tendency has been for Oregon to increase shipments since 1922. Utah receipts show a considerable volume and in 1925 receipts from Idaho are above 10,000 cases.* (Tables 39, 43, pages 74, 79.)
* Average price of white eggs covers firsts to extras (New York). Sources of data: 1920-1925 from March numbers of the New York Produce Review and American Creamery. 1926, Current data from Market News Service, Bureau of Agricultural Economics, New York City.
of Coses
Fig. 31. — While California eggs compete with those of 31 other states on the New York market, the more direct competition is with those states producing white eggs. The remaining Pacific Coast States (plus Utah and Idaho) and the states adjacent to New York are California's main competitors. The peak months for receipts on the New York market are April and May which are also the peak months for receipts from nearby states. The peak of shipments from the Pacific Coast has reached New York from one to three months earlier than either the peak of total shipments or the shipments from nearby states. During 1924, 1925, and 1926 especially, the trough in California shipments was opposite the peak of total receipts for New York. Data from table 43, p. 79.
Fig. 32. — California's northern competitors are increasing their interstate shipments more rapidly than California. Tables 42, p. 77, and 44, p. 83. Shipments from all three states tend to be larger in the fall and winter months. The increases from Oregon and Washington in the winter of 1925-1926 were quite striking. The tendency during April, May, June and July for 1925 and 1926 has been for Washington to hold shipments to a relatively higher level than California.
Prices of eggs on the New York and San Francisco markets. — There is a close correlation between the prices of Pacific Coast extras on the New York market and those of extra eggs on the San Francisco market,* although grades at New York are not strictly comparable with those at San Francisco. The classification on the former market
Source of data: Daily Market Reports on Butter, Cheese, Eggs and Dressed Poultry, issued from San Francisco Office, Bureau Agricultural Economics. Note that since Mar. 1, 1925, the periods have not been calendar month periods. All figures subject to revision.
is by the general reputation of the brand, or the opinion of the trader, rather than by an official inspection. Two other grades of white eggs on this market are also shown in figure 33 for the period, January, 1922-December, 1924. Beginning in January, 1925, the grade ' ' Firsts to extra firsts ' ' covers the two former grades of ' ' Extra firsts" and "Firsts." The range between the high and low quotations for Pacific Coast eggs is considerable. The adoption of uniform standards throughout the country would greatly facilitate studies of this nature.
Quotations are on New York grades.
Preference for white and brown eggs* — The preference for while or brown eggs in a city is perhaps dependent to a great extent on the type produced by most of the nearby henneries. The "nearbys" are usually advertised on the market as being the finest eggs available; then, those from a distance which most closely resemble "nearbys" are preferred as against the distant eggs of a different type.
Poultry production in the vicinity of Boston was started in the early days, when specialized henneries were not thought of, and such American breeds, as Wyandottes, Plymouth Rocks, and Rhode Island Reds, were developed as representing the ideal breeds. The center of activity for such breeds was in the New England territory. Since the ' ' nearby ' ' eggs in Boston were browns, no egg could be represented as being a ' ' nearby ' ' unless it was brown ; consequently, Boston began to prefer the brown product, and has continued to do so. Along with the preference for the brown shell has continued a preference for a distinct "eggy" flavor and for yolks of considerable color, as an indication of richness.
henneries were operated, and the White Leghorn was soon recognized as the most efficient egg-producing breed. New York's supply of "nearbys" was largely white-shelled, and nothing but these could be represented as "nearbys" there. New York developed preference for white-shelled eggs, with the mild flavor and light colored yolk usually found in the product of specialized henneries.
Florida markets prefer white shelled eggs for a similar reason. Many other markets, such as Philadelphia, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Chicago, have no particular preference, but fluctuate from one to the other, according to the type which is being pushed forward as the finest in that particular market.
COLD STORAGE HOLDINGS
Shell eggs. — Refrigeration not only has brought distant areas within reach of the large centers of consumption but has aided materially in the distribution of poultry products throughout the year. Eggs start into storage in the spring of the year (fig. 34, p. 87). The seasonal variations in storage holding during the ten years (19161926) for the nation indicate that on March first the stocks in storage are almost nothing — 0.2 per cent of the normal August first holdings. The storage movement for the country begins in March; by April first, the stocks constitute 4 per cent of the normal yearly storage, as of August first. By far the larger amounts (over 70 per cent) are stored during April and May, the months of the largest receipts on the nation's markets. In June, also, there is a considerable movement into storage which continues through July although withdrawals are also made during this month. The peak of the storage holdings (when considering only the first day of each month) is August first. With the decline in receipts on the markets of the country, storage eggs are withdrawn. The outward movement assumes larger proportions in October, when fall receipts are becoming less, and in November and December it is at a maximum. During these two months between forty and fifty per cent of the eggs reported in storage on August first are withdrawn. The out-of-storage movement continues during January, a month of relatively low production and receipts, but it is not as great as during either November or December. During February storage removals are normally small although they are subject to relatively large fluctuations, since the product cannot very well be carried over into the next storage season. At times high levels of winter storage holdings act as a drag upon the market since the
Fig. 34. — On March first of each year storage stocks of shell eggs are normally depleted. During the months of April and May over 70 per cent of the eggs are normally placed in storage. The peak of the holdings is approximately August first. Although there is a decline in holdings from August first to March first, withdrawals are greatest during October and November. Data from table 49, p. 91.
Fig. 35. — In general the seasonal variation at San Francisco follows the variation of the nation as a whole except that stocks are depleted earlier than in the nation as a whole and the into storage movement is relatively more important during March. The early spring in California accounts for this difference. Data from table 47.
new storing season starts on the first of March. On March 1, 1926, the holdings amounted to 75,000 cases, a figure three times as great as the five-year average (1921-1926) for the same date. Normally, large holdovers exert a depressing effect upon the market. Weather conditions greatly affect production throughout the entire country and must always be reckoned with.
While the statements above are true with reference to the normal movements during the ten years, 1916-1926, monthly holdings vary from year to year. The variation during the first month of storage activity is quite marked (table 46, p. 87). Likewise, during the months of December, January, and February there is considerable variation, as the storage season draws to a close.
Holdings for California points follow in general the variation for the country as a whole. On account of the early spring the storage season begins and ends earlier in the year (compare tables 46 and 47).
Fig. 36. — The movement of frozen eggs differs somewhat from that of shell eggs in storage. The holdings of the former fluctuate less and are not reduced to the zero point but increase after the flush season of egg production in the spring. The high point is reached in September. Data from table 49, p. 91.
Cold storage holdings of frozen eggs. — In the larger centers of concentration, there always will be found a considerable number of dirty or weak and cracked eggs, which cannot be shipped. These are often broken out of the shell and frozen solid in order to make shipment possible and to check deterioration. Since the quantity of the frozen eggs in storage is far less than the holdings of shell eggs, and
since they can be held over from one season to another, the fluctuations are not so great. The stocks, therefore, are never reduced to the zero point. The normal low point is in April. There is an increase after the flush season in the spring and the high point is reached in September. A gradual decrease then occurs until the low point is reached. The imports of frozen eggs are of considerable importance (table 71, p. 122).
Fig. 37. — The etched portions of the diagram above the O line represent the trade requirements of the San Francisco, Chicago, Philadelphia, Boston and New York markets. From August to February these markets draw upon cold storage holdings to supplement the receipts during these months. The markets do not require all of the receipts during the period of high production — March to July — and eggs are placed in storage. Trade requirements during 1924 and 1925 were lighter during the summer months. Data based on calculations (weekly) from Bureau of Agricultural Economics.
44,986
Sources of data: Years 1920-1924 furnished to author by the Bureau of Agricultural Economics. 1925-1926 obtained from the monthly issue of the Bureau Agricultural Economics Agricultural Situation. Frozen Egg classfication 1926: Whites 25%, Yolks 25%, Mixed 50% (approximate percentages).
United States. — The trend of farm prices for chickens in the United States has been upward since 1910. Reference to figure 38 will show that the relative chicken prices and the "All Commodity Index" are fairly close together until 1916, when the latter began to climb more rapidly. The greatest distance between the two indices was in 1917. Conditions were more favorable during the next three years, and in 1921 chicken prices remained higher than all commodity prices during the depression. Since 1921 the purchasing power of chickens in the United States has been above 100. It should be noted that the base used in computing the chicken price relatives is August, 1909-July, 1914, while the "All Commodity Index" used is based upon the period January, 1910-December, 1914 (columns I and II, table 50; column III based upon calendar years 1910-1914).
Source of data: Relative price from the Bureau Agricultural Economics Supplement to the Agricultural Situation, June, 1925, and subsequent numbers of the Bureau Agricultural Economics Agricultural Situation. Purchasing power computed by dividing relative price by all commodity index (Bureau of Labor Statistics).
Prices and purchasing power of Leghorn hens, small broilers and fryers at San Francisco and Los Angeles. — It is difficult to compare the trends in prices and in purchasing power of Leghorn hens, small broilers, and fryers on the California markets with the chicken prices in the entire country. While the statistics for the relative prices of chickens in the United States are based on weighted figures, this is not possible for California because of a lack of sufficient data on production and receipts. For local price studies on poultry, Leghorn hens, small broilers, and fryers have been selected, as they are perhaps of
most interest to the California poultry-man. Prices are based on the wholesale quotations at Los Angeles and San Francisco throughout the year. Hence, the average price per year is the average of twelve monthly averages although a large percentage of one grade may be sold from the farms during three or four months of the year. Data are comparatively incomplete for San Francisco on account of changes in the methods of reporting quotations. For monthly prices, the reader is referred to tables 51 to 57.
Fig. 38. — In the United States as a whole the relative prices of chickens and all commodities index were not far apart from 1910 to 1915. In 1916 the all commodities climbed more rapidly than the chicken prices. In the depression in 1921 the former declined more rapidly than the latter. Since 1921 the purchasing power of chickens in the country as a whole has been favorable.* Data from table 50, p. 92.
The increase in the poultry flocks of the state has been confined almost entirely to Leghorns. Unquestionably, an enormous increase has taken place in the volume of Leghorn hens, small broilers, and fryers sent to market. This increase in volume is reflected in the relatively small increase over pre-war prices, which have prevailed during the past three years. The purchasing power of poultry in California does not compare favorably with that in the United States as a whole.
The data available offer some interesting comparisons of prices, however. From 1905 to 1920 broilers commanded a higher average yearly price on the Los Angeles market than fryers. In 1920 this position was reversed and fryers were quoted higher. Again in 1923 broilers reached a higher average. This lead was maintained until 1924 when both averages moved together for a year. During 1925, however, fryers declined rapidly. Poultrymen would do well to take cognizance of this variation. During the period for which data are available, Leghorn hens show a relatively lower price than either fryers or broilers. The calculations for seasonal fluctuation (table 59, p. 104) are based on a six-year period for which complete data are available. A casual inspection of figure 39 reveals the fact that especially since 1917 have seasonal fluctuations in price been marked when compared with the years 1907-1917. The great activity in culling during the past few years undoubtedly has had much to do with the decided drop during the summer months.
Unlike the trends for chicken prices for the country as a whole, the purchasing power of both Leghorn hens and broilers has been downward on the Los Angeles market. The downward movement started in 1916 and only once since that time (1921) has the purchasing power been favorable. Leghorn hens held up better in purchasing power than broilers until 1923 when broilers were at an advantage. This condition prevailed during 1924, but in 1925 the relative prices for Leghorn hens again exceeded that for broilers. The quotations given for Leghorn hens are for No. l's. Unfortunately, the hens sold are not all No. 1 's. The results show that with this particular grade there has been but little improvement in returns to the grower — although 1926 (first nine months) shows a decided improvement. For all hens sold, however, there has been an improvement in the returns during the past three years. Owing to the work of improving breeding stock primarily through the activities of the accredited hatchery, the percentage of off -grade hens tends constantly to decline.*
Comparative quotations are also difficult to give on Leghorn hens because the weight requirements on the Los Angeles Produce Exchange vary from year to year and may vary from month to
Los Angeles
Fig. 41. — From 1910 to 1914 the prices of Leghorn hens and broilers were fairly constant. In 1915 while the relative prices of both hens and broilers declined the purchasing power of both declined still more rapidly. In spite of the fact that the relative prices of both hens and broilers increased from 1915 to 1919 the prices were not favorable to the poultryman as the purchasing power declined. 1921 was a favorable year for the poultryman as the purchasing power went above 100. Since 1921 there has been not only a decline in the relative price but also a decline in purchasing power. Data from table 53, p. 99.
month. Three or four years ago (1922-1923) off-grade hens sold for as low as 11 cents per pound. At that time 27 per cent of the hens received on the Los Angeles marked weighed less than 3 pounds, some as low as 2.5 pounds. At the present time the percentage is much
lower and this has produced more favorable returns to the grower owing to a lesser quantity of off-grade product. The demand for Leghorn hens in Los Angeles is much improved compared with 1922 and 1923. f Although the complete data for fryers are not available, an inspection of figure 39 indicates that fryers have undoubtedly followed broilers fairly closely.
Source of data: Weekly quotations have been obtained from the California Cultivator. The monthly quotation has been computed by the author from the arithmetic mean of the weekly quotations. The average for the year is a simple arithmetic mean of the twelve monthly quotations.
on Leghorn hens are comparable only since 1918.
The prices on the San Francisco market show the same general trends as those at Los Angeles. From 1912 until 1919, prices for small broilers were above those for fryers ; since 1919, there has been an alternating movement between small broiler and fryer prices of from one to two years' duration. Leghorn hen prices have shown less of a tendency to fluctuate during the past three years than from 1918 to 1922.
With 1913 as a base, the relative prices of fryers and small broilers show a decline (table 58, p. 103). Leghorn hen prices would undoubtedly show the same movement if data were available.
Source of data: Weekly quotations have been obtained from the California Cultivator. The monthly quotation has been computed by the author from the arithmetic mean of the weekly quotations. The average for the year is a simple arithmetic mean of the twelve monthly quotations.
Source of data: Weekly quotations have been obtained from the California Cultivator. The monthly quotation has been computed by the author from the arithmetic mean of the weekly quotations. The average for the year is a simple arithmetic mean of the twelve monthly quotations.
Sources of data: Column I, Bureau of Labor Index converted to a 5-year base (1910-1914), published in the Supplement to the Agricultural Situation, June, 1925, pp. 54-62. Columns II and V, computed from arithmetic mean of weekly wholesale quotations in the California Cultivator. Columns III and VI, average 1910-1914 = 100. Columns IV and VII, relative prices deflated by the All Commodity Index. The term relative value is used to denote purchasing power.
Source of data: Weekly quotations have been obtained from the Pacific Rural Press. The monthly quotation has been computed by the author from the arithmetic mean of the weekly quotations. The average for the year is a simple arithmetic mean of the twelve monthly quotations.
Fig. 42. — Leghorn hens are comparatively low in price during the months of June, July, August, and September. The high indices have been in February and March. The effect of the large number of broilers on the market can be noted especially from April to September. The volume of fryers come to market later than the broilers and the low indices occur from June to January. Data from table 54.
Source of data: Weekly quotations have been obtained from the Pacific Rural Press. The monthly quotation has been computed by the author from the arithmetic mean of the weekly quotations. The average for the year is a simple arithmetic mean of the twelve monthly quotations.
Source of data: Weekly quotations have been obtained from the Pacific Rural Press. The monthly quotation has been computed by the author from the arithmetic mean of the weekly quotations. The average for the year is a simple arithmetic mean of the twelve monthly quotations.
Fig. 43. — Large Leghorn hens have less of a range in quotations than either small broilers or fryers. June, July, August, and September are the months of comparatively low prices. Small broilers show a considerable range of variation, being 25 per cent above the normal year's quotation in March and over 27 per cent below in June. The peak in the quotations for fryers is in April while the low point comes in October. Data from table 59, p. 104.
Sources of data: Column I, All Commodity Index, Bureau of Labor Statistics, 1913 = 100. Columns II and V, see Tables 55, p. 100, and 56, p. 101. Columns III and VI, 1913 = 100. Columns IV and VII, relative prices deflated by the All Commodity Index as modified for 1913. The term value is used to denote purchasing power.
Seasonal variation in price — Leghorn hens, small broilers and fryers. — On the basis of wholesale quotations for seven years at Los Angeles, March stands out as the high month for Leghorn hens, and July as the low. From October to May the price has been above normal and from June to September, below. The decline continues from March to July, being greatest from May to June. The culling season brings large numbers of hens to the market during the summer months. A gradual increase in the relative price occurs from July to November, when a secondary peak is reached, December being lower than November. From November to March there is another increase. These indices show what has happened, and should not be regarded as infallible guides to the future (fig. 42).
Wholesale prices on Leghorn hens at San Francisco show the same general seasonal tendencies as those at Los Angeles although the peak month is February. The range in variation has not been as great at San Francisco as it has been at Los Angeles (table 59, p. 104).
There has been a tendency during the past three years (1923-1925) for the range of variation throughout the year to lessen. There has been but little variation from October to May although a greater decline can be noted during May and June. This may be due perhaps to the practice of early culling. The four low indices — June, July,
and March can also be traced.
April stands out as the high month for fryers on the San Francisco market. The decline is rapid until Jury when it slows down slightly but continues until the low point is reached in October. A gradual increase occurs until the peak month of April is reached. A slight rise in the prices of November over December is discernible — similar to that which occurred with Leghorn hens (table 59).
author based upon Tables 51, 52, 53, 55, 56 and 57. Median link relative method used.
In general, the Los Angeles variations over the eleven years, 19151925, follow the same course as those for San Francisco except that the low months (August and September) and the high months (March and April) are apparently earlier.
A comparison of the indices for the past three years, 1923-1925, with those for the first three, 1915-1918, shows but little tendency to change except during July when a higher index occurs. There has been a slight tendency for the indices to be lower during the last three months of the year.
Prices of small broilers are more subject to seasonal variation than those of either Leghorn hens or fryers. On the San Francisco market, the high month is March. A rapid decline takes place from the high
point in March to the low in June. A gradual rise then occurs, and a secondary peak is reached in November. After a decline in December, the indices ascend to the peak of the year in March.
The Los Angeles indices are most closely correlated to those for San Francisco. December, however, shows a higher seasonal index than January on the former market, while the reverse is true on the latter (table 59, p. 104).
During the past three years, prices for small broilers have declined to comparatively lower levels during April, May, and June, while in September and October, the indices are noticeably higher.
POULTRY RECEIPTS, COLD STORAGE
Receipts of live poultry. — The statistics on live poultry receipts are rather unsatisfactory, especially with reference to receipts from local points on account of the increase in the use of motor trucks for transportation. The receipts from eastern points, while evidently fairly accurate with reference to the number of cars received, are not segregated according to the grades of poultry. During 1925 thirteen states and Canada supplied 817 cars of live poultry to California. One state, Nebraska, supplied 530 cars or 61 per cent of the total (fig. 44). Five hundred twenty-four cars were shipped into the state during the six months from September to February, inclusive, the larger shipments entering during the months of relatively high prices in California.
Over one-half the total number of cars (432 out of 817) were destined for the Los Angeles market (table 61, p. 107). Nebraska and Texas furnished 72 per cent of the total receipts on this market from out-of-state points. Of the 293 cars billed for San Francisco, 235 or 80 per cent had their origin in Nebraska (table 62, p. 107), while 81 of the 91 cars shipped to Oakland originated in the same state (table 63, p. 108).
Reliable statistics for arrivals from California points are not available. The Bureau of Agricultural Economics reports 177 lessthan-carload lots, but owing to the use of trucks this figure is undoubtedly too small.
The 1924 statistics show that 250 cars from eastern points were shipped to San Francisco — 171 cars from Nebraska and 49 cars from Texas accounting for the bulk of the shipments. During the same year, 218 cars were reported from California.
Receipts of Live Poultry, California, 1925
Fig. 44. — California imported live poultry from 13 states west of the Mississippi Eiver. The above chart shows the number of cars originating in each state — Nebraska 530, etc. Data from table 60.
Comparatively complete statistics of poultry shipments from Petaluma indicate but little change during the ten years 1910-1919. Beginning in 1920, shipments increased very rapidly — almost doubling from 1919 to 1922 (fig. 27, p. 71). As previously stated, the statistics after 1923 are unreliable and hence are not given. The five months — May-September, have been the months of largest shipments. During 1922 and 1923, the bulk (1923 over 50 per cent) of the shipments were made in May, June, and July. Variations in the number of dozen poultry shipped are given in table 64, p. 108. Information as to the ultimate destinations of these shipments are unfortunately not available.
Dressed poultry ; receipts; cold storage. — Although most poultry is marketed alive by the producer, the dressed poultry market is becoming of more importance both in eastern and California markets. In 1925, only 13 per cent of the 4,801,000 pounds of dressed poultry received at Los Angeles originated in California, while more than one-half (52 per cent) of the 5,615,000 pounds arriving on the San Francisco market had its origin outside of the state (fig. 45) . Records from other cities and towns within the state are not available. Considerably over one-half of the receipts on the two largest California markets arrive during two months of the year— November and December. During the remainder of the year they are much less and fairly uniform. A large proportion of the receipts during November and December are no doubt turkeys.
During the months of excess receipts, the markets of the country are over-supplied for immediate needs and the surplus is placed in storage. The cold storage holdings of dressed poultry in the United States are heaviest from December to May as will be seen from the following indices of seasonal variation (fig. 47, p. 111).*
June 73 0 December 103.5
Data available for four markets (Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Chicago) for 1924 indicate that California was a minor factor in supplying them with dressed poultry. Only 528,000 pounds of the
Fig. 45. — The dressed poultry receipts are especially characterized by violent seasonal fluctuations, largely due to the holiday trade in November, December and January. California furnished less than 48 per cent of the receipts arriving at San Francisco in 1925 and only 13 per cent of the Los Angeles receipts. Data from tables 65, p. 112, 66, p. 113 and the Bureau of Agricultural Economics, U. S. D. A.
since 1917.
Data from table 67, p. 115, show January, February and March are the months of largest holdings. A decline to the low point of the year in either September or October then comes about. During the months of October, November and December the holdings accumulate rapidly. Equation of line of trend y t= 59.1 + 0.35 x, origin at Jan. 15, 1922 ; x unit = 1 month. Equation for line of trend of annual data y — 61.0 + 4.2 x, origin 1922.
Fig. 47. — Holdings are at the low point on September first. The peak is reached on February first. During November and December the largest amounts are placed in storage. Data from p. 109.
179,362,000 pounds, arriving on the New York market in 1924 originated in California (459,000 of the 170,257,000 in 1925). The first nine months of 1926 show an increase in the shipments of dressed poultry arriving from California on the New York market. The receipts January-September (inclusive) amounted to 528,000 pounds. The disposition of the poultry meat from the White Leghorn is one c_ "*." 7 t:V"!»is of California's poultry industry.
Cold storage holdings of poultry in the Pacific Area. — Data are now available giving the cold storage holdings of the various kinds of poultry in the Pacific area. The records of the period from January 1, 1924, to date indicate that the high points of broiler holdings occur during September, October, and November, while the low
Fig. 48. — The peaks arid troughs of the holdings of the various groups of poultry in the Pacific area do not coincide. The heaviest holdings during 1924 and 1925 were broilers, followed by turkeys and fowls. The broiler holdings accumulate beginning in June or July and the peak is reached during the following three or four months. Turkeys are placed in storage beginning with November while the peak is apparently reached in March. The into-storage movement of fowls starts in the summer and culminates in January. Data from table 69, p. 116. Current data in Monthly Supplement to Crops and Markets, U. S. D. A.
Fig. 49. — Cold storage holdings of poultry are generally heavier on the San Francisco market from December to May. During the months of heavy receipts the markets are over supplied for immediate needs. The excess is placed in storage at this time and is later drawn upon to supplement the receipts of the spring and summer months. It should be noted that even during the months when holdings are low, October and November, a considerable supply is on hand in storage. Data from table 68, p. 116.
PER CAPITA CONSUMPTION OF POULTRY
The apparent annual consumption of poultry per capita in the various industrial sections of the United States, according to investigations conducted by the United States Department of Labor in 19181919 * were as follows :
The Western States have a low per capita consumption of poultry compared with the United States as a whole. Especially noticeable is the low per capita consumption of hens and the high per capita consumption of other poultry.
The per capita consumption of poultry in rural districts is, from indications, eight to ten times that of the industrial centers. Surveys! of the United States Department of Agriculture indicated that the per capita consumption of poultry among 800 northern rural families was 45.4 pounds, while for 150 southern rural families the consumption was 58.0 pounds.
EXPORTS AND IMPORTS
Almost every county in the United States reported poultry to the census enumerators in 1920 ; hence, every state is a potential competitor of California. It is highly probable that poultry is kept in almost every inhabited section of the globe. Not only on account of competition in the domestic market but also on account of possible markets abroad should California poultry men be interested in the international poultry situation. If the poultry industry of the United States continues to expand more rapidly than the demand for its products, it will be imperative to seek a foreign outlet. Although the total foreign trade of the United States is of small importance compared with the domestic production, it is of particular interest to the poultryman of California not only because this state faces the second country of the world in the present production of poultry products (China), but also because of the fact that its main market faces the continent of Europe.
Because of the different forms in which the exported and imported eggs are moved, together with changes in schedules and lack of information as to the quality of each grade of product, it is impossible to compare the quantities exported and imported. A comparison of values, however, can be made. The value of the exports of poultry products in 1925 amounted to $9,469,632* while that of the imports totaled $10,523,758,* giving an excess of a trifle over one million dollars in imports. For all practical purposes the country in 1925 was just about self-sufficient.
The main export from the United States is shell eggs, and although the quantity in 1925 was less than in 1924, there has been a steady upward trend since 1895 — more pronounced since 1910. During the first six months of 1926, the exports of shell eggs far exceeded the totals for similar periods for 1924 and 1925. It will be noted that the imports of shell eggs were practically negligible in both amount and value (see fig. 50). They have varied in quantity and, in fact, have never assumed any considerable importance since 1896-1897 when exports exceeded imports. This situation has prevailed during every year since that time. During the past few years shell eggs have gone principally to Cuba, Mexico, Argentine, Canada, Panama, the United Kingdom, and several smaller countries in Central and South America. Argentine, during the spring months of 1926, was taking increasingly large amounts from this country. Alaska and Hawaii are of especial importance to the Pacific Coast, as each of these non-contiguous parts of the United States have received approximately one and one-half million dozens during the three years 1922, 1923, and 1924. The largest amounts of shell eggs have been imported from China, Hongkong (British Colony) and Canada. The foreign import trade of the United States during the past few years has been centering around various egg products, as a reference to table 71, p. 122, will show. The rapidity of advances made in the uses of eggs and the multiplicity of products have made the tabulation of statistical material difficult. For purposes of comparison, it perhaps will be best to group these various products. Whole eggs dried, whole eggs frozen, yolks dried, yolks frozen have been placed in one group, while egg albumen dried and egg albumen frozen have been put in another. The greater part of these products is imported during the second half of the year. China and Hongkong are the sources of these imports; imports recorded
Fig. 50. — There has been an upward trend in the exports of shell eggs since 1880. If the egg production continues to increase more rapidly than domestic consumption the United States must find markets for the surplus. The imports of shell eggs have been quite irregular. Since 1914 there has been a tendency for a decline, and since 1922 the imports have been negligible compared with the exports. Data from table 71, p. 122.
Fig. 51. — Although there has been a pronounced upward tendency in the imports of frozen and dried yolks and similar products, there is considerable variation from year to year. There has been no pronounced trend in the imports of egg albumen in various forms. The exports of egg products are almost negligible. Data from table 71, p. 122.
Commerce.
as coming from England are doubtless trans-shipments of Chinese products. Since 1910 there has been a most decided increase in the first group (see table 71, p. 122 and fig. 51, p. 121). The imports of egg albumen have not shown a pronounced trend although 1925 showed the highest importations since 1920.
imports.
Imports and exports — California ports. — Frozen and prepared eggs and egg products are the most important poultry products entering the ports of San Francisco and Los Angeles. During 1924 frozen products amounted to three million pounds with a value of approximately five hundred thousand dollars. The total value of imports of poultry products from abroad in the California customs districts was $835,504 in 1924, while the exports amounted to $179,147. The largest amount of the latter consisted of eggs in the shell.
The present tariff on eggs and poultry is as follows :
Par. 711. Birds, alive : Poultry, 3 cents per pound : all other valued at $5 or less each, 50 cents each; valued at more than $5 each, 20 per centum ad valorem. *
Par. 712. Birds, dead, dressed or undressed: Poultry, 6 cents per pound ; all other 8 cents per pound ; all the foregoing, prepared or preserved in any manner and not specially provided for, 35 per centum ad valorem.
Par. 713. Eggs of poultry, in the shell, 8 cents per dozen ; whole eggs, egg yolk, and egg albumen, frozen or otherwise prepared or preserved, and not specially provided for, 6 cents per pound ; dried whole eggs, dried egg yolk, and dried egg albumen, 18 cents per pound.
INTERNATONAL TRADE IN EGGS AND EGG PRODUCTS
Foreign trade in eggs and egg products was greatly disturbed by the World War, and trade channels are still changing most rapidly. Indications point to a resumption of the pre-war aspects of the trade. The trade of Russia, Germany, and Austria Hungary was particularly upset. The discussion in this publication will center around a
Courtesy IT. S. D. A. Photo from Yearbook, U. S. D. A., 1924, page 378.
description of the efforts being made toward the resumption of the pre-war trade, and in addition point out the increasingly intense competition on the world markets. It is also worthy of note that production in many countries contributing to the export trade is developing along modern lines. The largest exporters of shell eggs before the war were Russia, Austria Hungary, China, Denmark, Italy, and the Netherlands. Places of minor importance were held by Argentine, Egypt and the United States.
The two outstanding importers of shell eggs were Germany and Great Britain, although Belgium, France, Switzerland, Sweden, and Norway during the five years before the war imported them on a considerable scale.
In the exportation of egg products, China occupies the dominant position. Available statistics indicate that China has increased her exports six-fold since the period 1909-1913. Great Britain and the United States have received the bulk of these imports, although Germany is again appearing on this market. Some idea of the world situation can undoubtedly be obtained from a description of the
Source of data: U. S. D. A. Yearbook 1924, p. 1001.
developments which have been taking place in certain sections. Brief discussions of some of the advantages which certain sections of Europe possess in poultry raising are also given in a recent publication* of the United States Department of Agriculture.
Canada. — No economic study of any product can fail to take Canada into consideration. It has been alternately on the export and import list in poultry products. During 1924 and 1925 it was the market for considerable quantities of eggs from the United States.
The production of eggs on farms increased even more rapidly than that of poultry. A total of 224,778,867 dozen in 1925 was reached, an increase of nearlj^ six per cent over the 212,648,865 in 1924. The western provinces have shown the greatest progress, mainly because of the tendency there towards the diversification of agriculture. In 1918, there were only about 13 million head of poultry in the western provinces, but in 1925 this number had been increased to more than 20 million. Thus, where they were once dependent upon imports, they are now engaged in a considerable export trade.
t Not including Alberta.
Sources of data: Statistics for 1901, 1911, 1918-1924 furnished to author by U. S. D. A., Bureau of Agricultural Economics, Washington, D. C. Year 1925, mimeographed sheet from Dept. of Commerce, Foodstuffs 'Round the World, World Dairy and Poultry News, Mar. 24, 1926.
Mexico. — A remarkable development within recent years has been the increase in exporting eggs from the United States to Mexico especially since 1918. This increase is due partly to Mexico's decrease in production brought about by revolution, and partly to the difference in seasons of the two countries. In the large central plateau of Mexico, the season of greatest production is during December, January, and February. During the spring and summer — the rainy season — fewer eggs are produced, whereas the production in the United States is then at its height, Exports to Mexico in 1924 were 5,848,000 dozens.
the 1923 volume.
In 1924 the exports of eggs from the United States to Argentine more than doubled those of 1923. Customs officials state that all the eggs imported into the Argentine in 1 924 went in free of duty.
this country.
Other South American countries. — Statistics with reference to other South American countries are not important. Chile has imported small quantities of eggs from the United States.
Central America and the West Indies. — Of the Central American republics, Panama has been the most important receiver of eggs from the United States although other nations have at times taken varying amounts. The West Indies have been important customers of the United States, Cuba especially being a large importer.
Effect of European climate on poultry production and quality* — "It may be safely stated that if Europe, especially northern Europe, had the same ranges in temperature as the central United States, at least 10 per cent of their eggs and 50 per cent of their dressed poidtry as now handled during the summer would spoil before they could be marketed.
' ' In the United States, the January mean temperatures range from 10° to 30° F in the extreme northern section; 30° to 50° in the central sections; and 50° to 60° in the far southern sections. In Europe, on the other hand, the January temperatures average from 30° to 50°, except in Russia, which is much colder.
"The July temperatures in the central United States, the section of greatest poultry and egg production, average from 70° to 90° F. The corresponding temperatures in northern Europe are from 50° to 70° and in southern Europe, below a line drawn through northern Italy and upper Yugoslavia, the corresponding temperatures are from 70° to 80°.
"When it is considered that a point between 68° F and 69° F is the temperature at which a fertile egg will commence to develop an embryo, even though it subsequently dies, and that at a temperature of 90° blood will form in a fertile egg in three days, thus rendering it unfit for food, these temperature figures become especially important.
They show that in the egg-producing centers of the United States, during the summer months not only are the average temperatures continually above the physiological zero of the egg (68° F-69° F) but in vast areas they range around 90° and above, resulting in the rapid spoiling of fertile eggs. The larger portions of continental Europe, however have an average temperature of 50° to 70°, exceeding the physiological zero by only 2°, at which temperature germinal development is very slow. Even in southern Europe, the maximum average temperature of 80° is 10° less than that of central and southern United States.
" These lower summer temperatures explain why it is possible for the Europeans to gather and ship their eggs in the summer without refrigeration. They also explain why it is possible for poultry to be dressed in northern Europe, cooled without refrigeration, sold on the market without additional cooling, and reach the consumer in fair condition within three or four days after killing.
"The climate of Europe also indirectly affects the number of poultry produced in the same manner as it does the poultry production of the United States — that is, through its influence on the production of corn. In the United States the poultry production is the heaviest where the corn production is the greatest. This is also true in Europe. The largest exporting poultry section of Europe is the lower Danube Basin, including part of Austria, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, and Rumania, and adjacent Russian territory. This is also the main cornproducing section of Europe, as corn is not produced to any extent in any other section except in small areas in northern Italy and southern France. Corn is produced only in areas where there are warm nights, long growing seasons, and adequate rainfall. Thus, we may expect that the exportable poultry surplus in Europe will continue to come mainly from the lower Danube Basin and Russia.
"The egg supply will probably also increase in this area and in the sections of Europe adjacent to the large markets, such as Denmark, Netherlands, Germany, Belgium, France, and Ireland. In these countries interest in the keeping of poultry for egg production is developing more and more rapidly, and the flocks of poultry can be expanded even though a large part of the feed supplies must be purchased from abroad."
United Kingdom. — Since the war, the United Kingdom has been the world's largest importer of eggs, only 50 per cent of those consumed being produced at home. Eleven per cent are imported from the Irish Free State and only 2 per cent from other British possessions, foreign countries furnishing the British markets with 37 per cent of
the imports. The imports by countries are given in table 81, p. 135. Almost every exporting country in the entire world ships a portion of its product into the United Kingdom. The most striking feature of the import position is the severe reduction in supplies from Russia as compared with the years before the war.- The tendency now, however, is upward. This deficit has been made up by several parts of the former Russian Empire — Poland, Latvia, Lithuania, Esthonia, and Finland — together with Denmark, Egypt, and Holland. Among countries which were insignificant contributors before the war, but are now relatively important sources of supply, are China, Belgium, Argentine, Morocco, Canada, South Africa, the United States, and Norway.
In addition to the falling off in Russian offerings, there has been a decline of 3 or 4 per cent in imports from Italy, while those from Prance, Germany, and Austria-Hungary, which amounted to 10 per cent of the imports in 1913, have practically disappeared from the British market.
Of the quantities of eggs not in the shell, 97 per cent of the supplies (1924) were received from China, the British authorities estimating the number of eggs represented by this trade in 1924 at about 750,000,000.
Denmark. — With an area but 10.6 per cent of that of California, Denmark has built up an egg export trade which should attract the attention of every poultryman. The total number of chickens in the kingdom is not large, numbering approximately 20,000,000.
Denmark.
The exports during the past few years have numbered over sixty million dozens annually, of which England has taken the largest part. It is safe to say that this export has been built up on quality based upon a most careful system of grading and packing.
Germany. — Before the Great War, Germany imported even larger amounts of eggs than the United Kingdom. The yearly average for 1909-1913 was 228,279,000 dozens while for Great Britain it was 190,015,000 dozens during the same period. Since the close of the war, the imports appear to be rapidly regaining their former importance.
During the first eight months of 1924, 56,824,250 dozens in the shell were imported. The imports of egg products from China are again assuming importance. In proportion to her population Germany has rather a small poultry population. Poultry in 1925 numbered 71,300,000, which is .5 per cent less than in 1924, and .8 per cent less than in 1913. The decrease has been in ducks and geese, as the number of chickens in 1925 totaled 63,900,000, which is the same as for 1913, and an increase of .4 per cent over 1924.
Germany is also an important exchange center for eggs coming from Russia, Austria, and Bulgaria. Some of the best German eggs are exported, lower grades from other foreign countries replacing those which are exported.
Russia. — In the discussion of competition, Russia has all but been left out of consideration, yet in the few years before the Great War between 250,000,000 and 300,000,000 dozen eggs were exported, or more than 40 per cent of the total world exports. After the war other European nations increased their flocks and as a result exports have increased from a considerable number of nations comparatively insignificant in this trade before the war.
In 1923, Russia again began to ship eggs. The potentialities of egg production in Russia are enormous. ^Information from government officials indicates that large areas of Russia are growing corn, and as a result there undoubtedly will be an increase in egg production.
1925 59,300
The Department of Commerce states, ' ' During the first quarter of the 1925-1926 operative year, there were exported 2200 carloads of eggs, which constitutes 37.9 per cent of pre-war egg exports. Russian egg exports for the first quarter of 1925-1926 increased 89.9 per cent, compared with exports for the corresponding period of 1924-1925.' '
87,250,580
Sources of data: Information furnished author by Bureau of Agricultural Economics, Washington, D. C. 1925, mimeographed sheet issued by Dept. of Commerce, Washington, D. C. Foodstuffs 'Round the World, Worlds Dairy and Poultry News, Oct. 22, 1926.
The marked progress in the egg export trade during the first quarter of 1925-1926 is ascribed to the system of grading and assorting of export eggs put in practice for the first time in the Soviet export trade. As a result, the quality of Russian export eggs is said to improve continually, and in proportion as. egg exports increase, Soviet Russia's part in the world's egg trade is increasing.
During 1924-1925, eggs imported from Russia constituted 7 to 8 per cent of the total English and over 10 per cent of the total German egg imports, while in the first quarter of 1925-1926 the share of Soviet eggs in the total London egg imports was already 17.7 per cent and 33.2 per cent of the total German. About 50 per cent of Russia's total export wrent to Germany in 1924.
The egg season in Russia starts in March (15th to 30th) and ends the last of May. The eggs produced during this season are the so-called spring or grass eggs, which are not very good for export purposes. The second season starts at the beginning of July and ends by September
Poland. — During the past four years Poland has become a competitor in the international egg market, as the statistics of exports show. In 1922 the country exported 7,490,000 dozen eggs; in 1923, 19,508,000; in 1924, 15,316,000; while during 1925, exports rose to 39,829,773.*
At a recent meeting of the Poland State Agricultural Council, it was resolved to introduce egg standardization as a measure to increase Poland's competing ability abroad.
Latvia. — Another of the countries formed from the former empire of Russia — Latvia — plans to allow for export only fresh eggs weighing not less than 42 grams; and all exports before shipment will be examined by experts of the Chamber of Commerce.!
Lithuania (part of former Russian Empire). — Eggs are the principal item of foodstuffs exported from Lithuania. During 1925, 64,976,000 eggs were exported compared with 84,700,000 in 1924. This drop was caused by internal complications.
for eggs.
Italy. — The Italian exports before the war had attained considerable volume. During the years 1922 and 1923, the exports were only half of those of the pre-war years.
Hungary. — Although with an area much restricted as a result of the war, the export trade of Hungary is rapidly recovering. Exports of eggs in 1925 amounted to 21,010,000 dozens against 8,825,000 dozens in 1924. Poultry exports amounted to 21,051,500 pounds in 1925 as compared with 14,609,000 pounds in 1924. f Before the war the dual monarchy had a net export of approximately 90,000,000 dozen eggs.
8,386,491 dozen compared with 3,558,681 in 1925.
Bulgaria. — The estimated 1924 exports were 13,200,000 dozen eggs, compared with 7,920,000 dozens in 1923 and 26,400,000 in 1912. The Bulgarian exports in the past have gone mainly to Austria, Germany and France. Bulgarian eggs in 1924 were reported on the New York market.
Egypt. — Northern Africa comprises an area which has contributed greatly to the international trade in eggs. Most important in the export trade is Egypt. The following table shows the quantity of eggs exported during the past ten years:
Evidence points to a further decline during 1926, owing to a restriction placed on exports during the first three months of the year, when they are normally larger than at other times.
Nine-tenths of the total quantity of eggs exported from Egypt are shipped to England. Egyptian eggs enjoy a peculiar advantage by coming upon the market plentifully at a time of the year when production in other countries ceases.
Morocco. — During January and February, 1926, * 3,035,000 dozen eggs were exported from Morocco. Of these exports, 2,724,885 dozens were shipped to Spain, 220,460 to Great Britain, and 89,655 to France.
South Africa. — South Africa and other countries of the Southern Hemisphere are of great interest because of the fact that eggs can be placed on the market when supplies of fresh eggs are short in the Northern Hemisphere. During 1925, South Africa exported 2,392,950 dozen fresh eggs,t principally to the British market. This was an increase of 104,160 dozens over the 1924 exports — a gain of 4 per cent.
China. — Statistics as understood in the United States are not known in China. At best such as are available are mere estimates. Poultry farming has long been an important subsidiary industry among Chinese farmers. The following are the estimates of chickens and ducks in China, excluding five provinces, for the years 1917, 1918, and 1919.J ' ™ * ' ™ ,
1919 128,550,301 41,397,434
According to various estimates, the average number of eggs from a hen per year is from 72 to 84. The annual yield throughout the country is, therefore, enormous.
Exports were at first only in the form of fresh, preserved, and salt eggs. During the war these shipments were curtailed on account of the lack of transportation, but recovery was rapid in 1920 and 1921. During 1925, according to the Department of Commerce, the first nine months showed a decrease in the exports of shell eggs, 52,781,085 dozens against 57,938,250 for the corresponding period in 1924. On the other hand, egg albument and yolk showed an increase
from 41,999,895 pounds during nine months of 1924 to 57,733,190 in 1925. Owing to the difficulties of transportation, indications are that the exports in products other than shell eggs have increased most rapidly. This has been especially the case with egg albumen and yolks, where a steady increase can be noted — the exports in 1908
being 8,450,589 pounds against 71,059,700 in 1924. The exports of frozen eggs have not shown such a steady upward trend but have been characterized by rather violent fluctuations. The average exports for the three first years available, 1914-1916, give evidence of approximately 20,000,000 pounds of frozen eggs, while during the past three years, 1922-1924, there seems to be an increase of 100 per cent, or 40,000,000 pounds.
The destinations of the exports are given in table 89, p. 143.
Japan and Great Britain are the most important foreign markets ; next are Hongkong and the United States. Although the production of eggs in China is undoubtedly enormous, it is small in comparison to the population.
Australia. — On account of the reversal of seasons, Australia has been able to place eggs on the English market at a profit and expectations are that increased quantities will be shipped to England in the future. Although Australian eggs must travel half way around the world to reach the English market, the prices obtained in 1925 were
White Leghorns.
New Zealand. — Exports of eggs from New Zealand during 1923 amounted to 109,990 dozens which during 1924 increased to 200,070 dozens. No eggs were exported during 1925 on account of strike conditions. The poultry population of New Zealand in 1924 was approximately four million.
Japan. — Although the poultry industry is of recent origin, Japanese eggs have appeared on American markets. Japan, however, imports large quantities of eggs from China.
3 Less than 500.
International trade, Poultry. — The international trade in live and killed poultry is largely confined to Europe (tables 91 and 92). The United Kingdom, Canada, and Mexico import considerable quantities of poultry from the United States while Canada, Hongkong, and Argentine export considerable quantities to the United States. For a complete summary of the foreign trade for the United States during 1924, the reader should consult tables 72 and 73, pp. 125-128.
L. W. FLUHARTY, Farm Management Demonstrator
Data on the cost of producing eggs which is presented in the following pages of this bulletin covers a period of one year from November 1, 1924, to October 31, 1925 (a year of relatively high egg prices). This project was started for the purpose of conducting a comprehensive and accurate poultry survey and in addition to obtain data on costs and income from commercial poultry farms of different sizes and types. During a series of years it is hoped that the efficiency of various management factors on commercial poultry farms can be determined. The information gathered from this project, simply indicates valuable possibilities in this type of study. The results should not be regarded as final. Thirty-eight poultrymen in Sonoma County kept complete cost records on their poultry flocks. Each cooperator sent a monthly summary of costs to the farm advisor's office where they were checked for errors and omissions. This method of procedure was followed in order to secure accurate information.
SIZE OF FLOCKS
The 38 flocks involved in this study ranged in size from an average of 144 to 5171 birds per flock. For the purpose of studying the relation of size of flocks to profits and various other factors the records were divided into three groups. Group I includes all flocks with an average of less than 751 hens; Group II, flocks having from 751 to 1500 hens ; and Group III, those having more than 1500 birds. The size of the flock was based on the average number of hens throughout the year.
Relation of size of flocks to profits. — From this study indications are that the size of the flock bears a direct relationship to the success of the poultry keeper. This factor is of special importance to those producers who depend upon poultry as the major source of income. The small flocks may be a profitable venture for the operator who devotes to its care only time not otherwise profitably employed (table 93). On the other hand, the medium-sized flock (Group II) appears to be too large for a minor enterprise, but too small for efficient management. This fact is apparent when net profits on all three groups are compared.
The effect of size of business upon profits is again evident when a comparison is made of farm income from the three groups. The farm income from Group III is the only one which is fully sufficient to maintain a satisfactory standard of living for an American farm family.
* Gross income includes income from all sources as itemized in Table 95. Total cost includes all expense as itemized in Table 96. Net income is the difference between gross income and total expense. Farm income is the gross income minus operating expense (operating expense includes all expenditures for feed, stock replacements, taxes, water and hired labor; operating expense does not include operator's labor or interest on investment). Labor income is the amount received by operator for his labor after 6% interest on investment has been deducted from the farm income.
Relation of size of flock to investment. — Land, buildings and equipment constituted the largest items of investment on 35 of the 38 farms in the study. These items made up 71 per cent of the total investment; while feed, carried throughout the year, and stock, constituted the other 29 per cent of invested capital (table 94).
This table indicates a less efficient use of capital in the intermediate sized flocks than in either the small or the large flocks. The investment in land, buildings, and equipment per hen is more than 40 per cent greater than for either of the other two groups. Fixed capital invested in these items was 77 per cent of the total investment as compared with less than 69 per cent for Groups I and III.
Relation of size of flock to income. — The sale of market and hatching eggs comprised 93 per cent of the total income on all 38 farms where records were kept (table 95).*
The most important single source of income on all farms was from the sale of market eggs. In the first two groups, the sale of hatching eggs was of little importance, but in Group III receipts from hatching eggs comprised almost 14 per cent of the total.
Relation of size of flock to expense. — All items of expense have been included in table 96 except the cost of marketing, i.e., delivery to market, grading, packing, inspection and commission. Cost of marketing has been deducted from prices received at the market in order to get the net farm price.
More than one-half of the total expense (53.8%) on all farms was for feed alone, while about one-fifth (19.1%) was for family and hired labor (table 96). The outlay for stock made up the next highest item (17.3%). Miscellaneous items such as water, taxes, insurance and
* Eeliable estimates indicate that the income from eggs in White Leghorn flocks in Centra] California is from 85-87 per cent of the total income. Interview, E-. H. McDrew, Poultry Producers of Central California, Nov. 9, 1926.
interest on investment made up a little less than one-tenth (9.8%) of the total. The cost of feed comprises 70 per cent of the total cash expense when not figuring operator 's labor and interest on investment.
Belation of size of flock to cost of producing eggs. — Feed, which is the largest single item of expense, was highest per hen but lowest per dozen eggs for small sized flocks (Group I). The comparatively low feed cost per dozen in this group is accounted for by the larger number of eggs produced per hen (table 97).
Those flocks with an approximate average of 1000 birds (Group II) had a labor cost higher than either of the other two groups. Apparently a flock of this size is too large to be handled as a minor enterprise, but too small for efficient use of the entire time of the operator. Items of expense other than feed and labor were quite uniform for all sizes of flocks.
Relation of size of flock to profits. — The gross income per hen was higher in the small flocks (Group I) than in the intermediate or large flocks because of the larger egg production per hen. On the other hand, the gross income per dozen was lower in the intermediate sized flocks than in the other two groups.
The total cost per hen was smaller in Group III because of lower feed and labor cost for this group. The average net income of Group I was much higher than that of either of the other two groups, as was also the farm and labor income per hen. A study of all factors indicates that the higher farm and labor incomes in Group I were due in a large part to the relatively large number of eggs per hen. The higher farm and labor income per hen for Group III over Group II was due to the more efficient management of the flock, particularly with reference to labor.
Relation of size of flock to various management factors. — The average production of eggs per hen was smaller in the large sized flocks (Groups II and III) than in the smaller flocks. This difference in egg production maybe explained in part at least because (1) the small flocks were culled more heavily, and (2) their mortality was about 8 per cent less (table 99).
Although the amount of feed consumed per hen was heaviest in the small flocks, the amount of feed required to produce a dozen eggs was less because of the heavier egg production per hen.
* Percentage culled is based on the number of hens sold for any purpose during the year, as related to the average number of hens in the flock during the year. Percentage mortality is the percentage of hens which died during the year as related to the average number of hens in the flock. Percentage replacements is the number of hens it would have been necessary to add in order to replace hens which died or which were sold during the year. Percentage added is the relation of the number of hens actually added to the original number at the beginning of the study.
PRODUCTION AS RELATED TO COSTS AND PROFITS
The 38 records were divided into four groups on a basis of the average number of eggs laid per hen for the purpose of making a study of the effect of quantity of production upon costs and profits. Those farms having an average production from 113 to 128 eggs per hen were included in Group I ; flocks averaging from 129 to 144 in group II ; those averaging from 145 to 155 in Group III ; and those from 145 to 180 in Group IV.
Relation of number of eggs per hen to cost of production. — The relation of number of eggs per hen to feed cost per hen and per dozen is very marked. An increase in the average number of eggs produced per hen apparently increases the feed cost per hen, but decreases the cost per dozen (table 100).
There was an increase of 33.6 per cent in average egg production between Groups I and IV which was accompanied by only a 5.4 per cent increase in cost of feed consumed. The total cost of maintaining a hen increased slightly as the average number of eggs per hen increased, but the range of increase from Group I to Group IV is small as compared with the increase in production.
Relation of number of eggs per hen to profits. — There was an increase of 153 per cent in net profits between the first and fourth groups of farms. This increase was much greater in proportion than the 33.6 per cent in average number of eggs produced per hen (table 101).
Group III, which produced an average of 149 eggs per hen, showed an even greater net profit per hen than did Group IV, which had an average of 163 eggs per hen. This condition existed largely because of the higher labor cost in Group III. The relationship between
number of eggs per hen and both farm and labor income is also quite striking. An increase of 50 per cent in egg production was accompanied by a 72 per cent greater farm income and a 100 per cent increase in labor income.
Relation of number of eggs per hen to other factors in egg production.— The general tendency apparent in table 102 is for high egg production to be accompanied by heavy culling.
Many poultrymen believe that high egg production is accompanied by heavy mortality. The table above indicates that such was not the case in this study, but that those methods of flock management which caused high egg production also maintained the health of the flock. This condition might also be brought about by heavy culling. This table also indicates that while the pounds of grain and mash consumed per hen did not vary greatly with numbers of eggs produced, that the quantity of feed per dozen decreased quite uniformly as number of eggs per hen became larger.
HATCHING AND COMMERCIAL EGG FARMS
Of the 38 cooperators in the study, 11 sold an average of 20 per cent of their total egg production for hatching purposes. Five of the hatching egg producers trap-nested their flocks and six of them did not. A tabulation was made of these groups in order to make a study of the relative cost of egg production (table 103).
Feed cost, as might be expected in view of the greater egg production, was highest for the hatching egg flocks. The same condition holds regarding labor cost, which was 31 per cent larger for the trapnested flocks than for hatching egg flocks not trap-nested, and 43 per cent larger than commercial egg farms. The total cost of keeping a hen in the trap-nested flocks was 11.4 per cent more than in flocks not trapped and 25.8 per cent higher than for commercial egg producers.
Comparative profits on hatching egg and commercial egg farms. — Trap-nest breeders made a little larger net profit per hen than did either hatching egg producers not trap-nesting or commercial egg operators (table 104). •
When the farm income is considered, the operators who trap-nested are but little better off than the commercial egg producers, while hatching egg producers not trapping made 11 cents per hen greater farm income. Farm income was smaller for trap-nest operators than either of the other two, because of the heavy investment in buildings and equipment. Had the management of the commercial flocks been such as to have produced as many eggs as did the trap-nest flocks, their farm income would have been $1.53 per hen.
Sources of data: Years 1890, 1900, 1910, and 1920 from Dept. of Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, U. S. 5: 610, 1922. Year 1925 from preliminary data furnished author by Census Bureau. Remaining data for January 1, 1925, is being compiled by Census Bureau.
Figures for 1890 and 1900 relate to June 1; for. 1910 to April 15 and for 1920 and 1925 to January 1. Sources of data: Years 1890, 1900, 1910, and 1920 from Dept. of Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, U. S. 5: 680, 1922. Year 1925 from preliminary data furnished author by Census Bureau. Remaining data for January 1, 1925, is being compiled by Census Bureau.
Sources of data: Years 1890, 1900, 1910 and 1920 from Dept. of Commerce, Bureau Census, Fourteenth Census, U. S. 5: 682, 1922. Year 1925 from preliminary data furnished author by Census Bureau. Remaining data for January 1, 1925, is being compiled by Census Bureau.
t Includes estimates. For purposes of comparison these columns should be used.
For purposes of comparison these columns should be used. t The number of eggs reported as produced does not equal the number of eggs shipped from l^etaluma, see Table 33. The author believes the Census figures are perhaps a little low. The above table, however, is useful for purposes of comparison.
Source of data: Monthly figures are based on arithmetic average of Wednesday quotations appearing in California Cultivator. Computations involving use of wholesale prices are based upon the above table, except where otherwise noted. All quotations are net.
Source of data: Monthly net wholesale quotations, computed by obtaining arithmetic mean of Wednesday quotations appearing in the Pacific Rural Press. Only net quotations were used, the discounts from January 1, 1918 to December 31, 1925 being deducted. All computations based on wholesale prices at San Francisco are based upon the above table except where otherwise noted.
278. Grain Sorghums.
279. Irrigation of Rice in California. 283. The Olive Insects of California. 294. Bean Culture in California.
328. Prune Growing in California. 331. Phylloxera-Resistant Stocks. 335. Cocoanut Meal as a Feed for Dairy
Orchard Heating in California.
The Blackberry Mite, the Cause of Redberry Disease of the Himalaya Blackberry, and its Control.
A Study of the Relative Values of Certain Root Crops and Salmon Oil as Sources of Vitamin A for Poultry.
157. Control of the Pear Scab. 160. Lettuce Growing in California. 164. Small Fruit Culture in California. 166. The County Farm Bureau.
209. The Function of the Farm Bureau.
210. Suggestions to the Settler in California. 212. Salvaging Rain-Damaged Prunes. 215. Feeding Dairy Cows in California. 217. Methods for Marketing Vegetables in
| 36,776 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | californiapoultr413voor | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0008.json.gz:4582 | https://archive.org/download/californiapoultr413voor/californiapoultr413voor_djvu.txt |
NSbIcUVWUPqm10om | Technical Writing for Technicians | Grammar Lesson – Possessive Pronouns & Other Commonly Confused Words
Possessive pronouns show ownership. Some are used alone; others are used to describe a noun:
- Used Alone: mine, yours, his, hers, ours, theirs, whose Example: That computer is hers.
- Used to Modify: my, your, his, her, its, our, their, whose Examples: That is her computer. The car needs its clutch replaced.
*Note that none of the possessive pronouns uses an apostrophe to show ownership.
Commonly Confused Possessive Pronouns (pp):
- Your (pp – Your home is lovely.) / You’re (contraction ‘you are’ – You’re going to do well.)
- Their (pp – Their dedication is strong.) / There (adverb – There are my gloves) / They’re (contraction ‘they are’ – They’re leaving soon.)
- Its (pp – Its tires are in need of changing.) / It’s (it is – It’s crucial to know the difference between it’s and its.)
- Whose (pp – Whose music is playing?) / Who’s (who is – Who’s going to the store?)
- Our (pp – Our friends have come over.) / Are (verb – Are you coming? How many are there?)
Commonly Confused Words in General
The following are examples of words that writers sometimes confuse:
- To (prep – We’ll walk to the store.) / Too (adverb – Too many mistakes were made. OR We’re going there too. [synonymous with ‘also’]) / Two (number – Two of us have to leave).
- Then (adverb – He then decided he should study for the exam.) / Than (conjunction to show comparison – I have more than you do). Used together: There were fewer problems back then than there are now.
- Every day (time expression – It happens every day.) / Everyday (adjective – These are my everyday clothes.)
- Witch (noun – She was a witch for Halloween.) / Which (pronoun – Which class is your favorite?)
- Led (verb [past tense of ‘to lead’] – We led them along the coast.) / Lead ([pronounced the same] noun – Older homes sometimes have lead paint.)
- Effect (usually a noun – It had a great effect on the audience.) Affect (verb [action word that can be conjugated into affected, affects, affected, affecting, etc.] – That essay affected me greatly.)
- Weather (a noun OR a verb – The weather is supposed to be cold today. OR They think they can weather the storm.) / Whether (conjunction to express a doubt or choice—I can’t decide whether to go out in this weather.)
- A lot (noun phrase—I have a lot of good writers this term. Allot (verb [allotted, allots, allotting]—I intend to allot fifty dollars a week to my retirement plan). *NOTE: Alot is not a word—be sure to include the space!). | 598 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://openoregon.pressbooks.pub/ctetechwriting/chapter/grammar-lesson-3-possessive-pronouns-and-other-commonly-confused-words-week-5/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:7686 | https://openoregon.pressbooks.pub/ctetechwriting/chapter/grammar-lesson-3-possessive-pronouns-and-other-commonly-confused-words-week-5/ |
ZTyXzRdWfbT17YA8 | The voyage of the 'Why not?' in the Antarctic : the journal of the second French South polar expedition, 1908-1910 / by Dr. Jean Charcot. English version by Philip Walsh. | INTRODUCTION
THE distance between Europe and the Antarctic is the principal cause of the apathy so long shown toward exploration in the latter region, while in the direction of the North Pole, on the contrary, explorations grew more and more numerous.
Recently, however, the South Pole has emerged from darkness. Voyagers and scientific men during the last two centuries have realized that our knowledge of the natural physical conditions of the globe must necessarily remain incomplete as long as there continues so large an unknown zone as that represented by the great white spot covering the southern extremity of the world, twice as vast as the whole of Europe.
The general public, too, has been aroused to a passionate interest in the subject. There is good reason, for there is no other region of which the study is more gratifying to explorers or to the scientific men who give their attention to the observations and collections made by the explorers. Everything there, indeed, is new, much is unexpected, and whoever makes up his mind to go thither is certain of important discoveries to reward his pains.
The circumnavigatory voyages and the expeditions of the Englishmen Cook and Eoss, the Russian Bellingshausen, the American Wilkes, the Frenchman Dumont d'Urville, combined with the gallant incursions of the English and American sealers, Biscoe, Morrell, Weddell, Palmer, Pendleton and Balleny, the German Dallmann, and the Norwegians
Larsen and Evensen, narrowed very considerably the limits of the great Terra Incognita which is supposed to exist, and already warranted the view that if the Arctic polar cap is composed of a frozen sea bounded by the northern coasts of Europe, Asia, and America, the Antarctic polar cap, on the other hand, is solid land or at least a vast frozen archipelago surrounded by sea.
A Belgian officer, Commandant de Gerlache, has the credit of spending the first winter amid the Antarctic ices on board the Belgica in 1897, his achievement being from all points of view a fine and productive piece of work. It had also the merit of exciting public attention, and undoubtedly it is to his example that we owe the very fruitful pilgrimages of the last few years to the Antarctic. In fact, after the wintering of the Anglo-Norwegian Borekegrevinck Expedition on Eoss Land, Europe organized a regular siege of the Antarctic. Beginning with 1902, there were to be seen the English captain, Scott (who had just started out again, having Shackleton with him as a partner) exploring Ross Sea and Victoria Land and making a magnificent raid across the great ice barrier ; the German professor, Van Drygalski, on the Gauss, wintering in the pack-ice in that difficult sector of the Antarctic Circle which lies south of Kerguclcn and discovering new lands there ; the Swedish professor STordenskjold, accompanied by the Norwegian captain Larsen, wintering under dramatic conditions — but conditions very important for science — east of Graham Land, whence the audacious dash of the Argentine captain Irizar brought him home; the Scottish doctor, Bruce, on board the Scotia, discovering Coates Land in Weddell Sea and bringing to a close one of the greatest of surveying campaigns ; and finally, in 1904, the little ship Francais, commanded by me, attempting to verify and continue the discoveries of De Gerlache, while wintering on the west coast of Graham Land.
struck by the absolute harmony between the heads of the expeditions and the savants who organized them; and also by the genuinely scientific spirit which animated them all. It is to be hoped that in the conquest of the Antarctic such will always be the case, to the great benefit of universal science. I am sure that in our enlightened age there will be thereby no diminution of the slight glory which explorers are able to shed on their own countries.
In 1908 Sir Ernest Shackleton accomplished his fine and gallant piece of exploration, too well known to all for it to be necessary to dwell on it here, which brought him within 179 kilometres (112 miles) of the Pole. And we on the Pourquoi-Pas ? were doing our best — without, however, any desire to challenge comparisons — in the region to the south-west of South America, with results which, thanks to the zeal and energy of my colleagues, the scientific world has been pleased to consider important.
The exploration of the Antarctic, therefore, has started and seems as though it will never cease until the conquest, however arduous and long of accomplishment it may still look, is complete. Captain Scott, indeed, has just set out again for the conquest of the South Pole itself, and we hear of great expeditions preparing in Germany and America. Lastly, the Argentine Eepublic, which has for several years kept up a permanent observatory on the South Orkneys, is anxious to establish another on the west coast of Graham Land, at the place where we wintered.
The diary of our late expedition forms the subject of my new book ; but I think I ought first of all to explain why I chose as my working-centre this inhospitable region, so unpromising at times and so distant from the actual Pole.
James Eoss in 1841, while skirting, in the sector of the Antarctic Circle lying south of Australia, a line of coast trending to the south — called by him Victoria Land — discovered an immense ice-cliff rising absolutely vertical and continuing
Great Barrier.
Borchegrevinek in 1900 climbed this cliff and ascertained the existence of an ice-plain stretching as far as the eye could reach. Lastly in 1902 the Discovery Expedition, skirting the Great Barrier, found King Edward VII Land bounding it on the east, and then, during the course of the winter on Victoria Land, crossed the barrier in a magnificent dash as far as 82° 17' South latitude. It was quite natural that Shackleton should return to these same regions, staked out by the explorers of his own country ; and it was equally quite natural that, after he had announced his intention of going there, I should abstain from directing my course thither, in spite of the attractions ; for one can sail as far south as 78° and from that point a vast flat plain seems to extend to the earth's axis. But, of necessity, two expeditions of different nationality, with the best intentions in the world and with the best of hearts, could not have avoided coming into rivalry over the glorious prize of the Furthest South ; and, great sporting interest as this rivalry would have had, it could not but have prejudiced completely the observations and perhaps the ultimate results. I must hasten to add, too, that I have no reason for supposing that we should have rivalled the magnificent results attained by my friend Sir Ernest Shackleton ; and therefore the pecuniary sacrifices which my country made would have been entirely wasted.
Besides, the Antarctic is a vast enough field to allow a number of expeditions to work there together with advantage. I resolved to return to the region which I had begun to explore on the Francais in 1903-1905, i.e. that mountainous projection, due south of Cape Horn, which seems as if it had once been a continuation of America and is improperly known under the general name of Graham Land. There I should be able to continue the researches of the Francais (themselves considered so valuable) in all branches of science, and to
verify, complete, and expand them. To the South Graham Land came to an abrupt end in 67° of latitude. Beyond, Alexander T Land rose amid the ice, scarcely visible and never yet approached. Was it a solitary island or part of a continent ? West of it an unknown zone stretched as far as King Edward VII Land. The Belgica, carried along by the drift, was able to make some interesting soundings in part of this zone, but the work required continuing as far as possible westward, where nothing had been made out except a small island, reported by Bellingshausen but questioned by some geographers. Had we any right to go on calling by the name of the ' Antarctic Continent ' this portion of our globe where the only indications of land to which we could point were two isolated peaks at a distance from one another ?
My exact object was to study in detail and from all points of view as wide a stretch as possible of the Antarctic in this sector of the circle, regardless of latitude. I knew that I had chosen the region where ice confronts the navigator as far north as 61°, where innumerable icebergs dot the sea, and where the coast-line is fringed with high mountains, to all appearance insurmountable. I had no hope therefore of approaching the Pole. Nevertheless, lest any one should cry ' Sour grapes ! ' I must hasten to say that if I had had the chance of stumbling on a road by which I could realise the dream of all Polar explorers I should have made for the Pole enthusiastically and shmdd certainly have spared nothing to reach it.
I had no means of foreseeing, however, what we might discover, and the unknown nature of my undertaking when I made choice of this sector of the circle rendered the organization of the expedition all the more difficult, since it was necessary to be ready for any emergency, and it wTas impossible, as in the case of an attack on familiar ground, to concentrate one's preparations for a struggle against forces which could not be foreseen.
I had entertained this project of a new expedition even before the end of my former one, and since my return to France, encouraged by the satisfaction the scientists showed with the results I had achieved, I had been looking for the means of realizing my plan. I submitted my programme to the Academy of Sciences, which appointed a committee to consider it and after a favourable examination decided to give its gracious patronage to this new expedition, issuing detailed instructions as to the work which it would like us to undertake. The Museum and the Oceanographical Institute similarly consented to be patrons. With such backers, success was surely inevitable.
Still it took me many long months before I could discern the possibility of raising the necessary funds, though I had no lack either of sympathy or of encouragement. The Paris Press never ceased to raise its powerful voice, in my behalf, while devoted friends like MM. Joubin and Eabot, and my own family, too — in spite of the prospect of a long and painful separation — never let me be discouraged.
At last my efforts had a result. I was lucky enough to interest in my work MM. Berteanx, Doumer, and Etienne, who were joined first by MM. J. Dnpuy and E. Poincare, and tljen by M. Briand, Minister of Public Instruction and M. G. Thomson, Minister pf Mai inc. Soon, after a favourable report had been issued by the Committee on Exploration, I was assured thai a handsome grant-in-aid would lie included in the Budget for presentation to the Chambers.
On the proposal of M. Doumer, indeed, the Chambers agreed to a vote of 600,000 francs in the Budget of the Ministry of Public Instruction.1 This proof of confidence on (he part of the French Governmenl and the patronage of our great learned societies were !<> me the finest recompense for the
efforts which I had made. To this sum were added later 100,000 francs subscribed by generous donors, including asum of 10,000 francs from the Geographical Society of Paris and grants from the Museum, the Paris Municipal Council, and the Chambers of Commerce of the big French towns.
The Ministry of Marine put at the disposal of the Expedition three naval oilicers and promised me 250 tons of coal, the dredging outfit which had already been used on the Fran?ais, and all the necessary instruments, maps, and documents which could be provided by the Surveying Department and the arsenals.
The, Prince of Monaco, whose own labours and great generosity have given such an impulse to surveying work, offered the Expedition a complete oceanographical outfit.
The Museum, the Bureau des Longitudes, the Montsouris Observatory and private observatories, the Meteorological Department, the Agronomic Institute, the Pasteur Institute, and several celebrities in the world of science enriched with loans and gifts our scientific arsenal, already increased by purchases from the funds of the Expedition, until it became one of the richest and completest ever carried by a polar expedition.1
Large as was our banking-account in the end — 800,000 francs — most South Polar expeditions sent out by other countries have had at their disposal much larger sums, and it is not one of the least of my grounds for pride that we succeeded in organizing ours in so perfect a way at so small an expense, especially when one considers that the ship (which alone cost 400,000 francs) was brought back with the greater part of the equipment in good condition. Account must be taken of the outlay necessary on the wages of the crew for iwo years, the costly scientific instruments of which I have just
spoken, the food for thirty men for three years, and all the stores required. If I was able to attain so good a result, my thanks are due for the generous interest shown by individuals, including perfect strangers, by the governments of Brazil, the Argentine Eepublic, and Chili, and also by the great majority of our own purveying firms.
As soon as the scientific staff was definitely constituted, my future colleagues had several months in which to perfect themselves in the duties they would be called upon to perform, while availing themselves of the bounteous hospitality offered them on the yachts of the Prince of Monaco, at the Montsouris and Paris Observatories, at the Meteorological Department, and in the Museum laboratories.
May I be allowed to make special mention here of the excellent relations which have always existed between other Antarctic explorers and myself ? Seeking to gain every advantage, I have frequently addressed myself to MM. de Gerlache, Bruce, Scott, Shaekleton, Otto Nordenskjold, and Van Drygalski, and all of them have been kind enough to pour out for my benefit their precious stores of experience.
The ship was not only the most important factor in the Expedition, but also that which demanded attention from the very first. My earliest idea was to try to buy back my old vessel the Franfais, and I caused negotiations to be opened with the Argentine Eepublic for this purpose. But I learnt that this excellent little ship, renamed the Austral, was to be used for the revictualling of the station on the South Orkneys and in the establishment of a new observatory on Wandel Island.1 Next, with the aid of my friend M. Charles Boyn, ex-Naval Paymaster and now Director of the Agence Generate Maritime, we tried to purchase a whaler, either in
1 In December, 1007, while leaving Buonos Aires on this double duty the Austral was wrecked on a shoal in the Rio do da Plata, going down with all the instruments she had on board, while tho crew were saved by the French liner Magellan.
Scotland or in Norway ; but our search was in vain, for all the vessels offered to us were of ancient build and required considerable alterations. Moreover, our programme involved wintering on board, which made necessary the fitting-up of -pecial accommodation ; and all these alterations and improvements would in the end have brought the price up nearly as high as that of a new boat.
After collecting the needful information in the countries which have concerned themselves most about polar exploration and from the mouths of competent men, we decided with M. Boyn to submit our list of requirements to ' Pere ' Gautier, the clever St. Malo shipbuilder, who had been so successful in the matter of the FranQais. My demands were considerable, and all the more difficult to fulfil because of the limitation of my pecuniary means. I wanted, in fact, a very good weather-boat for the navigation of the Antarctic seas, at the same time one powerful enough to resist shock against ice and the grinding which it might have to undergo, fitted with holds capable of taking 250 tons of coal and about 100 tons of food and stores, with comfortable accommodation for the crew of twenty-two and the eight members of the si aft', and finally with laboratories.
Pere Gautier, with an eye only to the building of a fine boat and the solving of a difficult problem, undertook the job with enthusiasm and presented us with an extremely modest estimate. So the construction of the Povrquoi-Pas f, under the superintendence of M. Boyn, was entrusted to Gautier and Son of St. Malo, and the result proves once more the skill, conscientiousness, and disinterested character of the doyen of French shipbuilders.
The engine had to be strong, powerful, and economical. We chose a compound engine, of 450 horse-power built by the firm of Labrosse and Fouche" of Nantes, under the superintendence of M. Laubeuf, their head marine engineer.
was launched on May 18, 1908. The robustness of her construction and the care devoted thereto, the simultaneous power and elegance of her lines, were the admiration of all discriminating eyes. Admiral Nevy represented the Ministry of Marine at the launch, M. Eabot the Ministry of Public Instruction. My wife as godmother of the vessel, supported by M. Doumer as godfather, broke the customary bottle of Mumm on the stern — and as she broke it at the first attempt a prosperous career was assured in advance for the PourquoiPas?
A few weeks later, when the engine was in its place and the rigging was completed, Monseigneur Eiou came to SaintMalo to baptize the Pourquoi-Pas ? as he had formerly baptized the Franqais.
Her rigging was that of a three-masted barque, and her masts, sturdy but short, had been selected at heavy expense among the finest specimens in Brest Arsenal. In the case of the wooden scantlings as of the anchors and chains, everything was made about three times as strong as on an ordinary ship of the same tonnage. The powerful ribs were brought very close together, and at the bow as also in the bilge the spaces between the timbers were tilled in with chocks of wood. Two very thick plankings covered the ribs, being themselves protected against the wear and tear of the ice by an exterior sheathing. An interior planking, caulked and coal-tarred, made a kind of extra hull inside. The whole vessel, except that the bilge was of elm, was built of the best oak.
Her bow, which would be called upon to withstand the severest shocks, had been particularly looked after. This was very compactly built and furnished inside with powerful belts, outside with armour-plates and thick galvanized iron sheeting, while its lines were rounded to enable it to ride up over the ice and break it by the weight of the vessel.
Thus the Pourquoi-Pas ? was a superb piece of work, of remarkable sturdiness — through which quality alone, as will be seen, she was enabled to escape from the rude ordeal through which she went.
The same care and solidity were shown in erecting the engine as in constructing the hull, and spare parts and repairingtools were provided in sufficient quantity to allow all the necessary repairs to be executed on board. A steam windlass was furnished by the firm of Libaudiere and Mafra of Nantes, which served equally for working the anchor-chains and cables, the dredge-nets and the various fishing-tackle.
The accommodation on board had to meet the necessities of our work and our life in winter-quarters, while providing the maximum of comfort. I believe I may say that the arrangements made gave generally excellent results. Foreward, under the deck, were the very spacious quarters for the crew, with eighteen berths, lockers, tables, etc., the height of which between decks was two metres, the same as in all the living-rooms. Behind this and communicating with it was a small ward-room for the subordinate officers, out of which opened the cabins of the skipper and chief engineer and the two-berthed cabin of the quartermaster and second engineer.
In order to give as much space as possible for the stores I had the deck raised over the central portion of the vessel, thus making a poop-deck, on which were placed the quarters of the staff. Out of the big central ward-room opened six cabins, each two metres square, and two others slightly larger. Of these last two, the starboard one was occupied
by the second officer, while the port cabin, used by my wife as far as Punta Arenas, communicated with mine ; and in the Antarctic it served at once as bacteriological laboratory, infirmary, and lumber-room. My own cabin opened into the fore passage which gave entrance, also to a large photographic laboratory, a bath-room, etc. Below two small ladders, of four steps each, led from the ward-room into the zoological laboratory aft on the starboard side, and on the port side into a passage leading to the after deck, where were the physical science and hydrographic laboratories. These two laboratories were built in the form of a rooting over the deck. By this arrangement it was possible to warm all our apartments with a single stove in the ward-room, which when lighted kept up a constant temperature of from 12 to 14°.
Boofed over on the fore-deck were the cook's galley and offices and a passage which opened to starboard onto a ladderway used in bad weather at sea. This communicated with the poop-deck on the port side by a door easy to block Tip, only used during our winter-quarters, when the ship had her tarpaulin over her. The accommodation for the staff communicated with the open air both under this fore-rooling and aft. The illumination was provided by a large skylight and by a scuttle in each cabin. Abaft of the engine was a store-room lined with lead, intended for our supplies of spirit, and two sail-stores. On the deck right aft there were kept under cover various appliances, including in particular the .surveying apparatus.
The quarters of the crew and of the staff alike, as well as the cook's galley and the laboratories, had a lining of fell two centimetres thick inside the planking. This felt is indispensable to prevent ice forming inside — which would inevitably have occurred without it, however thick the partitions. For the same reason every scrap of metal communicating with the outer air was covered with cork.
The large provision-store had no opening except a hatch in the ward-room, so that nothing could be taken out except under our eyes. Beneath the cabin for the crew were the water-casks, holding 18 tons, and a fairly large hold for the general stores.
I provided each member of the staff with his cabin-furniture, of which the principal items were a folding-bed, a bureau, and a washstand. Every one could arrange these as he pleased, being at liberty also to have made for him all the cupboards and shelves he might consider necessary. Wherever it was possible I had fitted up cupboards and lockers in the ward-room and the alley-ways. In addition to two book-cases in the ward-room a shelf ran round all the cabins, whereon we found room for nearly 3,000 books.
of those who were to work in them.
Forward of the poop was the steering-department, containing one of the two steering-wheels, the chart-table, and the usual navigating instruments. Lastly, at the top of the mainmast was the distinguishing feature of all polar vessels, the ' crow's-nest ' which is so indispensable for a voyage amid ice. This was reached by a rope-ladder starting from the top-mast cross-trees. Usually the voice is sufficient to convey orders on deck, but to make assurance doubly sure we had installed a ' Le Las ' loud-speaking telephone, which was kindly offered to us by its inventor and which did its work admirably during the whole of the trip.
The Pourquoi-Pas ? was the possessor even of a work of art. Father de Guibriant, one of our brave missionaries in China, to whom I had once done a service without knowing it. insisted on offering to our ship the French naval emblem, a magnificent piece of silver and copper work, designed by Connte de Chabannes La Palice and executed by R. Linzeler.
It is worth while to direct particular attention to the lighting arrangements for an expedition called upon to spend several months in the midst of almost total night. I had placed in profusion everywhere, and in particular in each cabin, excellent little slow-burning petroleum-lamps. On the advice of the Marquis De Dion, moreover, I had installed De Dion-Bouton electric lamps, supplied by an eight h.p. motor and accumulators by the same firm. To shelter these from frost they were placed under the fore roofing, against the partition of the various offices heated by the cook's galley. At the outset I decided that our electric lighting must be considered a luxury, only to be used twice a week and on exceptional occasions. As a matter of fact, under the able superintendence of Bongrain, seconded by the ex-torpedo artificer Lerebourg and the motor-engineer Frachat, this installation, hitherto unknown on Polar expeditions, worked constantly for two years, practically without a moment's stop, thus showing the excellence of the motor and the accumulators. I cannot too much insist on the invaluable assistance that it was to us.
In the Polar regions, where for most of the time fresh water can only be obtained by melting down snow or ice, it is necessary to devise practical means of providing it. To this end, I had set up in communication with the kitchenfurnace a great water-butt with a capacity of 250 litres, into which, through a hole pierced in the roof could be thrown lumps of ice as required. Thanks to this plan, wc had, without any expense or trouble, as big a water-supply as we needed. As long as the engine-boiler was alight, moreover, a pipe running from il enabled us to melt the ice in the butt rapidly, to feed the water-casks and the boiler itself.
We took a good number of boats, for my previous experience had taught me that, in addition to those requisite for the service of I he ship, it might be useful to have others not only to facilitate the various tasks in which we were all engaged,
but also for transport over the ice and even for establishing rescue and revictualling-posts. We had a big canoe, a dinghy, two stout whale-boats such as the Norwegian sealers carry (of which one had been on board the Francais on the former expedition), two small Norwegian boats known by the name of ' prams,' four dories — those flat light vessels used by fishermen on the Newfoundland banks, fitting one into another — two ' Berthon ' boats, and a little folding affair of the 1 Williamson ' type. Lastly ' Pere ' Gautier built for us a strong picket-boat, specially adapted for work amid ice, with a rounded prow protected by iron plates. This excellent seaboat was fitted with an eight h.p. De Dion-Bouton motor, which did its duty admirably, in spite of its long and very arduous service and was of great use to the expedition.
In addition to the ordinary instruments and equipment for every long-distance voyage, we took ten ice-saws and the same number of chisels, a dozen small and large iceanchors and a stock of stakes, ice-hooks, shovels, pickaxes, crowbars, and spades.
The excellent Lucas apparatus, which takes up so Little space and yet allows soundings to be taken to the depth of 6,000 metres, was set up on the quarter-deck and was worked at the start by a dynamo, which was afterwards advantageously replaced by a small steam-engine. Foreward, on the starboard side, was the steam-bobbin for the steel-wire cable of the dredger, which could be lowered to a depth of 4,000 metres.
I had taken the greatest care in my preparation for our excursions, and making the Discovery expedition my model had arranged everything as if for independent groups of three persons each. I had six tents made, each holding three persons, six Nansen kitchens sbghtly modified by myself, six mess-services, etc., all for three, while the provisions for the excursions of which I shall have occasion to speak later were also divided into portions for three, in such a way that
it would only be necessary to empty each into the cookingpot, thus avoiding labour which would have been painful in a low temperature and after tiring journeys.
The ship's wardrobe was abundant, being chiefly composed of woollen clothes of all kinds and knitted things, while stockings and mittens were to be counted by the hundred. We provided ourselves with lengths of cloth and a sewing-machine. MM. Linzeler, Vimout, and Denian had sent considerable presents to swell the stock on board. In case of our unexpectedly being obliged to winter away from the shelter of our ship, I thought it best to bring reindeer-hide suits and a bed-sack of the same material for every man. We were not called upon to make use of these furs, except the bed-sacks which are so necessary on excursions. Generally speaking, we were comparatively lightly clad, but one indispensable article of clothing was the ' anorak,' a kind of overcoat of pliable but close-fitting canvas, with a hood to it, which went over the ordinary clothes and counteracted the cold admirably by keeping out draughts. For ordinary work a stout mackintosh was sufficient ; but on excursions the material known as ' Burberry ' is certainly all that one can desire for lightness and absolute imperviousness to wind and snow.
My previous experience had caused me to give very serious attention to the all-important question of foot-wear, and we took with us a large and varied stock of ordinary boots, of boots of leather with wooden soles (of which a friend, M. Perchot, gave 70 pairs), of sabots lifted with leggings of tarred canvas such as the Icelandic fishermen wear, of strong mountaineering boots, of socks like those of our Mountain Infantry, made for us by one of the regimental tailors, and of /inskoex and homagers from Norway. These last-named, a sort of mocassin of reindeer-hide, well tested on recent expeditions, arc the only kind of fool -wear of use on journeys in extreme cold when one is at a distance from the ship. Their drawback
is that they get very slippery on hard ice, thus making them really dangerous on glaciers. To remedy this I had made, after the model of those recommended by Captain Scott, a kind of canvas sandal fitted with strong frost-nails, which WB could put over them — a very practical invention.
To protect the eyes against snow-ophthalmia I had made some yellow-glassed goggles and masks with cross-shaped slits in them. It will be seen from the story of the Expedition that, thanks to these precautions, we had not a single case of this ophthalmia.
We took a dozen sledges of the type universally adopted on Polar expeditions, several pairs of skis for each man (not only for use on journeys but also for amusement), as well as some toboggans, snow-shoes, and the usual equipments for mountaineering and other excursions, ropes, axes, knapsacks, lanterns, etc. And I must not forget the ' Thermos ' bottles, which are of the greatest assistance in these latitudes, where one suffers almost as much from thirst as in warm countries and where flasks cannot be used.
With regard to all the material coming from Norway, whether clothing and furs or such Polar apparatus as skis, sledges, etc., Mr. Crichton Somerville, a resident in Christiania, was kind enough to devote his care and ability to choosing it or having it made.
The possibility of coming across an ice-plain, such as that which constitutes the Eoss Barrier, directed my notice to the advantage of taking some motor-sledges. The Marquis De Dion and M. Bouton, with their usual generosity and their enthusiasm for any new idea, proposed to present the Expedition with the desired vehicles. Captain Scott was interested in the same matter. We decided to make our experiments together, and I shall always remember the pleasant and profitable time which I spent with him and his assistants, Missis. Skelton and Barnes. The trial took place in midwinter at Lautaret. We had the assistance of Lieutenant
de La Besse, who had long given attention to motor-sledges. General Picquart, Minister of War, put at our disposal during the eight days of the trial ten men from our Alpine garrisons. The results seemed most encouraging. M. Coursier, engineer at the De Dion-Bouton works, who was present, set to work vigorously and thanks to him we were ahle to take three motor-sledges, on which we built great hopes. Unluckily we never came across, in the region we visited, any surface on which we could use them. MM. de Dion, Bouton, and Coursier must set against this failure the services to the Expedition of the picket-boat and the electric installation. We carried nearly three years' stock of provisions, and in my selection of these I applied to the leading firms of France, England, Germany, Norway, and America. Owing to the progress of the preserved foods industry, the only real difficulty in provisioning an expedition like ours lies in the necessity of choosing with due regard to variety and space alike. A catalogue of what we placed in our store-rooms would occupy several pages, and I shall simply say that we had almost everything that it was possible to take and that the choice was made with the most scrupulous care, limiting ourselves to the first quality always. The food-products and preserves which can be taken on journeys are nowadays generally familiar, and a description of them would be tedious. I must, however, remark on the convenience and excellent manufacture of all sorts of compressed foods, soup, milk, meats, etc. The same is true of dried vegetables, some of which give remarkable results, especially cabbages and potatoes. In the course of the narrative, however, it will often be necessary to refer to the question of food. Generally we may divide provisions into four classes : those for daily use, those for excursions, those kept for storage-dcp6ts or for emergencies, and, lastly, luxuries.
handy tins of biscuits form the bulk of those ; for in the Antarctic one may always expect to find penguins or seals, which supply excellent fresh meat, as well as fat at need for fuel. It is not too much to say that with biscuits, a knife to kill and cut up animals, and matches to kindle the fat, one can live, at least in most parts of the Antarctic.
Numerous agreeable gifts were made to swell the stores of the Expedition not only in France, but also abroad — at Bio Janeiro, Buenos Aires, and Punta Arenas.
but fresh food was eaten.
In the long run one grows tired of even the best of preserved stuff, especially meats, and it is very probable that the majority of the meals composed exclusively of these, left but an indifferent memory in the minds of the members of the Expedition. Nevertheless, I believe I may say that no expedition was ever better provisioned than ours, as regards both quality and quantity, and that we never ran short of anything on board.
So well stocked with wine was the steward's room that during the whole duration of the voyage the crew were able to have their daily ration and often double. In the ward-room wine was served at discretion to those who drank it and of such good kind that for several weeks I amused myself by having it brought on in bottles with fine green seals, to pretend it was of special quaUty. But this innocent joke was needless ; for our cellar, thanks to generous givers, was furnished with the best brands, and those who had thus thought of our well-being would have been rewarded could they have seen the pleasure with which we uncorked the noble vintages.
The question of the consumption of alcohol on expeditions has been often discussed and settled in various ways. Personally I consider it neither more nor less dangerous on a Polar expedition than elsewhere, provided that moderation
is observed. I even think that rum in certain cases is one of the most useful of medicines ; but from the start I have made a point of waging unrelenting war against the aperitif, the great curse of France.
We kept on board an ample stock of antiscorbutics, such as sauerkraut, tomatoes and lime-juice. These combined with vegetables and fruit, either dried or in jam, etc., were evidently more than sufficient to save us from the scurvy that attacked the expeditions of old ; but it will be seen that these ordinary precautions were useless against what one may call modern scurvy — or, more strictly speaking, preservedfood sickness.
Almost as important as the question of the choice of eatables is that of the cases in which they are put up, the good construction of which insures their keeping. I laid down certain requirements in this respect, which unfortunately were not always scrupulously carried out by our French firms. The loss is their own, for if later expeditions discover our store-depots they will be able to form their judgments on the more or less good state of preservation of the different brands. I desired first of all that everything should be put up in cases easy to handle, of a weight not exceeding 30 kilos, but with many of the goods the need of taking a large quantity and the comparatively small space at our disposal, compelled us to stow them away without their superfluous coverings. These were kept, however, on the storage-dep&t provisions. An expedition fortunate enough to have abundant funds would do very well to have its stores put up in ' Venesta ' cases, which are at once strong, water-tight, and light.
Matches — on the usefulness of which I need not insist — were packed in little zinc boxes handy to open and easy to carry on sledges and even in knapsacks.
I pass over in silence the necessities of ordinary life, the thousand little trifles which were nevertheless indispensable for the. repair and upkeep of our varied stock or for what we
had to make for ourselves, our drugs and our surgical instruments. It turned out that very little had been forgotten, for we never had to want for anything essential.
Coal was of course the sinews of the Expedition. The Minister of Marine gave us at the start 250 tons in briquettes. At Madeira Mr. Gordon-Bennett with his habitual generosity telegraphed spontaneoxisly to his representatives to fill our bunkers at his expense. The Brazilian Government gave us 100 tons when we reached Eio, and on our return filled our bunkers both at Rio and Pernambuco ; and finally on our way back the Chilian Government gave us 70 tons. I had myself sent to Punta Arenas 300 tons of briquettes presented by French mining companies. This important stock the Chilian Government, with great kindness, deposited in its own hulks until our arrival, assisting us then to put on board what we wanted and keeping the remainder until our return. We were thus able to set out with our bunkers absolutely full of coal of the best quality. It will be seen that in the Antarctic we had the opportunity of replenishing them again.
Our numerous spirit-motors necessitated us having on board eleven tons of what is esteemed a most dangerous cargo. We had made for this a lead-lined hold aft, in which the 18-litre cans of Motricine were carefully stored, enclosed two and two in wooden cases. A hand-ventilator supplied air to the bottom of this hold to drive out the dangerous vapours, which are heavier than air. At every change of the watch this ventilator was set working, and thus we managed to carry this risky cargo without any mishap.
As far as the choice of the staff of the Pourquoi-Pas f is concerned, I can only repeat what I said in the case of our former expedition. It is extremely easy in France to find fellow-scientists ready to give up their time, and even to expose their lives, without the slightest hope of recompense. Several of ray comrades on the Franfais wished to join this expedition too. One of my fondest hopes would thus have
been realized. But Lieutenant Matha, after his long leave of absence, had to make some return for the well-merited confidence placed in him by our naval authorities ; and Engineer P. Pleueau had his duties toward the commercial company which had wisely selected him for a difficult enterprise in Siberia and Mongolia. My very friendship for them both obliged me to advise them to renounce this time all ideas of accompanying me. But I was glad to see at my side again my devoted friend and valued collaborator from the first, E. Gourdon.
The staff, as finally constituted, consisted of three naval officers, a geologist, two naturalists, a doctor, and myself. The various departments under our programme were assigned as follows : —
assisted me in the navigation and other duties on hoard.
I am happy to be able, to say that it was thanks to the. enthusiasm, energy, and attainments of my colleagues that (he Expedition was a success, and my gratitude Inward them i- all Hie wanner since they enable me, without laying myself
open to a charge of personal vanity, to assert that we succeeded. I had the same ease in getting together the crew and had to make choice from among 250 applications. Almost all the old crew of the Fran^ais rejoined me on the PourquoiPas ? thus giving me a nucleus of seasoned and devoted men. Chollet had been my navigator for 24 years, Guegen had been on four expeditions with me, Jabet and Libois on three. The new-comers, animated by an excellent spirit, and sailors in the best sense of the term, were spurred on by the example of the veterans to display the same qualities as they. The crew consisted of —
It would be difficult to discover a better crew than ours, more energetic, devoted, courageous, patient, and intelligent. All asked but to be allowed to do their best and always went about their work cheerfully and enthusiastically. There was no punishment-book on board, and the need of one was never felt.
1 The names preceded by an asterisk are those of the men who took part in the Fraii^ais Expedition. Boland and Nozal, who signed on as sailors, were mercantile marine cadets. By the terms of their agreements they were treated on board like the other sailors and worked like them, but their very superior training made thorn most valuable assistants to MM. Bongrain and Roach, and I thought it riu'lit tu promote them later to the rank of lieutenant.
As soon as the Pourquoi-Pas f was launched, staff and crew set to work on the final preparations and the embarkation and stowage of food and material. In order not to lose time, the stowage was begun at Saint-Malo, while the engine was being put on board and the rigging finished, and was completed at Havre.
FROM HAVRE TO PUNTA ARENAS
Firmly convinced of our sincerity of purpose, the town of Havre showed its goodwill toward us in a touching manner on August 15, 1908. It was in the midst of a sympathetic crowd, collected from far and wide to prove that France is never indifferent to the labours of her sons, that our friends and relations wished us a good journey and all success, while the strains of the ' Marseillaise ' answered the parting salute of the Pourquoi-Pas t
The same day we reached Cherbourg, where the Superintendent of the Dockyard, Admiral Bellue, gave us a warm welcome. His anxiety to aid us in putting on board the coal and material given to lis by the Minister of Marine proved once more the interest taken in our work by the naval authorities.
Owing to continued bad weather we were forced to stop at Cherbourg until August 31. Impatient to begin our \ "\age, we weighed anchor on the first break in the weather, but off the Casquets we were assailed by one of the worst storms of the year, which caused many disasters at sea. The Pourquoi-Pas ? early gave proof of those excellent qualities which stood us in such good stead later ; but after battling for twenty-four hours we put into Guernsey to save useless consumption of coal and avoid the necessity of turning back. We left Guernsey again on September 5, to reach Madeira Eoads on the 12th. Three days later we set off once more, and on the 22nd we made a twenty-four hours' call at Porto Grande, Saint Vincent.
expected reception awaited us from the people and Government of Brazil and the French colony, headed by our viceconsul, M. Charlat. Baron Bio Branco, Minister of Foreign Affairs, received the whole Expedition at the Itamaraty Palace, and the Minister of Marine, Admiral Alexandrino de Aleucar, did us the great honour of coming on board the Pourquoi-Pas f The entire contents of the arsenal were put at our disposal so generously that, for fear of appearing indiscreet, we dared not express a desire ! Presents and kindnesses were showered on us from all sides by individuals, in addition to the gifts from the Government, while the wife of Captain Barros Cobra (one of the most devoted friends of the Expedition all through) honoured us by sending a special silk flag for the Pourquoi-Pas ? embroidered by her own hands.
On the 20th we left the magnificent and flourishing country of Brazil for Buenos Aires. The relations I had kept up with the Argentine Republic since the never-to-be-forgotten reception of the Frangais Expedition, on both the outward and the home voyages, led me to believe that we should be welcomed ; but Argentina was determined to show that she can always do still better. On the motion of Dr. Pinero, the Chambers decided to vote unlimited credit to meet the needs, whatever they might be, of the Expedition. The PourquoiPas ? went into dry dock to undergo all the improvements possible. With splendid generosity all materials were provided that she could want. I had the honour of being presented to the President of the Republic by our Minister, M. Thi6bault, and the French residents vied with 1 he Argentine people in making our stay at once profitable and pleasant. I met once more my warm and sincere friends, Dr. Fernando Perez and his brother Manuel, Professor Lignieres, Colonel Nunez, Dr. Pinero, Admirals Garcia and Barilari, Chief Engineer Sumblad Rosetti, MM. Lainez, Py, Thays, Davis, and Lahille, Father Sola and many others whose friendship had only been increased by lapse of time.
On November 23 we left Buenos Aires, and on December 1 we anchored in the roadstead of Punta Arenas. This was our last place of call in the civilized world, but not the place which showed us the least sympathy. The Chilian Government had put at our disposal all the resources of the town, and the French representative at Santiago, M. Desprez, demonstrated to us by his kindly messages, both as we went and as we came back, that France was watching over us at this distant stage on the way to the lands where we were about to hide ourselves so many long months. The little French colony and the inhabitants of the town feasted us and made much of us, and I hope to be able to show in the following narrative all the good which the Expedition derived from its stay here, and how grateful is the friendship which must bind me henceforward to those of its inhabitants whose names I shall have occasion to mention.
At Punta Arenas my wife, who had bravely accompanied me so far, left me, to return and watch over our home during my absence. This expected and inevitable separation was, nevertheless, a wrench which only our high ideal of duty enabled us to bear with. Certain people may have smiled over the presence of a woman on board during the first part of the journey, and even have found in it an excusefor belittling the grave and serious side of our work. But others — happily the majority — only saw in it a touching proof of love, courage, and interest in the object which I had in view ; it is the opinion of these latter for which I care. My own thought was to labour for my country and for the honour of a name made illustrious by my father and rendered still more, dear to me by her who, in adopting it as her own, was willing to aid me in sharing its responsibility.
r\ECEMBER 16, 1908.— In fine calm weather we weigh anchor from Punta Arenas at 9 p.m. M. Blanchard, the kindly French consul, coming on board on his launch Laurita at 8.30, brought with him the Governor, M. Chaigneau ; M. Henkes, one of the Norwegian directors of the Magellan Whaling Company ; M. Grossi, an Italian merchant ; and our fellow-countrymen, MM. Poivre, Beaulier, Detaille and Rocca. We drank a glass of champagne, and shook with emotion the hands of all these kind-hearted people, now become our friends, and then away we went ! The Laurita saluted us with three blasts of her whistle, while her passengers cheered and shouted ' Vive la France ! ' The crew of the Chilian Government hulk did the same, and at the very end of the roadstead the look-out man standing all alone on a big steamer gave us a loud Godspeed.
December 17. — The night has been calm and clear, but by morning the mountain-tops are wrapped in clouds, and there is a slight southerly breeze, which, however, does not prevent us from making rapid progress. We leave Magellan Straits for Magdalena Sound and Cockburn Channel, and about 1 in the afternoon we are among the Furies Reefs ; but there is a heavy sea and a strong west wind, and the barometer is falling. We run the risk by taking this course of
losing the hours which we hoped to gain, and worse, if we are caught by a gale forcing us to lie to or run for shelter — especially as our boat is heavy laden and the deck is piled with coal-briquettes, which block the scuppers. We do not hesitate, therefore, to go about and make for Murray Channel, and we thread the Brecknock. Thanks to a very good Chilian map, at 8 p.m. we are able to anchor in the picturesque and well-sheltered little bay of Port Edwards, at the entrance of Whaleboat Sound.
December 18. — At 7 a.m. we are under way, and in spite of fog and rain we easily make Beagle Channel. The weather remains heavy all the morning and it pours with rain, but in the afternoon it clears up finely at times, allowing us to admire the wonderful scenery through which we are passing. The wind blows very strong from the south-west. We pass a small Chilian steamer from Punta Arenas, exchanging salutes, and at 9 p.m. we anchor in Lapataia Bay. The gusts are very strong, but our anchor holds firm.
December 19. — At 3 a.m. we are again on our way. It would have been tempting to touch at Ushuaia, whose houses we could make out and where we were sure to meet again our friends of 1904, with a hearty welcome in store for us. But every stoppage is time lost, and we have to take advantage of the fine season. The gusts are still strong, but soon calm sets in, with very clear weather and an absolutely cloudless sky. A strong current carries us rapidly along through the narrow, picturesque Murray Channel, and soon we make out Orange Bay, the quarters of the Arromanche Mission, where we ourselves stayed with the Francais in 1904. At midday we are abreast of False Cape Horn, and the swell from the south-west becomes very rough. It increases when at 2 p.m. we pass the real Cape Horn, which in this magnificent summer season has a smiling aspect. There is not a breath of air, and, deprived of the assistance of her sails, our vessel, being overladen above, has a rough shaking. In the evening
we pass astern of a big three-masted barque going east, with which we exchange signals. By chance it is a French ship, the Michelet of Nantes, which signals to us ' Bon voyage.'' At 10 we see on the horizon another three-master going east. December 20. — Since midnight the wind has been blowing very strong from the north-east, with a storm of snow, the Antarctic's welcome to us. The choppy sea becomes very rough and catches us broadside on. We set our fore topmast staysail and the two lower topsails, but we are shipping water to an extent dangerous for the engines. So at 8 a.m. we let her bear away 25° when all goes well, except for those — and there are many on board — who pay their tribute to sea-sickness. The sea washes in an unpleasant way over the deck and into the ward-room and the cabins.
Next morning the wind falls and it becomes clear and cold, with the thermometer at zero. The evening is calm, but with a very great swell. We brail up generally and head for Smith Island, formerly known to the American sealers as Mount Pisgah Island, but nowadays better called after the man who in 1819 discovered the South Shetlands.
December 22. — At 7 a.m. a cape, which must be part of Smith Island, reveals itself through the mist, and as the weather clears up completely the whole of the imposing snow-covered island appears at a distance of 30 miles. We take Boyd Strait, where we meet our first iceberg, floating in complete isolation, and go a little out of our way so as to skirt it, for the edification of the crew and such of our colleagues to whom the spectacle is new. The swTell has ceased, the weather is remarkably clear, and we can distinguish the greater part of the South Shetlands archipelago. Two soundings are taken in Boyd Strait, one giving 2,800 metres, the other 690.
We stand in for Deception Island, and as the narrow entrance of its central haven opens before us we see two littlo whaleboat8, one of which is returning with a whale in tow. The other heads for us. It is the Raun, flying the Norwegian
flag. Soon we are abreast, the whaler's crew raising cheers in our honour, and the captain offering, in excellent English, to lead the way for us into the centre of the island. Thinking that they were returning from fishing, we accepted the offer, but we learnt afterwards that as a matter of fact these good fellows were going out and insisted on having the honour of piloting us in spite of the loss of time involved.
Although it was expected, yet for those of us who had already visited the Antarctic in 1904 (when we knew that we were the only human beings there) the meeting with vessels quietly carrying on their work in this region had something impressive and almost uncanny about it. This sensation affected us still more strongly when we found ourselves in Deception Island basin, in the midst of a veritable flotilla of boats, all at work as though in some busy Norwegian port. Our pilot brings us up very close to the smooth, precipitous face of the high black cliff on the west side of the passage, and after a sharp turn the whaling-station appears before our eyes, marvellously sheltered in a fairly big bay notched out of the great crater-basin of this weird and picturesque island. We find two three-masters and two steam-vessels, surrounded by several little steam-whalers, this fleet belonging to three different companies. Pieces of whale float about on all sides, and bodies in process of being cut up or waiting their turn lie alongside the various boats. The smell is unbearable.
The captain of the L'nuti asks me to come and visit his little steamer, which I found, despite the trade in which she is engaged, astonishingly clean, and takes me into a little ward-room which is neat, comfortable, and almost elegant, with a fine coal fire burning in a stove. Next we go on board the largest of the steamers, the Oobcniador Borics, on which i> .M. Andresen, manager of the Magellan Whaling Company. Willi great difficulty we make our way amid the bodies of whales and I am taken into a large and extremely clean
ward-room, whose furnituro is almost luxurious. A parrotr which ought to be feeling very much out of it iu the Antarctic, is talking solemnly, and here too there is a fine coal fire in the stove. As on board the Raun, my eyes look on this with a little envy, for on the Pourquoi-Pas ? we put up with the damp without lighting a fire, so as to economize our coal.
M. Audresen is in bod, but the captain of the Raun does not hesitate to go and wake him. I let him do this, for I bring the mail with me and I expect that this unlooked-for surprise will win me pardon for my early visit. M. Andresen shows himself at once a true Norwegian, amiable, cordial, and anxious to be of service to us. I give him the letter from the directors of his company, which I received through the kind intervention of MM. Detaille and Blanchard, asking him to furnish us, if he can, with 30 tons of coal ; and at once he tells me that, in spite of the shortness of fuel, he will make arrangements to satisfy us. So pleased is he at receiving a mail which he did not expect, and which will gladden the whole of the little colony, that he thanks me with an embarrassing gratitude for having taken charge of the letters. Then I leave him to go back to bed, after making an appointment to see him again next day. I bring the captain of the Raun back to the Pourquoi-Pas ?, where we drink a glass of port together. He makes an admirably turned and sympathetic little speech, wishing us a safe voyage and abundant success r and then returns on board his own ship and sets out at once on his whaling cruise.
The comparatively good anchorages in the bay are occupied by the whalers, and we seek in vain to anchor in deep water with a treacherous holding-ground. The smell, moreover, being really unbearable, we lose no time in moving and making for the further end of the basin, where Pendulum Cove used to be. With difficulty we discover, so to speak, this no longer existing cove, and let fall our anchor at 2 a.m. near the spot
heen no night, and the weather is magnificently calm.
I cannot find any document showing who really discovered this island where we are nor who christened it with the name of Deception, most inappropriate in my mind ; for it was far from being a deception for us or for the other navigators in this region, who could count on finding here the safe shelter so rare in the Antarctic. It cannot have been discovered by Smith, who only explored the north coast of the South Shetlands in 1819 ; nor by Bransfield, who, returning with Smith to these regions, some time after, was unable to circumnavigate the islands and considered them part of a continent. I am inclined to think it was known to the Spaniards, or, to be more exact, to the ancestors of the Argentinans. An historical incident, which I, like many others, borrow from the excellent and painstaking works of the learned American explorer Edwin Swift Balch of Philadelphia,1 probably is U> be placed on Deception Island. Mrs. E. Fanning Loper, niece of Captain Nathaniel Brown Palmer, whose share was so great in making known this part of the Antarctic, lent to Mr. E. S. Balch log-books, letters, and various MSS. which had been her uncle's. The following story is noteworthy : ' In 1818 he [Captain Potter] became second mate of the brig Hersilia, bound to Cape Horn for seals, Captain James P. Sheffield, master. On this voyage he and a sailor were left upon one of the Falkland Islands to obtain provisions for the brig, while the Hersilia went in search of the. fabulous Auroras. Soon after the departure of the brig, the Esprito Santo, from Buenos Ayres, hove in sight off the island, and "young Nat," as lie was then called, piloted her into the harbour, and found that she was bound to a place where there were thousands of seals, but [her captain] refused to divulge the situation. Three days later the Hersilia returned, and " young Nat "
told Captain Sheffield about the Esprito Santo, and said he could follow her and find the sealing ground. Captain Sheffield, having great confidence in his second mate, followed his advice, and in a few days discovered the South Shetlands, at that time unknown in the continent of North America. The Esprito Santo was anchored there, and the crew was much surprised to see the brig, but their admiration for " young Nut's" skill was so great that they even assisted in loading the Hcrsilia, and [she] returned home with 10,000 of the finest skins.'
Now what makes me suppose that this anchorage was none other than Deception is the fact that in the following summer, 1820-1821, there was at this island a squadron of five American sealers commanded by B. Pendleton, with Palmer as captain of one of them, the sloop Hero, and no one seemed astonished at the marvellous shelter for which they apparently unerringly made. This squadron, fitted out at Stonington, Connecticut, then one of the most important whaling centres, was composed of the brigs Frederick, Captain B. Pendleton, and Hersilia, Captain J. P. Sheffield, the schooners Express, Captain E. Williams, and Free Gift, Captain F. Dunbar, and the little sloop Hero, Captain N. B. Palmer. It was while the flotilla was stopping at Yankee Harbour, afterwards renamed Port Foster, that Pendleton saw, with Palmer, from the top of a peak on the island some land to the west, and sent Palmer reconnoitring on his 40-ton Hero. Palmer, who continued his explorations successfully next year, discovered on this excursion either the north coast of Graham Land, close to Trinity, or else the archipelago to which De Gerlache has very rightly given the name, by which it will continue to be known, of Palmer Archipelago. (The Frangais in 1904-1905 made a survey of the north-west coast of this.) E. Fanning 1 says : —
the newly discovered continent, but nearest the former. When this began to clear away, Captain Palmer was surprised to find his little barque between a frigate and sloop of war, and instantly ran up the United States' flag ; the frigate and sloop of war then set the Eussian colours. Soon after this a boat was seen pulling from the commodore's ship for the Hero, and when alongside the lieutenant presented an invitation from his commodore for Captain Palmer to go on board ; this of course was accepted. These ships he then found were the discovery ships sent out by the Emperor Alexander of Eussia. To the commodore's interrogatory if he had any knowledge of those islands then in sight, and what they were, Captain Palmer replied he was well acquainted with them, and that they were the South Sketlands, at the same time making a tender of his services to pilot the ships into a good harbour at Deception Island, the nearest by, where water and refreshmenl s such as the island afforded could be obtained ; he also informing the Eussian officer that his vessel belonged to a fleet of five sail, out of Stonington, under command of Captain B. Pendleton, and then at anchor in Yankee Harbour, who would most cheerfully render any assistance in his power. The commodore thanked him kindly, " but previous to our being enveloped in the fog," he said, " we had sight of those islands and concluded we had made a discovery, but behold, when t lie fog lifts, to my great surprise, here is an American vessel in as fine order as if it were but yesterday she had left the United States ; not only this, but her master is ready to pilot, my vessels into port; we must surrender the palm to you Americans," continued he, very flatteringly. His astonishment was yet more increased, when Captain Palmer informed him of the existence of an immense extent of land to the south, whose mountains might be seen from the masthead when the fog should clear away entirely.'
by the American sealers to a foreign expedition was singularly like that which we enjoyed 87 years later at the hands of Norwegian whalers. Nevertheless, H. R. Mill, while noting that Bellingshausen, when he put into Sydney Harbour in March, 1820, was informed by the Russian consul of W. Smith's discovery of the South Shetlands in 1819, adds that in the account of his arrival at Yaroslav Island (this is the name which he gave to Deception) Bellingshausen only makes slight mention of his meeting with Palmer : ' The American captain Palmer, whom we invited on board, told us of the prodigiously rich harvest of seal-skins which had been made here.' J Still, as Fanning says, claiming that Bellingshausen in his admiration for the young captain called the coast visible to the south Palmer Land, this name was adopted in the Russian and English maps published after the return of the Russian ships — a point in favour of the American version. In any case, it is certain that the sealing flotillas, both American and English, made Deception Island one of their most important centres until the almost complete extermination of the fur-seal in the South Shetlands, and it is more than probable that the little Chilian schooners which continued to come for a few years more to look for the precious booty in this archipelago put in here. Scientific expeditions also came here, apart from Bellingshausen's, which did get so far. In 1829 the Chanticleer, commanded by Foster, who was sent out by the British Government to make pendular and magnetic observations, took up its quarters at Pendulum Cove, so named after the pendulum experiments made there between January 9 and March 4 of that year. Foster died as the result of an accident on the return of the expedition, but his narrative was forwarded by Lieutenant Kendall and Dr. Webster, to whom we owe a detailed description of the island. We owe another to the American Lieutenant Johnson, commander of
with his ship in 1839.
Dumont d'Urville on the return voyage of his first South Polar Expedition in 1838 passed along the south-west coast of Deception, of which he published an excellent view from the clever pencil of Goupil, an artist on board the Zelee and great-uncle of my wife. Lastly, the Argentine corvette Uruguay, whose name is universally known through the magnificent way in which she saved the Nordenskjold Expedition in November, 1903, touched at Deception on January 9, 1905, having been generously sent out by the Argentine Government to look for the Francais, about whose fate there were fears, happily unfounded.
According to the descriptions of Webster and Johnson, the area of the island, whose centre is 65° 56' South by 60° 40' West of Greenwich, is about 50 square kilometres, while its diameter is about 19 kilometres from north to south and 15 kilometres from east to west. In the interior is a great marine lake, very probably produced by the blowing up of a volcano beneath the surface of the sea. This inner basin is almost elliptical in shape, with a diameter of 9 to 10 kilometres and an area of about 22 square kilometres. It communicates with the sea by a very narrow strait, about 180 metres long, on the south-west side of the island. Its depth, which is only 5 or 6 metres at the opening, increases rapidly toward the centre; according to Kendall, to 177 metres. (It will be seen that a sounding taken by us at the same spot shows a tilling up of the basin or else a rise in the level of its bottom.) The inner banks of the island are as a rule flatter than the outer shores. At the entrance of the crater-shaped bay, however, there stands an escarped cliff with perpendicular walls 240 metres high. On the shores are several lakes resembling the ruins of small craters, while others occur on the beach of the island, having no visible communication with the large central basin. Thus Lieutenant Johnson found at the end of
the bay a small orator 450 metres in diameter, separated from the main basin by a wall 120 metres thick, rising gradually to the height of 6 metres. Into this lake the wall descended perpendicularly, and its surf ace- level was the same as that of the main basin.
The descriptions of these explorers do not differ much from what we could have given ourselves, at least as to general lines ; but when one examines Foster's map, which is much the completest and most detailed, one sees that some fairly large modifications of detail have taken place, affecting the small lakes and the heights of the peaks and the shores of the inner basin. Coves have filled in, capes have altered, old lakes have dried up and new ones have formed. But the most important and interesting change — I might even add, the most lamentable — is that which affects Pendulum Cove, which may be said to exist no more. At the time of Foster and the American whalers Pendulum Cove was, as the Chanticleer's plan shows, a narrow fjord, shaped like a comma, admirably sheltered, with little depth of water and good holding-ground, making it, in fact, the only really good anchorage in the island. When the Uruguay arrived in 1905, Pendulum Cove had disappeared. The fjord had filled in, either through landslips or by upheavals, and there only remained just at the entrance a low crescent-shaped beach, quite close to which the bottom held fairly well. This state of things was what we also found, and the plan which we made differs only in a few insignificant details from that published by our friend Lieutenant Jallour, second in command of the Uruguay.
Foster during his stay at Deception saw no volcanic eruptions, but he found on the edge of the basin numerous vents, from which steam was ejected violently, and many hot springs with a temperature as high as 88°. These, too, are the only active volcanic manifestations which we noted. The water of these numerous springs was sulphurous, and had a temperature of 68°. Smiley, the American sealer, who visited
Pendulum Cove in February, 1842, and found there a thermometer left behind by Foster in 1829, reports that ' certainly the island was then undergoing great changes,' that the whole southern shore was actively volcanic; — ' in flames ' — and that he saw ' no less than thirteen eruptions.'
Webster, Johnson, and Dumont d'Urville agree in saying that very little snow settled on Deception, the last-named stating that not only were the shores free from it, but also several of the high peaks. As far as we were concerned, we found a lot, coming down as far as the beach. But it is true that we stopped there in December, while the others paid their visits in March, except Webster ; and he was there from January to March.
The fur-seals, hunted down without mercy or precaution by the American and English sealers, have entirely vanished. This was the cause of the abandonment of Deception for such long years ; but the comparatively new methods employed with so much success in the north in hunting the balaenoptera (rorqual) and the considerable profits assured by this industry, and by the great competition in the northern seas, have restored to this Antarctic island some of its former business.
From the whale-hunter's point of view, there are two sorts of whale, the ' right ' whale and the ' rusher ' — a division which coincides with a zoological classification, the former being properly speaking, a balaena (Balaena Australis in the southern, Balaena Grocnlandis in the northern seas), and the others being balaenopteras.
The commercial value of the balaenas is much superior to that of the balaenopteras, not only on account of the quantity and quality of their oil, but also — and perhaps especially — because of the dimensions and quality of their bone, of which the price in the market is high. The bone of the balaenoptera, on the contrary, is very short and of scarcely any use, and the oil which can be extracted from its fat is comparatively scanty. Still, these latter cetaceans having been left alone until recent
years, their inferior value is largely compensated for by the numbers of them captured. Hunted without mercy, the right whale, on the other hand, has become very scarce generally. Perhaps it visits the Antarctic, since Ross says he has seen one, and so does Larsen ; but all the other explorers agree in asserting that they have never met one more south than the regions known as Sub-antarctic.
The old-time whalers set out in a boat to 'stick' their prey by means of a harpoon fastened to a long rope, which uncoiled as the animal fled. They thus had themselves towed by it until, when it was exhausted, they could finish it off with other harpoons. But they only attacked the right whale, which when wounded makes right off, and once dead floats on the surface. They paid no attention to the so-called 4 rushers,' which when wounded plunge deep, rush at their foes, or in any case describe a zigzag course, and whose bodies nearly always sink, thus threatening not only the loss of the quarry, but also that of the hunting gear. It is to a Norwegian whaler, Swen Foyn, who died a millionaire through it, that is due the invention of a special weapon, which now makes huge fortunes for some people and enables a vast population of workmen and hardy labourers to five. In the bow of a 40-ton steamer is mounted a cannon, which discharges a harpoon attached to a strong grapnel-rope. When the animal is hit, the two shanks of the harpoon open and explode a small shell. The body is hauled back by means of a steam windlass, fastened alongside, inflated by means of a large trocar communicating with the engine, to prevent it from sinking, and towed to the melting-house. Sometimes, as happened to us at the Faroes and at Deception, a single one of these little boats may be seen coming back with three balaenopteras, sometimes even with six.
The recent Antarctic Expeditions, from De Gerlache's down to that of the Franqais, have certainly done much for this revival of industry in the Antarctic and Sub-Antarctic
regions, and I personally claim to have done my small part, though I should have liked to see my fellow-countrymen, severely tested as they have often been in the cod-fisheries, attempting to take advantage of it.
Nevertheless, the bold initiative of my former fellowexplorer, the merchant captain Eallier du Baty, who went to try his luck with his brother and three sailors on a 40-tonner in the Kerguelen Islands, and the praiseworthy persistence of MM. Bossiere, the concessionaires of the islands, who recently managed to establish a whaling company in this French archipelago, lead me to hope that one day my exertions will have a result. Perhaps the men who make up the crew of the Pourqnoi-Pas ? and who have been so vividly impressed by what they have managed to see at Deception may on their return have a good influence over their fishermen comrades. At any rate, since the return of the Nordenskjbld Expedition an Argentine company, having as its managing director the famous and able Norwegian captain Larsen, has established itself in South Georgia and is making huge profits every year. It was three years ago that the chase of the balaenoptera began in our exploration zone ; and in the South Shetlands since our visit one Chilian and two Norwegian companies have set up at Deception, while another has taken as its headquarters Admiralty Bay in George I Land. As far as these whalers are concerned, it has been a pleasure to me to note how useful the Francais Expedition has been to them in supplementing the discoveries of the Belgica ; for we were able, of ourselves, to supply them with the only existing chart of I he north-west coast of the Palmer Archipelago, and another of the Bismarck estuary, to guide them to a good anchorage at Port Lockioy and a shelter at Wandel Island, to say nothing of our notes on the numbers and species of balaenopteras, on the movements of the ice-floes, on the winds, etc.
fine weather and set to work. Bongrain is putting up a tent, in which he is going to make observations with the pendulum. Rouch, while continuing his meteorological observations, is undertaking others on the electricity of the atmosphere. Godfroy is mapping the contours of our anchorage and making soundings, which differ but little from those of the Uruguay. Gourdon is collecting geological specimens. Senouque is busy with magnetism and the measurement of rays, and the zoologists, Liouville and Gain, are scouring the neighbourhood, collecting and classifying all they can find. The crew either help in these different observations or are busy with work on board.
As for myself, I am beginning the editing of the reports on the start of the Expedition, which we shall be able to send to France, together with our mail, through the whalers. Every one finds time at intervals to learn ski-ing, gliding down some admirably suitable slopes of deep snow which, at the end of what used to be Pendulum Cove, run down into a little lake covered with ice and snow. The good spirits engendered by this pastime, new to so many of my comrades, causes the valley to ring loudly with merriment.
The cove in which we are anchored has a flat, black beach, bare of snow up to high-water mark, at which point there rises the steam from the spring of hot sulphur-water. At the junction-line of snow and beach there is a regular hedge of whale skeletons, from which, though they are mostly stripped of their flesh, there comes a powerful and sickening odour. There is a good deal of offal from the fishery now in progress, and the blue waters of the basin are tinged red with blood. It is clear that there was a whaling station here last year or the year before, for on a large board fixed to two uprights is the legend, ' Sobroan Harbour.' High escarped and snowclad mountains rise at the end and side of our anchorage, while to the south is a black hill with steep walls, 80 metres in height, on the top of which can be seen the cairn left by the Uruguay.
Two men go to look for the bottle buried in it. It is broken^ but the message is intact. It was meant for the Fran^ais, which but for her accident would probably have returned via Deception. I was destined therefore after all to receive the message, four years late. This is how it ran (in Spanish) : —
' Deception Island, January 8, 1905. " This day I have visited this bay with the corvette Uruguay with the object of getting news of the Expedition under the leadership of Dr. Charcot, and not having succeeded I am going to Wiencke Island to leave a message there.
I read this document with emotion. For do I not owe much gratitude to this generous and hospitable people of Argentina, which not only enabled my first expedition, reaching Buenos Ayres in so wretched a state, to set out again under the best possible conditions, sent us a boat to carry our coal to Ushaia, and left a store at Orange Bay for our return, but also, in its anxiety over our absence, despatched the Uruguay to look for us?
The Uruguay, as we know, after leaving Deception went to Wiencke Island, where we had said we should leave a cairn — as we did, on Casabianca islet in Boosen Channel. Stopped by the ice and overtaken by a north-easterly gale, the Argentine corvette was unable to sail round the island and on her return announced that she had not found our cairn. It was immediately concluded that we had been lost, probably before being able to reach the Antarctic. This was the first news we heard on reaching Puerto Madryn on March 5, 1905.
After breakfast I set out with Liouville on the picket-boat for the whaling station. Just as we leave the anchorage we pass a cliff some 10 metres in height and of singular aspect, black with white spots. It is an ice-cliff with an intermixture of lava and lava-dust, a formation known by the name of fossil ice. About an hour later we reach the whalers' cove
With great difficulty — for, in order to let us come alongside, the crew of the Gobernador Bories has to move five or six corpses of whales, some of which burst with a report like that of a cannon — we arrive at the great factory-ship, where we are received by Captain Stolhani and M. Andresen, our kind friend of the day before.
M. Andresen, with charming courtesy, offers to send me thirty tons of coal on two trips of one of the little steamers, so that the Pourquoi-Pas ? need not come alongside the Gobernador Bories (necessarily disgusting because of the oil on board) nor stop in unpleasantly close proximity to the whale corpses. So good had been the catch that the coal is beginning to run short ; but a Hamburg collier is expected every day, l and if she is late one of the little whalers can go to Punt a Arenas with a request for some of the precious fuel to be sent. On my part I ask M. Andresen if I can be of any use to him, when he tells me that Madame Andresen, who accompanies him and is probably the first and only woman that has ever come to the Antarctic, is rather ill, and that a workman on board, one of the cutters-up of the whales, has met with a serious accident. There is no doctor on the station, and the wounded man is coming back on one of the whalers from the Admiralty Bay Station, where they hoped, in vain, to find a doctor. While deploring that the service which we are able to do them is of so melancholy a character, I am happy to be of some use to these excellent people, and immediately Liouville and I examine Mme. Andresen, whose illness is, very fortunately, of a slight nature. It is different with the wounded man. The poor fellow has had four fingers sliced by a steamchopper, and a regular amputation is essential to save not only his hand, but very probably his life. Liouville puts on a temporary dressing for him, but it is decided to come and operate to-morrow morning.
I have a long talk with M. Andresen, who gives me some interesting and useful information. There are on Deception Island three whaling companies, one Chilian and two Norwegian ; but apart from some Chilian firemen, the 200 inhabitants of the island are Norwegian. One of the Norwegian companies has as a factory-hulk a steamer of about 2,000 tons, coming from the Falklands, the other has the two threemasters, old sailing vessels which came from the Cape of Good Hope, towed by their little steam launches, while the Magellan Whaling Company, the best equipped, uses as factory-hulk the 3,000-ton steamer on which we are. All these floating factories are supplied by the little iron whale-boats like the Raun which piloted us in. These last-named are excellent vessels in spite of their insignificant dimensions, and apparently make light of the terrible seas of these latitudes.
Another company has its headquarters, as I have said, at Admiralty Bay in King George I Land. The catches are so abundant that all these vessels are insufficient, and in the stress of competition they only make use of the most valuable part of the whales' bodies, letting at least 40 per cent, go to waste.
For three years the whale-hunting has lasted here from the end of November to the end of February, when the companies separate, some going to hunt on the Chilian coast or in the Magellan Straits, the others in the waters of the Cape of Good Hope. England, claiming that the South Shetlands, the South Orkneys, and part of Graham Land belong to her equally wilh the Falklands, compels the whalers to pay her a small royalty, which passes through the hands of the Governor of the Falklands.
M. Andresen tells us that, as regards ice, the summer of 1900-1007 was a bad one, while during the, last two summers there has been very little, at least in the region covered by the whale-boats. These vessels, not being built to resist ice-floes, of course avoid them carefully, although they succeed in
slipping through them easily enough when they are loose. The end of November, the whole of December, and the beginning of February are as a rule seasons of good weather, the gales to be feared coming from the south-west. I am astonished at this last statement (though I cannot refuse to accept it, since all the whalers on the station whom I have asked have told me the same), because during our two summer campaigns in 1904 and 1904-5 our gales, which were frequent and violent, always came from the north-east,1 and that in regions not far from Deception Island. The balaenoptcras pass this way in considerable numbers during December and January, but begin to go south at the end of the latter month. My hosts therefore listen with the greatest interest to the information which I am able to give them concerning the navigation in February of De Gerlache Strait, so fine a ground for whale hunting, and of Bismarck Estuary, where I do not advise them to go on account of the reefs and ice-floes, and finally concerning Port Lockroy, the only good anchorage which we discovered, and which I recommended from the first as a shelter for whalers, since they can reach it by three separate channels and run no risk of being stopped by floes. On the other hand, I do not commend Port Charcot, on Wandel Island, which cannot hold more than two small boats, or one of medium size, and becomes dangerous with the north-east winds. A visit to Port Lockroy seems their best chance, according to my information, and I think that M. Andresen has decided to put it to the test in February.
After fixing up an appointment on board the PourquoiPas f on the next day but one, I bid good-bye to our kind hosts. The anchorage chosen by the whalers has the advantage of being quite close to the entrance of the bay, while
1 It seems as if the whalers' observations were at fault, or we misunderstood them, for on our return to Deception we were able to testify that the frequent gales came from the north-east. M. Andersen must have meant that the gales from the south-west were the only dangerous ones at the anchorage.
providing an excellent shelter from the sea. Its only drawback lies in its great depth and bad holding-ground. Also, in strong gales the ships sometimes drag their anchors, and one of them, it seems, stranded on the opposite side of the basin. The Gobernador Bories, which was probably the first to arrive, is anchored by the stern, quite close to a wide low beach like that at Pendulum Cove, so that she is able by means of a hose to bring straight on board all the fresh water necessary. On the beach is a little granite monument recently erected in memory of M. Andresen's predecessor, who was washed over board last year during a whale hunt.
We return on board to dinner. In my absence the various works have gone on. Gain and Gourdon have been on an excursion, and have met on a neighbouring beach, covered with snow and ice, a herd of 155 seals, Crabbing and Weddell's Seals mixed, who seem to have given them a vocal concert like those which we heard sometimes on the Francais.
I write my mail until 1 a.m., when I go to look for Bongrain and Boland, who are making a series of pendulum observations in their tent, and take them some cakes and some Mariani wine to warm them.
December 24. — Weather as fine as ever. Liouville goes off to operate on the unfortunate workman, and Gourdon accompanies him to administer the chloroform. They are late in returning, for the operation was a long one ; but both are hopeful of its success. Thus we have been able to do a real service to these good fellows ; for without our aid the patient would have died of gangrene. M. Andresen had quite made up his mind to send him on a whale-boat to Punta Arenas if we had not turned up ; but it is doubtful whether he could have got there in time.
The work begun the previous day starts again. Rouch on the picket-boat has dredged the basin, bringing up an important zoological harvest. He has also taken soundings, and where Foster's chart shows 97 fathoms he has only found 63,
which seems to prove that the filling up is not limited to the shores, but that the crater-shaped basin is also gradually changing. The whalers, too, who have the English chart, have frequently noticed this.
A whale-boat brings us in the morning 16 tons of Newcastle coal stacked loose on deck, and so as not to lose time another luings xis 14 tons in the evening. Our men, assisted by the Norwegians, work enthusiastically, and at 6 p.m. our bunkers are full.
I have a long talk with one of the whaling captains, a grave, well educated and intelligent man. He confirms all that M. Andresen and the others told me yesterday, and gives Die also some details about whale hunting; among other things, the practical method by which the whalers recognize at a distance the different kinds of balaenopteras. The Humpback Whale (Megaptera), which is of little commercial value, spouts very low and has a protuberance on its back. The Fin Whale (the common balaenoptera), which is of medium value, has a fairly large dorsal fin and spouts very high, with a single straight jet. The Blue Whale (or Eazor-back), whose value is greater than the two others', has a medium-sized dorsal fin and spouts with a double jet, which looks like a single one of moderate height ending in a plume.
In the evening, when all our work is done, we indulge in ski-ing. At midnight the bell goes full peal, and we keep Christmas Eve. There is a gay Christmas tree covered with knick-knacks and little candles, a present from Mme. Gourdon to the men, who are delighted with it. We for our part have supper and distribute the presents which many of our relatives, with a kindly forethought that arouses in me an emotion I find it hard to hide, intended for us on this chief of all family festivals.
December 25, Christmas Day. — The work on shore is finished off and all things put straight on board, while I sort the important mail of the Pourguoi-Pas ? which the whalers are going
to take to Punta Arenas on their return in March. Our news will, therefore, reach France in April. Many things will have happened between now and then, and our letters will only have been written very few days after those we sent from America ; but still they will contain news which may perhaps make our absence seem shorter, and will at all events announce not only the happy termination of the first stage of our journey, but also the favourable conditions under which we are setting out.
About 3 o'clock some whaling captains of the Norwegian companies pay a visit to the Pourquoi-Pas f Christmas is the only day of the whole season on which they rest. I show them all over the ship, and must confess that I am not a little proud of the flattering appreciation which these experts give to the lines and construction of this vessel, which is in a way my child, and which was so often criticized by those who could speak with no authority. They all tell me that the icefloes are far fewer this year than previous years ; and when I compare this statement with the fact that the ocean-going ships (as we were told in our voyage across, and as is proved too by the broken stem of a German sailer at Eio Janeiro) came across an abundance of floes this winter at considerably more northern latitudes than usual, we may hope that there has been a mild winter, which allowed an almost constant break-up of the ice, or at least a prevalence of favourable winds which drove the iloes toward the open sea, and I am prepared to believe this a good augury for our expedition.
Half an hour later M. Andresen arrives with his devoted and amiable wife, now happily recovered from her indisposition. She gives us the best reports on the patient of yesterday. We exchange Christmas greetings, and I am able to present all the Norwegians with picture postcards which my friend Crichton-Somcrville sent me from Norway in large quantities, with ' A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year ' on each of them.
M. Andresen, inexhaustible in kindness and care, tells me that he will do his best to come to Port Lockroy this year and that we may therefore leave a mail there. He assures me, moreover, that in January, 1910, he will certainly come to Port Lockroy and, if the ice permits, as far as Wandel to look for tidings of us. Need I insist on the importance of this generous proposal ? In case of an accident it is to Wandel and Port Lockroy that we shall seek to get. I was keenly reproached over the last expedition for not having made sure of a shelter in emergency. This time the same shall not be said of me. M. Andresen adds that we may be sure also of finding coal at Deception on our return.
We take a glass of champagne and shake hands with genuine emotion, our guests re-embark in their little boat, and we exchange salutes and blasts of the whistle. At 4.45 ■we weigh anchor. There is a brisk wind from the north-east, but the barometer is rising and the horizon is clear.
Before entering the pass we lessen speed opposite the "whaling-station, the Chilian and Norwegian flags dip, the whistles rend the air, and we return the salute of these fine and hospitable people.
At 8 o'clock, with a good north-east breeze, we make for the northern entrance of De Gerlache Strait. The weather is so clear that we can see at the same time Deception, Low Island, and Hoseason, and make out in the south and southwest the high snow-covered lands. About us an innumerable quantity of balaenopteras are plunging.
Our immediate object is to reach Port Lockroy by way of the usually calm and comparatively free waters of the strait so justly named after De Gerlache.
De Gerlache in 1898, expecting to enter what the charts hitherto marked as a bay under the name of Hughes Bay, to his great astonishment found himself in this strait and made a stay there, surveying and making numerous landings. Finally he passed through it and thus reached the Pacific,
when he was caught in the ice-pack and stayed until March, 1899, having the honour and glory of being the first man to winter in the Antarctic and bringing back a priceless quantity of notes and observations in the cause of science.
It is beyond discussion that the discovery of this strait belongs to De Gerlache, but it is also incontestable that the numerous American and English sealers, who regularly frequented these regions in the first half of the nineteenth century, knew much more than they told, both of these latitudes and of those visited by the Francais. They kept silence, either intentionally to choke off competition or through indifference to geographical discoveries, which they were for the most part of the time incapable of appreciating or registering with any semblance of accuracy. It is, further, very probable that Captain W. H. Smiley in 1842 alludes to De Gerlache Strait in his letter to the explorer Wilkes, when he says : ' Many suppose that Palmer Land is a continent and consider that it is the continuation of the land marked out by Wilkes. But this is not the case, for I have sailed round Palmer Land.' In any case, in 1874 the German captain Dallmann, of Hamburg, the first to visit this region in a steamship, discovered the south-west entrance of this strait, to which he gave the name of Bismarck Strait. The Greenland, a composite ship, belonged to the German Polar Navigation Company, and was equipped for seal hunting. After touching at Trinity Land, Dallmann made his way along the north-west coast of Palmer Archipelago, and particularly that part of the west coast which is now called Antwerp Island. On January 8 he passed between rocks and reefs at a point which he called Hamburg Haven, and his description of this place agrees remarkably with that given by the Francais Expedition. He next went south and discovered, in the midst of ' a shoal of rocks which lay in surprising numbers close to the coast,' low islands and rockfl level with the water, a vast estuary
which he insisted must be a strait and to which he gave the name of Bismarck Strait. The Greenland was then, in ' about ' 64° 55' South latitude. He discovered the archipelago of the Kaiser Wilhclm Islands, of which the principal were Booth, Krogmann, and Petcrmann Islands, rechristened by the Belgica Wandel, Hovgard, and Lund (where we wintered). He indicates plainly the entrance of Roosen Channel — De Gerlache'a Neumayer Channel — and the south-west cape of what afterwards was named Wiencke Island. Next, going first north, then north-east, after passing the Paid I reefs, he doubled Cape Greenland and penetrated into a bay which ought rightly to bear his name. But the ice prevented him from ' penetrating far enough to know whether the bay ended in a strait.' As a matter of fact, there was a channel, which the Belgica saw from De Gerlache Strait and named Scholaert Channel. The Francois used it twice, and surveyed it, rediscovering the two little fjords pointed out by Captain Dallmann. Dallmann, who, it must be remembered, was but a mere scaling captain and, as he confesses himself, had defective chronometers, could scarcely fail to make incorrect observations of longitude. His discoveries were utilized for the first t ime in A. Petermann's South Polar Chart in 1875 (Stieler's Atlas No. 7, 1894), and then in a chart laid down by L. Frederiehsen in 1895 after the German captain's original sketch map. In his over-anxiety to be complete, the last-named geographical expert made the mistake of joining, on the Strength of a mere^supposition, the entrance of the strait marked by Dallmann with that of an inlet seen by Larsen in 1893-4 on the east coast of Graham Land ; and this is the sole reason for the doubts born later concerning the identification of Bismarck Strait with the Pacific entrance of the strait marked by the Belgica.
The Fran^ais Expedition of 1903-5 settled the question. After touching Smith Island, we surveyed the north-west coast of Palmer Archipelago, so important to navigators in
these regions. Then entering the strait from the southwest we sailed down Roosen Channel, discovering Port Lockroy, Peltier Channel, and Doumer Island. After a detour to the south the Frangais came back -to winter at Booth (Wandel) Island, where she stayed nine months. But excursions during this period allowed us not only to complete and extend the survey of this region, but also to prove the nonexistence of another supposed strait a little further to the south. During the next summer campaign the Frangais surveyed Scholaert Channel, which joins Dallmann Bay and runs south. A serious grounding of the ship forced her to return in February, all but foundering at Port Lockray. Here the crew had a rest. ISText she sailed up De Gerlache Strait again, noting some details for alteration, concerning firstly the channel separating Liege and Brabant Islands, and secondly Hoseason Island, where we were unable to discover the cairn left by Foster, although we landed at the same point as he. In the map drawn by Lieutenant Matka, second in command, we did not trouble ourselves about our own small loss of reputation and the lessening of the area of our discoveries, but were particular to restore all the names given by Dallmann and to render full justice to this modest Hamburg sealing captain. The Germans had done equal justice to the French explorer Bouvet, when in 1899 the Valdivia rediscovered the island which bears his name and whose existence had been so long disputed after the voyages of Cook and Ross.
In 1903 the Nordcnskjold Expedition sailed along the northern side of De Gerlache Strait before visiting the coast of Graham Laud, and the Uruguay when looking for the Frangais in January, 1905, went as far as the cape at the southern end of Wiencke Island without being able to round the island. Finally, we must note that the celebrated English sealer Biscoe was the first to discover and name in 1832 Mount William, situated on Antwerp Island at the entrance of tho
landed in February, 1905.
December 26. — Passing Hoseason Island yesterday Eouch took a sounding. The lead went down to a depth of 1,400 metres without touching the bottom. The temperature at this depth was — 0°5.
In the morning we are abreast of Two Hummocks Island, south-west of which in February, 1905, the Francais found fair shelter from a north-east gale. The weather, like yesterday's, is remarkably fine and clear, and we are sailing over an absolutely smooth sea. We are closer to the coast of Palmer Archipelago, but we can see the opposite shore very distinctly. From time to time we have to avoid a few icebergs and ice-blocks, but they are so scattered that they do not trouble us. There is evidently much less ice than when we were here in 1904 and 1905, and even less, it seems, than when the Belgica was here. We came across no marine icer and no coastal ice-belt or debris of the latter.
Another sounding is taken at the entrance of Scholaert Channel, but an accident to the lead prevents strict accuracy. Apparently the bottom is at about 300 metres.
We enter by the northern end of Eoosen Channel, where we have to pass some remains of icebergs piled up very loosely, and soon the superb Mount Francais shows up in all its splendid grandeur. Next the approach to Port Lockroy, whose contours are so familiar to us, appears in its turn, and we come abreast of Casabianca Islet, where stands out boldly the long spar with a signal on the top which we set up in 1904, when we left there tidings of ourselves. I go with Gourdon in the dinghy as far as our letter-box, and meanwhile on board they take a sounding of 126 metres and use for the first time the big steam windlass for the dredging-net. It works very well, and the fruitful haul will keep the naturalists busy.
covered with a fine white coating, which I mistake at first for a mould similar to what I found on the wooden buildings left by the Pola in Jan Mayen Land. A farther examination shows me that it is really down from birds, evidently coming from the numerous neighbouring rookeries. The bottle attached to the mast, containing another phial inside, is unbroken, and we find again the message which we placed in it in February, 1905, as plain and clear as if it had been put there yesterday. It is easy to understand our emotion as we look at it. We substitute for it a temporary note, indicating merely that we are going to spend a day or two at Port Lockroy. This letter-box is cleared very irregularly, and so far we have been the only postmen !
We go on board again and return without difficulty to Port Lockroy, where we let down our anchor close to the spot where the Fran^ais used to anchor. The ice-cliff which forms the end wall of the bay has the same appearance as of old, and those of us who took part in the earlier expedition might well think ourselves four years younger ! The newcomers land at once and explore the penguins' rookery, which they find just as amusing and interesting as we used to.
In the evening, with snow-shoes on our feet on account of the heavy deposit of snow, Godfroy, Senouque, Jabet and myself ascend to the plateau which runs across the island at the foot of the magnificent peak of Louis-de-Savoie, still wearing its curious ducal crown of ice, to the summit of which Dayn6 the guide and quartermaster Jabet made their bold climb in 1905. It appears thai the snow has increased, altering the formerly level plateau into a huge dome. We Bee Cape Benard and Wandel Island very distinctly, but fail in our real object, for we wanted chiefly to ascertain whether
the passage Erom here to Wandel Island was free of ice, which was Qot the case in February, 1904, at the end of December, or in February, 1905. But Doumer Island shuts out the view of the sea.
December 27. — The weather is line, though a little threatening in the west. Our colleagues are busy with their observations ashore. 1 have the picket -boat got ready to go to Wandel Island. Obviously the trip is a little risky, for there are 20 miles to cover, 15 in the open sea ; but we ought to be able to see not only whether the way is clear as far as Wandel anil whether Port Charcot is blocked as it was in December, 1905, but also the state of the ice to the south and around the island. By using 20 litres of petroleum, of which we have a big supply, we shall save one day's coal and perhaps even more.
At 2 o'clock Godfroy, Gourdon, Besnard, Frachat and myself set off, with our bed-sacks, a tent, and four days' provisions. We take Peltier Channel, which the Francais discovered, and at the entrance we stop a few minutes to take soundings at the foot of an ice-cliff, which does not rest likeits neighbours upon a stratum of rock, but is worn by the swell of the sea as the icebergs are. Close up to the perpendicular face of the cliff we let fall the lead to the depth of 50 metres without touching bottom. Our glaciologist, Gourdon, is going to study this matter with care, for perhaps we have here an ice-barrier in miniature.
All goes well. Even outside the shelter of the channel the picket-boat makes her five knots. The wind blows freshly from the south-west, that is to say a little ahead ; but in hugging the icebergs and islands to escape the wind we are bothered by the chop, which becomes rather pronounced. The floes are few, certainly much fewer than at any time during our last expedition. The wind freshens as we push on, the chop becomes very rough, and we are drenched. Wandel is only two miles away now, and we are already in sight of our big
cairn, when our badly protected magneto is flooded and the motor stops. Finally we run up the mast, hoist sail, and try to tack ; but the sea is too heavy, the current is against us, and the ice-blocks compel us to give way, so that we lose the small amount of progress we have made. We drift toward Cape Eenard, whose imposing mass towers over us. Should the wind drop, increase, or change, we should find ourselves in a bad plight. To our great regret, when we are so near our goal, we are forced to put about, and now with a quarterwind we head for Wiencke Island. We fall foul of some floes which bar our way, but we manage to clear them, and after some hours enter Peltier Channel, where we are becalmed. We are resigning ourselves to five miles of sculling in this heavy boat, when our motor, perhaps aware of our curses or with its magneto dry again since we put about, consents to restart work and at 11 p.m. we reach Port Lockroy, frozen to the marrow. We have but partly attained the object of our trip, but if we have secured no information as to the state of the ice south of Wandel, at least we are certain of being able to reach that island without difficulty.
December 28. — The weather is moist and grey, and the low clouds are scarcely higher than the top of the ice cliff. The crew load the large canoe with ice from the bergs to till up the boiler by means of the specially designed pipe, and all works quickly and well.
Bongrain continues his pendulum observations on Goudicr Islet. Roueh and Gourdon go out to dredge and take soundings under the ice cliff where we began last night, and find bottom at 150 metres. Then they look for rock specimens on Casabianca Islet, and hunt the beach for fossils, unfortunately in vain. Gain and Liouville arrange and classify the numerous specimens already gathered. Godfroy examines the atmosphere. I busy myself with various details on board, and get ready the messages and the mail which we are to leave in the cairn for the whalers. If they come this year, there
will be some news to go to France. I write what is probably the last letter for a very long time to my dear wife. Thus far this possibility of writing to her, so to speak, daily has given me the illusion of being not so far away from her, but now the separation will seem very real to me. Still I do not yet feel completely cut off from the civilized world in spite of thr vast isolation, probably because I am still in regions familiar to me, and perhaps also because of the rapidity and ease with which we have come from Punta Arenas to here.
very good size.
December 29. — Since morning the weather has been clear and calm, with a fine hot sun. While Bongrain was finishing his observations, Gourdon and Senouque measuring the depth of the hollows in the cliff at the foot of which we sounded, and finding it to be 35 metres, and the crew putting all in order for our departure, I went in the picket-boat with Godfroy to change the messages in the two cairns. A number of small floes encumber the entrance to the harbour, but the picketboat slips through them well until on our return we ground for a long while on the spur of a small ice-block.
At 1.30 we weigh anchor and pass through Peltier Channel without much difficulty, in spite of the numerous floes of fair size which have entered it. Our ship pushes them aside or breaks them with ease, but every time that the shock is a little rough our red paint comes off on the ice, which therefore looks as if it were bleeding beneath our blows.
Abreast of Goetschy Islet, Gourdon gets into a Norwegian boat to look for geological specimens, and Rouch takes a sounding of 90 metres, with a temperature of 0° 1 ; he also uses the drag-net, with some difficulty owing to the narrow space and the presence of ice, but still with very satisfactory results. We pass Doumer Island outside the Channel, the
to guide us unhesitatingly to Port Charcot.
Unhappily, at the very moment when we reach the entrance, the famous north-easter, which is so dangerous here, begins to blow. Nevertheless we must make a stay here in order to leave a stock of food. The Frangais was able to spend nine months here — at great risk, it is true, but without serious damage in the end. The Pourquoi-Pas f has 10 more metres in length, and her greater draught of water will not allow her to thrust herself so far into the cove and thus protect herself so well. But to return to Port Lockroy or to keep up si cam while sheltering under the island would mean loss of time and waste of coal ; for I know no other place in the neighbourhood where we could moor or anchor and put out the fires. Therefore I do not hesitate to enter, and in order to stop our way before the force of the wind we cannon gently off the round stones of Sogen Island and just beach our bows. We run out three ice-anchors to starboard astern, three to port astern, and six from the bows. Finally we stretch across the cove as a bar against the floes some double lengths of steel cable belonging to the drag-nets. As all our moorings are new, I hope that they will hold.
So here I am again at Wandel Island, where for nine months we lived, worked, hoped, sometimes almost despaired and often sorrowed. I am back again under much better conditions, with a ship, equipment, and means which are out of all comparison with those of the former expedition. In addition I have Hie experience and, what is not so good, four years on to my age. By me 1 have again Gourdon and eight men from the old crew.
that I never loft the spot. My eyes are struck by the same familiar objects and the same buildings, my ears catch the same sounds from the rookeries of penguins and cormorants, which give forth the same powerful odour. On the rock where the Francois's gangway landed is a heap of old, empty and rusty preserved food tins, a pile of stacked bottles, and the head of a seal. ' Victor Hugo Avenue,' of course, is obliterated under a mass of snow, but it would be easy to retrace it.
There is no time, however, for reminiscences, and I climb at once with Gourdon up the height we called Jeanne to survey the neighbourhood and the offing. Our hydrographic signal is still on its cairn, and under a stone I find the little rum bottle in which Dayne" enclosed a message on December 25, 1904, when we climbed up together to say good-bye, or rather au revoir, to Wandel. The estuary is free of ice save for a few blocks and bergs, but in the offing the floes, if in a loose condition, seem to reach as far as the horizon. On the south side the water is free as far as the Jallour Islets. I am very anxious to try to follow the coast and make my way between it and the Biscoe Islands. Numerous reefs, many hidden under ice, and icebergs beyond number make the journey dangerous ; but it would be of the highest interest. So I make up my mind in any case to push a reconnaissance along this coast. But for the moment there is nothing to do except wait for the end of the north-east gale, and we come down again to visit the familiar spots.
The picket-boat abandoned here in 1904 is in good condition, but is filled with solid ice. Her awning, oars, and planking, from which the paint has come off, are all as white as if they had been frequently and energetically holystoned. The wooden magnetic hut, in which Rey used to work, is absolutely as untouched as if it had just been left, and its stoutness does the greatest honour to its builder, our carpenter Libois. We find in the hut a few objects which were left
behind or forgotten, notably a matehbox-stand and on its glazed earthenware base the glass jar containing the report of the Expedition, which I had placed there a few minutes before we left. The stone-built magnetic hut and its observation-stand are also in the same state as when we left, and I find there a few pages of a notebook. As for the portable house, it is almost entirely crushed in under the snow, with all that it contains. It has a strong inclination toward the north, having probably slipped along the ice down the gentle slope in this direction. Its corrugated iron roof has been carried away by the wind, and is now Heaven knows where. Otherwise all that one can see appears to be in a good state. But it would be too long and difficult a job to dig it out entirely. The big cairn on the 60-metre hill which overhangs our cove has suffered no damage. This imposing monument dominates our old station ; the message-box and the leaden plate on which are engraved all the names of the members of the Francais Expedition are still attached to it.
and cables alike hold good.
December 30. But unfortunately — and this shows that man is never content — I find that for the moment, apart from the blocks and bergs, there is not enough floating ice to protect us, as the Francais was protected by the blockage of the cove, not only from the swell, but also from dangerous neighbours. We have no time to give up to the heavy labour spent in 1004, when we stretched an anchor-chain across, and I am afraid that in the end the ice-floes will account for our feeble steelwire hawser.
We scatter over the island, some for exercise, others for work. I go with a few men armed with spades and picks to try to dig out the interior of the portable house. The Christmas tree which we left there the day of our departure comes
Up to now the north-easter has been blowing with clear weather, but now it is overcast and heavy. The big icefloe which has been toppling over against the hawser passes under it and makes for Our ship. We turn it aside and send it along toward the end of the cove.
December 31. — Still the north-easter, accompanied in the morning by a small fine rain. But in the afternoon the sky clears, and the sun comes out. The temperature, which since our arrival in the Antarctic has been about 1 or 2 degrees below zero, is now 2° above.
We open our store-rooms to establish on Wandel Island a depdt containing tins of biscuits, petroleum, a Primus lamp, some tools, and matches. With these and seals, penguins, and cormorants, which never leave the island even in the winter, there will be no danger of immediate death from hunger.
While we are finishing breakfast, the swell increases, and suddenly the helm above our heads begins to move. A great ice-block has broken through the hawser and struck the rudder. Happily there is no damage done, but it is with difficulty that we drive off the aggressor with poles. We are now surrounded by large blocks, which strike against the ship violently and have to be constantly pushed aside. The hawser is stretched across again, but I confess that I have little confidence in its efficacy. This campaign, on which I build such hopes, would then finish before it had well begun. But bttle by little the sky clears in the direction of Wiencke Island, a favourable sign, as I know well ; and sure enough, toward 8 o'clock in
the evening, there is a dead calm. It was high time, for an ice-block all bristling with sharp edges was bearing down on us, and I do not know how we should have been able to defend ourselves against it.
Some of my colleagues are losing nerve, give vent to pessimistic opinions as to the stoutness of the vessel, and insist that we are going to be shut in by the ice-blocks which now choke the cove and would keep us from leaving if we wanted to. It is in vain that I assure them that as soon as it is calm the regular northerly current will quickly clear away all these. Probably their anxiety to see the Expedition on the move makes it difficidt for them to bow before a nine months' experience acquired in this locality. To make the time pass, every one goes ashore to practise ski-ing, and I am left on board alone to sort out the little parcels intended for us by our families on the first day of the year.
Guegen, following our old custom, has dug a hole in the snow-hill alongside us, so as to take advantage of the thaw. From this the water flows in abundance, and with a hose stretched along a hawser we are able without fatigue to fill the boiler and the water-casks.
Some of the men take off their skis and search in vain in the snow of Sogen Islet, named after our good dog which died here of old age, to see if they can find his body and that of our pig Toby, who lived eleven months with us and was the delight of all the crew. Kiki and Polaire, two pet dogs presented to us at Buenos Aires, play about over their graves without the slightest respect for their predecessors' memories.
January 1, 1909. — As midnighl struck, every bell on boned, the foghorns and the phonographs gave forth their sounds in si deafening discord to welcome the New Year. We eat, in accordance with the custom which makes this bring good luck, some fresh grapes which were presented to us for the occasion by M. Blanchard at Punta Arenas. Packed in sawdust, they bad already made the journey from Malaga, so that they are
picked.
Chollet, the old companion of all my travels, comes first, as at Port Lockroy in 1905, to shake my hand. Then Libois, the oldest on board, who has also served me long, brings me a very nice letter signed by all the crew. On their part the staff came forward to shako the hands of our brave and devoted helpers. Then, both fore and aft, we wash down with the generous wines of France an abundant supper.
My first thought of the year has been of my own, of my brave and devoted wife, who not merely allowed me to do my duty, but further encouraged and helped me to do it. I told her once to soothe her, on an occasion when she was speaking sadly of anniversaries which we should spend apart, that all days are alike. It is not true, and I did not think so myself. Too many memories of family gatherings, some joyful, others saddened by the vanishing of a loved one, are stirred up by these dates for them to be otherwise than like steps on life's great stair, whereon the mind halts to look back on the way already come, fearing, with the dread of the unknown, to take the next step.
Amid the great solitude, full of the howling of the wind and the sound of the crashing floes, I pray to God on this morning of the first day of the year to give me strength and ability to rise to the height of the task which I have undertaken, of my own free will, with the sole object of being of some use to my country.
About midday the wind dropped. We got the picket-boat quickly into the water, and at 3 o'clock Gourdon, Godfroy, Liouville and myself, slipping through the floes, which have separated a little, make a reconnaisance to the south. Going by way of Salpetriere Bay, among numerous icebergs, we soon
reach Hovgard. Here still stands the hydrographic signal which we set up in 1904, at a little distance from the cleft between two rocks which served as our home for several weeks. We search in vain round this island, which we had only seen before surrounded by an ice-belt, for a shelter for our ship ; and we push on to Lund (Petermann) Island. We approach the place where, after months of fruitless effort, we finally arrived on skis during our previous winter. I climb with Gourdon to the summit, from which there is a fine and extensive view, while Liouville collects the mosses and lichens which abound here, defending himself in the meantime against the attacks of vast numbers of megalestrides, fine, strong chestnutcoloured birds, which thought that he had designs on their nests.
Very often, almost every time we land, we have to put up with the attacks of the megalestris, and its sharp beak and strong flight justify fear. Still, I must say that never has any one of us, man or dog, been wounded by them, although some say that they have been struck on the head. As a rule every one detests them, but I confess that I have nothing but admiration for these courageous creatures.
From the peak we see in the offing some floes, close at band but of no great extent. Along the coast the water is free as far as the Jallour Islets ; further on there is a flat ice-pack full of great clefts. From our observatory we see a fairly big cove on the east of the island, close to a headland where we camped twice in succession during our excursion in December, 1904. At that time we dragged our whale boat over the thick ice at this spot. Now the cove is quite free of ice, and if there are good enough camping-grounds it will provide our ship with an excellent shelter, which we must visit. We descend and get on board the picket-boat, on which during our absence Godfroy has very ingeniously rigged up a tent with a tarpaulin— no unnecessary precaution, for it is raining in torrents.
tween which the ship will be able to pass; and they will, moreover, stop ice-blocks of deep draught from entering. Altogether this inlet makes an excellent harbour, where two vessels like ours could at need moor, very probably sheltered from all winds, and at any rate from those blowing from between the east-north-east and the south-east, if not from the west. In memory of the date on which we discovered it we laughingly christen it Port Circumcision, its name in future. The great French navigator Bouvet gave the same name, for the same reason, to the remarkable island and cape which he discovered on this day.
As soon as the weather is favourable we shall bring the Pourquoi-Pas f here, and shall find whether we can continue southward along the coast or must, on the other hand, make for the open. My choice would be to advance with successive halts, so as to insure a thorough study of this region. But will ice-floes and reefs permit this, and shall we always find sufficient shelter ? The future will decide.
At 10 p.m. we return on board drenched, and eat with good appetite. At Wandel Island the ice-blocks are still in the same position, and the north-easterly wind is getting up again.
January 2. — The ice anchor which held the hawser across the cove has given way, and already one of the ice-blocks has badly scratched our stern name-board. Certainly Port Charcot is a dangerous place during north-easterly winds, especially for a boat the size of ours. The situation is serious, and it is necessary to come to a decision quickly. A huge ice-block is threatening our stern, which it would soon crush in, another to starboard is knocking against our side, and a third, still more vast, is bearing down on us to port. I have the two last-named firmly fastened to the shore, and, as the first is buttressed up by them, we shall be protected as long as the cables hold.
still blowing strong. We shall not be able to get out until there has been a calm of some duration or the wind has changed. Nevertheless, I have all made ready for departure, and I write out the messages to leave in the cairns in French and in English, a language known by all the Norwegians. In the afternoon we suffer the north-easter's worst onset, the weather being very heavy, with violent squalls and blinding snow alternating with sleet or fine rain. For the moment our iceblocks keep quiet and even protect us against the swell and against other ice, but it is best not to think of what will happen if they recover their freedom of action. The man on the watch has instructions not to leave the stern, and to give warning of the slightest move.
January 3. — At midnight the fall of the barometer ceases, and the wind gradually drops. It snows and rains fast. The ice-blocks astern fall apart slowly, inch by inch. The suspense is terribly unnerving. To set us free a south wind is required, but it continues to blow from the north-east, though weakly. I dare not release our prisoners for fear that the present calm may be deceptive.
At night the snow ceases, but the weather still remains very overcast. I set at liberty the ice-block to port, which is tearing at its cables, and as at 11 o'clock there is a passage just sufficient for the ship I give orders for the fires to be lighted and all cables to be taken up that are not needed to prevent swinging, while I go off to deposit the messages in the cairns.
At 1.30 we begin our move, and just succeed in slipping out, our cove being narrower than my own chart makes it to be. At last we get clear without mishap and make for Lemaire Channel, leaving Cape Renard and False Cape Renard to our left. We have to thread two close-packed belts of broken-up bergs, which give us some pretty hard knocks. The snow is falling in heavy Hakes, and abreast of Hovgard we are forced to stop, as we can only see a few metres ahead.
On the end of the deck the sensation of giddiness produced by the snow falling on the calm black water is very curious. We seem to be rising in a balloon, with the sea and the icebergs plunging rapidly into a bottomless gulf beneath us.
Thanks to a break in the weather, we make Port Circumcision easily and here we moor ourselves firmly with four anchors, almost as if we were alongside a wharf. I believe that there is no risk to our ship here.
January 4. — It is fine and warm, and everybody scatters over the island for the usual researches and observations. We rediscover the locality of our old camps in 1904, and the corried beef tin with the pencil message in it.
I launch the picket-boat and have Godfrey's awning rigged up more securely, for I want to start off this very day and reconnoitre in the neighbourhood of Cape Tuxen and the Berthelot Islands, which are free of ice and ought to give us a good view from their highest point.
At 5 p.m., in beautiful weather, Gourdon, Godfroy and myself set out, and as we only expect to be absent a few hours we only take enough for one meal and the clothes we have on us.
As far as Tuxen the sea is clear, and we sight in passing the cairns, erected in 1904. Beyond the cape there is a wide channel between the land and the ice-fields, which we take. Gourdon and I disembark at the foot of an ice-cliff rising on a base of fallen soil, dominated by the imposing perpendicular wall of green diorite which composes Cape Tuxen. Gourdon collects some zoological specimens, and we spend an hour upon the flat top of the cliff. The Berthelot Islands are surrounded by open water, and the channel appears to continue towards Cape Trois-Perez. The extremely clear weather allows us to make out the wonderful high mountains to the west of this cape. On board once more, we endeavour to penetrate by the channel into the big bay which De Gerlache imagined might be a strait, though it is really the head of
an enormous glacier ; but we are in the midst of colossal piled-up icebergs and the pack-ice is becoming quite solid. It is, indeed, so thick that very probably it may go through several winters without breaking up. Twice we very narrowly escape considerable danger ; for, after we have slipped between an iceberg and the pack, the former bears down upon and all but crushes us. Once the picket-boat is actually wedged in, her ribs crack, and with great difficulty we get away in time, finding for our exit a narrow channel which we only get through by lightening the boat and jumping over the ice, which closes up again as soon as we are gone. It would be absurd to pursue this course, so we make straight for the Berthelot Islands, reaching them soon. Thus, in a few hours we have reached the spot in getting to which we spent six days in 1904 at the cost of great labour, five of us hauling over the ice a boat weighing 850 kilogrammes.
Forthwith we make the long and rather toilsome ascent of the big island to have a look to southward. The whole coast-line is blocked. To take the boat anywhere here would be impossible ; but the offing, at a short distance, appears free, so the Pourquoi-Pas ? shall try her luck in that direction. It is 10 p.m. when we get into the picket-boat again, and, judging by the time we took to come, we count on being on board about 1 or 2 a.m. We have a meal of soup, pate"-defoio-gras, chocolate, jam, and two of our five biscuits — a luxurious repast, which we are destined soon to regret. It is calm, but snow is beginning to fall.
When we reach the edge of the land we seek in vain for an opening. Thick pack-ice is now pressing against the cliff, and in spite of all our efforts we can find no way through. I climb up on to a neighbouring islet to have a look at the ice from a point of vantage ; but it is not high enough, so we return to the Berthelot Islands. I climb to the summit of one of these and seem to see in the oiling a narrow-winding channel, running to an open space which ought to lead to
our way into it.
From this moment onward the snow falls constantly, varied witli an icy rain. There is no night, and the sun remains hidden in the clouds. These facts, combined with our incessant hard work and the absence of such breaks as a meal, prevent us from knowing, when we chance to look at our watches whether it is night or daytime.
All goes well at the start of the new route, the picket- boat making her way well through the small floes, even climbing over them at times and breaking them up. Godfroy looks after the motor ; I am at the helm, shouting to him in turn, ' Stop,' ' Right ahead,' ' Back her,' or ' Slow ; ' and Gourdon, armed with a boat-hook, pushes off the floes now ahead and now astern. But soon our misery commences. The channel which I noted is closed, while others have opened, ending in lakes from which there is no exit. A biting little west wind alters the position of the ice every minute. We see a channel forming, but to get there we have to cross a large expanse of ice. When this is not too thick the picket-boat, by going alternately full speed ahead and then astern, very slowly cuts a way for herself. But soon this becomes impossible. Then we climb on to the fragUe ice and with spade and boathooks try to cut a channel. It is a slow and exhausting job. The spade is our best tool, but unhappily it sUps from Godfroy's benumbed hands and sinks ! We laugh at the mishap and at the woebegone face of our good friend ; but our already feeble efforts now become almost useless. The ice, moreover, gets so thick that even with the spade we should have been able to do nothing. A large stretch of free water lies ahead of us, but we are completely blocked in.
We stop a few minutes to take a rest, when a penguin coming up through a hole, rises right at our side. We hesitate a moment whether to kill it for food, but none of us are mur-
derously inclined, and we decide to spare it. Like a good fairy anxious to reward us, it turns to the ice, flaps its wings, and suddenly the surface opens, making a wide channel in which the picket-boat floats. We speed along it. But, alas ! our joy is of short duration, for though this channel is open the others which we wished to reach close up at the moment when we are about to enter them and regain our freedom !
I have no idea how long our struggle lasts, but I notice that Gourdon whenever he sits down falls asleep, so we moor our boat for a while to the ice, to try to get a little rest. We are beginning to attempt to fix ourselves up, when another channel opens. We push ahead ; but it is another fraud, and at last with great difficulty we get to a high reef, where we moor as best we can. I climb to the top of this black and gloomy reef, the home of a couple of megalestrides, which in spite of my protestations that we will do them no harm as long as we are not literally dying of hunger, persist in attacking me. I discover, with aching heart, that the whole conformation of the pack-ice has altered and that we are blocked in fine and snug. There is nothing to do but to wait. One of the planks of the boat is stove in, others are so smashed and damaged by the ice that only a fraction of an inch keeps the water out. It will not bear thinking about.
We want to stretch ourselves out to sleep, but we have scarcely room, and without coverings or change of clothes, wet to our vests, and our socks soaking, we are pierced with cold. We have one tin of beef, and Gourdon finds a few sticks of chocolate, which with two biscuits and a flask of rum constitute all our provisions. With one accord we decide not to touch them for the present.
We settle down as best we can — and best is very bad in the restricted space under the tent, which has holes in several places — and try to sleep ; but the frightful coldness of our feet wakes us every minute, and my anxiety to extricate ourselves from this situation makes me rise a dozen times to
run to the summit of the reef. After three hours of this game I notice a channel starting from some thin ice, once over which we shall be able to get back to the Berthelot Islands, where there was a cormorant-rookery in 1904. We may even find again the practicable channel along the coast. But before reaching this thin ice there is a stretch covered by a pile of icebergs and I cannot see what is in store for us there. So much the worse ; but we cannot stay here, exposed as we are to the .slightest shock of the ice. We must act. I awaken my comrades, and once more we are off ! After many hardships, detours and shocks, we cross the iceberg-zone and the thin ice. There is some open water, to which we have been long strangers, and we reach the Berthelots. The cormorants are still beside an old cairn of ours. At the last extremity we could eat these raw, or singed by the aid of our spirit ; for we have not seen a single seal to provide us with its fat for fuel, and thus allow us to dry ourselves a little. To-day we shall content ourselves with a cake of chocolate and a biscuit divided among the three. We assert, moreover, that we are not very hungry — perhaps to make ourselves believe it. I climb to the summit of this thickly moss-clad island, and we decide to go and look again for our old channel along the coast. It is still hermetically sealed, and our efforts are in vain.
We therefore attempt to get back to the Berthelot Islands to seek for a corner where the picket-boat will be sheltered, and we can wait ; but in trying to avoid an ice-block we ground on a rock. The sea is falling and the boat is already in a dangerous position. Our situation is critical ; for the drop of the tide is about 2 metres, and we are far from land and our cormorant-isle. We shore up the boat with the oars firmly fastened to the mast laid across and resting on the icefloe — which fortunately is also aground. Then, there being but one tide a day we wait many long hours like this. My companions get some snatches of sleep, but I cannot do the
same, my responsibility weighing on me too much. I reproach myself with having dragged them into this adventure without taking more food and clothing, when I am usually so carefulI am anxious not only for them but also for the PourquoiPas f It must be nearly three days since we left, and our comrades on board must be very worried. They will certainly try to succour us, either in boats or in the ship itself ; and what risks will they not run, especially in this heavy weather, not to mention the waste of coal !
At last we get afloat and return to our cormorant-rookery, where we decide to wait for a break in the weather or a change of wind. During the hours we spent there I do not know how often I climbed the summit. It is probable that if I added up the climbs made on this wretched trip I should find I have covered more than several thousand metres.
I seem to espy a loosening of the ice along the coast. At any rate the distance to go before reaching open water beyond Cape Tuxen is shortened, so we set out full of hope.
We struggle once more with the ice, making for one rift after another. We seem on the point of gaining ground, when suddenly the motor stops and, in spite of all efforts, amiable encouragements, and harsh words, it is impossible to start it again. While Gotlfroy takes it to pieces, I use the paddle and with great difficulty we reach the rocky point projecting from the ice-cliff on the coast. Had we not got there we should infallibly have been swept to the end of the bay full of clashing icebergs — and what would have become of our frail boat in that titanic chaos ? Even here huge floes pass to and fro according to the movements of the tide, but a lucky eddy seems to protect us.
While the indefatigable Godfroy tries to find a cure for the engine willi l lie help of Gourdon, I make an examination of the rock. I find a few rather rare barnacles and on the summit a solitary megalestris. On my return I hear the
comfort ins; sound of tho motor which has been so good as to restart work. We take a short rest while waiting for a fresh opportunity to tempt fortune again.
I begin my climbs once more, and about 3 a.m. the icefloes break away quite sharply from the coast. In a few minutes we are at the foot of the cliff, threading our way as best we can, risking every instant the fall of debris upon our heads, and frequently grounding. Then the motor stops again, and this time there is nothing to be done, the differential is worn out. We have not even the consolation of cursing the poor motor, for it has toiled irreproachably, and the wonder ifi that it has been able to resist so long the strain to which we have put it. We try to get along with the paddle, oars, and boat-hook, but it is useless, especially as the floes are closing in on us ; and all we can do is to return to our rocky point. It is impossible for us to go back to the Berthelot Islands, and, besides, our comrades would have no chance of finding us there if we could. But, as we cannot stay to perish of hunger and cold and also cannot force others to search for us in the midst of reefs and ice-floes, we decide to abandon the picket-boat and try to reach Cape Tuxen by way of the summit of the ice-cliff. We cannot be sure that this is possible ; but there is nothing else to do, and once we are at the cape, a break in the weather will perhaps make our signals visible from Port Circumcision. Gourdon offers to go alone to Cape Tuxen, but of course I refuse. We reckon that it will take us 8 or 10 horns' tramp in the snow, and we appoint 10 p.m. as our time for setting off.
I am chagrined at being obliged to abandon the picketboat, which I tested with my wife at Bougival, which M. Doumer christened Monica, thus making my infant his goddaughter, and which has served us bravely and faithfully. Although the others do not connect it with such memories as I do, they are also sad over the desertion, and we seek in vain to console ourselves by reckoning up the advantages we
We make up our very light bundles and then, to put strength into ourselves, we open our tin of preserve and eat a little chocolate. I pencil an account of our adventures to leave in the boat, and we wait for the appointed hour, while the snow continues to fall in big, thick flakes. Under the tent on board we look like smugglers preparing to carry out a raid. We joke away, as we have done from the start, but our faces are worn and look serious whenever conversation drops. We are unwilling to confess that we are hungry, and we are even astonished at having been able to do with so little without suffering, but my clothes have become so loose that I tighten my belt in vain ; and my two comrades have since admitted that they were in the same plight.
Ten minutes to 10 ! In a few minutes, we have decided, despite the bad weather, despite the snow falling more heavily than ever, we shall be off, to try our last chance. We have a last look at what we are taking away and another sad glance at what we are leaving. We have our bundles in our hands when suddenly from the direction of Cape Tuxen there comes to us, distinctly and beyond all possibility of doubt, the prolonged whistle of our ship's familiar siren. In an instant we climb the rock and all three of us together shout out with all our might ; and then, conscious that I have a strong voice, I yell thrice in succession loud enough to burst my lungs. They have heard us on board, for the siren answers us with three blasts at intervals, and finally a great joyful-sounding shout from all the crew together reaches our cars. But our distress begins over again and communicates itself to the Pourquoi-Pas ?. The fog is dense, the snow is still falling, and how can the ship get here amid the ice-floes and roofs ?
Fortune comes our way, the snow ceases, and through a break in the weather appears a big cloud of black smoke. Soon after \\<- make out hull and masts. How lino she looks,
our Pourquoi-Pas f, through the snow and fog, pitching in her struggle with the ice, which she breaks slowly but surely. We admire her with beating hearts. We wave our flag on the end of a boat-hook, and the grand old national ensign rises majestically at the mast-head. The snow hides all up again and then the ship reappears closer at hand, still struggling. Never shall I forget this moving spectacle in so grim a setting.
There is but a little more ice to get through, so wo return to the picket-boat, which seems like a long-lost friend, and greedily devour the provisions we have left. With our mouths full we christen our rock Deliverance Point. The ship is now quite close and we can make out the men preparing to launch a boat. But we want to rejoin the ship in proper fashion, by our own efforts. While I hoist the flag astern Godfrey succeeds with a desperate effort in restarting the motor, and we move along rapidly, soon to stop again. So I finish the remaining yards with the paddle, putting all my energy into the work to show them on board that we are not at the end of our strength.
Staff and crew await us at the entry-port in their dripping oilskins. In their faces we can read sincere emotion and joy at their success. I embrace our comrades and shake hands vigorously with all. At this moment my thoughts are not of myself nor of the load off my heart, but of them. A good fire, dry clothes and especially dry socks spread out on our bunks, a good supper in readiness for us, and (what pleases us best of all) smiling, happy faces around us.
As I feared, the anxiety on board has been great. They hardly knew in what direction we had gone. Eouch set off in a whale-boat with Besnard, Dufreche, Boland and nerve", taking bedsacks and food. They landed first on the Jallour Islands, where they left a cairn and provisions ; then at Cape Tuxen,
where they spent the night. They next tried, but in vain, to carry the whale boat over the ice. On their return, Liouville, Gain and Senouque proposed to set out in their turn in the Norwegian boat ; but Bongrain decided very wisely to weigh anchor after leaving at Port Circumcision a tent, a dory, some bed-sacks and clothes, provisions in abundance, a stove and a ton of coal.
As they left the cove, a cable fouled the screw, and then the ship grounded rather violently astern ; but in spite of the heavy weather and the snow they reached Cape Tuxen, passing through the midst of the reefs without seeing them. Finally they found us. The success of this bold venture does the greatest honour to Bongrain. He was admirably seconded by Bouch, and helped also by all.
We change our clothes and then sit down to table, while I leave to Bongrain, who brought the ship out so well, the task of taking her back. We were gaily describing our adventures, when there came a great shock, the glasses overturned, and the doors of the ward-room banged violently. We have grounded horribly. Probably deceived as to distances by the snow, we have run extremely close to land, and under Cape Tuxen' s high black cliff we have stranded ourselves on a rock that is just a-wash. In spite of the engine going immediately astern, the ship will not move. The tide is at its height, and we have already over three inches below our water-line exposed at the bows. All our gaiety vanishes and gloomily we await low tide. Perhaps the ship may then slide off the rock, which stands isolated in the midst of fairly great depths. This hope is shattered, at low tide her bows are exposed 6 feet 9 inches below the water-line, and the rock is just a-wash. The iron stem is bent and broken, the false keel must be ripped for a long way, since large pieces are floating loose on the surface of the water, and there are even fragments of the keel to be seen. Our aft deck is under water.
In fact, we have met with the same accident at the Franca is ; but, if the latter's injury was bad enough to drive us to the pumps night and day, she floated off at once. Now we cannot find out whether we are making water, and in any «ase we shall be hard put to it to get ourselves off.
All day long we work to lighten the forepart and shift the weight to the stern. Our anchors and chains are secured to the rock, our water-casks emptied, our boats launched and filled with all the heavy weights taken from the forepart which we cannot shift aft. We try in vain to throw out an anchor, but the bottom is rocky and affords no hold whatever.
Need I say what terrible, almost despairing horns I go through ? For the moment there is no danger to the crew, the sea is fortunately calm, and it happens that there are no icebergs near us. Land is quite close at hand, and with what we could save from the ship we could winter there under good conditions while waiting to be rescued. Some of us could even try to take a boat to Deception and seek aid from the whalers. But the Expedition would be at an end when barely commenced. All my efforts in organizing it, fitting it out, and bringing it here would be fruitless, and the page which I dreamt of adding to the history of French explorations would never see the light. I am unwilling to believe that we cannot succeed in getting off, if necessary we can empty the ship completely ; but in what state will she be ? I am already contemplating the possibility — for one must provide for the worst — of returning lamely to Punta Arenas to get our repairs done at any cost, if it swallows up the remains of my private fortune, and making a fresh start. It is not only my honour which is at stake, it is my country's.
At midnight we put the engine full speed astern. The unhappy vessel vibrates as though she wished to shatter herself ; but nothing happens. At last, going ahead, we swing a little to starboard, then after waiting a few minutes we go astern with all our might. Violent shocks and alarming
sounds of cracking follow. We begin over again, and suddenly with a long grinding noise the ship is off. We are afloat t What a sigh of relief from every breast, what a shout from every one of us ! We have literally torn the Pourquoi-Pas ? from off her fatal rock.
In spite of the terrible weariness for all of these last six days, days without sleep for some, we set to work again packing things back in their places. Anchors and chains arebrought smartly on board again, and at 3 a.m. we are ready to start off once more. For the moment the ship is taking in no water (though she will a little later) ; but from now, if I personally cannot afford to forget that we are damaged forward — and badly, to judge by the amount of wood torn off by theshocks and jars given to the ship — and if others probably think about it in silence, we shall all act as if we knew nothing.
To return to Port Circumcision we have to cross some thick drift-ice, made up principally of the debris of icebergs,, that is to say, of very compact and hard ice. Once the ship gives a succession of strong rolls. We shall never know whether we touched a shallow, a spur of ice, or perhaps even an unwary whale.1
The weather has turned fine again and we have been favoured with a superb sun-rise. For six days we might have forgotten that such a thing existed. Two rather big icebergs block our harbour, which we move out of the way. Then, when the ship is moored, I hoist the colours, congratulate the crew on their courage and spirit, and thank our comrades who came to our aid. Fore and aft we have a lively supper and we go to bed, not to get up again until 1 p.m.
to tobacco.
1 Whon on hor return the ship wont into dry dock at Monto Vidoo wo found ft deep scratch, 13 motroa long, on tho port-aido, which nifty havo boon done thia day. If so, wo evidently passed over a point of rock.
The next two days are grey and heavy, with some fulls of snow. We spend them in putting straight the ship, which needs it badly, and tilling the water-casks. Twin cairns are built, in which we leave documents telling what we have done so far and our plans for the future.
I make several ascents to the summit of the island, by a steep snowy slope, and find that we have few ice-floes to encounter in reaching the open sea, but that our route is strewn with reefs and big icebergs.
On the 12th I climb for the last time to my observatory with Bongrain. The weather is calm and clear. We make a careful note of our direction, and, to save time, from where T am I shout orders for the fires to be got up.
Gain has fastened rings
of variously coloured celluloid, such as are used for fowls, round the legs of numerous penguins, both young and old, and of some cormorants. Thus it will perhaps be possible one day to get some certain information about the movements of these birds. Some writers claim, though I do not know upon what observations they found their statements, that the parents do not return to the old rookery a second year, and that it is only inhabited by the young who were hatched there.1
before we set out.
The ice that we had to get through was thicker than we supposed. Fragments of the pack, resting against huge bergs, made a barrier which had to be broken by sheer force, and the reefs whose black crests rise up from the white expanse, left us no freedom for manoeuvring. Now it is between the perpendicular walls of the icebergs that we are steaming dead slow, but the sea is clear and it is happily fine and calm ;
for otherwise we should not have been able to extricate ourselves from our dangerous position. Godfroy is watching from the crow's-nest the shallows which, owing to the even surface and transparency of the water, can be very distinctly made out from that height.
The scenery is superb. The wild and lofty coast, with its rocks standing out black against the white of the snow and the blue of the glaciers, is magnificently lighted up, and we see outlined against the sky the two rounded domes of Le Matin Mountain — a name which I gave out of gratitude to the newspaper whose generosity made possible my first expedition and which has never since grudged us its assistance — and a succession of other summits beyond. At 10 o'clock the sun sets and the land takes on a delicate rose tint. About us a number of megapteras are gambolling among the icebergs. Two of them for over ten minutes have been beating the sea violently with their tails, which they let fall quite flat, with a deafening noise. Perhaps it is an amatory demonstration, for in these movements there is nothing of the agitation or violence which would be the result, for instance, of an attack by thrashers, the dreaded enemies of the whales.
of rocks.
We steer to set Victor Hugo Island and round it on the north, for to the south there is reason to dread the Betbeder Islands and some reefs on which from the Fran$ais we saw the sea breaking with violence.
January 13. — When I go on watch at midnight it is cold, although the thermometer is only some tenths of a degree below zero, the blast being penetrating. The swell runs fairly strong from the south-west. Soon snow falls very thick, completely shutting out the view. But at 3 a.m. the wind blows strongly from the south-south-west, dispersing the clouds, and I see Victor Hugo Island very clear to port, as well as
four icebergs and an ioeblook. This isolated island, the most northerly of the string known as the Biscoe Islands, is a typical cap-island of medium size, being a segment of a sphere in ice covered with snow. A few reefs, the only black spots in the whole formation, prolong it east and west, as well as another little island of much less dimensions, which apparently is linked to the large one by a line of reefs. It is fairly evident that when Evensen says that he sailed between the land and the most northerly group of the Biscoe Islands it is these of which he is speaking ; for we never saw the sea clear between the others and the land — apart from the question as to whether the reefs allow a passage.
There is a big difference between the present state of the ice and that which we found in 1904 and 1905. In February, 1904, it took us fifteen hours to reach Victor Hugo Island, struggling with all our might in the pack-ice, which already reached as far as the island and which in December, 1905, surrounded it entirely.
We pass the island on the north-west and then steer for Loubet Land. The breeze is fairly strong from the south-west, and the sea choppy and disagreeable. The weather is overcast, but soon we see very distinctly, lighted up by the iceblink, the rest of the string of cap-islands, and beyond or between them black masses which look as if they belong to the mainland. The icebergs around us are extremely numerous.
At 1 p.m. we make a big sweep round a mass of tableshaped icebergs, amongst which show up four or five rocky peaks. This neighbourhood is dangerous, for in the very frequent fogs and snowstorms one is constantly running the risk, if one escapes the icebergs, of f ouling a reef, whose presence is not always betrayed by breakers. Anyhow, whenever icebergs are seen concentrated round a point, it is wise to keep away from them, for I have noticed that almost invariably they mark out a shoal or a line of reefs. It is a gross error on the part of certain explorers when they say that one can always
without fear pass close to icebergs, owing to the enormous base which they have under water ; for a reef often has walls so perpendicular that icebergs rest close up against it. It was through such erroneous reasoning, not based upon experience, that we all but wrecked the Franqais on a reef in Fournier Bay and again in Biscoe Bay and that finally she stranded so seriously on the coast of Adelaide Island. We have had many opportunities of discovering the truth in our navigation of the region in which we now are. I do not mean to say that every group of icebergs necessarily indicates the presence of a reef or a shallow, but unless one is quite in the open sea there is always reason for fear, and it is better to observe caution iu their neighbourhood.
The wind is dropping, but the sea remains very rough and we are tossing from side to side. About 4 p.m. a fairly wide opening appears between two of the large cap-shaped islands which, since we left Victor Hugo Island, have followed, one on another, in unbroken succession, even overlapping at times. These two islands are probably those which we marked down on the chart of the Frangais under the names of Babot and Nansen Islands. The sea appears clear between them, but to reach the strait running between it is necessary to pass between two rows of enormous icebergs of curious shape. One looks like a giant's arm-chair with a back about 40 metres high.
The weather clears and we see the mainland in the shape of a very large bay bounded by high mountains, which we recognize as being Cape Waldcck-Rousseau and Capo Marie.
At 6 o'clock we are in the pack and we could push fairly far into the bay, with careful navigation ; but it is for the south that we want to make, and I am conscious that by pushing on we should lose the benefit of the fine weather, of which we must take the best advantage now, and that we should burn a lot of coal to no particular purpose. We stop, therefore, in the
midst of the floes to make a survey of the coast and take a sounding, which gives 400 metres without touching bottom. The weather is splendid, with strong sunshine, but the swell is still very heavy and around us huge fragments of ice collide with a crash, while the sea swirls and eddies between them. A Weddell's Seal lies on a floe sleeping peacefully, with an occasional voluptuous stretch, paying no heed to the rolling and pitching of its couch.
The great iidet at whose entrance we are is situated in 66° 15' South latitude. Although it does not appear on the English Admiralty charts, it seems to me very probable that it was ficcn and perhaps even visited by the sealing captain B. Pendleton, of whom we have already spoken in connexion with Deception Island and who commanded the flotilla on which was N. Palmer. J. N. Reynolds indeed says : * 'In the northern part of Palmer Land, in latitude 66° 5' and about 63° west longitude, Captain Pendleton has discovered a bay free from ice, which he entered a long way but without ascertaining its extent southward. In these seas the predominant winds are between west-north-west and west-south-west, and all gales are from the north-east. A gale seldom lasts more than six hours. The fine weather comes from the south-south-west and eouth-south-east, which does not happen many days in a month.' These last statements prove that Pendleton at least sailed in these regions, although our experience is that even in the good season the north-easterly gales often last more than six hours.
It seems to me only just to give this bay, wrhose entrance we have definitely marked on the map, the name of Pendleton, which will at all events recall a brave American captain who visited these regions and deserves to have his name commemorated here.
1 Executives Documents Twenty-third Congress, Second Session : Doc. No105, January 27, 1835. ' A Report of J. N. Reynolds in relation to Islands, Reefs, and Shoals in the Pacific Ocean, etc' New York, September 24, 1828 (quoted by Edwin Swift Balch, Antarctica, Philadelphia, 1902).
In manoeuvring to get free of the pack, our rudder fouled a big floe badly and one of the strands of the tiller-rope parted. An emergency cable was immediately made, and with the help of poles we got away from the thick floes. During our short stay, however, a quantity of drift-ice, coming from I don't know where, has gathered ahead, and it is not until 10 p.m. that we are clear. We stop for two hours to repair the tiller-rope and take advantage of this forced delay to make a sounding.
On January 14, very early in the morning, we are level with the northernmost point of what in 1905 we named Loubet Land. The weather, which was foggy, has cleared up remarkably, the view is magnificent, and in front of us opens a wide channel leading into a vast bay. To the north the entrance of the strait is bounded by one of the big cap-shaped islands and to the south by the northern extremity of the supposed Loubet Land. I say ' supposed, ' since with the help of the clear weather that we are enjoying it seems to me that this Loubet Land is what Biscoe discovered and called Adelaide Island. It was the fog, bad weather, and our accident which prevented us from recognizing it formerly on the Fran^ais. President Loubet, the sympathetic friend of our earlier expedition, will lose nothing, for his name shall be transferred to land a good deal more important lying to the east of the island.
We were, nevertheless, acting in absolutely good faith when persisting in our error, even after the Expedil ion's ret urn, with the documentary evidence before our eyes ; and for this reason I went to the London Royal Geographical Society, whore with my friend Matha I consulted, to make assurance doubly sure, Biscoe's original journal and the various English charts whereon Adelaide Island is marked according to that navigator's statements. We found on Admiralty chart, 1238, published in 1905 and combining all the previous ones, that Adelaide Island is 7 miles from north to south and 8 miles from east to west. It is placed in 67° 15' South latitude and 68° 21' longitude west of Greenwich. 1 do not know why the Admir-
alty did not accept Biscoo's longitude, which is, as we have said, 69° 26' west of Greenwich. Probably they followed (ho Bdgicd's erroneous information on the point.
Now our plan of the coast of Loubet Land runs between latitudes 6G° 41' and 67° 5' passing through longitude 68° west of Greenwich, which thus leaves Biscoe with full credit for the discovery of the land, whose exact latitude he stated, and assigns to the coast which we sailed along in 1905 an extent of 35 miles, that is to say, at least 27 miles more than was allowed by the earlier navigator. Biscoe, as we shall show more clearly later on, certainly viewed this neighbourhood from a much greater distance than he imagined, which necessarily threw him out in his measurements. He would probably have been very astonished to learn the unexpected details which we are able to give about his discovery, while adding to it considerably. His description of what he could see is quite remarkable in ita correctness and must be quoted here in full.
John Biscoe, English sealing captain, whose name deserves to be placed with those of the most famous Antarctic explorers, and who received the gold medal of the Paris Geographical Society, sailed on behalf of the enterprising firm of Enderby Brothers on board the brig Tula, accompanied by the cutter Lively. In 1831 he discovered Enderby Land. He returned to the Antarctic the following year, starting out from New Zealand. On February 14, 1832, when in 66° 30' S. and 78° 4' W. he came across close groups of icebergs and a quantity of floes. He counted ' not less than four to five hundred icebergs around him.' On February 15, he wrote in his journal : ' On the 15th, strong gales from the southward. Water smooth. Latitude at noon, 67° 01' S., longitude, 71° 48'W. At 5 p.m. saw land bearing east-south-east, which appeared at a great distance — run for it all night with a light breeze from the south-west. At noon our latitude was 67° 15', longitude 69° 29' W. Temperature, air 33° [Fahrenheit], water 33£°, at a depth of 250, no bottom. Barometer 2930°. This island being the farthest
known land to the southward, I have honoured it with the name of H.G.M. Queen Adelaide. It has a most imposing and beautiful appearance, having one very high peak running up into the clouds, and occasionally appears both above and below them ; about one-third of the mountains, which are about 4 miles in extent from north to south, have only a thin scattering of snow over their summits. Toward the base the other twothirds are buried in a field of snow and ice of the most dazzling brightness. This bed of snow and ice is about 4 miles in extent, sloping gradually down to its termination ; a cliff, 10 or 12 feet high, which is split in every direction for at least 200 or 300 yards from its edge inwards, and which appears to form icebergs, only waiting for some severe gales or other cause to break them adrift and put them in motion. From the great depth of water, I consider this island to have been originally a cluster of perpendicular rocks, and I am thoroughly of opinion that the land I before saw last year, could I have got to it, would have proved to be in the same state as this, and likewise all land found in high southern latitudes.' 1
This passage in Biscoe's journal proves that he saw very clearly and distinctly the island, or rather the mainland, which we traced and whose surveying we were able to do ; but he was, I repeat, much farther distant than he imagined, probably at least 23 miles off instead of 3. The subsequent narrative of our exploration will prove that otherwise he could not have stated that he had an island in front of him or have assigned to it such modest dimensions as 8 miles, whereas in reality it is 70 miles long ! His distance away is also shown by the height which he gives to the ice-cliffs. I can, indeed, affirm that the average height of these cliffs, which we skirted twice in 1909, and under which at less than a mile's distance we stranded with the Fran^ais in 1905, is at least 30 metres. They towered above our masts then. Lastly, the soundings which we took at
over 6 miles from the shore, when compared with Biscoe's sounding, tend equally to prove the case. It is very probable also that Biseoe did not see the highest peaks of Adelaide Island (as happened to us in 1905), and that he saw, ' occasionally, appearing both above and below ' the clouds, the comparatively lower peaks, or that he mistook for the summits the rocky beds beneath them ; for, although the thaw had been considerable during our summer campaign of 1909 the two extraordinary and very lofty peaks which dominate Adelaide Island were covered with a vast mantle of permanent snow, while the spurs, on the other hand, were free of snow, and it is correct to say of them, as seen from the sea, that ' the two-thirds are buried in a field of snow and ice of the most dazzling brightness.'
Now I wish no one to misunderstand the arguments which I think it right to put forward concerning Biscoe's visit or to suppose that I want to criticize him. On the contrary, I have quoted him, before continuing my narrative, because I consider his as the proper basis of my own descriptions, and I profess the sincerest admiration for Biseoe, as for all those who by their energy and doggedness accomplished great things with simple means. It must be remembered, on the one hand, that the methods of observation, as far as the determination of longitude is concerned, were nothing like as exact in 1832 as nowadays and that the value of chronometers then was not to be compared with ours, especially after the long and toilsome voyage which they had to undergo with Biseoe on a vessel of small tonnage, probably unequipped with any one else to look after them except Biseoe himself. And, on the other hand, nothing is so productive of error as the eyesight in polar regions. The least change in the weather alters one's estimates in truly fantastic manner, and all distinction between different levels vanishes. No Polar explorer, I feel sure, will contradict me when I Btate that it is impossible without a guiding-mark to judge a distance in the Antarctic by the naked eye with any
pretence of exactness. I confess that I feel infinitely more pleasure in verifying the correctness of one of my predecessors, whose faith is so good as Biscoe's, than in detecting his errors or proving the incorrectness of his assertions.
From the same point of view, though it is obviously very gratifying to be the first to name a geographical point and to see on the maps designations which recall to one one's own country, I have considered it a point of honour, on this Expedition as on the last, to keep and even restore in the right places the names which my predecessors have given to their discoveries. The various names adopted have always been and will always be 1 he cause of numerous squabbles — and often of violent polemics, for national pride in its narrowest sense here comes on the scene. Nevertheless, as discoveries gradiially multiply, the question seems to me more and more easy of solution. At any rate it presents no difficulty in the region where we are, where it is most simple to render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's. Still, I cannot pass over in silence, after having read Biscoe's own Journal and carefully gone over his ground, the following sentence in H. B. Mill's very interesting book, The Siege of the South Pole, p. 162 : ' Graham Land might well be restricted to the southern part south of Adelaide Island.' Now Biscoe says, precisely, ' this island (Adelaide Island) being the furthest known land to the southward,' and I am not aware that any one ever even claimed, before the Pourquoi-Pas"1 f voyage, to have seen land south of Adelaide Island except Alexander I Land. Further, the land sighted by Biscoe, to which the name of Graham Land has been given, is, as he himself says, behind the Biscoe Islands, and seems to me to have the sole right to (lie name. In this matter the Americans for their part might object and say that Pendleton saw the land before Biscoe, which is probable ; but that captain made the mistake of not describing it and not suggesting any name. In any case, Pendleton Bay is a memorial of his visit to this region.
appropriately given by the Belgica to the groups of islands situated to the north of De Gerlache Strait and might be extended to Two Hummocks, Christiania, and even Trinity Islands. Then, as indeed the English Admiralty chart calls it, Danco Land will serve as the name of the coast south of De Gerlache Strait, Graham Land extending from 65° to 67° S. latitude. It falls to us now to name the lands discovered by the Pourquoi-Pax f south and east of Adelaide Island.
Before the Francais and the Pourquoi-Pas f no one had sighted Adelaide Island since Biscoe except Evensen and De Gerlache. Evensen, who has given no written description of it, merely told me that on November 10, 1893, he sighted what he took to be Adelaide Island and met the first ice-floes, which forced him to divert his course westward. As for De Gerlache, he only writes that on February 16, 1898, after having left the strait on the 13th, and passed on without seeing the Biscoe Islands on account of fog, ' we see land about south-west, doubtless the Adelaide Island, of which Biscoe caught a glimpse.' 1 Lecointe, the Expedition's hydrographer, says in his account 2 that between February 13 and 16, ' we perceived occasionally in the dim distance a land from which we were cut off by ice,' and in the hydrographical section of the scientific report he only devotes the following lines to the place : ' During the night of February 15-16, we sight land to port which seems to bo an island, whose location corresponds with that given by Biscoe to Adelaide Island. The higher part of this land is perhaps hidden by the fog. The island presents to us a ridge running from north-east to south-west, the distance separating us from it and the heaviness of the atmosphere preventing us from dist inguishing its details.' s Moreover, the course, judged entirely by the reckoning on the chart, is probably a little incorrect, since it is impossible that the Belgica can have passed within
over 30 metres in height.
In any event they were very lucky, for on their course they record, at the same spot where we ran across them and in almost as great numbers, a collection of 85 icebergs. These icebergs, as we were able to assure ourselves, marked a line of most dangerous reefs.
information.
The bay in front of us is fringed on all sides by high mountains, whose summits are of various shapes. Their bases terminate, as is the case with all others we have seen on Danco and Graham Lands, in ice-cliffs, here and there intersected by steep, rocky outcrops, often forming headlands. Between these headlands huge crevassed glaciers abound, sending down numberless iceblocks. Toward the south in particular, the ice-cliff forms the end of a vast snow-covered terrace coming from the mountains in a gentle undulating slope, out of which rise weird and majestic granite cones, the nunotdks 1 of Greenland, looking like monolithic nails or teeth of colossal monsters.
Northward a wide channel, though at the present moment choked with floes and icebergs, separates the mainland from the Riscoe Islands, which from this aspect present the same cap-like appearance as when seen from the open sea, their cliffs perhaps higher and more perpendicular and overlapping one another. To the south Adelaide Island, ending in a little cap-shaped island, looks the same, but is vaster and loftier. Near its extremity rises an isolated triangular summit, W-Iain Peak, which is to be seen far off at sea, with its three-sided black mass standing out on a white ground. The great cap mounts slowly and gradually toward the south, as far as the imposing mountainous masses which dominate the island and, as we shall see later, form its southern end. Ade-
Udde Island is an enormous skull-cap island, the last of the numerous chain of the Biscoes. But, as the English explorer remarks, it is the only one with mountains on it ; and we may add that its dimensions are such that morphologically it is scarcely one of the group. So too with its coast, as we see distinctly now that our vessel has penetrated some miles into the bay ; there are some very lofty ice-cliffs, like cleavages in the cap, which destroy its regular appearance. It has not, either, the shape of a segment of a circle, a hollow space being cut out of its side. A fjord, roughly comma-shaped, separates it from the land. This being completely blocked with ice, it is impossible to navigate it now ; so also it is equally impossible to say, as the mountains overlap one another, whether at the end of the fjord Adelaide Land joins the mainland and is therefore a peninsula, or whether it is separated from it by a channel, which cannot but be narrow.1
Some of the heights which fringe the edge and bottom of the bay seem to be islands. In all eases they are cut off by deep inlets. At the very end rises a rocky mass, whose outline stands out against the sky like that of a crouching lion. It blocks the view on this side and prevents us from discovering whether we are not in the entrance of a strait. However, as we go on a little, from the elevation of the crow's-nest I see a big glacier behind the Lion, looking very much as if it linked up the lateral ridges, and so I feel practically certain that our bay comes to an end there.
In order to proceed farther we have to push aside or avoid some big floes and steam between some very tall icebergs, which literally choke up the bay and its ramifications. Icebergs and iceblocks are decidedly the curse of the region which we have chosen for our expedition. Great or small, they constitute a perpetual danger for the ship, which is never safe from them, whether she be under steam, at rest, or moored
alongside a floe or in a cove. Almost always on the move, changing their course with surprising rapidity according to the wind and currents, at times heading opposite ways, they give no opportunity for repose, even in the calmest of weather, and it needs the gift of philosophy and the indifference acquired by habit to have the courage to anchor anywhere. Without risk of exaggeration, I may say that if we had been able to count those which we saw, even during the summer campaign, the figure would easily have mounted to over 10,000. Apart from the danger arising from their bulk, occasionally they break up, setting up great swelling waves which may bring danger too, and scattering over the ice-pack their fragments of blue ice as hard as rocks, against which the ship runs the risk of serious injury, especially when she is steaming in apparent safety amid the much softer floating ice which conceals the dreaded foe.
To loiter in this bay would be an unpardonable mistake in this superb weather, by which we have the chance of profiting. Five clear days are so rare in the Antarctic that one must know how to take advantage of them ; for in a few hours one may accomplish a task absolutely impossible in weather that is merely overcast, and the success of an expedition depends principally on the rapidity with which one can grasp favourable chances. It was for this reason that I insisted on having a comparatively fast ship, and I have had no cause to repent it. We stay to survey and take a sounding, and then set off again for the open sea and the south of Adelaide Land. But we make a detour to see whether the latter is really an island. We pass alongside a magnificent table iceberg. In the crow'snest I am just on a level wit h it s top plateau, which a beautiful snowy petrel is skimming in its elegant flight.
as if a nunatalc looking like a Swiss chalet stood in the middle. Later I was bound to recognize that I had been deceived by appearances, as so often happens.
I christen the great bay we have left Matha Bay, in memory of the distinguished Lieutenant Matha, the clever and sympathetic second-in-command of the Fran$ais Expedition. Though in charge of the hydrographical department, such was his extreme modesty that he never allowed me to give his name to any of our discoveries on that Expedition.
It is 10.30 a.m. when we pass again between the double row of icebergs. We follow the coast-line of Adelaide Land, from which we keep about four or five miles distant. The sea is clear, without trace either of drift ice or floes, but it is crowded with enormous icebergs in the offing, while the coast is bristling with a kind of rampart of ice-blocks, which look very much as if they came from the cliff. Biscoe certainly did not exaggerate when he estimated the icebergs in sight at 500, and there has been no change since his time. So likewise as he remarked, animal life is very scarce. This is a forbidding country, and only at rare intervals does a whale break the silence with its heavy blowing as it appears on the surface for a few moments.
We pass once more, to seaward, the reef where on January 15, 1905 — exactly five years and a day ago — we of the Frangais were so justifiably overcome with anxiety and despair at not being able to continue our researches. At that time, to reach where we now are, we should have had to cross by sheer force a thick ice-pack, which only allowed us between it and the coast a channel barely a mile and a half wide. It encouraged in us, nevertheless, the hope of pushing on ; and it would assuredly have led us on to the discovery of Matha Bay, but that, in passing between two huge icebergs, whose draught of water persuaded us, in our ignorance, that we were running no risks, we grounded so violently and so seriously damaged our bows that for three months we had to pump 23 hours out
of the 24 to keep the ship afloat. What tribulations ensued, caused by an engine with difficulty making 5 knots in dead calm and by constant injuries, while under sail the ship would scarcely steer ! And all the time gale of wind followed upon gale, varied by violent snowstorms and dense fogs !
And now what a difference ! We have a strong and trustworthy engine, easily making its 8 knots ; and even the watches are comfortable, thanks to the wheel-house on the poop and the hitherto prevalent long spells of fine weather. Nevertheless, it is with emotion that we talk to the old crew about our brave little ship on which, with no thought but for the end in view, we struggled so hard and were brought back at last, exhausted, but safe and sound. How sadly we saluted her wreck when we passed it in the Eiver Plate ! *
It is calm, with a long swell from the west. The peaks above the terrace of ice are swathed in clouds, but the sky shows big blue patches between the north-east and the south, while in the west it is very heavy and violet-black in colour. In honour of our crossing of the Antarctic Circle, the colours are hoisted and double rations served out to the crew.
We pass close to a superb table iceberg of classical regularity of form, measuring 40 metres in height and 2 miles in length. It was here that the Hertha, Belgica, and Franca is nut, the pack-ice, and, driven back by it, had to turn away from land. We are the first to penetrate into this region. How far
Biscoe's 8 miles are passed, and yet the coast, with its long and unvarying convexity, continues to make us expect to reach and double a cape, which ever recedes. Our general direction is south-west, till at 8.30 p.m. wo are heading S.
1 On the Expedition's return the Argentino Republic asked to buy the Franfain and renamed her the Austral. With her rigging altered and her boilers and engino changod she made a voyage to the South Orkneys. Starting out again in the spring of 1!)07, sho was wrockod on the Banco Chioo in the Uiver Plate and lost, while hor crow woro fortunately savod by the French stoamor Magellan.
30° W. without there being any change in the general aspect of things, in spite of our 7 knots kept up since 10 o'clock » The two ends of the great white spherical cap look always the same distance in front of us and behind, as though the Pourquoi-Pas f were motionless. Such fantastic navigation would have been worthy of record in Edgar Allan Poe's Arthur Gordon P>/>n.
We are making our way, however, for iceberg succeeds on iceberg. In the offing, to the west, one of them which is rather isolated looks to us like a ship seen three-quarter front, with a smoke-stack and a foremast. So complete is the illusion that the crew assert that it is a wreck, and I have toconvince them of their mistake by means of the telescope.
South-west, on the edge of the horizon, and rising toward the west, there now appears a bright light, which is probably ice-blink. In that case we would be navigating between the mainland and the pack-ice. In the south and south-east, on the other hand, the sky has become very gloomy. The wind is beginning to blow rather strongly from the south-southwest, but without raising much of a sea, which confirms my impression that the pack-ice is not far away on this side. The barometer has been dropping constantly since this morning.
A mass of big icebergs blocks our way. We thread them, keeping a careful look-out for rocks. One of them is sculptured in arches and grottoes, while an admirably carved head stands out from a submarine promontory.
We journey on thus all night, anxiously awaiting the termination of the island- cap. At length the monotony is temporarily broken by a huge rock, which rises out of the cliff and stands out very black against the white surface. There must be a shallow in the direction of the open sea, for a line of icebergs stretches out pretty far in continuation of the rock. Cautiously we make a wide sweep, and we congratulate ourselves on this, for later we found the same icebergs and among
its former appearance.
Towards 11 o'clock there are some magical light effects. The land abeam is sparkling white, while the everfleeing southern point is a metallic green difficult to describe. The southern horizon is golden, sharply outlined against a background of black sky, while the west is purple-red. A few icebergs stand out in deep blue, while others are dyed a brilliant red, as though lighted up by fires inside. We are heading S. 10° W.
At last, toward midnight, a long rocky point runs out of the ice-cliff, and some isolated reefs also appear, in the midst of innumerable icebergs. Our course curves in to S. 40° E., and an enormous black cliff reveals itself, whose summit is plunged in fog. It is almost with a sigh of relief that the officer of the watch and I greet the end of this interminable cap of ice.1
January 15. — The termination of the cap is abrupt, with no gradual modification of the slope. A quite small circular cove is hollowed out of the ice-cliff, at the foot of a rocky wall, the perpendicular counterfort of two magnificent peaks, which we are soon to see break through the fog and which are themselves the crown of the mountain range we caught sight of yesterday. This counterfort forms a noble, lofty cape, beyond which there opens a sort of bay or rather gulf, whose end we can scarcely conjecture and whose entrance from where we are seems to have a black-hued island in its centre, rising up quite straight to a height of about 600 metres, with a sawtoothed summit. Another distant cape, certainly a high one, bounds the gulf to the cast. Quite a long coast-line follows after this, slightly fog-wrapt, but showing seine glacier peaks
1 We give this capethonamo of II. M. Queen Alexandra. II yeomod tous that this homago was due to the royal spouso of Edward VII, who has taken BO much interest in Antarctic expeditions. This cape, situated at the end of Queen Adelaide's Island, marks tho oxtremity of a land discovered by an English sailor and for some years t)u> most southorly land known.
I confess to feeling genuine emotion over these lands, on which we are the first to set eyes after the long struggle it has taken me for years to attain my end.
We steer for the entrance of the gulf and our average line is N. 60° E., but we are obliged to turn aside perpetually, for t he reefs rise menacingly on all sides. The icebergs are numerous, and big loose ice-floes, evidently recently detached, bar our way.
Since 2 o'clock it has been blowing fairly fresh from the north-west, the sky has had an ugly appearance, and the barometer has been falling in a manner that made me fear a gale, when, almost all of a sudden, the wind falls, the sky becomes remarkably clear and bright over all land within sight, and the sun shines out. Only in the south-west and west do the heavens remain very overcast. Thanks to this unhoped for weather, we shall be able to do in a few hours a considerable amount of surveying.
We know already by a mere glance of the eye that land continues beyond the latitude assigned by Biscoe to Adelaide Island, as there was reason to suppose, though we had not the slightest proof of it until to-day. We see also that it does not take, as was generally indicated (I do not know why), a south-westerly direction ; but, on the contrary, curves inwards, after the great mass of Adelaide Land, first to the south-east and then to S. 20° E. approximately.
We must be about a dozen miles from the coast, and as we gradually approach the floes become more numerous, some rocky points appear, and we advance full slow, keeping a sharp look-out.
The island for which we are making is not in the centre of the bay, as we supposed at first, but is much nearer the western cape, from which it is only divided by a channel 4 miles wide. After undergoing a few rather hard knocks against the stub-
born ice, we pass this channel without mishap, and what we took for a bay of moderate extent reveals itself as an enormous inlet, meriting rather the name of a gulf. It is at the present moment choked with thick, flat, coastal pack-ice, touching the northern shore of the island and presenting, from the side on which we are, a front running with a slight concavity to the north, where it joins Adelaide Land about 6 miles away, thus forming a little bay, where it seems to me we ought to be safe. Unfortunately, quite close to the island there are rocks level with the water, and as soon as one goes further away the soundings at once give 80, 100, 250 metres, with a rock bottom. It is therefore impossible to anchor and we have to be content with mooring ourselves to the pack-ice, as near as possible to the island. Great fragments come away from the pack, so that our ice-anchors have to be carried as far as our cables permit, that is to say, about 150 metres ; for otherwise we should risk floating away, and whenever the breaking off of the ice was encouraged by the strain on it, we should be obliged to shift our anchors and carry them further forward. Sledges now replace boats, and on them we transport hawsers and ice-anchors with pickaxes and shovels, to enable the men, once at the desired distance, to bury the anchors and fix them in firmly.
At 5 a.m. we are moored, and almost every one is at work immediately ; for I have decided to take full advantage of the fine weather and leave again to-day, as soon as I have examined the offing from tho summit of the island and made a note of the land and ice in sight.
Jenny, after Mme. Bongrain.
Jenny Island's southern face has cliffs of great abruptness and perpendicularity, even in their upper two-thirds, which are consequently completely free of snow, which only appears at the base. The crest of tho island is extremely jagged crowned with three sharp rocky peaks, which make it look ioo
from the sea like a seal's tooth. The northern face, on the other hand, is a fairly even slope, rising right up to the summit, formed of rocks much surbedded by frost. Being exposed to the sun, (he greater part of it is stripped of snow, which only shows itself in great patches, from which veritable little torrents Bpring fin lh. This face generally is slightly concave and in colour is black or reddish. Its juncture with the perpendicular walls of the other sides gives at first sight the impression of a very much damaged crater ; but even a superficial examination soon disposes of all ideas about a volcano. The island is formed entirely of eruptive granitic rocks, eeamed with numerous veins. One of its most remarkable peculiarities is found on the west side, in the shape of a great bank of stone rising from the sea to a height of 10 metres, making a vast and perfectly horizontal platform which looks as though it had been patiently and skilfully constructed by navvies. This formation is clearly the remains of an ancient strand.
On the east side are found great heaps of shingle, forming here and there beaches cut up by debris coming down from the mountain, which is perpetually crumbling away, and whose walls rise up, enormous, jagged, ruinous, and tottering. Opposite the west coast of Jenny Island is the mountainous mass, the kernel, so to speak, of Adelaide Land, from which rise like a superb Alpine scene two peaks, whose elevation is to seem still greater to us when we see it later from the south. They are over 2,000 metres high. Noble glaciers discharge themselves into the sea, and the whole coast, except the promontory itself, is fringed by the usual forbidding ice-cliff of these regions. Further than the eye can see, in an apparently contracting fjord which separates Adelaide Land from the mainland, the pack-ice extends to the north-east, joining on to the pack along the coast running south-east. In Marguerite Bay one can see to the north-east an island surrounded by the ice, resembling Jenny Island, and quite close to Ade-
laide Land, almost on its edge, an islet formed of a little black cone. In the background are some black patches which are also islands, reefs, or dependencies of the land.
At 9 a.m. I set out with Godfroy and Gourdon for the crest of the island, whither Gain and Senouque have preceded us. We have to go quite two kilometres before reaching the shore foot and if last night when the thermometer was 2° below zero the wind was cold and penetrating, now with a brilliant sun in an almost cloudless heaven the heat is really very great. The ascent, which is all over debris of sharpangled stones, broken from time to time by patches of snow or ice, is irksome and ruinous to one's boots.
Gulls and megalestrides, in great numbers, swarm around us in defence of their nests. A glacier clinging to the mountain side forms a little lake, from which gushes a sweetly murmuring torrent, with a cascade elegantly decorated with stalactites glittering in the sun. We mount, between two of the peaks, to a crest of about 450 metres high, which abruptly makes an acute angle with the perpendicular north wall of the island and the slope which we have just climbed. The view is magnificent, and allows us to see in detail these lands virgin as yet from all human gaze. But it is the open sea which especially interests me for the moment. The ice in the sea, blocks and floes, is fairly abundant but possible to get through. The reefs are very numerous, forming an oblique line which stretches very far into the offing, and vary in dimensions from rocky points to islets. About 45 miles to the south-east I seem to sec the pack-ice running to join the coastal ice. Not a trace of Alexander I Land ; and yet later we are to see it very plainly even from the foot of the island, in apparently much less clear weather. It was, therefore, hidden to-day in an evidently local fog, melting into the dark sky of the west and south-east. This proves, once more, how all statements in the Antarctic are subject to error. In this beautifid woather, which allowed us to see other lands at a considerable distance,
Alexander Land, though large and but a few miles off, was invisible, without anything to make us suspect the limitation of our view. We might, therefore, with the best faith in the world, have squarely asserted, on our return, that to the southwest there was no land within the limit of sight from an elevation of 450 metres.
The heat has merely increased during our ascent, and, after toiling through the now soft, thick snow of the pack-ice, we return on board all of a perspiration. It is 1° below zero in the shade, but it is so fine in the sun that after a tub of cold water on the bridge two of us stop a good half hour completely undressed, drying ourselves in the kindly rays.
At 2.30 we get under way, and use the drag-net for 250 metres. During this time Gourdon goes off in the dinghy to build a cairn upon the strange platform on the west shore. We pick him up as we steam out, and make for the southwest, passing alongside two small rocky isles separated from Jenny Island by a channel 3 miles wide. It is still very fine and clear. We have not yet had the slightest gbmpse of Alexander I Land, but the continuation of Loubet Land, to which we give the name of the President of to-day, M. Failures, is magnificently lit up. This land seems chiefly composed of conical rocky masses, standing out in great black triangles against the glaciers which they separate. It seems also cut up by deep bays, while there are islets running out into the sea, many of them curiously shaped. After a seriesof triangular peaks comes a remarkable cape, very red in colour and looking like a great broken-down and toppling tower.
The ice about us, floes, blocks, and debris of blocks, is fairly abundant, and the rocks and islets being numerous we have to proceed slowly and with great precautions.
Snow is beginning to fall thickly, and by shutting out the view complicates matters. It is curious to notice that during the short cessations of the snowfall the wind comes in small
At midnight the ship is covered with snow, and the sky is very overcast, except to the south, where during a rift we distinctly see high land, which cannot be other than Alexander I Land. We have just passed a long line of reefs, and we are on the edge of the belt formed of very dense pack-ice, with numerous bergs scattered over it. From the masthead I make out a vast channel, which, at a distance of some miles from us, runs into the open sea to the east and appears to penetrate obliquely a fair distance into the ice. We reach this channel, and make use of it. A pretty fresh breeze rises from the south-east, soon bringing along with it very clear weather. We must take advantage of this unhoped-for luck in these regions, and we go ahead as rapidly as we are allowed by an ice-pack getting thicker and thicker.
Alexander I Land, seen by us at a distance and from a direction never before known, stands out very distinctly, lit up and gilded by the sun's rays. All the southern coast of Fallieres Land also shows up, outlined against a blue sky which could scarcely hide anything from us. Between it and Alexander I Land are two comparatively small islands with rounded summits. Then, quite close to Alexander I Land, is what I first take for a big mountainous island, but what we are later to discover to be a rart of Alexander I Land itself.
This land has the same characteristics as Graham Land. The aspect of its mountains is identical with that of Adelaide Land's, and here again, on the side at which we are looking, the base is formed by an enormous terrace of rounded snow, the ice-cliffs being already visible from the crow's-nest. The summits are lofty, and form a jagged crest. The two extremities east and west end in rocky promontories, which look, from where we are, as if they plunged straight into the sea. Between Alexander I Land and the islands to the east of it the pack-ice stretches to the limit of vision, as also between
the islands and the most southerly point of Falliercs Land. The same is the case in the west, where the ice bounds the horizon, its monotony only broken by numerous great icebergs.
The pack before us is becoming more and more dense and sobd. We still keep on, but with difficulty. The floes are enormous in extent and height, some being more than 2 metres above the level of the sea. We have to push or drag off the big ones, break up the little ones, and manoeuvre every minute. There is not a moment's rest for the helmsman or the engineers. The jars are sometimes alarming, but we proceed along metre by metre. Numerous soundings are taken, giving a rocky bottom and depths varying very abruptly between 108 and 477 metres.
At 11 o'clock we are about 15 miles from the cliff, when the pack-ice becomes quite solid, made up of big, closely crowded floes resting on their sides and apparently forced up into hummocks. From the height of the crow's-nest I can see no channel, no break in the continuity allowing us to hope for further advance. We must needs stop, therefore. Taking advantage of a small space of open water, we dredge over 144 metres. Numerous surveys are made, based on observations under the best conditions. To the photographs taken by all our cameras I cannot resist my desire to add one of the ship herself, so I go off in a canoe to take her from a neighbouring floe. Animal life is scanty ; two or three seals, a few penguins, and that is all.
We stay here part of the day, but without being able to get any nearer. By an exceptional chance we have been able to penetrate into this vast hollow, hitherto closed against all-comers by impenetrable ice. To avoid turning back, I thought for a moment of stopping where we are and awaiting events ; but a little reflection made me abandon this idea. We have, from the point reached in this beautiful unhopedfor weather, noted down everything possible. The state of the ice hardly permits us to reckon now on advancing much
farther in a direction that will allow us to record important new details, and a landing on the ice-terrace could only be effected with the greatest difficulty. Moreover, its exploration would only be interesting with several weeks before us — which would be impossible with the ship afloat and the chances so many of our not being able to return on board by a fixed date or even near it. Further, there is the risk of being carried away by the drift ice far from a region so interesting to study as this, and of being blocked in and compelled to winter to no purpose on a moving icefield ; or again, since the coast is close at hand, of being crushed by the pressure which, to judge from the condition of the ice, must be tremendous if bad weather sets in. I consider it preferable, therefore, from all points of view, to try to push toward the east, where beyond the pack-ice we have come through there is to be seen some open water ; and, if we can find no way out on that side, to return to Marguerite Bay, where Jenny Island makes a magnificent observatory from which to watch for a favourable opportunity of proceeding in one direction or another. Thus, too, we shall best save coal, our sinews of war.
But to roach the open water is no light task. The ice has closed against us and a long, painful and irksome job is before us. At the mast-head, from which I am looking for the most navigable channels, I am shaken by the vibrations from the bumps we get, in spite of all precautions, and I cannot help reflecting that we are navigating thus with our bows perhaps seriously injured. Still all seems to hold good, the engine does its duty, and only three pump-valves are broken.
In the evening the ice becomes so solid and close-packed that we cannot move. At the end of some hours there is a relaxation and we start off again, pushing the ice slowly before us. So we get to the edge of the pack, pass through some drift-ice, and at last are in free water.
soon our path is blocked by ice still more solid than that in front of Alexander I Land, and we only get back to Marguerite Bay after having to go through another long struggle with the ice, which had blocked the entry to our cove since we left it.
It is 6 a.m., and the appearance of the heavens is now threatening. But during the whole of this excursion we have enjoyed the best weather imaginable, and never for an instant havo we ceased to see at once with great clearness Alexander I Land, the whole of the coast with the cape which we look on as the southern extremity of Fallieres Land, and Adelaide Land, whose two magnificent peaks rise up in the air in pointed spires on the top of domes of Byzantine style. Such weather is almost indispensable for the navigation of this reef- and iceberg-infested region, and I confess that I do not very well see how one would survive a gale and thick weather.
We are now already in a position to take back precise information concerning the lands south of Adelaide Island, where the present maps are blank, and concerning Alexander I Land, which up to now has only been seen at very great distances and always from the same side and has seemed rather like a land of legend.
Bellingshausen, coming from the east on January 21, 1821, discovered Peter I Island and coasting along the packice saw at a distance of about 40 miles, surrounded by ' impassable ' ice, a great land stretching far toward the south-west, to which he gave the name of Alexander I and of which he published an excellent coast- view. He was then obliged by the ice to turn north-west.
When later, thanks to Biscoe, Graham Land could be vaguely outlined as far as Adelaide Island, the geographers considered it one of the important Antarctic problems to ascertain whether the land discovered by Bellingshausen was or was not a prolongation of this Graham Land. The three glimpses of Alexander I Land from Bellingshausen's time
to that of the Pourquoi-Pas ? Expedition added no information to supplement the Russian navigator's description, which still remained much the most complete.
The Norwegian sealing captain Evensen, on November 20, 1893, reached latitude 69° 10' S. by longitude 76° 12' west of Greenwich. The following days, especially November 22, as he sailed north, he sighted Alexander I Land surrounded by impassable ice. Unfortunately, though the estimable and kindly Evensen is a daring and skilful captain, geographical questions seem to interest him very little, for he gave no details of his voyage, and when I went to see him at Sandefjord all that I could get out of him about Alexander I Land was : ' Very high and fine mountains, plenty of icebergs ! '
On February 16, 1898, the Belgica Expedition (apparently unaware of Evensen's voyage) saw Alexander I Land for a few hours, but the various members are not agreed in their accounts. De Gerlache contents himself with writing that on February 16 at 4 o'clock this land ' looked superb with its mighty glaciers scarcely divided from one another by a few darker peaks, standing out yellowish-white against the deep blue of the sky.' x
Lecointe says : ' We only sight Alexander I Land at a great distance, without being able to form even an approximate idea of what the distance is ' 2 — which does not prevent him, however, from publishing a view of the coast of this land and a map, in which are clearly traced the contours of the coasts, mountains, and valleys. I must hasten to add that view and map alike agree as little with the descriptions of Arc-
1 Do Gorlueho, Quinze Mois dans V Antarctique, p. 162.
1 Lccointo, Rapport scicntifiquc de la ' Belgica.' Travaux hydrographiquet, p. 98. In his narrative, Au pays des Manchots, p. 1SH, t lie sumo author says : 'On February l(i, we sighted Alexander Land, discovered in 1821 by Bellingshausen. We are no far away that we cannot even judgo the distance.1 A viow of the cos i and a map are reproduced in the two works quoted and also among Urn map "f the llrlijica Expedition.
as with that which we are in a position to write.
The Bclgicd's doctor, F. A. Cook, for his part, docs not hesitate to give, with a lavish display of figures and measurements, a detailed description (totally different from Lecointe's) of what he called the ' Alexander Islands.' But herein he is tripped up by his comrade Arctowski, who gives a fourth varying description while confessing that ' we took no measurement and have little to add to Bellingshausen's description.' • What Arctowski says on the subject, moreover, (I will quote it later) is so correct as to accord ill with the pubbshed statements of his two colleagues. Congratulations are due to this savant for having been the only one to give information of any value, refusing to stray outside the bounds of honest observation.
On board the Frangais on January 11 and 13, 1905, we ourselves sighted Alexander I Land at a distance of over 60 miles. Solid pack-ice made our efforts to approach it unavailing. We promised ourselves we would not rest there, and we have kept our word ; for three years later we have reached a point which no one succeeded in attaining before, after crossing ice always described by the same epithet ' impassable.'
Until the arrival of the Pourquoi-Pas ? in 1909, therefore, there had been no advance made since 1821, and as we have got to so favourable a spot we must do our best to profit by it. Accordingly I should like to find a place where the ship will be in comparative safety, and where we may perhaps winter, or at least stay a while, without burning coal as we are doing now. So much am I exercised over this question that scarcely are we moored alongside the ice when — though it is 48 hours since I last slept — I take my skis and, leaving every one on board slumbering except the man on watch,
cross the strip of pack-ice which rests on the island and divides the gulf in two. Arriving on the other side, I put off my skis and take a long walk round the island, now over a beach with pebbly slopes, now amid debris of fantastic shape, now over snow-banks. Unfortunately my observations are not of a reassuring character. On this side also the ice presents a big concavity, which is much less sheltered and stretches wider than the cove in which lies the Pourquoi-Pas ? The bottom is rocky and dangerous along the island ; and finally the bay is full of icebergs. The island itself provides no cove in which to shelter from icebergs, nor any reefs to which to moor. This discovery worries me much, but I do not wish to abandon hope before searching and sounding afresh all round the ship.
There are plenty of seals on the ice, both Crabbing and Weddell's. A few megalestrides make for me shrieking, as if I were planning to injure their nestlings ; and, lastly, four or five Adelie Penguins, destitute of all fear, come up to me and chatter away. I ask the penguins where their rookery is, but the rascals pretend not to understand, and it is no use my hunting for it, I cannot discover it. But we part none the less good friends.
In the afternoon every one is busy with his own work. The men go to collect ice from the bergs, which we convert into water for the boiler. Gourdon, Senouque and Gain proceed over the ice to explore the black cone to the northeast of our cove. Deceived as to the distance (as constantly happens here), they do not return until late in the evening.
The north-west wind has sprung up strong. Most fortunately we are no longer in the pack-ice about Alexander I Land nor among the reel's. We are, or at least I imagine so, in comparative safety and are binning the minimum amount of coal necessary to keep up steam Eor half an hour, whether Eor working the ropes by winch or for starling the engine in ease we should go adrift or an iceberg should HO
wind now blowing.
Next day the north-westerly to northerly wind is still strong, but the ice seems to hold good, and we have four hawsers out, three in front, with the anchor of one of them 100 metres away, and the fourth astern.
We fit up one of our motor-sledges, and in the evening we are able to try it. The motor at first gives us some difficulty, then it starts away and succeeds in carrying its five passengers gaily enough ; but it must undergo some modification of detail before anything serious can be attempted with it. I realize that the whole will not be in working order until after numerous trials and changes, which will be made during our winter season. Besides, I look on these automobile sledges in the light of a first experiment for future expeditions, and I only really depend on the hand-sledges.
January 19. — The wind has been very strong all night and has increased still more this morning. The pack around us is breaking away in great slabs. An ice-anchor is carried still further than the others ; but the rifts multiply. I give orders to put back on board all our material that is lying about, to dismantle the motor sledge, and to make up the fires. With the wind from the northern quarter we have evidently nothing to fear from the sea, but without the engine being under steam, if our ice-anchors should fail or, worse still, if a huge fragment of the pack should break away, carrying us with it, we should be ashore in a few minutes.
About 11 o'clock the motor sledge was in danger, a big rift having opened close by it ; but happily it was not completely dismantled and the motor was persuaded to start off at once, so it made good its own escape, coming back gaily with its chauffeur. With the help of the windlass and some iceanchors we were able to bring together two sections of the pack over which it passed and to hoist it on board again without mishap.
A cable's length from an ice-cliff and quite close to a superb glacier, with a frontage all chaotic and slashed with crevasses, we are somewhat sheltered from the wind and do not feel any chop. One or 2 miles from us rises the halfrocky, half-snowy cone, goal of one of yesterday's excursions, surrounded by the pack-ice, which joins on to the glacier and whose bounds are marked by a line of hummocks and crevasses. Two soundings, taken not far apart, give 66 and 97 metres, with a bottom of liquid green mud. So there is no anchorage, and we must keep our fires alight and content ourselves with ice-anchors.
The wind is strong, but it is curious to notice that we have not yet experienced one of those great north-easterly gales which made our two summer campaigns of 1904 and 1905 so unpleasant and difficult, not to say dangerous. Except at Wandel, where the wind, however, blew with comparatively little force and where for one day there was a drizzle of snow, the winds of this region have not been really violent and have been accompanied always by clear weather. Either we are enjoying an exceptional summer or previously we experienced two very bad ones.
The sunset this evening has been very fine, touching up with a fairy pink the crenellated tops of our glacier. Quite close to us an iceberg of tabular shape is stranded, barely detached from the cliff. The place can be seen which it occupied evidently but a short while ago. It is interesting for glaciological examination, and Gourdon begins at once to measure it and lake soundings at its foot. If it were to go adrift we should see for the first time a table-berg as comparatively small as this coming from an ice-cliff. Up to now, indeed, all the many cliffs near which wo have stayed have in
been cleft, thus launching on the sea large quantities of fragments of small dimensions or giving birth to ice-blocks dangerous to the ship but tiny compared with the icebergs to be met in such numbers, which must come from formations after the style of the great Ross Barrier.
January 20. — The wind having grown much milder, the barometer showing a tendency to rise, and the weather being char, we set off with the intention of following the coast and in the vague hope of finding winter quarters. We get away from the pack-ice without difficulty, for a southerly current prevails which seems permanent. We stop abreast of Jenny Tsland, where Senouque goes to fetch the stand of his theodolite, which he left behind. Meanwhile, we make a long • hedge, which promises work for Liouville and Gain.
But the snow begins to fall heavily and the wind strengthens again. As we have no reason for hazarding ourselves in the midst of rocks in this weather, we return to our mooringplace and eat, to console ourselves, an excellent dinner consisting of soup made from Brussel sprouts, of seal a la SaintHubert, and of pur^e of peas. This menu was much appreciated. On the other hand, six Antarctic prawns, which the zoologists had handed over to the cook, were not at all a success.
At 10 p.m. it is still snowing, and the entrance of the bay, the neighbouring peaks, and Jenny Island are completely blotted out, while, curiously enough, through the falling snow can be seen the much more distant Fallieres Land lighted up very clearly.
I have a fit of the blues, not so much on account of the delay caused to our plans by the bad weather as because of my anxiety concerning winter quarters, which I should so much have liked to find here ; and also because of the report presented to me on the coal supply. Evidently our daily consumption, when we are moored, is small, but when day is added to day, in the end the total is considerable.
At 11 p.m. I am distracted from my sombre reflections "by an occurrence which convinces me of the danger of our present situation. We were, as before, 300 or 400 metres from the iceberg detached from the cliff, which Gourdon had been examining at intervals. I was writing in my cabin when a noise like a big explosion of fireworks, accompanied and followed by a loud rumbling, brought me in a few strides on deck just in time to see the magnificent spectacle of the iceberg splitting open and capsizing. Enormous spurs of glaucous hue jump out of the water, and even rocks are uplifted as if by a submarine mine ; the sea boils fiercely and in a few seconds its surface far and wide is covered by ddbris of all sizes. The iceberg has lost a good third of its bulk. The sea was at its height at the time of the occurrence, and it is probable that the mass of ice, being almost afloat, first rolled, then slipped on the ledge where it was resting, and finally lost its balance. This seems to prove once mote that table-bergs are very rarely, if ever, formed from these high, narrow cliffs, whose base is bathed by comparatively shallow waters.
We thought the spectacle at an end, when the same phenomenon was repeated a second and a third time. But we see the largest fragment left, about 15 metres above the water, come rolling straight toward us — fortunately driving quantities of debris before it. By good luck the engine is ready and we go astern at the first word, while we pay out I lie hawsers to their fullest extent. The mass of debris, striking our stern first, makes it swing, so that the iceberg, continuing on its terrible way, finds the ship already on the move and, instead of striking her full amidships or in the stern, touches her comparatively lightly on the port side. Our poor dinghy, which was on the port side, is crushed between the PourquoiPas ? and the berg and hurled on to the ice, as flat as a pancake. Wo may think ourselves lucky to have escaped the same fate.
the iceberg, for fear of upsetting its very doubtful stability, which would be disastrous this time, and proceed to moor ourselves further off. A huge block of ice from the berg remains wedged between the bobstay and the stem, where it will long be ; but wo have suffered no injury and have escaped with the dinghy smashed and one hawser cut by the only man who lost his head, using his knife instead of merely paying out as I ordered.
Thanks to the ingenuity and skill of Libois, aided by Chollet, by the end of a week the fragments of the dinghy were built into a boat perhaps a little stronger than before the accident.
January 21. — Although the wind is still blowing a little from the north-east, I decide to go out, after taking a series of soundings, and begin the search for an anchorage. Unforinnately we find nowhere good, and in spots close to Jenny Island, which are sheltered a little from the winds of the open, we get a depth of 97 metres, with a rocky bottom. At 1 o'clock we pass to the south of the island between it and the t wo large rocky islets, looking in vain for a little cove.
Soon we are on the other side of the island, and although we have behind us still the gusts of the north-easter, with nothing to protect us from it, we cross a zone of complete calm. We make for the opposite coast, and the breeze springs up again freshly, but this time from the east-south-east, bringing with it very clear weather and a blue sky. So we steam southward along this magnificent coastline of high mountains, some black, some red, with weird outlines, intersected by glaciers and high peaks. Big fjords ran into it, islands project from it. There would certainly be good winter anchorages there, but unhappily an ice-belt a dozen miles broad separates us from it and fills up all the inlets.
As I expected, with the prevailing wind some fairly big slabs break away and drift seaward, leaving a channel through which we can go full steam ahead. We skirt the edge of the
ice at a distance of a few metres, so that in spite of the growing wind we have no sea. We stop frequently to survey, for the weather is remarkably clear and we see not only Alexander I Land but the whole coast as far as the terminal cape, which seems to be on a big island. We are able to correct certain errors made by ourselves on the previous days, and in this way we recognize that what we took for a big island to the east is part of the land itself, while, on the other hand, some more small islands appear very far to the south. At each stoppage for surveying Eouch takes a sounding.
About 7 p.m. the ice-pack curves to the west away from the coast, and brings us upon a collection of icebegs. To go farther becomes absolutely impossible. We moor ourselves to the pack, which I have been examining from the crow's-nest, and on which I am going to take a turn with Gourdon. This pack is at least 5 or 6 metres thick, the lower section being very hard, while the upper layer of snow is melting and one sinks to the knees in the pickle. It is very flat and has comparatively few icebergs toward the open sea. Close to the land, on the other hand, it contains some table-bergs of so vast a size that we mistook them at first for an ice-terrace. These table-bergs, like some quite close to us, have their walls hollowed out into cells separated by kinds of pillars, which give them a curious aspect.
Will the pack-ice break entirely loose 1 his winter? At the moment the pieces coming away are insignificant in size, and not a crack nor a stretch of water betrays that disintegration is in progress. Only a few big blue patches show that the heat of the sun is melting the upper layer of snow. Moreover, the considerable quantity of ice driven by the prevailing wind down the little channel in which we are will come back at the fust change of the wind and prevent a strong swell, the chief agent in a breakup, from having its effect. These reflect ions wnii v me, for I am thinking of nothing but our winter quarters.
Unfortunately the windlass gets damaged, whieh makes it a long task bringing back the net. This injury is tiresome, for until it is completely repaired the windlass will be no use for our cables, and little even for our hawsers.
During the night, after making all possible observations and assuring ourselves that we could not get any farther, we go back the same way we came, so as not to get blocked in our channel. Arriving next morning south of Jenny Island we rind the wind blowing again very strongly from the northeast, but as the weather is clear I decide to return to Alexander I Land and to go close up to it if, as I hope, yesterday's wind has scattered the ice a little ; if not, to examine it from the south-west side.
We go ahead full steam, with the wind behind, heading due south-west. The ice does not trouble us ; but at the end of 2 hours we are in the midst of a jumble of rocks, through which we pass untouched, I don't know how. Only 4 hours later do we meet the dense pack-ice, into which we plunge straightway, beginning afresh the old struggle to make a few miles to the south ; but Alexander I Land is before us, in all its mass, and the toil which we are inflicting on oiu'selves is worth while.
Slowly and with difficulty we approach, the big icebergs taking their part in the affair to bar our way and force us to make many detours. We push aside the floes, one by one, winning our way hardly ; but we do advance, and from the crow's-nest it looks as if a fairly big stretch of open water bathed the foot of the ice-cliff. At last we get there and cross this kind of big lake, sounding frequently and finding bottom varying considerably between 66 and 180 metres. Less than 2 miles from the cliff we are stopped by some enormous coastal ice-floes standing 1 metre 60 above the water, separated from one another by large crevasses, but so closely packed that the ship cannot get through them. The floes are too big for us to push aside, and join on to a coastal
ice-belt which stops at the cliff-foot. Dragging a Norwegian boat along with us and jumping or crossing from floe to floe, we could certainly get there, but the risks to be run and the time which would be taken, with the ship meanwhile in a position which might at any moment become dangerous, would not be compensated for by the interest of the trip. We can see very distinctly the configuration of this ice-cliff ; once we got there we should require a regular expedition, and perhaps even then might not end by surmounting the perpendicular wall, full of crevasses and 30 metres high. Should we succeed in this climb, we should still have to cross an enormous ice-cap of 15 or 16 miles, covered by thick glacier snow, to reach the perpendicular mountain-walls rising above it, whose details we can see admirably from here. There would be no use in all this unless we could leave the ship for several days, or rather several weeks. So I shall not run after the vain glory of actually touching the cliff of a land which we have had the fortune of being the first to reach, when we should learn nothing more by doing so. By taking advantage of the fine weather which we continue to enjoy we shall be able to accomplish some much more useful work. The north-east wind has given place, as it did yesterday, to a nice south-east breeze, bringing an absolutely clear sky, which allows us to get all our guiding-points from the extremity of the continental land to the peaks of Adelaide Land, whoso snows arc magnificently tinted by the sun a dull old gold. All the cameras on board are at work incessantly, while Bongrain gets through a long and thorough piece of surveying work. When this is finished it is time for us to be off, for the big lines have treacherously surrounded us, and it is with difficulty that we get clear enough to make a dredge of 180 metres. Apart from zoological specimens, we secure thus a n8
bucketful of small and medium-sized stones, some of which are generously given by our geologist to the crew, anxious to have souvenirs of this land of which they have been talking so long.
From hero we see Alexander I Land almost from the same quarter as before ; but, being so near, we easily supplement our previous information and can confirm what we noted previously. To the north this island is composed of an enormous ice-cap, like that on Adelaide Land, but much bigger and more irregular in contour. Some high scarped and clearcut mountains, with jagged summits, make a range running east and west, with the same general characteristics as the Adelaide Land mountains. The aspect of the country must be most repulsive and inhospitable.
As usual, there is very little animal life. A very few seals are asleep on the floes, and there are two snowy petrels, two megalestrides, and five or six Adelie Penguins. As for whales it is long since we have seen any.
After making the circuit of our little lake (which is narrowing every minute), and vainly seeking a ready way out, we plunge boldly into the pack, steering at first north-west to take advantage of the south-east breeze, which helps us along well. At 9.30 p.m. we are clear and are skirting the drift on the edge of the pack-ice, trying to approach Alexander I Land from the west. The drift compels us to steer roughly westward at first, and then south-west. We keep our eyes on the land, and still see the mountains rising out of the ice-cap, which looks like a segment of a circle. Soon we espy a new range, this time running north and south, but rising, like the other, out of the cap. Apparently only the western end of the range descends straight into the sea, or at least stands upon a very thin portion of the cap. We soon recognize what Bellingshausen drew with such care ; but he must still have been further away than he imagined. Of Lecointe's plan, although he drew it so boldly, we can recognize nothing, in
for this.1
At 10.30 p.m. the ice permits us to steer S. 20° W., true, which takes us into a great indentation in the pack, of which we cannot yet see the end. There is a good deal of drift-ice and some ice-blocks ; but this does not prevent us from going full steam ahead.
The portion of the pack we are leaving to port, whose direction is west-north-west, is marked out by ten big tablebergs, very close together and almost identical in shape and dimensions, looking like a string of gigantic railway carriages painted with Bipolin. Through a mist one might easily take this line of icebergs for an ice-wall. Numerous very big tablebergs are to be seen everywhere, evenly scattered ; and, although I have no right to affirm this, I feel convinced that there must be an ice- wall, perhaps south of Alexander I Land. The solid eastern part of the pack, after some 20 miles, runs into the coastal ice starting from the foot of the cliffs of Alexander I Land. The scene is magnificently lighted up by the sun, which all but touches the horizon.
The night — if one may use this term at the present season — is lovely and calm. We now see the east coast, and it is possible to plot out the whole island as follows, it seems to me. Upon a great segment of a sphere in snow there rests a letter T formed by two mountain ranges, the shorter running east and west, the larger practically north and south. The former is the higher, with a very steep northern face. The latter, whose face nearest to us is quite mild, after its junction
1 It seems interesting to quote the procisor pussages of Arctowski's description (Rapports scientifiquca de la ' Bclgica.' (Ivoloyie, p. 4'2) : ' Alexandor Land, which lies to the smith lias somo very liigh peaks rising majestically abovou mountainous mass Stretching in the direction north to south and fading away dimly on the horizon. In front of ua is a cape, the extremity of a rango running from east to west, making the northern coast "f this land. . . . Further tot lie south the mountains appear to docreaso in importance, and their outline is gentle. . . . It is to ho noted that here, too, thoro is vory plainly marked an ice-plain sloping very gently toward (he Bea, and in this plain the numerous glaciers coming down from the mountains lose themselves.'
■with the short range decreases in height gradually toward the south. Several little spurs run out from this range, and almost at its southern extremity (which looks to us like a cone) appear two little mounds rising up from a black-hued plateau.
A sounding gives a depth of 326 metres. Half an hour later, at a distance of only 12 miles from the shore, we get 674 metres, with a bottom of mud and small stones ; so that here as everywhere else in this region the depths are very varying. At midnight, when we have reached the most southerly angle of the big indentation in the pack, we are stopped by the ice. From the crow's-nest I perceive with regret that this pack, which is made up of thick floes all but soldered on to one another, is practically impassable, and that we should consume all the rest of our coal in struggling on a few miles, without learning much more ; for in this clear weather (which cannot last for ever) we can see to a very considerable distance.
After what we must look upon as the terminal cape there is no more land to be seen ; everywhere the pack-ice stretches to the horizon under a very clear sky. Alas ! why cannot we push further south ? And yet, have we the right to complain when we have attained a point not attained before, and seen what no one has seen previously ?
While we are surveying the north-western arm of the pack closes slowly up toward us. We must make haste to be off, or we are in danger of being caught in the same fix as the Belgica or of being crushed against the coastal belt by the first westerly gale. So we set off again ; but we have been on our way an hour when a mirage deceives me into thinking that a channel has just opened to the south. We put about immediately and return on our tracks to discover my error, after almost running into an iceberg and meeting with some hard knocks against the floes, which awaken my companions, to whom I had promised a quiet passage. It wTas time to
leave our bay, for the ice was drifting rapidly from the west, and the row of ten table-bergs approaching the eastern packice left us but a narrow channel, which must have closed up soon after we got away.
The pack extends out of sight north-west and west. If we tried to turn that way we should certainly risk being obliged to go far northward and, even if we could make south again within sight of Alexander I Land, we might see it at such a distance that we could add nothing to Bellingshausen's description. I therefore prefer to return to Marguerite Bay to find out what is happening there, and to decide whether it is possible to winter there or whether we may hope, after the break-up of the pack, to seek favourable quarters elsewhere.
The weather continues very clear, and enables us to see all our country distinctly ; but the wind has risen very fresh and strong in the south-east. We take surveys and soundings and, after nearly grazing a rock flush with the water, of which the only warning is a lucky eddy seen a few moments before we are on it, we take our usual channel. At 10 o'clock we are moored to the pack-ice under Jenny Island. The weather is truly unparalleled in its clearness and purity of atmosphere, and the sky is without a cloud. The wind has fallen, and tin* sun's heat is considerable. One is reminded of a very fine winter's day at Nice.
It is settled that Bongrain, Gain and Boland shall start to-morrow night on a two days' trip in the north-east fjord, to try to discover whether Adelaide Land is an island or joins on to the mainland.
January 24. — Although to-day is Sunday, as the wind coming from the south and south-west is not likely to bother us, I dismount the windlass for repairs without loss of time. It is a difficult job, but is carried through successfully, and in two days' time the windlass will again be fit for work.
choice at night, to avoid snow-blindness and also to benefit by the freezing of the snow ; for by noon the sun causes one to sink in up to the knees. They take with them five days' food. The wheel of an old bicycle, which I forgot to put ashore when we started, fitted to the back of the sledge is converted into an excellent cyclometer.
January 25. — It is calm and a little foggy, and a small fine rain — a very rare thing in these latitudes — is falling univ.isingly. We are all working on board with the utmost zeal. The windlass is almost in its place again, the picket boat is repaired and the dinghy in the process of repair. The excellent fresh water procurable in abundance on shore is collected in all our boats and thus we fill up our boiler and water-casks without any expenditure of fuel.
Great slabs of our ice-pack, which were broken off by the swell from the recent gale, are drifting away on the southerly current, and thus the strip dividing us from the eastern side of the bay, full of icebergs, is growing rapidly thinner — which is rather alarming.
At last we have seen two more whales, one in the west, the other in the east of the bay. Moreover, Herv6 found yesterday in the north of the island, among some debris 8 metres above water-level, a huge fragment of whale-bone. We have found no more, but this practically suffices to prove a comparatively recent upheaval of the ground.
Gourdon has come across an Antarctic Penguin. We have seen none since Wandel Island, and I think they must be rare so far south. Lastly, 18 fine fish have been caught in the trammel-net.
January 26. — I awake to find the ship dressed, the crew having wished to celebrate the anniversary of my wedding. They have made a mistake of two days, but I do not undeceive the good fellows, for I am touched by this spontaneous attention on their part.
as to the condition of the pack. The narrow strip which separates us from the eastern part of the bay and protects us against the icebergs collected there and those enclosed in the strip itself is in a parlous state. Undermined by the swell attacking it on both sides, it shows big rifts and big pools of water. Many seals are sleeping on the ice. I amuse myself by approaching them without disturbing them, and then striking my skis with my staff. In every case the sleeper opens one eye with a blink, then the other, and looks without the least astonishment on the strange apparition which I must present. If I do not move, it stretches itself out, seeks a comfortable position, and goes off to sleep again. At the side of a large mother seal, however, there is a young one asleep. I begin my game again, whereon the mother shows the utmost indifference ; but her little one, on the other hand, is terribly scared and tries to escape, showing its teeth and snorting. I noticed that this young seal had three great scars in the caudal region, one of them almost circular and like those found, one might almost say invariably, on adults. The cause is disputed, some attributing the wounds to the struggles among the seals at the courting season. In that case the young one now before me must be extremely precocious. It is very probable that there are various reasons for these wounds, some evidently being from the attacks of thrashers and even of sea-leopards. A tine rain never ceases falling, like what they call the crachin at Brest ; and this goes on until 3 in the afternoon. At this moment the sun comes out, but almost simultaneously a tempest of wind springs up from the north-west. I had hoped that , owing to the narrowness of the bay, wind coming from the western regions could not stir up a dangerous sea here. But I was strangely deceived, for in a very short time it is so high that the deck is covered with spray. Great pieces of the pack break off and dash violently against our stern and rudder, threatening us with most serious damage. Every one sets to work with polos and oars to push off the blocks of
the most dangerous pieces.
The ship, however, continues to pound heavily against the pack until the debris of floes and bergs, accumulating little by Little around us, make a barrier of some 40 metres, which completely checks the swell. The ship only moves now under the influence of the heavy blasts. Our usual enemy, the ice, has once again become our protecting friend. It was high time, for our strength was beginning to fail.
The sea breaks violently on the edge of this barrier, and the spectacle is magnificent. It must be fearful outside. The whole entrance of the bay is covered by a great black shroud, and the high mountains facing us are as though wrapped in a thick layer of grey wool. This shroud has formed very rapidly, for the sky was quite blue when the storm began. From time to time scraps of cloud break away from it and scud off with startling speed. At the end of the fjord, on the other hand, to the north-east the weather is admirably clear.
A huge ice-block, some 10 metres high, has just broken through the ice athwart us ; but fortunately has been stopped about 15 metres off us by some big floes, which I trust it cannot shift. But the future is not at all promising. I really do not see how we can hope to wait here until the sea calms down around us. Not to speak of other possibilities, it is certain that if what has just happened had taken place at a season when there were some hours of night, however short, it would have been impossible for us to protect our ship and its stern would have been shattered.
At 11 p.m. the wind's violence increases, the mist invades our bay, and behind the peaks of Jenny Island huge clouds roll, looking like great solid masses. The mountains to the north-east, east, and south-east can still be seen, but are as though enveloped in a weird and terrible steel-blue atmosphere. The whole sea is tinged with yellow from the di-
washed off and broken up by the storm.
At last, toward midnight, the barometer, which had fallen considerably, goes up a little, while the wind only blows in great gusts interspersed with periods of complete calm. Then the gusts steadily decrease in intensity, and toward 2 o'clock the high wind gives place to a mild breeze.
At 3 a.m. the man on watch announces to me that Bongrain, Gain and Boland are to be seen on the pack. I give orders for supper to be prepared for them, and go to meet them with Godfroy. They have got on very well, without any mishap, and are much astonished to hear that we have experienced bad weather, having themselves had only fine and calm. This does not surprise me much. Indeed, it is very common in the fjord regions, and I have noticed it myself in Iceland and the Faroes.
Helped by a good smooth ice surface for the sledge, especially on the journey out, they travelled about 60 kilometres. Gain and Boland climbed to the summit of a little island in a narrow fjord full of icebergs, which they said seemed from their rounded shapes to have been there several years. They are certain that it was a strait in front of them, but they would have required several more days to settle the question outright. Still, thanks to the surveys, and sketches of the coast which they made, it was possible for us later to recognize from Matha Bay that their supposition was well based. Adelaide Land is therefore an island still, but is very close to the mainland and is of a size of which there was no suspicion up to now.
There being a complete calm to-day, the floating ice carried by the southerly current is going out of our bay. The weather is grey and soft, and almost all the mountains aro enveloped in low clouds, which hide them from our sight. Our situation here worries me extremely, and, although I have no exaggerated fears for the safety of the ship as long as we have our
tires up and continual daylight, I think it necessary to take all precautions for a possible rapid abandonment of her. I make out accordingly lists of clothing to be put in every man's bag, while I map out for each one his special post and duty, so that in case of accident we may still have not only the prime necessities but also the means of carrying on some scientific work and of either trying to get back to Deception Island or waiting rescue in some place more easy of access than where we are to an expedition in search of us. But I do not want to make these desperate preparations so soon after our recent alarm, for fear they should have a demoralizing influence on the spirits of some of the crew, and I keep in reserve the task of breaking the news to them in fine weather and almost in a joking way.
Bongrain came to me this evening to communicate to me his anxiety about the situation we were in, and to ask me if I did not think we ought to be off quickly. I answered him that, alas ! I only too fully shared his apprehensions, but that I wished to hold on here as long as possible, so that the ice might perhaps unblock for us a place on the coast where we could find shelter. Moreover, to go out in heavy and threatening weather, as now, would not be desirable. We could not risk leaving before ascertaining the route to be taken by climbing to the summit of the island in clear weather. I was still hoping against hope, I must confess, to see one of the coast fjords unlock so that we might winter in it. I should be content with very little, if it were only a deep cleft in the coastal pack-ice to shelter us from the icebergs and allow us to be frozen in.
During the night the wind has begun to blow again from the same direction, not with great strength, but bringing along some huge ice-blocks, some of which by their size almost deserve the name of bergs. One of them which alarms me particularly gets stranded in a shallow close to the western point of the island. There is no lack of dangerous neighbours,
and their number cannot grow less, for just opposite to us is the factory for ice-blocks and at the foot of the glaciers a big reserve seems to be only waiting for a favourable opportunity to bear down upon us.
I spend the greater part of the night upon deck, which enables me to espy a rat which, the reverse of timid, is calmly wandering astern, generally in the neighbourhood of the laboratory, where there are some birds waiting to be stuffed. The poor little beast is pretty, but still I must give orders for its destruction, for another of its kind has been seen, and as they may be of different sexes the ship might quickly be populated and our provisions, nets, and furs damaged in the same way as happened on the Franqais. But if I must have rats exterminated, I set myself absolutely against the totally unnecessary destruction of the megalestrides, which come in great numbers to feed on the remains of the seals left on the ice. My defence of them brings down on me the wrath of the sportsmen, but I do not give way ; for, apart from all other considerations, in our present circumstances it is certain that if any accident forced us to abandon the ship we should be very glad to use as food these same birds, whose bodies at present are left to rot on the ice. We must kill what is necessary for our collections and our kitchen, but I will always oppose killing for the mere pleasure of destruction.
There is a lot of ice around us, but a big floe, about a kilometre and a half in length, lies parallel with the ship, so that we are protected to seaward, and the fairly strong south-west, wind which is blowing does not alarm me. The weather is heavy and especially black to the south. It is snowing fast.
All spend the day in work, the staff continuing their observations. Advantage is taken of the lull to take the engine to pieces quickly, and the crew finish both the repair of tho dinghy and the putting together of a number of sledges, so as to be prepared for every emergency.
Boland, an Allelic Penguin jumped on the iee, holding in its beak a very big fish. Boland seized on it, and the fish, of a kind new to OS, is now in a bottle ; but the easily comprehensible anger of the poor penguin was comic. In a perfect fury it accompanied the robber right back to the ship, protesting energetically.
not tend to ease my fears.
January '29. — At 3 a.m. the man on watch comes to tell me that an iceberg is bearing down on us. Happily he is exaggerating ; but nevertheless it is with great difficulty that the whole of the crew succeeds in sheering off and turning :>-tern a very big ice-block. Half an hour later the wind begins to blow very hard from the south-west, unfortunately driving toward the end of the bay all the small ice and the floes which served to protect us.
At 1 p.m. a real iceberg this time, which I thought firmly stranded some distance away from us, begins to move. To >;dve my conscience, I have the fires made up ; but, with our bows wedged in an indentation in the pack, we could have made but a little way astern, even if the wind allowed us. We get ready with all the poles and thick planks on board, not so much to try to sheer off the enormous mass as to seek at least to break the shock. With majestic menace the berg bears down on us slowly, slanting across our stern, and thus blocking our one chance of manoeuvring. All the poles are waiting when, about 10 metres away from us, as if in pity it gently changes its course and contents itself with crashing into the ice a little astern of us. So we excavate in the pack a little basin, which we close with big floes moored by iceanchors in order to protect our rudder and screw. While this work is in progress I search for a better place for the ship nearer to land. I come back with my mind made up, at the first lull, to draw closer to the island, and put the ship into
an opening in the ice where it should be better sheltered. At 5 in the afternoon the wind drops almost of a sudden ; but an hour later, when we are about to start moving it begins to blow harder than ever, veering to the north-west, raising up immediately a stormy sea, which makes us bang violently against the thick pack-ice. The berg which frightened us so much this morning during the Little lull had gone seaward, but again it bears down on us, and with anxious hearts we get ready to receive it. The same providential intervention, however, causes it to make a manoeuvre identical with that of this morning, but in the contrary direction, and after coming still nearer to us it passes this time ahead of us and ranges up to the pack at the very place where I had decided to moor the Pourquoi-Pas ? The crew now ask me to moor the berg itself with ice-anchors to prevent it coming back, and although this device may be puerile with such a mass I let them adopt it, in order to encourage their inventive zeal. Shortly after the monster capsized and broke up, covering a vast area with iceblocks in the course of a few moments. This was the end of its career, after warning us of the danger of our position.
The whole day is spent in watching the ice-blocks and pushing off those that approach us. The blows we receive are formidable, and their frequency makes them dangerous even for so stout a vessel as ours. My cabin writing-desk, which is fixed to a beam, receives such jars that everything in it is upset and I can write no longer. Still, what I most fear is a collision.
Except that the mountains of Adelaide Land are wrapped in a pall of heavy clouds, the weather is very clear, especially in the east and north-east. In the offing, that is to say, to the south, the sky is black, bordered on the horizon with a Luminous band of gold, probably due to ice-blink.
January 30. — At midnight the wind suddenly dropped. The thermometer recorded 2° below zero and went down to 6° below, to rise again by noon to + 8°, thus giving us on the
same day the minimum and maximum readings of our present visit to the Antarctic. At 10 a.m. the weather was fine and clear, and I took advantage of it to climb with Gourdon to the summit of the island. What we saw was not cheerful. While the little strip separating our vessel from the bay full of icebergs is rapidly diminishing and is even on the point of vanishing, on the other hand the coastal pack does not seem to have changed since we first saw it, and still stretches some 8 or 10 miles.
The situation therefore is most grave, and the moment is one of those when the responsibility of the head of an expedition is truly agonizing. If our expedition were merely one of adventure, aiming simply at beating the record or accomplishing a sporting feat, I would gladly take the risk (although the result would almost certainly, and very quickly, be a wintering on land and a retreat full of incident, like that of the Tegethoff Expedition) and would stay here, burning the last ton of coal. But I must not forget the pecuniary sacrifices made by my country at the request of the Acad^mie des Sciences, and that what is expected of us above all is scientific discoveries. Our equipment of instruments is very fine, and to make use of it we require safe and serviceable winter quarters. Now here we have no anchorage and no chance of mooring ourselves to the shore, against which the first gale of wind would infallibly dash us. As the strip of pack-ice which protects us from bad weather from the eastern quarter and the numerous big icebergs is on the point of breaking up, even if we escape from the latter we shoidd be obliged to skirt the edge of the pack, thus going further and further away from the island on which alone we could establish observatories ; and I have every reason to believe that we could not long keep up the struggle necessary for the security of our vessel. The bad weather we have encountered is nothing in comparison with what we shall have to encounter in the coming months. Yet these few hours of continual toil and struggle have already
wearied out a hardy and enthusiastic crew, and I know by experience that gales of from fifteen days to a month in duration are not exceptional here. Lastly, it is still possible to struggle by daylight, but at night this becomes an absolute impossibility, and we have already seen our first two stars, which herald the coming of the night hours. On the other hand, our stock of coal is gradually being exhausted. Now we must reckon on two months at least, perhaps three, either before the coast unlocks to allow us to seek for possible shelter or before we can hope to be shut in by the ice. I believe that every serious explorer would decide with me that, under our present conditions, my duty is not to risk an adventure with the majority of chances in favour of the loss of the ship and, in any case, of our having to winter in such a situation that we should lose all the profit of our labours.
It was a great, almost a desperate, blow to me to have to leave this region where, with more luck, we might have accomplished such interesting work, and where I hoped to make important sledging excursions. It was with anguish of heart that I made up my mind ; but really I did not think I had the right to cause the Expedition to run such big risks any longer. I thought it best, however, to call together my companions on the staff, and, explaining the position to them, I asked their advice. They answered that we must start as soon as possible to look for winter quarters in Matha Bay and, if we cannot find them there, return to Port Circumcision.
I hesitated also about leaving a station on shore ; but, apart from the fact tlmt we had not the necessary installation, in view of the difficulty of landing to do so, I would not have ventured to undertake the responsibility without joining the party myself — and, on the other hand, I did not think I ought to quit the ship.
I decided therefore to leave as soon as possible. From the lop of the island we had seen the oiling full of ice. At all costs it was necessary to escape being frozen up at sen, and
risking a winter which would have to be spent like the Belgian's in an almost identical region. Our summer campaign had been more fruitful than we could have hoped, since we had surveyed a considerable extent of new coast south of Adelaide Land, reached Alexander I Land, corrected the charts, and discovered a big bay north of Adelaide Land while making during our voyage numerous soundings, drags, and observations of all kinds. It was absolutely necessary now, if we were to make sure of our winter's work, to run no danger, by attempting too much, of cutting off our retreat and compromising the future of the Expedition, compelling ourselves to renounce all ideas of -winter quarters and return to Cape Horn — which would be disastrous. After wintering we could still hope, with the coal we should have left, to have a profitable campaign on the high sea, more adventurous in character and freer from anxiety about finding a favourable spot for winter quarters and the prosecution of the important work entrusted to us.
We leave on the terrace of Jenny Island a cairn with a message in it, and at 10.30 p.m. we get under weigh. It is with a heavy heart that I depart ; and yet I ought to rejoice at the fine weather which allows the Expedition to escape from this dangerous spot.
A very small breeze from the south-south-west is blowing, and a few big floes coming from the bay force us to make detours. At midnight we begin to round the cap of Adelaide Land, keeping a good distance away to escape the reefs at the southern end, which stretch out very far, marked at the present moment by numerous big icebergs.
The weather is very clear, and all the lands are in sight, standing out against a magnificent orange sky. Only the high peaks of Adelaide Land are wrapped in light woolly clouds. Toward 1 a.m. we reach the edge of the pack-ice, which is very thick to the south, loose enough to the west, but thicker again along the land. There is just a channel for us, but we
still have to pick our way to escape the thick and frequently big floes. With the ice in this condition we should have had the greatest difficulty in making Marguerite Bay when we first arrived, and I do not think we could have reached Alexander I Land. I continue to believe, therefore, that we had the benefit of a rather exceptional state of things.
A little before 3 o'clock the sun rises, and the light effects become wonderful. Some of the icebergs are purple in hue, others violet, others look like masses of molten iron, while some are blue or a dazzling silvery white. The whole pack is tinted pink, and it is difficult to imagine anything at once more beautiful and more fantastic. We soon came upon a great collection of icebergs stretching out in a line as far as the big black rock we noticed when we came, which breaks the monotony of the cap. There are over 240 icy monsters, and in the middle of them, more than 15 miles in the offing, can be seen numerous reefs. The pack-ice forces us to steam between land and reefs, skirting the line of icebergs, but happily without any mishap to our keel.
The wind, without altering in strength, veers from southsouth-west to south-west, and then to west-south-west. The sea becomes clear and we pursue our journey to Matha Bay, taking soundings every four hours. At 6 p.m. we notice the double row of monstrous icebergs which seem always to mark out on either side the entrance to Matha Bay, one row resting <tn the shallows of Adelaide Land, the other on those of the Biscoe Islands. We recognize some by their strange shapes as having been seen by us, almost in the same places, on our first attempt to penetrate into the bay.
This bay now seems very generally free of ice and we head for the end, toward the Itig promontory which we called on aeeoiint of its form the Lion, behind which we hope to find a large inlet.
•which wo resolve to explore later. It is dull and grey and a strong east-south-east wind is rising, while in the north-cast and east the sky is overcast and threatening. The floes, iceblocks, and debris of the latter are becoming close-packed, and we make our way slowly ; but at last we double the Lion and penetrate into a big bay of clear water leading us right up to the coastal pack-ice, which tills up a fjord of large extent . We moor ourselves firmly to the pack, which divides us from a picturesque crevassed glacier.
The night is windy, but we are well sheltered from the present direction of the wind and from the sea, and toward 9 a.m. a calm returns and the day declares itself magnificently clear. Every one starts energetically to work, and it is not until about 3 o'clock, after a good dredge, that we are ready to start again.
The coast is wonderful with its fine tall mountains of weird aspect, but all the inlets are choked with the thick pack-ice, and at one single point stands an island ending in a rocky promontory, in place of the everlasting ice-cliff. A little beyond this promontory there is a low rocky island, for which we head in the hope of finding there a cove in which we can anchor for the winter.
We embark in the Norwegian boat, and find on the reef an imposing rookery of Adelie Penguins and some magnificent striated rocks, but absolutely nothing of service to our ship ; no cove, no anchorage, considerable depths of water, which allow the already approaching icebergs to come close to the islet, and not even a shelter against the swell of the open sea, which we feel a tittle in spite of the calm weather following the land breezes.
We cross the bay and, after making sure that the packice closes up all the windings on both sides alike, we enter the channel behind the cap of Adelaide Land. Big icebergs, enormous floes more than 2 metres above water-level, and ice promontories wrhich look as if freshly broken away from
Gain and Boland recognize at the end of the channel we are threading some peaks which they saw during their excursion on the other side. So Adelaide Land is really an island, though the strait which separates it from the land we named after President Loubet is always very narrow and grows smaller as it goes on.
After a few stops for surveying, we are brought up at midnight by the pack which surrounds part of Adelaide Land, the islet opposite it, and two conical black islets which appear to the south. This pack joins straight on to that which we found all round Matha Bay.
The swell makes itself felt pretty strongly, the sky is overcast from the north-west to the north-east, and icebergs and thick floes are making their way into our channel. Unfortunately we have nothing to do here, and to idle about would be unwise, to say nothing of the useless expenditure of coal. Between the Biscoe Islands and the land the scene is literally choked with ice. We must make up our minds, therefore, to return to Petermann Island ; and, this being the only decision to which Ave can come, the sooner we are there to commence our observations and economize our coal, the better. Further, there is already a certain amount of night, and experience has taught me only too well the great difficulties which may befall one on this coast through the sudden movements of the ice, the gales, and the reefs. I cannot lose time and risk spending long days on the high sea without an opportunity of attaining our object, to finish lip perhaps by missing it altogether. The line of reefs separating us from Petermann Island cannot be crossed from the sea side except in broad daylight, and in weather that is at least moderately good. On the Fran^ais we were kept over a week at sea partly by a gale, partly by fog, and it was only by a rather risky decision that wo were
moonlight.
At 4 a.m. we come out of Matha Bay, rival swells from the south-west, north-west, and north-east setting up a most unpleasant cross-chop, and causing the ship to pitch and toss wildly. The wind blows fairly strong from the north-east, accompanied by a hurricane of snow crystals, painful to the eyes and obstructive to the view, which is so much wanted in the midst of a sea strewn with fragments of icebergs. Happily this state of affairs does not last long, and I confess that I am agreeably surprised ; for never on my previous campaign did we experience north-east winds which did not end in gales and blow generally for several days, at least for a dozen hours.
From noon onward the weather turns quite fine, the sky only remaining a little overcast in the north. All day long we coast the Biscoe Islands, which form, as it were, an uninterrupted line of big, little, and medium-sized caps, all monotonously alike and overlapping one another. They can scarcely be counted, and it would be a tedious task to attempt to do si i ; but it may be said that they begin with Victor Hugo Island and end with Adelaide Land.
Biscoe discovered these islands after Adelaide Land, and tins is how he speaks of them in his diary : ' On the 17th and 18th [of February] passed several small islands of exactly the Bame appearance as Adelaide Island. This range lays westsouth-west and east-north-east, and had no mountains on their tops, but a complete field of snow and ice perfectly smooth except their edges. I could plainly see a tier of very high mountains in the background, which had a grand appearance.
' February 19. — At 4 p.m. I sent the boat to an island, which appeared to join the mainland, and some naked rocks lying off the mouth of a considerable entrance. I had great hopes of finding seal in them. At 10 a.m. the boat returned, not having found anything alive on the island, but having
pulled quite round what Mr. White informed me was an excellent harbour for shelter, although a rocky bottom. I have named this Pitt's Island, from the great likeness of an iceberg to that statesman in a sitting posture, and which for some time I took to be a rock. This island has many bays in it ; the centre part of the west side, latitude 65° 20' S., longitude 66° 38' W., by good sights [and] chronometers.' 1
Biscoe says nothing more about these islands, and I confess that I do not understand why the Engbsh Admiralty chart places Pitt Island in 65° 40' W. instead of 66° 38' W., and why it adorns it with three mountainous peaks standing in a triangle, about which Biscoe has not a word.
Before our time these islands were not mentioned again except by Evensen, who coasted along them going south, and in running back passed between the two most northerly, that is to say, very probably south of Victor Hugo Island, as we did on several occasions.
As for the Belgica, she saw none of them, and De Gerlache writes : 2 ' We pass, without seeing them, the position of the Biscoe Islands as marked on the Admiralty chart. It is true that the weather is rather overcast, and that we may have left them a few miles to one side or the other of our course.'
On the Fran<?ais we vainly sought for Pitt Island at the place indicated by Biscoe, and in despair Ave gave this name to a big cap-shaped island in 65° 28' S. latitude and 66° W. longitude (Greenwich) ; but in spite of all our efforts it was impossible for us to get through the ice, which always cut us off, and to rediscover the bay which Lieutenant White entered.
At 6 p.m. we are abreast of Victor nngo Island, but shortly before midnight the lack of light forces us to stop. The ship is in a fairly dense pack, in (he midst of icebergs. About 2.30 we start again with the greatest precautions, as the reefs are
hidden by floes ; but at last we recognize our former bearings, and at 5 o'clock we enter Port Circumcision. When the ship is barely moored, I have stretched provisionally across the entrance three double iron-wire hawsers to prevent the intrusion of ice-blocks.
AUTUMN, WINTER, AND SPRING, 1909
IT is here, therefore, that we must winter, and I confess that it is a genuine disappointment to me. In spite of having tried to persuade myself that there was small chance of finding a shelter elsewhere, I had still nourished hopes ; and our discovery of Marguerite Bay and the apparently favourable situation of Jenny Island seemed at first to be a realization of these hopes. But if it is difficult to console oneself for not wintering further south, at least one must admit the advantages of our present situation.
The ship appears to be safe, the shape of the island is favourable to the establishment of our observatories, and the neighbourhood of Wandel will permit us, by comparison with the observations of four years ago, to form some precise ideas of the physical and biological conditions of this region. Very often during our winter stay at Wandel we asked ourselves whether, exposed as we were at the opening of the vast passage formed by De Gerlache Strait, this local influence did not cause some modifications of the general conditions. Here it will be easy for us to find this out.
From another point of view it seemed to us also in 1904 that the. difficulty of exploration, caused by the frequent shifting of the pack-ice, ceased with Petermann (Lund) Island. We are justified, therefore, in hoping to be able to make excursions along the coast, and the configuration of the glacier situated right in front of our haven seems favourable to our penetration even on to the mainland.
Lastly, and this consideration must not be despised, there is on Petermann Island a well populated penguin rookery, which promises us in the autumn and spring material both for study and for food ; not only fresh meat but also eggs, when it pleases these good birds to provide them for us. And there is also the amusement to be derived from them.
Our kingdom is about 2 kilometres at its greatest length, and the island is divided into two sections united by an isthmus of a little more than 200 metres broad, which separates two picturesque fjords with generally steep cliffs. The northern section is a big ice-cap, 127 metres high, with scarped walls, terminating to the north-west in an outcrop of huge rocks. The only possible passage by land between the north and south sections is a very steep slope, tiring to climb whether covered with soft snow or when the latter is blown off by the wind and leaves uncovered a frozen surface.
We are on the southern section, which is also composed of an ice-cap, about 50 metres in height, with fairly gentle slopes descending to the shore on the south-east, north, and southeast. In the last-named quarter are fine, picturesque rocks, crowned by penguin rookeries. Port Circumcision is a notch in the south-east coast, and its generally flat surroundings are favourable to our winter establishment. The whole is dominated by a clump of rocks 35 metres high on ' Megalestris Hill.' Lastly, there is a group of little islands to the southwest.
The influence of the persistent north-east winds makes itself felt in the configuration of the two masses of Petermann Island as in all the neighbouring region. The rocks to the north-east are swept by the wind, which accumulates more and more snow on the south-west side, where the coast is formed by the sheer wall of a high ice-cliff with a snow-cornice towering over it. Port Circumcision, the entrance to which is made rather difficult for a ship as big as ours by huge lumpy rocks, is a cove running north and south. The end of the
cove and its eastern face are precipitous walls of ice, 7 or 8 metres nigh, rising on a base of rock. On the east the rocky face is rather lower. The depth increases rather abruptly toward the sea end, so that, as was the case with the FranQais at Wandel, I deem it necessary to turn the stern toward the entrance, in deeper water, in order to prevent pounding due to the swell damaging the screw and rudder, the ' Achilles' heels ' of all Polar vessels. If we turned the ship the other way, our draught of water astern would not allow us to force her sufficiently into the cove for her to be well protected and well moored.
We begin to establish ourselves immediately, which is no light task ; for, apart from the scientific programme (the carrying out of which necessitates a rather complicated organization), if we wish to take full advantage of our excellent position, we must also provide for the safety of the ship, and render as comfortable as possible the life of the thirty men who make up the Expedition.
Our observations will gain a lot by beginning as soon as possible. So we set on foot simultaneously all the organizing work, and our little corner becomes like a veritable ant-hill in its activity. The building material is carried to the chosen spots either by sledge or by boat. Senouque erects on flat ground at a good distance from all other buildings, so as to withdraw his magnetic needles from the influence of iron and steel, a wooden hut with double walls, covered with tarred canvas, in which to instal his apparatus for the registration of terrestrial magnetism.
Eouch builds a little hut of planks to contain his apparatus for the study of atmospheric electricity. Close to the ship and on an elevation of 35 metres, which for some reason or other has been christened ' Megalestris Hill ' he puts up a shelter for the meteorological instruments, using as supports the iron network uprights presented by the Prince of Monaco.
other for the transit instrument and its accessories. The first hut is quickly run up. It is a small portable affair of 4 Venesta,' i.e. of panels of specially prepared wood fibre, the lightness and strength of which make them of the greatest use in Polar exploration. The other hut is made of planks covered with tarred canvas.
In all these buildings the great difficulty is to level the ground by removing or fetching rocks, and the task is particularly laborious through these being almost always soldered together by a thick layer of ice. Then it is necessary to consolidate the whole affair by heaping still more rocks round the base and stretching solid iron-wire shrouds over the roof ; for our huts must withstand the violent and continual attacks of Antarctic tempests.
In turning up the ground for the foundations of the future magnetic hut we found some seal bones, some of which showed curious pathological deformities.
While the little village springs up in this hitherto desert place, there is the greatest activity on board. First the ship has to be suitably moored, with a wealth of precautions which is all the greater because, safe as our haven appears, we do not yet know what might happen with strong winds coming from various points of the compass. The entrance is 85 metres across. Here we set up two barriers of steel wire to prevent the ice-blocks from coming in, and with ten hawsers we fix the ship in its place. Hawsers to act as barriers are secured to land with ice-anchors firmly driven into the ice, or, better still, into interstices of the rocks where the conformation of the ground permits of this. On the port side this is comparatively simple, for the rock which must serve as a bitt is right ahead and almost flush with the water ; but the rock to starboard is about 40 metres off and 10 metres high. To accomplish the job it is necessary to plan out a whole system of tackle and coils ; and yet in
half a day the two 'heavy chains are in their places, to all appearance firmly laced about their rocks. The firmness of the starboard chain is of particular importance, for it will hare to bear the brunt of the north-east blasts, which are the most frequent and violent in this region.
The top-gallant yards are unrigged, lowered, and then placed parallel to one another and fastened together with planks, thus making a broad gangway between the ship and the land. To facilitate communications, a path is cut in the rock cornice at the end of this gangway.
By means of bamboos serving as telegraph poles, we carry wires to the various observatories, which are then lighted by the electric installation on board ; and this is certainly one of our most useful and pleasing innovations. It will be easy at any time to have a good light by which to read the instruments, a luxury impossible to appreciate too highly. During the wintering of the Frangais one of our greatest preoccupations and greatest troubles was precisely this question of illumination. We used to set out, equipped with what we considered our best lantern, protecting it with care against the wind ; and just as we were about to use it, a gust would blow it out. As it was no use thinking of taking matches in the storm and snow, we must needs return on board to relight the lantern, and before accomplishing our object we often had to make the journey three or four times over. Also, by means of a microphonic communication Bongrain (whose practical turn of mind knows how to apply itself to such installations) is able to transmit the time on board to the transit instrument without carrying the chronometers across.
While the sailors un reeve I lie ropes, and dry and unbend the sails, the engineers and stokers look to the boiler and take (lie engine to pieces for the winter. Then the ship is covered fore and aft with huge awnings held in place by a solid framework. In this way the whole after-deck makes an enclosed saloon, lighted by day through windows pierced in the awning, Ml
and at night by two electric lamps. On the starboard side this saloon forms an annexe to the biological laboratory, on the port side and aft avast workshop in which are set up various benches, the lathe, the drill, etc., etc. Here, too, are erected the two washing machines, in which once a week ice is to be melted for washing our linen, using seal's fat as fuel. Foreward the awning also makes a big saloon adjoining the crew's berths ; a roofing of planks covered with tarred canvas forms a lateral prolongation of the roof of the cook's galley. Only the central poop remains uncovered, and for this I get the sailmakers to construct a little tent to protect the ward-room skylight, easy to put on and off according to the weather.
All the boats are hauled up on shore, ready to be launched when required, except the picket-boat, which we keep temporarily afloat, firmly moored in a little cove where she seems safe. In one of the dories hauled ashore on a headland away from the ship and covered up, we put the explosives.
Our 10 tons of spirit are disembarked in their turn, and sheltered under canvas. It is with great relief that I see the ship for a time cleared of its dangerous cargo.
Finally Gourdon, who has done me the very great service of undertaking the important but thankless job of commissariat officer, with the care which he devotes to everything superintends the getting on shore of the cases of provisions, which he has put under an imposing building, with a roof formed of oars supporting a tent. Against this provision store we place skis and sledges, spare oars, etc.
Beside these arrangements, which require time and labour, a whole series of minor operations are in progress. Godfroy has set working his two tide registers, and puts up a gauge with marks easy to read from the ship. Rouch with runners from the sledges constructs a Uttle erection of tropical appearance, singularly out of harmony with the snow, over the ground thermometers, which are buried in the ice. Gourdon, Gain and Liouville help me to set up on the summit of the island a
cairn with a weathercock, which can be read from on board with the aid of field glasses. Thus the island bristles with oddlooking buildings, whose upkeep, alteration and improvement are our perpetual occupation.
All this setting in order of our winter quarters has taken nearly a month. I have thought it necessary to describe the general scheme for the better comprehension of what is to follow, before resuming my personal journal of daily events. The latter, I hope, will give the reader who wishes to realize our life of alternate activity and monotony a better picture than he could gather from long dissertations of our existence in winter quarters, with the illusions and disillusions, the achievements and mistakes which are the lot of Polar explorers whose one anxiety is to accomplish the task which they have undertaken.
The weather during this period has been characterized by strong gales, generally from the north-east, by snow, and by overcast skies. We cannot, therefore, but be glad that we are already in winter quarters and have commenced our series of observations.
On board the Frangais we kept afloat until March 5 in weather pretty much like this, and the experience left me, as well as my comrades of the period, the memory of a brave but very laborious struggle, rendered still more unpleasant by the long nights spent amid icebergs and reefs. We have had the luck this time of escaping this by arriving early in the Antarctic, and we have nothing to regret, for we could have done no useful work at sea.
Since our arrival here, up to the end of the month, we have had only four fine days, and, as will be seen afterwards, we took full advantage of them.
February 7. — Last night the weather was calm and wonderful, with some splendid effects of soft light, tinting the scenery in the tenderest of hues. Nearly all of us went out after dinner to indulge in tobogganing or ski-ing, and we
spent a good hour amusing ourselves with a penguin which refused to leave us. We stuck on his head now a cap, now a mitten, and nothing could have been funnier than this grotesquely muffled creature running along the snow and trying to free himself from his cumbrous head-dress. What was most curious, he seemed himself to be delighted with the game, coming back to us, stretching out his head, and evincing great satisfaction.
the opportunity of having a bath on deck.
The island is becoming quite picturesque with its little houses of various shapes. The seismograph hut (which reminds me of my garden at Neuilly, where I set it up experimentally) is especially pretty, leaning against a rock, with its little pointed roof and the telegraph posts joining it to the ship. The atmospheric electricity hut is less graceful in shape, but has its note of gaiety, nevertheless, for to strengthen its walls we have covered them with the zinc signs of the kindly purveyors who gave them to us with their goods ; and these familiar pictures recall memories of all the corners of France in which our eyes have looked at them.
February 8. — Jabet, whose duty it is every morning to inform me of the weather, announces to me to-day : ' Calm, no clouds.' We launch a whale-boat at once, and Gourdon, Godfroy, Gain, three of the crew, and myself set off. The weather is like yesterday's, fine and cloudless. It is so warm that, even sitting still at the tiller, I cannot stand my coat, while the rowers are in a perspiration with only their shirts on. Passing close to icebergs of strange and graceful shape, we reach without difficulty the first of the Argentine Islands, and after climbing to its summit we proceed to that which lies most to the south.
This very picturesque group of islands is composed of rocks of various colours, grey, red, or black, sometimes even green through the thick covering of moss upon them. Our
excursion is also enlivened by the fairly abundant animal life we came across. There are a lot of gulls and niegalestrides, perhaps more than we have ever seen together before. On the floes the penguins gaze at us gravely, while the terns with their deafening cries pass overhead, and a cormorant cuts through air with its heavy flight, making straight for its object without a pause.
On the last island we find what we were looking for, a fine view over Cape Trois-Perez. It looks as if this cape were the end of a mountain range isolated from those in the background. But is it a deep fjord lying south of it, a strait making one more island, or a mere valley choked by a glacier, as is so often the case ? It is only by making the long excursion later that we can solve this question.
We lunch merrily, like canoeists on a holiday, close to a little cascade of fresh water ; but just as we are leaving we find that our rudder has disappeared, and we shall never know either how or where it went. We replace it easily enough with a plank nailed to a boat-hook.
Scarcely an hour later, thanks to the free water, we are back on board, although during the Franpais Expedition the same journey took thirty hours of hard work. It is true that all that time we had to drag this same whale-boat over the ice.
In the harbour we see the ship moving alternately ahead and astern. The underset has become formidable in this nook, securely closed in though it seems to be. One of the iron-wire hawsers from the stern has broken in consequence of the sudden strains caused by this perpetual movement. I try, with a certain amount of success, to set things right by hanging here and there by ropes from the new hawsers ballasted buckets reaching into the water, which stop too sharp pulls by the elastic resistance they afford.
Next day, as the weather continues fine, I take the whaleboat with three men to Wandcl, where I wish to deposit a message telUng where we are. We find on our way a lot of
tiresome to get through.
A whale in some shallows is engaged in an interesting operation. It is evidently trying to discover whether there is enough water for it, and for over five minutes it feels its way, sinking a little, coming up again, and finally, finding what it wants, makes its usual plunge.
Having reached the headland east of Hovgard, we rest for a few minutes at this spot where we used to camp four years ago. It gives me great pleasure to recognize these little corners connected with the memories of the hard but cheerfully endured struggle of our former Expedition. At Wandel we moor at ' Whaleboat Point,' which used to serve us as a landing-place, and I proceed to take my message to the magnetic hut. Thanks to the astonishingly fine and warm weather, the rocks are more uncovered than they ever used to be, and the ice-cliffs are crumbling away noisily, covering the sea with their debris.
I cannot get used to the idea that Wandel is uninhabited. In spite of myself, I look for the familiar outline of the masts of the little Frangais, and I should be in no way astonished to see a human being coming toward me. I put down the indifferent, and as it seems to me affected, air of the penguins to their having been accustomed to see me before. It is certain, at least as far as I am concerned that, if ' every separation, even the most looked-forward- to, has its grief,' a coming back, on the other hand, has its sweetness. This impression of a persistence of life at our old winter quarters is so strong that their nearness to Petermann robs this station of its feeling of isolation for me, and I am very frequently obliged to make an effort to convince myself that we are really all alone in the Antarctic.
On our way back we land at Hovgard, in a big hollow where a considerable fall of the ice-cliffs has left bare the rocks covered with enormous barnacles. The delighted men paddle
the boat with them.
A great black pall rises to seaward, with a north-west breeze, and in the evening the sky is completely covered except in the south-east, where a big blue gash lighte up the mountain-tops fantastically. An enormous iceberg has come to a stop at the northern point of our haven. It is 65 metres high, more than double our mast. If such monsters, however, are dangerous neighbours when they capsize, the slight depth in which we are and the narrowness of the pass remove all fears of a collision. Our barrier appears to hold good and up to now only ice-blocks of a small size, and consequently harmless, have succeeded in getting past them.
February 16. — During these last few days the weather has been bad, the wind blowing more or less strongly from between north and east-north-east. It is dull and grey, with a fine snow and sometimes even rain, which was unknown to us on the first expedition. From time to time the wind drops for several hours, and the snow falls in big silent flakes. The temperature keeps generally above zero, and it is difficult to imagine anything more disagreeable than this muggy, humid weather, which seems likely to last, for the barometer has fallen this morning to 723 mm.
This does not prevent us from busying ourselves with the work and observations already started, and continuing our installations, which is the most important duty of the moment. But we must not think of excursions, and I watch the days growing shorter with regret.
Eouch having no hut suitable for them has had to content himself with fixing up the registering vane and anemometer on board ; but the ship is too sheltered and the information given is necessarily inadequate. So I decide to go to Wandel Island as soon as I can, to take down Ihe house we left there four years ago. Put together again here, it will make a magnificent observatory.
In any case, the bad weather has been turned to profit, since I have had the excursion tents put up to test their strength. The experiment has been a perfect success, for these frail-looking structures have victoriously resisted the assaults of wind and snow. I had them made of green silk to avoid eye-strain, from which we suffered so much on our previous expedition during our summer excursions in perpetual daylight. This colour of theirs shows up pleasantly against the white snow. The arrangement I have adopted seems a good one. The tent is in the shape of a gendarme's cap, big enough for three persons. The uprights are simply made of four long ski-poles, joined two and two at their top-ends and passed through a big hem in the silk. This spreads out on all sides and stretches horizontally over the ground in such a way that it can be covered over with snow, which not only keeps the tent in place by its weight, but also prevents the air from penetrating into the interior. The poles, which go but a little way into the snow, being stopped by a ring bound round with thread, are fastened by cords to two ice-axes driven firmly in, and the opening is formed of a canvas bag, which can be tied up either inside or out with a cord. In an intense cold such as we expected these tents, which are the lightest and least cumbersome one could imagine, when once folded up, would leave nothing to be desired, I believe ; but in this half-melted snow it would be better perhaps to replace the silk with some thicker material, such as Burberry.
Chollet and two of the crew have taken a boat round the island. He found very few seals, and this discovery is annoying, for we want fat to economize the coal, with which I am very miserly, and I wished to lay up before the winter a good stock of meat. The poor penguins will be the first to suffer for this, since we must sacrifice some hundreds of them. I detest these massacres, however indispensable they are in our position, and they grieve me all the more because the birds here are so gentle and inoffensive.
The penguins, if a subject of most absorbing study to Gain, are a perpetual distraction for us. There is, on a rock rising out of the snow a few metres from the ship, a colony of countryfolk (for this is the name I give to a few couples living separate and isolated from the big rookeries) which gives us special delight. It is composed of three couples with their young and a mad penguin, which indulges in extraordinary contortions and on which the others look with a kind of indulgent pity. The men always call him the ' loony.' He often acts as nurse to the little ones when the parents are away looking for food. The young have as yet no down except on their heads, where it forms a little cap which gives them a comic appearance. They rather rouse our pity, these little birds, so lacking in gaiety, and already as grave and dignified ae their parents.
Many other young penguins belonging to the big rookery have already lost their down, which has been replaced by fine blue-black feathers ; but they have as yet no white circle round the iris. This and their size and the bluish colour of their plumage are all that distinguish them from their elders. The latter take them to their bath, but the underset is strong around the rocks on account of the bad weather, and the sea breaks with considerable force, so that they have great difficulty in entering the water and coming out again. Some of the old ones even have had rough shocks in trying to be too clever, and it is a wonder that they come through their adventures without being injured. We spend hours watching these birds with 1 heir human ways. The other day I witnessed a scene which has often been repeated since. A mamma penguin coming back from fishing was assailed by her two starving youngsters ; but, probably in order to make them take exercise, she tried to avoid them, forcing them to run and stopping from time to time to disgorge a beakful for them. Then she would start off again, holding out her beak to the little ones without opening it, making feints, but always
the greatest fairness.
Toward noon to-day the wind changes and blows smartly from the south-west, bringing clear weather with it. I take advantage of this to be off at once in the picket-boat with Gain and four men to Wandel, where we arrive without difficulty, after meeting innumerable icebergs but seeing no marine ice.
As we discovered on our recent visits, the house which I had had built of small panels, each one metre long, to facilitate transport, is, except for the roof having been blown off, in perfect condition, in spite of the attacks of the wind and the pressure of the snow. It is easy to take the upper section to pieces, the screws coming apart readily. But a complicated task awaits us over the completely buried lower section, for we have to cut into the ice to get the panels out, and soon we get down to the water. The only way to get rid of this is to dig a long channel, a tedious job ; still, before the end of the day a good part of the house is already taken down and put on board the picket-boat. Before we start back I climb as far as the cairn, where I find four penguins in process of moulting. At this period of their existence these poor birds, separating into little groups and apparently hiding themselves away, have a curious, suffering look about them, probably due to the fact that, as they do not go into the sea during the moult, they deprive themselves of food. They seem so ashamed at being surprised by me in their retirement that I am tempted to apologise to them for my indiscreet visit.
During my absence Gourdon and Senouque have been in the Norwegian boat as far as the glacier on Danco Land, opposite our anchorage, and they bring back the good news that it is easy to land there.
Rouch is upset, and we torment him unmercifully, for he has just discovered, in setting the sunlight-register to work for the first time, that the instrument, which he bought
at the last moment, is for the northern hemisphere. We are clever enough on board to alter the apparatus as wanted and to make use of it. But evidently the big instrument makers are not yet accustomed to South Polar expeditions.
February 17. — The weather is magnificent, like yesterday's, but the wind is blowing fresh from the north-east, and we must make haste, for this bodes no good. I set off, therefore, for Wandel with Liouville in the morning. We worked hard taking the house to pieces, under a sun so hot that we stripped to our shirts and turned up our sleeves.
Water bothers us more and more, but this time more than two-thirds of the building is taken down and put on board. As we gradually cleared the interior of ice, we discovered all that we left there four years ago, most of it in good condition. The barrel containing 160 litres of alcohol, 5° below proof, which will be very useful to our naturalists, is got out, and we find in the middle of a pile of rubbish, boxes of preserved food and milk, some glass-ware, a breadbasket, and finally, the little Simpson-Strickland engine of the picket-boat which we had to abandon. This engine is now encased in a huge block of ice. Later on, on board, when the ice was melted, this engine was in perfect condition ; so much so that as we were dissatisfied with the electric motor which worked the Lucas sounder, we fitted some piping to communicate with the boiler, and practically without the necessity of repairs, this engine enabled us to take soundings of great depth during the whole of the rest of our campaign.
Just as Gain did yesterday, Liouville brings back from his trip an interesting harvest. The poor brute defends itself bravely, but the revolver soon accounts for it. It is a magnificent specimen for the. Museum that we tow back, but its death leaves a painful impression on my mind. It is strange that the men of the crew, who are brave fellows, kind and good to the animals which they keep
on board, take pleasure in these slaughters and get excited over them. Moreover, no amount of reasoning succeeds in subduing this instinct, a relic of barbarism, which makes men, even the best of them in their ordinary lives, believe that by taking part in this useless exercise they are proving their courage. Bongrain, for his part, has succeeded in killing a WeddelPs Seal, so that we are provided with fat and meat for some time, and our collection is getting gradually richer We now only need a Boss's Seal to complete the series of Antarctic Seals ; but we can scarcely hope to get one of these until the summer campaign on the southern ice-pack.
There are four kinds of Antarctic seals, and, without giving a detailed description, which belongs to the Natural History department, I may mention some of their particularly distinctive characteristics.
Weddell's Seal (LeptonycJiotes Weddelli), or false sealeopard, is spotted sometimes with white, sometimes with yellow, on a yellowish or grey ground. It is slenderer than the Crabbing Seal, generally larger in size, and with its head proportionately smaller. The teeth are of medium size and the dentition is simple.
The Sea-leopard (Hydrurga Leptonyx) is the king of Antarctic seals. It is dark grey, flecked with yellow spots of a very large size. Its head, which is distinctly separated from the body and at the end of a slender neck, is long, and the powerful jaw is remarkable for its large teeth, of which the molars have a peculiar arrangement as regards their points. They are three in number, placed in a line parallel to the elongated axis of the jaw, the tops of the two small lateral points curving in towards the central one, which is large and very sharp. The animal, as a whole, gives a fine impression of supple force and strength.
Carcinophaga), has fur varying from olive-brown to silverywhite, sprinkled sometimes with large patches of a yellowish colour. Its size and proportions are intermediate between those of Weddell's and Ross's Seals. It is more heavy and thick-set than the former, and less than the latter. The molars are characteristic, small compared with those of the sea-leopard ; they consist of a central point, a smaller point in front, and two or three others behind. The principal point has a bidbous crown, and all have a tendency to curve backward.
As for Ross's Seal (OmmatopTioca Rossi), the coloration is generally olive in the dorsal region, shading off gradually to dark olive in the abdominal region, with places that are lighter and yellowish on the neck and breast. The body is like a spindle-shaped bag, with very small limbs. The neck is thick, shaped like a large round purse under the chin. The head is short and big, the eyes prominent, and the flippers are considerably smaller than is the case with other seals. The dentition is very feeble.
All these animals are harmless to man, from whom they do not fly, not having learned to know him. However, I think it would be better not to trust too much in the sealeopard, which is of the right size and disposition to defend itself in case of necessity. The most numerous seals around us in our winter quarters are the Crabbing and Weddoll's Seals, sometimes in single specimens, sometimes collected in groups, even of more than one species. We have seen a fair number of sea-leopards, but always by themselves. As for Fur Seals, which used formerly to exist in abundance, at least in the South Shetlands, the great commercial value of their skins has caused their probably complete extinction. In any case, we have never met any, and the whalers of Deception Island, who are well placed for seeing and meeting them, have never come across any.
south-west, which only lasted for a few hours, the wind blows persistently from the north-east, with the usual concomitants of a drizzle of snow, or even rain, and a high temperature. The thermometer has risen to +8°, and the thaw is so strong that one hears as it were the noise of a regular torrent all over our island, while on the mountain there are great crashes and rumblings of avalanches. The snow is everywhere coloured green and red by diatoms, and one might almost say that white snow is the exception. Usually it is pink, but in consequence of the abundance of unicellular algae in places it turns to scarlet ; as for the greeu snow, its colour is so intense that it gives the impression, at a distance, of regular prairies. Some rocks, which certainly have not seen daylight for many years, are uncovered, and if in the neighbourhood of the coast icebergs are numerous, they are very few in the offing, and not a fragment of marine ice is to be seen.
We have descended, by way of a snow-ravine, on to some rocks which enable one to see the end of the southern fjord. On the ice-cliff, which has been laid bare by the thaw, we can see numerous streaky layers, looking like carpet flowerbeds. The diatoms cause this brilliant coloration of red, green, and brown.
The sea must be very heavy in the open, for the swell makes itself felt everywhere, and the Poarquoi-Pas f is rocked in its haven in such a way as to make me fear for its moorings and for t he gangway. Evidently this is an exceptional autumn, and I do not know whether we ought to feel confident or anxious about the future. For the present, the weather is eminently disagreeable, and the sea's freedom from ice is of no value to us, since with the persistent storms and the continual snow or fog we cannot take advantage of it, and we should all prefer dry cold and the view of a good ice-pack.
February 22. — Godfroy, Gain and Liouville, with five men, set off in the picket-boat, towing the dinghy, to fetch what remains of the portable house. They return at 6.30,
bringing back all that I had left. The day's fine weather has not stopped the thaw, and our island becomes dirtier and dirtier. All that has been thrown overboard appears again on the surface, giving an ugly appearance to the picture. There are whales about us in considerable number, and the sound of their powerful blowing is heard on the air every moment. As the whalers very rightly suppose, they go southward at the end of February.
February 23, Shrove Tuesday. — Without troubling about the Carnival, the men have been at work since morning, and under the direction of Gourdon, are stacking on land the cases of provisions. Then Gourdon and Gain disguise themselves in their turn, showing a strong preference for white clothes and tropical head-gear. The mess steward turns out in a most extraordinary garb, and the cook is disguised as the chef in a big hotel. This is the signal for a general masquerade, very merry, though simple. The crew are content with turning up their trouser-legs and displaying superb red underclothing, which, with their blue knitted vests and sealers' boots and caps, makes a lovely uniform. Then every one gets hold of a gun and the troop goes through evolutions on the island, while Liouville uses a clarionet as a bugle and Lerebourg accompanies him on a tin box as a drum, and Gourdon, harnessed to a sledge, represents the ambulance service. The greatest merriment prevails, and the rest of the day is treated as a holiday. In spite of the north-east wind, we have been spared snow in the afternoon, but in the evening it begins to fall again, so that we do not lack confetti, fortunately clean. Dinner includes pancakes, well washed down, and Gourdon brings
out of the hold a tin box, labelled ' For Shrove Tuesday,' containing some excellent honey, which a member of his family kindly presented before we started from home.
February 28. — The weather is worse than it has ever been. Yesterday rain was coming down in torrents ; to-day the wind blows from the north-east, with formidable gusts from the east-north-east, which lift up regular whirlwinds of spray in the channel. Through the violence of these gusts, which catch her broadside on, the ship moves from her moorings. However, we are protected here by the ice-cliff, which is almo8l as high as our tops. If this were not so, where should we be ? One of our hawsers breaks, and the day is spent in attending to them and increasing them. Those to starboard astern are made threefold, supplementary tackle is fastened about the rock, and the forward chain is hauled taut.
In spite of all these precautions, the ship from time to t ime meets with more shocks against the rock to port. Happily we know she is stout, but nevertheless we could do without these continual blows ; for one calm day, when the water was particularly transparent, we were able to see that the ■uimmer campaign had not only brought the serious injury to the stem, but had also left numerous traces on the sheathing and also on the hull itself.
Off Berthelot Island, there is a very pretty effect of light. The land stands out brilliantly illuminated, so that the smallest details can be made out, in an atmosphere of metallic blue, whilst elsewhere everything is wrapped in mist and fog.
Our first month in winter quarters is at an end, and no one has wasted his time. Not only have we established ourselves, but every one's work is well under way and organized in a fashion that seems satisfactory. Boland is attached to Bongrain, Nozal to Bouch, Dufreche to the naturalists. Thomas is at the disposal of Senouque whenever he has need of him, and Aveline at Godfroy's. The meteorological work, after which Bouch looks during the day, is done at night by
Nozal, Boland and Jabet. In this way, all is going on, and should go on, as well as we can hope. The engineers' and carpenters' workshop is kept busy, the sailors are working well, and good health is general.
March 1. — In the evening the barometer, which had gone down to 720 mm., goes up a little, while the blasts are weaker and at greater intervals. In expectation of the wind jumping to the south-west, I have had put out on the port side astern a big tow-rope, fastened to an ice anchor wedged in some rocks. The task of stacking the cases of provisions is going on and we have begun to set up on Megalestris Hill the house from Wandel Island.
March 3. — The weather is better, but the thermometer is still below zero. The house is now in its place, and it only remains to construct a roof to replace that which was carried away. This sort of building is very practical, and no one could have told that it had stood four years in this rigorous climate. Eight on the top of the rock, standing out against the blue sky, it looks very well, adding to the picturesque effect of our improvised village ; and further, it would be difficult to have, in these regions, a better meteorological observatory. The view from the interior, through the little windows, is magnificent. On the one side, the grand Lemaire Channel, with the fine mountains which make its two banks ; on the other, the high ground behind Cape Tuxen, which rises pale against the blue sky ; and lastly below, the whole of our picturesque encampment, with the Pourquoi-Pas f in its haven, surrounded by our little buildings of weird and varied shapes, teeming with active life.
Four Megalcstrides have been killed for the kitchen, and, unhappily for themselves, their flesh has been found excellent. We must be economical with them, however, for, like the big petrels, they help the naturalists by skinning the skeletons of the seals for them.
of whales have been plunging, and from this height it is easy to observe their evolutions in the deep, transparent waters. March 5. — At last the weather has turned magnificent y calm and with beautiful sunshine. This afternoon, a few banks of mist have passed, hiding the base of the mountains but leaving their summits uncovered but they rapidly dispersed and this evening all is clear, while each summit is adorned with a little white fleecy cloud, which looks like a plume on its top. Yesterday I went round the island in the pick-etboat. We came across a magnificent arch in a muchbroken iceberg, through which I amused myself by passing. It is difficult to imagine anything more agreeably impressive ; one can never grow tired of this Antarctic architecture, it is so varied and unexpected, now graceful and now grand.
The meteorological hut is quite finished. Its roof has been cleverly and ingeniously made by Libois with scraps of old tin boxes, and the whole structure is kept up by a network of iron-wire and shrouds.
Roueh has installed there a registering wind-vane and his hackwatch, a Fortin barometer and a registering one as well. Just outside is the meteorological shelter which we put up when we arrived.
any more.
March 7. — We have been away and come back. The projected excursion to Beascocheia Bay was completely successful, and carried out more rapidly than I could have hoped. By way of precaution, and also to enable us to separate, if it should prove necessary to do so, I decided to tow the big canoe with us. We took tents, bed-sacks and provisions. Gourdon, Godfroy, Gain, Besnard and Denais were in the big canoe ; Bongrain, Nozal, Frachat and myself in the picket-boat.
graphic signal. An hour later, we started off for Cape TroisPerez. The sea was completely free of ice-floes, and had only scattered over it a few icebergs and their remains, which we easily avoided. Between Tuxen and Cape Trois-Perez there juts out an enormous glacier, the biggest I have seen in the Antarctic. It receives numerous tributaries, and at its end is dominated by a sheer granite wall, topped by a layer of snow, which must be nearly 60 metres thick. We are destined to find this imposing and unsurmountable wall everywhere, seeming to forbid any attempt to penetrate into the interior of the mainland. The glacier's face, especially in the centre, is very high and disgorges enormous ice-blocks, which dot the sea.
We coast along Darboux Island, whose vertical cliffs are unfavourable to landing, and after threading masses of icebergs, and cutting through a stretch of new ice, which our picket-boat easily breaks, though its planks are scratched as though by glass, we double Cape Trois-Perez, when a magnificent spectacle is presented to our eyes.
Seen from the north, the Cape is already strange, with its enormous slanting menhir rising up from the principal mass, in front of two other peaks. On the southern side, as is the case with Cape Tuxen, cliffs of more than 500 metres in height rise up precipitously, majestic and sinister ; but instead of being, as Tuxen is, tinted green with diorite, they are composed of veins of pink granite, wonderful in colour and arrangement. The picture is at once strange and beautiful. At its very extremity, the Cape forms a little bay open to the south-west, at the end of which is a wall with a jagged top. To the right, a grotto opens out, and a little beach of fine gravel runs down to the sea from a promontory full of little coves. Certainly when we, in the past, gave the name of three brothers whoso memory is dear to us, it was to a place worthy of them and of our friendship.
getting; into :i large and deep fjord, bounded on one side by the precipitous and rugged mountain which joins on to Cape Trois-Perez, and on the other by the comparatively low range which continues Cape Lahille and beyond which rises a lofty range, evidently separated from the first by another fjord parallel to that in which we are. Cape Lahille itself is on a fairly long island, cut off by a narrow channel which runs into the fjord whose existence we presume.
We are progressing at a speed of about 5 knots an hour, and for a long time we have reason to hope that we shall reach a strait or at least that we shall find an opening ; but to my great vexation there is nothing of the kind. Beascocheia Bay ends in a precipice and a big glacier full of ice crystals and crevasses, over which towers that vertical granite wall which turns up everywhere, unsurmountable and covered with a thin crust of ice. This is perhaps the upper plateau of Graham Land, but in any case it is impossible to reach it from this side. The end of the fjord is choked with big icebergs, their remains, new ice, and floes extending 2 or 3 metres beneath the water, which have evidently been detached from the glacier-faces or from the coast. It is very probable that, for some years, this bay has not been unfrozen, and that it is only thanks to the exceptional autumn that we have been able to get into it.
New ice, in this calm spot, forms about us with great rapidity, and by staying here any time with our little boats we should run a serious risk of finding ourselves blocked in. The weather, which was superb up to 1 o'clock, is clouding over, threatening from the direction of the offing snow and fog ; but we keep on all the same, and I make up my mind not to go about until 4 o'clock to return to Cape Trois-Perez. A fine sea-leopard, swimming majestically along, has been following us for a long time at some metres' distance, raising itself out of the water to look into the boat with its big, round, imposing eyes.
On reaching the cape our two boats separate, and while Bongrain, aided by Boland, Nozal, does some surveying, the others assist Gourdon in his geological searches. In the little bay in the cape three Crabbing Seals are moving about in the transparent water around the boat, playing about and snorting,, and not even taking fright when we touch them with the oars. In this shut-in place we might believe ourselves in the Zoological Gardens, or in at Hagenbeck's famous Hamburg collection.
It is 8 p.m. when we think of returning. Night has come on quickly and threatens to be black, so that I hesitate for a moment whether to give the order to camp where we are ; but I fear bad weather. Besides, our programme is complete,, and I take a little pride in accomplishing this long round in one day, and in overcoming difficulties of navigation by night.
Snow sets in, increasing the darkness, and we can see neither icebergs nor rocks until we are quite close on them. We progress by guesswork, and, although our look-out is very sharp, we get some heavy blows. In spite of the tension of our minds, or because of it, this is an impressive journey amongst the great icebergs which suddenly rise up before us,. ice-blocks which we scarcely see in time to escape by a sudden turn of the tiller, and the reef black as night, whose presence we only discover by the noise of the surf. At last, after several detours, we recognize Deliverance Point, where we made so disagreeable a stay some months ago, and following the coast, which we know from this point, Ave double Cape Tuxcn. By way of precaution, I had given orders for the searchlight on board to be started at 10 o'clock, and we now discern its light faintly through the mist. Half an hour before we get back the motor stops in the middle of an accumulation of ice-blocks, an accident having happened to the pump. We do not wait to try and repair this ; the big canoe goes to the front, to the great joy of its frozen crew, and, becoming the tower instead of the towed, brings us back triumphantly to our harbour amidst the jeers of the crew, addressed to Frachafc,
who is in despair over the breakdown of his beloved boat. He can console himself, however, for we have done 50 miles this day, often breaking through obstacles, and once again motor and hull alike have given the utmost satisfaction. The misfortune, as usual, comes about through the carelessness of the firm to which was out rusted the work of putting the boat together.
During our absence an iceberg, breaking up or turning over, had roused a great wave which lifted the ship up, gave a violent tug to the port chain, and precipitated into the cove the apparently solid rock to which it was laced. The chain, however, remains fastened round the rock, and I secure it there still more strongly by gripes. We are still firmly moored, but we shall perhaps have some difficulty in getting back our chain when we want to leave, even if we do not find it necessary to sacrifice one end of it.
March 9. — Gourdon, Gain, Godfroy and Senouque started out yesterday for the glacier in front of our anchorage. In spite of the great desire I had to accompany them and my love of climbing, I thought it better to leave them to go this excursion without me. I wish to encourage the utmost initiative in every one, to direct operations, as it were, from the rear, and above all, to show that I do not try to monopolize things. I believe, in this way, that the ultimate results will be the greater. I am convinced that all are animated by the best of spirits ; but the French character is such that the interest in the common cause gives place very quickly to the desire to act more on one's own behalf, and the leader who has in view only the object for which he sets out must, I bebeve, rule in accordance with the natures of those who are under him.
My colleagues came back the same night very delighted, having made a quick and easy ascent, but a very interesting one, which holds out some hope of a path leading inland. They had no difficulty in climbing the glacier, which comes
down to the water-level in a small point. They were also able to hoist the Norwegian boat on to the ice, thus leaving it in safety until their return.
This night, at 4 a.m., we felt on board a violent shock, and the ship pitched and tossed for some minutes in an alarming way. This phenomenon, which repeats itself fairly frequently more or less strongly, is evidently due to the breaking up or capsizing of icebergs. To-day particularly, a very big one, stationed at the entry of the cove, has suddenly changed its shape. It is probable that icebergs, driven by the strong current from south to north, get stranded in the shallows which obstruct the entry to the little bay, and that the accident happens when, as the sea goes down, they touch bottom or lose their equilibrium. Whatever it may be, this is a source of real danger to the ship, for it is with difficulty that we keep her away from the rock to port, and the hull, in spite of its strength, runs the risk of serious harm from these shocks if they are frequently repeated ; also our cables might all break at once with a sudden strain, and the ship would then ground violently ahead. Two hawsers have broken to-night, and I am beginning to be really anxious. If this frightful weather continues long and we are not soon firmly frozen in, we shall never have enough hawsers to last out to the end. The number of ice-blocks and icebergs which are moving about in the channel is really extraordinary, and is certainly largely due to the exceptional weather this autumn. The loss caused to the glaciers by the heat is very great, and the production of ice-blocks is constant. Also (as we can readily show by comparison with the same season of 1904 in these regions) some usually frozen-up bays are now unlocked, setting at liberty not only the big ice-floes which cover them, but also the shore ice and the enormous masses from the glaciers which up to now they have held prisoners. Every moment huge fragments charge our boom, which I am in constant fear of seeing give way. Certainly even in this nook, where it seems as if
wo must bo so well sheltered, our safety is only comparative. March 10. — The same party as the other day has set out for the glacier, approaching it from the other side. The face of this glacier, which is close to Petermann Island, almost opposite our anchorage, extends from Duseberg Rock to Cape Rasmussen, but it is cut in two by Mount Rude, of which Middle Mountain is a prolongation. The whole of the central portion of these two glaciers is composed of a magnificent, crevassed chaos, absolutely unapproachable, and it is only on the sides of the rocky masses which bound them that the ice is passable, being comparatively smooth and seamed by few crevasses, easy to get round or cross. The last time my colleagues landed near Duseberg Rock, which enabled them to explore east and north-east. This time they land at Cape Rasmussen to turn their attention to the south-east. I accompanied them off at 4 a.m., accompanied by Liouville in the big canoe, manned by Denais, Boland, Nozal and Herve\ An hour and a half after, making our way through a great quantity of broken-up ice, we reach Rasmussen and land without difficulty on a rocky point, on which the glacier rests. The place is very picturesque, for the cape is formed of a great cliff of black rock, split in two by a large rift, which makes a cove. Although the party is to return the same evening, in consequence of the distance we are from the boat, I have insisted on their leaving a camp and provisions on the cape, and while our men are putting the material on shore, I go a short way with the others on to the glacier. The ground is excellent, being formed of hard ice, on which one can walk without fatigue, covered by a layer of snow just sufficient to prevent slipping. The weather is superb and very mild ; indeed, mildness is the characteristic of this morning. The sun, scarcely up yet, tints with a pale pink, alternating with the bright or faint blue of the portions which are in the shade, the tremendous and indescribable chaos of the glacier which we are crossing, thus for an instant softening away the habitu-
ally sinister appearance of this piece of savage nature. After having agreed on a signal for the recall of the boat, Liouvillo and I return on board with regrets.
I get back just in time to inflict a vigorous whipping on Polaire. We are trying, with great difficulty, to teach this dog not to pursue and frighten the penguins. The latter defend themselves very well when she attacks them in front ; but whenever she can, and we are not there, she attacks them in the rear. To-day she set upon some megalestrides, and one of them is dragging itself along miserably over the island wounded. Evil befel Polaire, however, for another of these courageous birds, coming to the help of its comrade, gave her a sharp blow with its beak, and I for my part gave her a lesson which she will remember. We are obliged to kill for our collection, as also for our food ; but I do not allow useless cruelty, either on the part of the men or of the animals.
At 7.30 I go back to look for my colleagues at Easmussen. They have walked for 13 hours, climbing to a height of 1,000 metres, and thus penetrating behind the big glacier situated between Tuxen and Cape Trois-Perez. The weather remaining very fine until this evening, when snow is beginning to fall again, has given them a chance of enjoying a magnificent view and of bringing back some interesting details about the neighbourhood. But there is scarcely any chance, they say, of penetrating into the interior on this side. I regret it, for Cape Rasmussen, although very far from our ship, offers a good basis for operations. The lie of the rocks not only gives an opportunity for the establishment of a camp (for one must always look out for sudden and prolonged interruptions of •communications), but also provides a permanent place of disembarkation, whereas (lie other glacier, having no foundation supporting its end, might at any moment present an insurmountable wall to us.
March 15. — For the last few days the weather has been bad, sometimes horrible, the wind blowing from the east and east -north-east, accompanied by snowfalls and drifts of great persistence; still there have been a few jumps to the west and the south-west, setting up in our cove an even stronger swell, and giving us fresh trouble with our cables. An anemometer placed on the summit of the island has been broken by the wind, and the cook, whose duty it is every day to go and verify the number of turns, has come back with the instrument in a sad state. Fortunately our engineers are clever, and under the guidance of Rosselin they have quickly repaired it and even made a spare one. The gangway, also, has almost been smashed against the rocks which support it, during the movements of the ship, which from time to time have gone near to causing serious damage on board. Chollet, with great ingenuity, has installed a stronger tackle purchase, which allows the gangway to be raised and lowered like a drawbridge. At the end we have put a rope ladder, and when the swell is on going ashore and coming on board necessitate an amusing little gymnastic feat.
A fairly large ice-block has succeeded in passing the boom, and has just come astern of us ; but I have had it pushed off at once to one side by aid of the picket-boat, and moored in such a way that it cannot do us any damage.
March 19. — Gourdon, Godfroy, Gain and Senouque have visited and returned from the glacier, where they have planted a line of stakes, which serve to measure the distance covered. With an additional crew of four men I accompanied them on the morning of the 17th to land their stores and run up the tent. At 9 o'clock we had soon hoisted the heavy sledge, and the camp was installed in a hollow formed by the eddying wind at the foot of a rocky crest which we call the Edge. It
alignment of the stakes and take their bearings.
From this altitude the view is magnificent over the Biscoe Islands, and stretches well beyond Victor Hugo Island. The sea is absolutely free ; perhaps I should say desperately free, for we are all urgently praying for cold and good solid ice. About the same time four years ago we were frozen in at Wandel.
At the side of the glacier there are some large tracts, almost level, sprinkled with very few crevasses, and some seductive valleys seem to invite us to push forward into the interior of the land. Two of them have been explored, but offer no way through ; I hope that the third will not similarly disappoint us.
We lunched gaily altogether ; then I and my crew descended, leaving the others to their work. I was able to follow their movements from on board with the refracting telescope, and in the absence of marine ice to block them in there is no reason to fear about their return.
The next day was also fine and favourable to their work, but yesterday the north-easterly started to blow again with snow and sleet, and I saw the party from the glacier come down, leaving the camp, as we agreed should be done in case of bad weather. I went to meet them in a boat, and I had the satisfaction of learning that all appreciated the stores for the trip which I had so carefully prepared before they started. They even told me that they had no criticisms to offer. The contents of the excursion boxes in particular were a great success, the soup which formed part of them being really excellent ; and yet the weight was no greater than that of the rations carried by other expeditions. But as Gourdon had completely forgotten to take the petroleum they had to be content with an improvised alcohol lamp, and they cannot tell me if the little modifications which I made in the Nanseu kitchens were successful.
This afternoon a seal played a joke upon us. One of my colleagues came to tell me that a Crabbing Seal, stranded on the beach, was in death agonies. It might have been of the greatest interest to the naturalists to examine one of these animals dying a natural death ; and in order that the sea might not carry it away, we hosted it carefully on to the snow. The seal calmly allowed us to do this, and then, when we thought it safely fixed up, it slipped rapidly and with the greatest assurance between our legs and returned to the water, where it indulged in joyful frolics, which proved at once its good health and good temper.
Mid-Lent, postponed for a day to allow the trippers to take part in it, has been spent joyfully with the help of a wonderful preserved goose, which my devoted friend, Ch. Eabot, had given me for Christmas. In the jumble of our store-room, it was in vain that we looked for it at Christmas ; but the faithful Jabet during the last re-arrangement brought it to us triumphantly a few days ago, and we are glad now that we were obliged to keep it until this date.
A big hole has been dug in the ice, some sets of shelves have been erected in it, two of the dories have been placed over them as a roof, and in this way, in scarcely 2 hours' time, we have an excellent pantry, in which we put our stock of penguin and seal meat.
March 24. — We are again in the midst of a tempest. The temperature, which during the few fine days (if one can call by this name such grey and gloomy weather) had gone down to — 1° or — 2°, rises to -f 5°, and the horrible thaw commences again. Alternating with snow and sleet, rain falls abundantly, just as it does at Brest and Cherbourg, which seems ridiculous in these regions. I always find that one of the greatest comforts of this part of the world is precisely the absence of rain and the confidence with which one can go out without one's umbrella ! Now it is absolutely necessary for those of us who possess such things to show our respect for local colour and
the risk of seeing them carried away by the wind.
The swell is making itself more and more strongly felt. We are having perpetual trouble with our cables, especially through the fragments of ice. The east-north-east wind sends the latter towards the southern point of the entrance to our cove, and as soon as there is a calm the heavy swell drives them inward. A very large piece has balanced itself on the boom and finishes by breaking it, thus giving free entry to the others. We cannot dream of repairing the boom in this weather and shutting in the enemy with us, so we have to be content with clapping hawsers on the ice-blocks, either by taking advantage of their irregularities or by means of ice-anchors, and with removing them from the ship. But we are at the mercy of a break in one of the hawsers, and I pass anxious nights listening to the dull crashes to be heard alongside the ship. For a whole morning, amid snow and wind, we had to wrestle with an ice-block as big as the ship itself, which threatened to strike our stern, and would have smashed it up completely in a few seconds. We divided into two groups, one lot pushing the ice-block away, the other swinging on with the tackle, while the picket-boat strove to turn it aside. We only succeeded in removing it a bare metre away, and since then it has been hanging over our stern like the sword of Damocles.
The poor old cat which we took on board at Buenos Aires, and which presented us with six kittens, is dead. She was an affectionate creature, very touching in her maternal love.
March 25. — Yesterday evening, about 7 o'clock, the wind fell and immediately the barometer started to rise, tracing an almost perpendicular line. After a heavy snow-drift, mixed with rain, the wind started again from the west, blowing in threat gusts.
causing us no injury. The weather is grey this morning, but calm, and I have decided to clear our harbour of our terrible neighbours. It capsizes again, all but sending into the water Bongrain and Lerebourg ; and at this moment our attention is called elsewhere. The news is brought to me, indeed, that the absolutely indispensable starboard chain threatens to come off the huge rock around which it is laced. The smooth walls of this somewhat conical rock offer no projections to stop slipping, and the very weight of the chain, on which I counted, is insufficient to withstand the abrupt pulls upon it.
With sledgehammers, chisels and pickaxes, and all the tools we can find, the men take it in turns for hours making notches in the hard granite. They succeed after a fashion, and finally fix some iron stakes in the clefts ; and the chain is now kept firmly in its place with strong tackle added as an additional security. We shall examine it every day.
March 27. — We have visited the glacier again. What I expected has unfortunately happened. At the spot where we usually landed a fall has left a vertical wall, impossible to chmb, and we must look for another point more to the south. But this new way is difficult ; we have to cut steps and walk roped together along narrow tracks between deep crevasses, where a slip would be fatal. Nevertheless, it is by this route that we bring down the sledge and the greater part of the stores, leaving for future trips the tent, some bed-sacks, and provisions on the top of the glacier. This task recalls to me the time when in the Alps I enthusiastically aided the artillerymen to bring down their mountain guns, which went a long way to give me a taste for such adventures.
The difficulty in reaching the glacier leaves me somewhat anxious. The least landslip at any moment may cut off the road ; and, apart from the danger there would be for a party isolated from the ship, without the slightest chance of getting
interior.
March 30. — The ice-blocks which were unwilling to leave our harbour have finished by wearing through two of our hawsers, which we had to fasten together as well as possible this morning. We absolutely must get rid of them at all costs. It is calm, and the usual current running north is very strong ; but at the point of our cove there is a back-wash to be dealt with. Also, the icebergs' draught of water obliges us to steer them round the shallows at the entrance. Hawsers are clapped round the masses of ice, and part of the crew hauls on to these on shore. Others in the big canoe try to tow them, while the picket-boat tows and pushes alternately. A Crabbing Seal in the water looks on at our work with a mocking air. I throw a snowball full in its face, and with an air of offended dignity it snorts its thorough disapproval of the Uberty that I have dared to take. Finally, after more than 7 hours' work, we have succeeded in clearing our harbour. With six bights of iron-wire hawser we re-establish a boom, which we have every reason to believe firm.
This refrain, gaily chanted by a man on deck woke me up this morning ; and, as a matter of fact, yesterday's bad weather has given place to calm, and a ray of sunlight brightens up my scuttle. But in the afternoon the sky clouds over and it snows abundantly, with a feeble breeze from the south-east, nowever, the thermometer is below zero and the island is at
very much.
April 9. — The commencement of the month is calm, with occasional elear-ups. Bongrain has been able to spend a day on the Argentine Islands surveying, and he has come back with 150 penguins, whose flesh garnishes the shelves of our meat department. In the course of this trip, Frachat and Boland were poisoned under the tent covering the picket-boat by carbonic oxide, the blast pipe having been badly fitted. Fortunately it is easy to put this to rights, while suitable treatment soon set the two victims on their feet again.
Thanks to a temperature of — 6°, some new ice is forming round the ship, and the slopes of the island are becoming very favourable for tobogganing. We give ourselves up to this sport furiously, and the toboggans which I had brought from Norway go up and down incessantly. The inequalities of the ground and the rapid slope cause a few accidents, but none are serious. As for Godfroy, he gets a blister which stops him from wearing heavy boots. So our colleagues, to make up the party, take with them the cook, Modaine, who has been suffering from nerves for some time and will be benefited by this climb. In his absence Chollet, Jabet and J. Gu^guen take charge of the cook's galley, putting on the symbolical apron, and like all good sailors they acquit themselves admirably. They start their important duties with a master-stroke, serving up a formidable pie of seal and penguin, seasoned with blubber, the composition of which, it seems, they have been thinking of for several weeks.
The excursionists come back the next day but one. They were stopped on their way by thick snow, into which they sank half way up the thigh, and they have not been able to discover whether the neck on which we build our hopes termi-
nates in a practicable glacier or not. The bringing down of the stores was very difficult. While Godfroy, with a reinforcement of four men to aid them, climbed on to the glacier, I, incapacitated by my sprains, steer the picket-boat away from the glacier-face, which is perpetually crumbUng, and a short time before, during a land slide, very nearly crushed our boats or at least swamped them in the huge waves which were stirred up. After having crossed crevasses and bridges of ice, our men succeed in letting down the sledge gradually on the end of a grapnel rope, and fortunately all goes off without an accident.
The navigation of the channel is now rather difficult, for it is choked with ice soldered together, with icebergs and their debris. Nevertheless, by making from pool to pool through winding ways, I succeed in getting on board, but it is clear that we must not count too much on navigating this autumn. Our island is gradually being deserted by its birds. All have already left their nests and many have gone away. The penguins come and go in groups, almost all the young ones being able now to go into the sea, and rest on the island after their fishing. The Giant Petrels and the Megalestrides are still here in fairly big numbers, attracted by the bodies of the seals, and so are some Sheath-bills. The pretty little Snowy Petrels (Pagodroma Nirca), arrived in bands at tho same time as the ice coining from the south.
The men are building some snow-houses very skilfully. The veterans of the Francais are teaching the new-comers to cut out. with narrow spades big rectangular blocks of ice and to pile them up in domes. One of these houses has to serve as a supplementary larder, and when it is finished, its summit is adorned with a Hag. On the other the (lag is replaced by a small broom sufficiently indicating its purpose.
April 11, Easter Sunday. — I bring out of (lie reserve store of parcels which are only to be opened on fete-days a magnilicent cardboard egg, which bears the label of a Guernsey
tirm, and makes me think, of the frightful tempest which, just after wo had left Cherbourg, forced us after two days of struggle to put into the pretty and hospitable little harbour of St. Pierre. In France the Pourquoi-Pas t had been given up as lost, as so many other ships were during this gale, but almost at the very start-off our stout ship showed herself capable of facing the worst of seas.
April 13. — The wind veers abruptly to the south-west, bringing down the temperature to — 7°. Up to the present we have agreed, in order to save our coal for the summer campaign, to have no fires. So we have never had in the wardroom more than 6°, and sometimes only 2° or even 1°. In my cabin, I have even had a few degrees below zero. But it is rather the dreadful dampness of which we complain. We are almost all of us suffering abominably from chilblains, which poison our existence. I have never before been attacked by this malady, but I now understand the tears which they used to cause my little comrades at school. I had decided to light the stove to-day, and as I was slow in fulfilling my promise, Gain, in imitation of the old farce, surreptitiously put a candle inside, which gave a bright light through the sheet of mica covering the opening. Several of us on coming into the ward-room rubbed our hands, rejoicing over the pleasant warmth, and one even went so far as to complain that it was excessive !
At last we actually light the stove, and this important step makes me uneasy, for I am as much afraid of excessive consumption of fuel as of insufficient warmth. Happily my fears are not justified. The kind of stove we have does its work admirably, and with less than 20 kilogrammes of coal in the 24 hours it burns night and day while the arrangement of the rooms allows for an even temperature of 12° and 13° being kept up in all of them. Only in my cabin, further
removed from the ward-room I have in great frosts a rather low temperature. What a difference now and on board the Franfais, where a wretched kind of stove, bought like all else at the lowest price, gave us so much trouble, sometimes getting red-hot with an unbearable temperature of + 25°, sometimes smoking so badly that the sky-light had to be opened, which brought the thermometer down to — 10°, if its absolute refusal to burn did not produce the same horrible result.
just as well as ours, and I feel reassured for the winter.
In the interests of health, it is decided that henceforward for a quarter of an hour every morning, a strong current of fresh air shall be let into the ward-room.
April 21. — The temperature remains low. The thermometer has even gone down to — 17°, and the crew are already talking of the 50° below zero which they hope to have in order to be able to tell their friends in France about it later. However this may be, the dry cold weather is more agreeable and bearable than what we have been suffering from previously. Since we have had fires, whether it is from the absence of humidity, the warmth, or some other reason, we are suffering no more from chilblains, except one of us whose complaint is stubborn. This is a real consolation.
On the 14th, ' pancake ' ice formed round the ship. This name is applied to round slabs of ice with their edges slightly turned up by the action of the gentle swell. But soon (lie slabs are soldered together, and a few falls of snow u'ives them an uniform aspect. Godfroy has been able with care to reach over this ice his tide-gauge, which is set up against the rock at some distance from the ship.
A sea-leopard succeeds easily in breaking through the ire with its head, and looks at us curiously through the hole which it has made. This is the usual practice with seals for breathing when the sea is covered with pack-ice.
The channel is completely filled with stationary ice, which seems soldered together and stretches out of sight to the south. In the offing the sea is frozen over a fairly large expanse, and I seem to see on the horizon also some packice. Nevertheless, in the passage which we took this summer on our way out between Petermann and the Argentine Islands there is still a large oblique rift, which stretches from the open sea to Tuxen.
The fairly abundant snow-falls make necessary a good deal of sweeping. The disembarkation of our stores was carried out in a full thaw, and to find again now what we want, which is being buried deeper and deeper under a thick, unmelting covering, we have to institute regular searches. The boats which are pulled up on shore need special care ; we have to prevent them from being covered up by snow, which, as it hardens, would encase them in regular blocks of ice, where they would stand the risk of being crushed, and from which we could not take them out without serious injury. To keep them safe, we dig round them deep trenches, which will at least stop the snow-drift. The picket-boat, which has become useless, is resting for the winter. Its motor has been taken out, and it is hoisted up under the bowsprit.
Toboggans and skis are our great distraction. Everybody is now more or less able to keep up on these latter, and some have even become very skilful. We have made a track to practise ourselves in jumping.
I heard that the 15th was Libois's birthday. Like Chollet, Jabet and J. Gueguen, he has been in my service for long years, all four having accompanied me to the Jan Mayen Land on my last expedition. He is a good fireman, carpenter and handy man, and a hard worker, eager to please one, never finding anything impossible, and gifted with an excellent dinposition, which gives him a very good influence over his comrades. So I take the opportunity of celebrating the half century which he has attained.
The barometer went down on the 18th, to 718, and the thermometer rose to — 1° 3 ; but the north-easter only blew for a very little, and the wind has come round to the southwest, blowing fairly strongly, with a temperature of — 13°.
April 26. — I have been to the summit of the island to observe the state of the ice. This climb, which is always monotonous, was made irksome and tiring by the crumbling snow, into which I sank half-way up my legs. From my observatory I see the pack-ice stretching very far over the high sea, almost up to the horizon, except to the north, where it is still free. On the channel side there is an accumulation of pack-ice, composed of new ice, bergs and big, thick floes, probably coming from the end of the bay ; but, on the other hand, big stretches of water separate the masses, and half Girard Bay, as well as the part of Lemaire Channel between VVandel and the coast, are completely free.
It will be some time before all is sufficiently firm to allow us to venture on this ice, but I do not wish to be found unprovided and I have made ready for trial a dory mounted on one of our sledges. These flat-bottomed boats, which are used by the Newfoundlanders, seem to me very practical for Polar expeditions. They can hold a lot of stores, carry a large number of men, and are yet so light that two of us were easily able to push one on the sledge over the ice. We also possess, besides two Berthons, a little Williamson boat of canvas with a flat bottom ; this excellent vessel, placed on a small sledge, might also be very useful for short excursions.
The ship's rat, the only one since his companion committed suicide by falling through one of the scuppers, after having given no signs of life for two months has again given proof of his existence by eating two birds prepared by Gain. It is sad that he is spoiling o\ir collections thus, for the cats seem to trouble very little about him, and we too could easily have put up with him. I had even a scheme for taming him. How
On the 25th, about 1 a.m., we saw a Southern Aurora, so faint that several denied its existence. That it was there, however, was proved by Senouque's magnetometers, which registered a strong disturbance.
April 30. — On the 27th, the barometer dropped almost vertically to 720, but in spite of my fears of a gale this fall was only followed by overcast and foggy weather, a calm, a little snow, and a brief rise in the temperature. But there must have been bad weather some way off, for we hear the noise of the sea and the swell makes itself felt fairly strongly, in spite of the fortunate resistance of the ice.
We can venture out a little on the ice of our harbour, and Gourdon has begun to cut pieces out of it to measure its thickness and study it. Gain has been fishing for plankton at the entrance of the channel.
The ward-room skylight is covered with flowers, frostflowers on the outside, and inside some superb hyacinths, which Gain and Gourdon are growing with the greatest care. There is even a regular horticultural battle on between them, and if Gourdon, who has some very fine blooms, is amused at seeing Gain's onions running to leaf, Gain on his side, proud of his cress, which takes very kindly to Antarctic soil, never ceases to sneer at his colleague's useless crops.
May 1. — Since yesterday the wind has been blowing again in a tempest from the east-north-east. The ice in the channel is entirely broken up and afloat with the wind. In our cove, great cracks have opened and the separate slabs thus produced, wearing themselves away against each other, crash against our hull more and more heavily as they get freer PlayThere have been several hours of calm, during which the continual whistling of the wind among the masts and the sound of the rattling ropes and the flapping canvas of the
awnings are followed by a great dull rumbling, which can be heard in the far distance, grand and awe-inspiring. The causes are the breaking of the sea against the shores and the icebergs and the movements of the ice. After this temporary pause the wind has sprung up more strongly than ever.
May 20. — For twenty-one days the tempest has continued without respite. We live amid snow, mist, and blinding drift. It is almost a torture to go out during the few hours of daylight, if one must give this name to the gloomy and foggy atmosphere which envelopes us.
The registering anemometer in the meteorological hut has been broken, but fortunately the engine-room men have succeeded in constructing another with a stronger axis.
Some of the men on May 4 remembered that it was St. Monica's Day, my little daughter's birthday, and J. Gueguen brings me what he calls ' a little boat in a little bottle for little Monica.' The men take great pleasure in constructing model boats of various sizes, but the present fashion is for boats inside bottles. Chollet is the great artist, and he gave us the other day a demonstration of the clever manner in which, in a very short time, he gets through the narrow neck of the bottle the compressed hull and rigging of the ship, and then with the aid of a little hook spreads it all out. To puzzle him, we gave him a small flask, but on the next day In' gave it back to us with a full-rigged ship inside it.
On St. Monica's Day we dined with flowers on the table, ic:il (lowers coming from Gourdon's nursery, while a magnificent cake, a present Erom the cook, \\:t^ pul on at dessert.
The ice in our cove, broken up into small fragments, has been for a long time only kept in place by the hawsers, and at last all has got free and once more the Ship is surrounded by open water. It requires both our absorption in work and
thoroughly demoralized by these untoward changes of climate.
Day by day our observations continue their normal course. The whole staff works with its usual enthusiasm, without relaxing for a moment, happy at being able to collect interesting specimens or facts or to suggest alterations likely to be of service on board. Being convinced that with serious workers, who have made up their minds from the start to do t heir duty thoroughly, the maximum of results will be attained by such a method and such a display of confidence, I leave to each one the direction of, and absolute responsibility for, his work, restricting myself to asking for a monthly report ; and I do my very best to make easy every one's labour, and to assure to all the utmost possible comfort.
I must say (and I do so with a certain pride, since it is mainly due to the organization of the Expedition) that this comfort is real, and that it is already giving the results which I had a right to expect. Few expeditions, I think, have been so well apportioned from the point of view of scientific work. Every member of the staff has his own private cabin, where he can shut himself up and work. The biological and physical science laboratories, although small, are separate and comfortable ; the photographic laboratory is huge and well lilted. A nice warmth prevails all over the ship, and we are lighted everywhere by electricity, a luxury beyond value. Food is abundant, and one can have as much water as one wants to wash in, which is rare on Polar expeditions. We really lack for nothing, in some cases we have more than we want. The crew is sufficiently large to relieve us for most of the time of all fatiguing labour, and every worker has all the assistance he requires. Under the able direction of Rosselin, the engine-room men labour incessantly, not only at the ship's duties but also to repair, improve and construct scientific instruments and to increase the wellbeing of all. Poste, Monzimat, and Frachat are in particular
very clever workmen. Libois is the excellent carpenter of whom I have already spoken, and the whole crew, with Chollet, Jabet and Besnard at their head, show the skill and ingenuity of sailors, animated by the best intentions, and do the greatest services to the common weal, making our task very much easier. Nozal and Boland, our young cadets from the Merchant Marine, are clever, hard-working and amiable, and assist in the labours of Bongrain and Bouch, to whom they are specially attached. Ah-eady the advantages of our comfort and organization make themselves felt, for, as the observations are taken, many of their results are immediately made clear and tabulated. In this way Bongrain has already been able to present us with a very satisfactory map of the discoveries of our summer campaign. I have every right to expect that, as soon as we get back to civilization, we shall be able to send to the Academic des Sciences a graphic sketch of our achievements. In our winter quarters we are bike a set of working monks, who enjoy all the comparative wellbeing that can be expected in such isolation. I must, however, add that if this comfort is much to be appreciated with a view to the principal end of our mission, it has also its drawbacks. Naturally, those who have not taken part in any expedition, or who have not sailed except in the luxury of big ships, become exacting. For instance, if the electric light is temporarily stopped by a small mishap, even though it be replaced by a petroleum-lamp in each cabin, one sees long faces. If a dish be too salt or not salt enough, it is rejected with disgust ; and so on through a whole series of things. Of course, this is very excusable. It is the case with all people, whose necessities increase with their good fortune. But I am convinced that those who complain the most would be the first to give a good example in case of accident. On board the little Fran^ais, where we had to Be1 our bands to everything, to help the crew and protect the lives of the community, where we worked all crowded
into a common saloon, where we bad to economize food, clothing and light, while suffering from the cold, every small luxury and every slight improvement, for the most part introduced by our own ingenuity, was welcomed with the greatest joy. We should have considered then as an impossible dream the solid comfort which we have enjoyed during the second Expedition, which we owe to the experience we acquired and to the funds which I had at my disposal.
Since May 1, the winter programme has been organized. The rules of health, the same which were in force on board the Franfais, where they gave such good results, have been applied on the mess deck, and everything goes as well as possible. Open air exercise is one of the necessities to which I attach the most importance, and the men do not need much driving to this. In the morning, there is the task of getting the ice for the manufacture of fresh water, which necessitates a fairly long trip, followed by some active toil in cutting, gathering, and bringing back on the sledges, the blocks of fine clear ice. The diatoms which stain the snow, and still more the contamination of the latter by the detritus from the penguin rookeries, do not allow us to get our water in the neighbourhood of the ship. Sometimes the work is much simplified by the presence of a fine ice-block in the entry to our harbour, and we are pleased to be able then to take advantage of the delicious water which we get from it. Once the ice is on board, it is heaped up on deck, and thrown as we require it into a big butt holding 250 btres, which I have had placed for this purpose on the roof over the furnace of the cook's galley. Thus we have, with no additional combustion of fuel, abundant water, and there is no need to melt in small quantities, in buckets over stoves, the ice necessary for our drinking water, which was one of the long and tedious duties of our preceding expedition.
snow has to be swept away from over our observatory, stores and boats. Meat has to be fetched from the larder, and sometimes the bodies of seals have to be brought from a considerable distance and cut up. The pumps have to be attended to, for we are still letting in water. The sledges have to be put together, which we brought with us in pieces to prevent their taking too much room. And there are a thousand other little jobs arising out of the needs of the moment, etc. After lunch the great joy is to have an hour or two ski-ing, and the whole station rings with merry cries and laughter over the falls and failures. Seeing these good spirits, I certainly do not regret having brought a plentiful stock of skis, which allows me to give each man a pair for himself and to replace from time to time those which have been broken. Work begins again immediately, and the days are thus well spent. An important part of our daily duty is concerned with keeping everything clean, and I spend much time in grumbling about this. I should like to see the boat as neat as a yacht. I recognize that this is rather difficult with the numerous different works in which all are engaged and amid the conditions in which we live. But recently I was reading in one of the books of Admiral Jurien de la Graviere, the following passage, which I marked for use : — ' For my part I have always had a horror of a badly washed deck. In the midst of litter lying about, sang-froid is apt to evaporate. Before Sebastopol, General Pelissier was able to make cleanliness into a force and a virtue.'
Since the commencement of the month, we have organized optional classes for the crew after dinner, and the tasks set to the men attending them occupy the hours when they cannot work out of doors. Gourdon, Gain, Godfroy and myself are the teachers of arithmetic, grammar, geography, navigation and English, and once a week Liouville gives a Lecture, which is closely followed and much appreciated, on the dressing of wounds and first-aid. 1 86
Saturday is given up to the washing of our linen. A great quantity of ice is brought onboard the evening before, and dining the night is melted in the washing-machines, the water being heated by burning seal's fat. The difficulty is to dry the linen, which when hung in the open has a disastrous habit of freezing and becoming as hard as a board. We succeed, however, by exposing it in small lots to the hit of the stove. In the ward-room, each one of us has a man who washes his linen once a week.
Sunday is a day of rest. The flag is hoisted at the end of the gaff, and if weather permits the day is spent in ski-ing, or in excursions over the island. If it is too unpleasant to
■ nit we stay on board leading or having ' music,' when frightful things happen ! My cabin is so placed that I am bel ween the mess deck, the junior ward-room and our own ward-room. So it frequently happens that one gramaphone is going on the mess deck and another in the ward-room, ami the Chief Engineer is playing his mandoline desperately and disphiiingly, accompanying himself, it may be, to the song, ' O Paquita, how I love thee ! ' Speaking for myself, I should say : ' How I have learnt to detest thee ! '
Whenever the opportunity offers in the course of a week, the hag is hoisted and the day is declared a fete-day. The work goes on as usual, but the menu is augmented. Thus, on the 10th, we celebrated Gourdon's birthday, which allowed me, in drinking his health, to assure him once more of my affection and tell how much I thought of this faithful comrade, so even in temper, so amiable, and so ready for everything, a perfect type of explorer, with his quiet and gentle manner hiding a rare energy and a strong will.
Finally I founded the Antarctic Sporting Club, and the first meeting, for which the crew prepared a long time in advance, took place with great success on the 9th. After the pistol-shooting, which members of the staff practise every Sunday, the crew assembled on the snow to the sound of
the fog-horn. The course was marked out with ski-staffs decorated with gaily coloured flags, the gramaphone was playing its best pieces, and when the thirty members of the Expedition were assembled, it had all the air of a merry village fete. The programme included for the ski-ers a flat race, a race down the big slope, a test of graceful carriage ; and finally a fairly long race in which one might go as one pleased. This last race was much the most popular and the most interesting, for the course went up a pretty stiff ascent, over a fairly long flat surface, and finally down a rapid descent. Some were warm partisans of the ski, others of snow-shoes, while some claimed that good boots were the best of all. The skis had a big triumph, and the winners, who all used them, came in in the following order : — J. Gu6guen, 1 ; Thomas, 2 ; and Frachat, 3. In the evening I distributed the gold and silver medals, cut out of preserved food boxes, and the cardboard medal. Lastly, on the unanimous recommendation of the jury, the consolation prize, consisting of two brooms crossed, was awarded to Modaine, who took part in all the races and was always amongst the three last. Every fortnight the Antarctic Sporting Club is to have a similar meeting.
In the ward-room, apart from the work which takes up the greater part of our time, every one finds some occupation to his taste. Cards happily are never seen, the games in favour being dominoes or chess, and we are perhaps the only civilized community which does not play bridge. Eouch S1 riving hard to win a bet, provides us with an unexpected and much appreciated distraction by reading to us every evening a few chapters of a great serial novel which he finds the means of writing daily, entitled, • The Typist's Lover ' !
On the 16th, the barometer goes down to 713 mm. The thermometer, for its part, has constantly wavered between + 2° and — 14° ; for the last few days, however, it has stopped at about — 10°, and the ice is forming again around 1 88
us. The channel is blocked, but the sea, on the other hand, is still free to the west and the north and in consequence we are at the mercy of the swell. I am always looking at the map of our discoveries this summer, and I never cease deploring that we could not winter further south. Queen Mary of England, when she lost Calais, said that after her death the name of that town would be found written on her heart. I believe that there will be found written on mine the name of Marguerite Bay, which cannot but be flattering to my wife. Still what is the good of regretting the impossible ? This frightful weather must be raging there as well, and if we had stayed on, exposed with no anchorage to the moving ice, our boat would long ago have ceased to exist.
May 23. — This is our first fine day since April 27. The thermometer, 5° below zero in the morning, goes down to 12° below at night. The weather is very clear, and the sun, during the very brief time that we can see him between Hovgard and the summit of our island, appears low on the horizon with a very sharply defined disc. We had come to believe t hat he had vanished for ever. For a few moments he gilds the mountain tops, which soon turn to a fine bright red. Joy beyond measure, it is absolutely calm !
with the same success as before.
May 24.— It is still fine ! To-night at 12.30, the ship gave a great leap. She had been lifted up by a great roiling wave, which was heralded by a dull and awe-inspiring sound, caused by the breaking up of masses of ice. The same dangerous experience befel us on the night of the 17th about the same hour, breaking two of our hawsers and causing the ship to ground heavily. What is so curious is that the event happens always and only at the same hour, having been experienced by us four years ago at Wandel, at identical hours and dates. If the tide-register had marked a rather sharp curve, I should have thought that there had been a
tidal wave, held in check by the accumulated ice, and suddenly bursting out ; but all that was registered was a movement of the swell. On the other hand, the seismograph has recorded nothing. It is, therefore, very probable that it is by mere chance that the hours and dates are the same and that this wave is caused by either the ' calving ' or the capsizing of an iceberg. One of these, a particularly huge one, has stranded at the entrance to our cove, and it is quite possible that fragments of it broke away this night.
The tide-gauge, which Godfroy had fixed to a rock, is no longer of any use owing to the ice and snow which cover it, so he sets up one to-day on a new model, copied from that used by the Discovery. It consists simply of a large trivet, 4-50 metres in height, supporting the tide-gauge. Along the latter there slides a weight, with an index-finger on it. The weight is supported by an iron wire, passing through a pulley fixed to the end of the trivet, and attached at the other end to a kentledge anchored to the bottom. The ice going up and down with the tide carries the trivet and gauge with it, and the index-finger on the latter, being motionless at the end of its wire, indicates the height of the tide. In order that the wire may not adhere to the ice and be frozen hard, it plays within a long tube filled with petroleum, which only freezes at 70° below zero.
J. Gu^guen, while skylarking to-day on the mess deck with his friend Herv6, has fractured his fibula. This is an annoying accident when one lliinks of all the chances there are here of breaking one's limbs off the ship. Liouville puts the leg in plaster. Gu^guen had a hard time on the last Expedition and I hesitated to take him with me this time, but he begged mo so hard and he is so fine and interesting a character, that I had not the courage to refuse him. He lias never been better in his life than since his return to the Antarctic, provided that the forced confinement to his bunk now does not damage his general health.
May 25. — We seem to be always having fete-days. Yesterday it was "Roach's birthday, the 18th was the anniversary of the launching of the Pourquoi-Pas f, to-day it is the Argentine Republic's national festival. On the 18th wo drank to the health of the god-mother and god-father of the PourquoiPas t, my wife and M. Doumer. Both of them are now thinking of their god-child and watching from afar over those on board. The Expedition owes its very existence to both of them. I need not insist on the part played by my dear wife. Not only did she allow me to go away again, but subduing her sorrow at the coming separation, she assisted, advised, and sustained me in the arduous work of preparation, and was successful in raising my spirits during my very excusable moments of discouragement. I overheard lately a remark of one of my companions, who probably did not know how truly he was speaking : ' For the Commandant, his wife is his conscience.'
As for M. Doumer, J hardly knew him when chance gave me the opportunity of telling him of my schemes. He understood that my only object was to labour on behalf of my country, he considered the work useful, and (as always when it is a question of adding to the glory of France, the sole passion of his life) he made a point of rendering my schemes possible ; and he succeeded beyond my hopes. The organization of the Expedition became possible through him. Out of what was at first ordinary interest there sprang into being a personal liking, which is to me a source of pride. But also there has arisen a debt which I wish to repay, and which is always in my mind ; for men who, like M. Doumer, devote themselves entirely to a noble task have the right to be exacting toward others.
The Pourquoi-Pas t could not have two better god-parents. Both of them in their own way set examples to the men and women of France and are incarnations of the motto which we have up on our poop-deck, ' Honour and Country.'
Nor have I forgotten, on this birthday of our ship, its over-modest builder, Pere Gautier, the veteran of his profession, who threw all his heart and brains into the work, and who succeeded in proving, first with the Franfais and then with the Pourquoi-Pas ?, that our building-yards can strive successfully with those of other nations that are more accustomed to this kind of construction. With no help from luck, his one idea was to do his work well, and he succeeded to the full. Festivals bike that of to-day are festivals of gratitude. This is a sentiment which I find no burden, and to which I attach the greatest importance.
This morning Gain came up to my cabin, bringing the gramaphone, which played the Argentine Anthem. The mere sound of the instrument made me catch up an avenging slipper, but on hearing the air which it played, I gave my approval to the feeUngs of gratitude by which Gain was actuated. We dressed ship with the flag of Argentina (the same which we had on board the Fran^ais) at the main, and it was with real emotion that at the little banquet in the evening I raised my glass to the prosperity and the increasing and well-merited greatness of this fine country. Its very real generosity with regard to my expeditions is all I need recall.
There was a superb sunset to-day. Some low, light streaks of mist threw veils of pearl-grey across the red, pink and mauve which tinted the mountain-tops.
May 30. — A somewhat low temperature has prevailed during the last days of the month, favouring the formation of the pack-ice, and yesterday we were able, for the first time, to venture some distance over the ice of the channel.. Taking the precaution of putting on skis, I set out with Besnard and Lerebourg. The ice was firm, but unfortunately its surface was formed by the soldering together of all the ddbris of icebergs and floes which have choked the channel for the last few months. All the rough edges were joined by hard and slippery ice, and the resulting surface was so lumpy that a
sledge would have been knocked to pieces on it very rapidly. At the foot of the great iceberg, whose smooth and shining wall towered above us, thirteen Crabbing Seals were sleeping. One of them was scored with innumerable bleeding gashes, from which few of these animals are free. At the entry to the cove there were two or three great frozen waves, evidently formed by the pressure when the ice was still very plastic.
Quite close to our haven a large strip of smooth black ice delights Gain and Godfroy, who have seized the opportunity of bringing out their skates and have been able to use them over a track as good as they could possibly imagine. This is a curiosity, for marine ice is generally rough, soft, and holding. No doubt what has occurred is this : the channel was choked with icebergs and their debris, all formed from land ice, of course. During the thaw the water produced by the melting of these, reinforced by that from the glaciers and the coastal snow, covered the sheltered parts of the channel with a sheet of fresh water of less density than the sea-water. Then, thanks to the fall in the temperature it froze, and thus its surface has all the characteristics of that of a lake of fresh water.
From the top of the island I have been able to discover that from west to north the sea is still open, so that our ice is at the mercy of the least spell of bad weather. I have never seen the sea so free, even during the summer of 1904-5. In the south-west and south the pack-ice stretches out of sight, uneven and divided up by big dark expanses, which are probably formed from ice like that on which our skaters are busy.
June 2. — With a nice little breeze from the south-east, and a temperature of — 15°, I set off early this morning with Gourdon, Gain and Godfroy on skis to cross the channel. My object was to discover if the glacier fronting us is again approachable, for my secret hope is still to be able to climb the inland ice and make a long circuit into the interor of Graham
Land. The pack-ice is rough, but the heavy fall of snow yesterday and the day before has levelled it a little. But, like all snow falling freshly upon marine ice in a thin covering, it turns under pressure into a sort of pickle, which sticks to the skis, stopping all glissading and making them so heavy that one can no longer move one's legs. Nevertheless, in spite of this, we certainly progressed faster with their aid and they also permit us to pass safely over brittle ice.
The glacier-face, at the place where we climbed it the first time, has altered, changing into a fairly high and very much crevassed cliff ; but further to the north the glacier is lower. It will be easy to climb, the only difficulty to be overcome being that of crossing a little expanse of water formed by the movements of the tide between the glacier and the pack-ice. On our way back the still hidden sun gilds the mountain tops, then the dazzling light touches the big icebergs, and finally comes down on to the pack-ice, where all shadows lengthen out indefinitely and increase the fantastic appearance of the whole scene. But this is of short duration, for before our arrival on board the orb is again below the horizon. Thanks to the pack-ice, Bouch and Nozal, carrying the little sounding machine on a sledge, have been able to take a whole series of soundings and to get samples of water at different depths ; while Gain, with a trunnion also mounted on a sledge, has been able to fish for plankton at different depths.
June 10. — We are again in the midst of wind, snow, mist and damp. On the 3rd a total eclipse of the moon was predicted, and as on the evening before the sky was absolutely clear, we were rejoicing, some over the observations which would be possible, others over anew distraction. But, justas if we had been in a fine observatory in the neighbourhood of Paris, the sky clouded over completely, and it was only on the strength of the calendars that we could guess anything about the moon.
as in France. Monmizet made Liouville as fine a pair of skates as any turned out by a big manufacturer, Godfrey completely spoilt some quite new town boots by fixing his on to them, and a great skating carnival was announced. Immediately after this, as after the notices of the Skating Club in the Bois de Boulogne, the ice cracked and became covered with water, and all skating was impossible. I very much fear that the smooth ice will not return and that the fine new skates will have no other use but to augment the collection of objects manufactured on board.
The day before yesterday was particularly disagreeable. In a few minutes the thermometer went up from — 13° to — 7° and then to + 0°3, to go down with the same rapidity to — 5° and up again to + 2°. The north-easter blows in a regular tempest.
Four years ago to-day our first expedition returned to Paris ; and Gourdon, without saying anything about it, had organized in concert with the men a little display in my honour on the mess deck. Gourdon and Rosselin gave the toasts. My brave and faithful follower, Chollet, companion on my journeys for twenty-five years, pushed forward by Gourdon, tried to speak in his turn, but he was very agitated and after a few stammering words, he thought of something better, for he shook my hand in such a way that I understood the affectionate devotion with which he was overflowing. I was extremely touched by this manifestation, the responsibility for which Gourdon and the crew laid on one another. The veterans had already shown me their affection and confidence by asking to join the new expedition, and I have every reason to believe that their sentiments towards me are shared by the new-comers. We drank champagne, ate plum pudding, and chattered gaily.
June 12. — Overcast, but south-south-west wind fairly strong. Still, there is a little change. About 2 o'clock, there were some very fine light effects caused by the twilight. Although
in the latitude where we are wintering the sun never remains constantly below the horizon, yet, even if the nearly always overcast sky allowed us, we should not see it more than a short time, for it is so low that it remains hidden by Hovgard and the high parts of our island.
Many of us are suffering from rheumatic pains, evidently caused by the continuance of this frightful weather. Chollet has a stiff neck, and with a sealer's cap on his head, a huge pair of brown goggles on his nose, his neck rigid and wrapped in a dirty stocking — for it seems that, to do any good, the stocking must be dirty — he looks like a Dutch doll.
Most of the birds have left Petermann. From time to time we are visited by a few penguins, which come to fish in the neighbourhood and rest on the island. A large number of Snowy Petrels, charming and elegant little birds, white as the snow from which they take their name, live around the boat still, feeding on the scraps thrown away from the kitchen. Only the beak and eyes of these birds are black, and when they fly over the snow their bodies are lost against it, and three tiny black points seem to be crossing through space. These birds have taken the place of the Sheathbills which lived in the same away around the Franeais, and which are rather scarce this year. We have had to kill a few of the petrels for our collection, but we leave the others in peace, and they let us come near them without fear.
Gain has found some interesting parasites on their heads. And one of them which was killed had a congenital anomaly in the shape of only one claw ; we have seen several others in a like case. One of these birds made his way into the cook's galley, and the cook soon tamed him. He was feeding him on rice ! This is certainly an unexpected diet for an Antarctic petrel. Unfortunately, at the end of a few days, the poor little bird burnt his wings cruelly, and we had to kill him to put him out of his suffering.
back worse than ever, and yesterday the barometer went down to 712 mm., while a blinding and stifling snowdrift covered onr island. All the ice in the cove has gone, and the ship rolls from side to side. The ice which supported the trivet for the tide-gauge has gone like the rest, but fortunately t he apparatus has been fished up without great damage. One of our Norwegian boats, which we had intentionally stranded tlose to a little cove where the seals sometimes come, was in danger through the abrupt departure of the ice. We were able to save it, but it took a regular little expedition to do so. It would have been a pity to lose one of these boats, which acre of the greatest service to us. They are so very light that two men can draw them up on shore or launch them. Thanks to their raised bows, one can readily land on the ice from them ; and lastly the two skates fixed to each side of the keel allow them to be dragged without much difficulty.
June 17. — This day has been terrible. The north-easter raged through the whole night. Owing to the strength of the wind, the starboard chains and hawsers have slackened, and the ship has been dashed against the rock to port with great shocks, followed by ominous sounds. Further, a countercurrent set up at the entrance of the harbour and two big ice-blocks came through, breaking down the boom, which was already much damaged. Before we could even try to interfere one of the ice-blocks struck our stern violently, and a great piece of wood, which was rapidly borne away by the wind, proved to us only too clearly that an important part of our rudder had been torn away. For the moment it is impossible to discover whether the injury is serious or slight ; but there is cause for anxiety, since our scheme of summer navigation may perhaps be ruined by what has happened, and the ice-block threatens us with fresh injuries. After four hours' continuous effort, we succeed in mooring one block in such a way that it wards off the others a little, but we are dependent on the strength of a rope. Without loss of time, taking all
June 18. — A slight calm and the transparency of the water enable us to see that almost two-thirds of our rudder has been carried away, and that at least two of the braces are broken. In order to be able to steer, it will be absolutely necessary to take off the rudder and repair it as best we can, but the fid is lying at a depth of 2 or 3 feet below the surface, and I fear that we shall have great difficulty in getting it up.
I am anxious, indeed very anxious, for the future. Now that the channel is again free, and our boom, which it is impossible to think of repairing for the moment, is broken, fresh ice may come in and cause irreparable damage, and even bring about an inglorious end to the expedition through the loss of the ship before we have accomplished more than an insignificant portion of our task. Eesponsibility weighs more heavily on me than ever, and to distract and encourage myself, I re-read my diary on the Francais, written during a period quite as agonizing as this. I light on a passage where I assert that, if ever I return to France, I will embark no more on such adventures. A few weeks after my return, I was thinking of nothing but the organization of a new Expedition, and three years later, I started off again ! Is this my reward for my persistent efforts ? Obstacles seem to arise everywhere in my path. After the summer campaign (which, it is truej was very fruitful) we found ourselves prevented from wintering where we wished, and we have to put up with a most detestable and troublesome of winters. Certainly our work is progressing well, but the trips on which I counted so much seem spoilt by the perpetual changes in the state of the ice. The passage of time does not bring us deliverance, as to so many expeditions, but merely the necessity of commencing the struggle afresh for the honour of our enterprise and our country ; and with tins object in view, irreparable injuries are the last thing we want. Perhaps others could content themselves
with tho work already done ; I cannot do so. I have to combat the possiblo demoralization of my companions and to watch over their stato of mind. So my discouragement lasts but little. Besides, Shakespeare, my faithful friend, foreseeing everything, comes to my aid : —
June 21. — This is tho official start of winter. It is also the date when the sun begins to climb up the heavens again and tho days to get longer. Tho south-easter has been blowing for some hours. Does it herald at last the true winter, which we desire so much ? I should have liked to have entered upon this new period cheerfully, but alas ! it is with anxiety and apprehension only too well founded that I see it opening. The torments of these last days have been nothing (for material damage can be repaired) compared with what occurs to-day. The so-called ' Polar anaemia ' — or perhaps it is scurvy, which is just as much to be feared — has made its appearance on board.
For a fortnight past, I noticed that Godfroy was growing pale, and that he, so enthusiastic, so vigorous, so ready always to diffuse his cheerful personality, so eager for the success of the Expedition, which he had made his own, was entirely losing his good spirits. Now his legs are very much swollen and he complains of violent pains. For my own part, I notice in myself a shortness of breath without any cause, and a permanent pain in front of the heart. To-night my legs also are swollen. Need I say through what alarms I go, what reproaches I heap on myself, how hard I strive to find the reason of this misfortune ? I never believed in ' Polar anaemia,' which is a meaningless expression, but I had been obliged to acknowledge the Polar myocarditis of which Matha had so bad an attack on board the Francais and from which he recovered by a miracle. I myself felt a few trivial symptoms, which I overcame, as I believed, by physical exercise, almost by over-
fatiguing myself. On other expeditions there had been deaths, and now two of us are attacked in the same way as Matha. Liouville also has a little oedema. I anxiously await the examination of the whole personnel of the ship to-night. If others are attacked, it is probably scurvy to which we have fallen victims.
The examination has taken place, and certainly we are the only two attacked, which is a good thing. I have no intention of allowing myself to be downcast, and if I take certain precautions in case of anything happening to me, it is because my role of leader of the Expedition impels me to do so.
June 27. — After getting worse, the condition of myself and Godfroy remains stationary. His legs are more swollen and more painful than mine, but on the other hand, his heart is sound, while I am suffering from pronounced myocarditis. We are still the only two invalids on board, and in these circumstances I abandon the idea of scurvy to fall back upon Polar myocarditis, the origin of which is as yet unexplained. We have nothing wrong with our gums, none of the classical symptoms of scurvy. However, the treatment which we are following is that which would be applied to this malady. With great kindness, the crew has spontaneously gone in all directions to look for seals and for penguins and other birds. Dufreche has even nearly drowned himself while setting hoopnets for fish on the edge of the pack-ice, which has formed again in the cove. We are taking considerable quantities of citric acid, and I get as much exercise as my miserable condition allows me.
To-day, as we could not walk, to take advantage of the fine weather, Godfroy and myself established ourselves on deck in our bed-sacks. What weighs most heavily upon me is this physical weakness. I have always been so strong and able to endure everything, and have never allowed anything to stop me.
June 29. — This uight, about 2 a.m., there were two or three great heavy rollers, followed by violent shocks, and this afternoon, also about 2 o'clock, the same phenomenon occurred. The tide-register indicated a wave of 1*16 metres. These tide-waves are difficult to explain, for Ave have neither heard nor seen any iceberg breaking up. Perhaps there has been a big slide of ice-cliff, but if so it was at a considerable distance from us. All the ice in the cove has been smashed up, and those of us who were on shore had the water up to our knees. The hawsers held good, but they have been subjected to a great strain, and this must not happen too often.
July 7. — A few days of fine calm and cold weather have allowed the ice to re-form around us. The thermometer marks — 18° ; at Wandel, on the same date in 1904 we had — 34° ! Our state of health is a little better, and I take advantage of this to get as much exercise as possible ; but the irregularity of my heart is marked and on the same day my pulse has given 22 beats and 124 ! The cedema of the legs comes on and goes off without reason, and I often have more in the morning in spite of a night of complete repose. The same is the case with Godfroy.
I have recently turned out from a locker complete files of the Matin and the Figaro for two years before our departure, kindly presented to us by their Editors. Every day I put on the ward-room table the numbers corresponding to the present date, and personally I have never read the papers so attentively or thoroughly. If I must confess it, the news, now so ancient, the scandals, the affaires, interest me just as much as if I had never heard of them. I had forgotten them nearly all and I await the next day's issue with impatience. I am now much better acquainted with my country's politics and the world's happenings in 1907 than I have ever been, and probably than I shall ever be again.
unship the rudder itself.
July 14. — Overcast weather, fine snow up to 3 p.m. Wind from south-west and south-east, temperature — 16°. From 8 o'clock the ward-room gramaphone has been playing the ' Marseillaise.' Three shots from our little cannon, brought up on deck for this occasion, are fired, at 9, 12, and 6. This same cannon, which was constructed for the first trials with melinite, has saluted July 14 at Jan Mayen in the North and on two different occasions in the Antarctic.
Gourdon, who is housekeeper on board, has decorated the wardroom with a profusion of little paper flags and the National colours. The Ponrquoi-Pas ? has hoisted her ensign, and the island is covered with all that we possess in the way of foreign nations' flags and with rows of signals on ski-staffs. When the snow is good enough to stop, the effect produced by all these brilliant colours against the white background is really charming.
In the afternoon, the Antarctic Sporting Club had a shooting competition. The prizes were solemnly distributed in the evening as follows : — Poste, 1 ; Nozal, 2 ; Jabet, 3 ;. Lhostis, 4 ; Eosselin, 5 ; Modaine, 6 ; Frachat, 7. As for all the rest, to console them, they were given a bottle of grog, which was very well received. At dinner in the evening, most of us appear in full dress or in any old clothes of the civilized world that we can find in our cabins. The menus, written by Paumelle, the mess steward, on ral-white-and-blue paper, were as follows : —
At 6 o'clock, there is a torchlight-tattoo, with all the crew carrying preserved-food boxes filled with tow soaked in petroleum. Then we had a display of fireworks got up by Gain, consisting of crackers of his own composition, which went off well, of Bengal lights made by the same manufacturer, which did not burn or which, as Chollet put it, ' gave a black light,* of set-pieces of iron-wire wrapped in tow, soaked in spirit and powdered with magnesium, which we happily knew were supposed to represent trees, suns, and an interrogation-mark, and lastly, a huge feu-de-joie, composed of penguin-fat and the body of a seal, all abundantly soaked in spirit, which continued to blaze, illuminating the island in fantastic fashion, until 5 a.m.
About 11 o'clock, Liouville, Gain, Godfroy, Gourdon and myself went on to the mess deck, where the greatest gaiety was in full swing. Dufreche was playing the accordion for the others to dance to, and my colleagues joined in the dances with the crew. On the smoky mess deck, divided up by the solid wooden ribs of the ship, the crew, with their energetic faces and their picturesque clothing, patched up according to taste, with knives at their waists, and their hair and beards flowing loose, leapt about and shouted loud challenges to one another. One might have thought oneself carried back a century to the 'tween-decks of a piratical ship rejoicing over a fine prize and careless of to-morrow's combats. And are not our men, in reality, the sons of those corsairs, from whom they have inherited the taste for adventure, the character like a
big child's, the courage and the feeling of honour f These few minutes spent among them with their free but always respectful gaiety, drinking their half -pints with them and smoking the tobacco which they cordially offered us, have done more to raise my spirits than any amount of reasoning could have done.
July 15. — The weather is very fine. A little breeze from the south-east first scatters and then brings back a slight mist. A white frost covers the ship with its elegant flowers, which attach themselves to the smallest cord. Once more our flags decorate the island as they flutter in the breeze ; but this time it is not by my orders. It is known that I am forty-two to-day, and with one accord it has been decided that this shall be a fete-day.
Chollet is the first to come and shake hands, then Libois as the eldest on board brings me an address signed by the whole crew. It is one of the documents which I prize most dearly.
' On the occasion of your birthday, I, as the eldest of the crew, am given the task of offering you the best wishes and compliments of the crew of the Pourquoi-Pas f, begging you to believe in our entire devotion and our confidence in the success of the Expedition which you are leading with such confidence and singleness of purpose, and above all, we are happy to notice the apparent restoration of your health and hope (hat it is permanent.'
Poste brings me a panel of copper on wood, very artistically designed and executed by himself, representing an escutcheon with the arms of the ship, supported by two heraldic lions, and another very charming panel, which he has executed after Liouville's design, to serve as a background for the little old figure of the Virgin which adorns t he ward-room.
surpassed himself by putting before us a set-piece of nougat and spun sugar. Owing to these successive fete-days the good fellow has only slept four hours in two days. For my part, the dinner was washed down with some of the fine wine coming from the special cellar which my mother-in-law fitted up for me before we left, but which, following my invariable principle, I have never touched without the others joining me. After dinner the hour of the great surprise arrived. As a matter of fact, it was not altogether a surprise, since for over a month (though I concealed my knowledge in order not to spoil their pleasure) I have been aware to some extent that rehearsals were going on, directed by Gain in secret in the engine-room, in spite of the great cold.
The table was quickly removed and also some of the doors, and when the crew had entered the ward-room, singing a special chorus, the affair began This was the official programme —
Senouque.
The success was complete, the actors playing their parts to perfection, in most unexpected costumes. Lerebourg's helmet and cuirass, in particular, were absolute marvels, and made one forget that the cuirassier's sword was only a naval officer's sabre wrapped in silver paper.
We came out of the theatre at 1.30 a.m., without any disorder in the cloak-room, and only then did we notice that the — 23° and the calm of the afternoon had been followed by the usual gale from the north-east, which whistled through the masts of the Pourquoi-Pas f.
July 24. — Still, still bad weather. The ice has been broken up and dispersed by the wind, and we have been able to go out in the dinghy and land on the glacier facing us. In the channel, icebergs and ice-blocks innumerable go slowly south before the wind and come back again during the too infrequent calms, driven by the current. We know nearly all the large bergs, which pass and repass us in the same order like the supers in a ballet.
Our hawsers are always breaking and we repair them rapidly, as best we can. The picket-boat, being in a dangerous position as she hangs under the bow of the ship, has been put ashore. We spend our time in taking counsel, watching, and strengthening our position, but we cannot foresee the chances, and the boom, which we restored yesterday with the greatest care, has been broken during the night.
The evening of July 15 has whetted the men's appetites, and they have come to ask my permission to found a Musical Society to meet on the mess deck every Sunday. Then from bags and lockers arc brought forth all the song-books, a haphazard Nndl<\ of old ballads, sailors' choruses, sentimental songs and music-hall trivialities. Every Sunday the programme is brought to me, whereon every one is down for his little con-
principal thing.
July 31. — The bad weather continues, more intense than ever, and we have a perpetual tempest about us. One of the anemometers has been broken again ; happily we have a spare one, and we have replaced it at once. On the 25th, during a fine spell, we succeeded in unshipping the rudder. For a long time all had been prepared for this operation, Avhich is difficult to carry out afloat, and in an hour and a half it is on the deck. The injury is even more serious than we feared, and if we had had to navigate under such conditions, we should have exposed the ship to grave danger, even apart from the fact that in the Polar regions the steering must be quick and sure. Two of the pintles have been broken off in the gudgeons. We succeed in getting them out with a curved iron shank, but we shall have to make fresh rudder-irons, and this is a hard piece of blacksmith's work. We have no wood strong enough for the repair of the check-piece, so we shall have to give Libois one of our two spare spars, which can be cut in pieces to make just what is required. The same is the case with the irons. I had an idea of cutting a piece off the beam of the waist anchor in order to forge them from it, but in the end we find a spare bolt for the thrust-block of the engine, which may serve our turn. To protect the gudgeons and the sternpost against shocks from the ice now that the rudder is unshipped, I join together three thick stakes and pass them through the rudder-hole, keeping them in place by tightly drawn braces. I regret that I did not, at the beginning, think of unshipping the rudder and taking this precaution.
Polaire has again given birth to two puppies, of which -we decide to keep one. This four-footed son of the Antarctic, who is to be called by the strange name of Gugumus, is going to live with his brother Bibi, his mother Polaire, and his father Kiki, on the most intimate and friendly terms with the three
Cherbourg.
The thermometer has risen to + 3° 5 this evening. Fortunately I have had the starboard stern hawsers tripled, and all the hawsers we have are now in use. A large quantity of ice, composed principally of the debris of bergs, has invaded our cove, and chokes the entrance for a considerable distance. A string of colossal icebergs, the biggest which we have yet seen in this region, have stranded to the north, close up to the island, and another of these ice monsters has stranded to the south. Unhappily this dyke does not prevent the swell from being felt very violently between 10 and 5 o'clock, and it is a wonder that no cable has broken. The struggle with the ice-blocks begins again. We cannot shut our eyes to the fact that the ship is in danger. Should a hawser break and an ice-block charge us violently, we might go to the bottom very quickly. Also the neighbourhood of these enormous icebergs is a perpetual menace, for if one of them breaks up or capsizes, the wave may drive lis I know not where. To prepare for such an emergency, therefore, I have had taken ashore and put in our provision-store all our bed-sacks, the matches which we brought in soldered boxes, and a certain stock of clothing.
As soon as these precautions have been taken, however, the ship grows more at her ease again, still rolling a little and reeling under the violence of the gusts, but not putting too great a strain upon her cables.
A new boom, which I have had constructed with the greatest care, has resisted the ice well. Abandoning the actual entrance to our harbour, where all the others were so soon broken, I have had this one stretched obliquely across the centre of the cove, in the direction of the prevailing wind, so as to allow the ice-blocks to slide along it. Lastly, I have had the sis lengths of steel wire protected with old preserved-food tins, to prevent wear and tear, while half a dozen empty hogsheads support the win ile affair.
August 2. — The swell has completely ceased, despite the continuance of the wind, and I discover the explanation of this unaccustomed calm by climbing to the top of the island. The whole offing, as far as can be seen, has been suddenly invaded by dense pack-ice coining from I kuow not where, but never at any time, even on board the Fran^ais, have we seen as much.
There is only a little circle of free water, starting from near Darboux Island, passing by the Myre de Vilers Islets, to touch Wandel in the north. Lemaire Channel, apart from the icebergs, is free, and thus makes a large lake.
Our life on board goes on, at once busy and monotonous ; and if the months pass quickly, the hours are long. So true is the saying that ' the hour which one watches stands still.* Of course, in spite of all our efforts to make distractions, these are few. We know every inch of the island where we are so closely confined, and the bad weather does not usually make walks agreeable.
We have fortunately an extremely well-furnished library with about 1,500 volumes of scientific works, travel-books, novels, plays, and artistic and classical literature, to distract, instruct, or help us in our work. The crew has the right of dipping into these to a great extent, but I have thought it best to strike off the catalogue for their use a whole series of volumes that seemed to me harmful, or at least useless, to most of these good fellows, who are happily still very much children of nature. The volumes which circulate most in the ward-room are undoubtedly those of the Dictionaire Larousse, which, apart from the instruction which it gives us in our isolation from the rest of the world, cuts short if it does not completely check, discussions which would otherwise threaten to be interminable. Whether or not Larousse provides the solution, in a life like ours discussions are inevitable. They are one of the occupations, often one of the plagues, of Polar expeditions, and I well understand why, during a celebrated English Ant-
arctic expedition, they should have been punished by fines •when they overran the comparatively short hours when they were permitted. I must hasten to add that on our ship they seldom turned bitter, and the clouds which they may have raised quickly dispersed.
Further, most of us are watching one another, trying (to use the expression of one of my colleagues) to ' study the psychology of the restricted community.' Much has been said about cafard poJaire (though it is too frequently invoked as an excuse), and it is certain that this life in common, with no possibility of finding distraction from temporary failure of nerves, with no hop e of being able to take a meal alone or in other company, has its painful moments. Our arrangements on board at least allowed every one to find solitude in his own cabin, contrary to the rule of most expeditions, where two and sometimes three lived in the same room. This is one of the reasons why I advocate that even the crew should have a place to shut themselves in.
As a moralist has said, in a maxim of which I can only recollect the sense, ' It is often more difficult to bear the daily pin-pricks than the great griefs.' An innocent crotchet, a mere mannerism in sitting down, blowing one's nose, or helping oneself to food, which in ordinary life would not even be remarked, becomes the cause of annoyance and may even assume the proportions of a grievance ; but all that is wanted is a little education and self-control to counteract this evil tendency. My small experience of two winter seasons with different companions allows me to assert that cafard polaire does not create new defects. A good fellow remains a good fellow, and a man distinguished for his manners remains distinguished. What happens is that characters are made to show themselves as they really are, with their weaknesses or defects no longer under the mask by which, either designedly or of necessity, one hides them in ordinary social life. But here, as elsewhere, education plays the chief r61e, and a man
■who has been well brought-up will always avoid being a nuisance in the wardroom, oven in the Antarctic, or rendering his presence insupportable to his comrades. My companions, in the course of these long months, were able to avoid the annoying tendency to form antagonistic cliques.
Meals play a groat part in these expeditions. This is the Gratia! moment when all are collected together, when discussions arise, and tempers have free play. On the other hand also, it is the moment when feelings are appeased and reconciliations are made. The food itself has an unsuspected importance. It is very difficult to satisfy eight persons of different tastes, often inclined, in an access of bad temper, to find everything bad in advance — especially as, whatever the care that has been devoted to the choice of provisions, culinary resources are necessarily limited. We must all, and I more than the others, be grateful to Gourdon, who accepted the thankless and difficult job of commissariat officer, for his unwearying patience and the tact and devotion with which he carried out his additional duties to the very end. I am sure that Gourdon, for his part, will be glad for me to record with what devotion Quartermaster Jabet, who was in charge of the provision room, seconded his labours, invariably goodhumoured, content, and prepared for all.
August 23. — I read in to-day's (?) Matin that Casablanca had just been taken by our Marines. Now one of our men, Thomas, was in the company that landed. I take the opportunity of going on to the mess deck, and after a few explanatory words to his comrades, giving him a special packet of tobacco.
We have had for a few days a breakdown of the electric light. The bearings of the motor had worn out, and we had no spare ones. Bongrain searches in vain for a piece of bronze which he can turn to replace what is wanting. At last it occurs to me to give him the old screw of the picket-boat. After considerable difficulty he succeeds in casting it in a satisfactory fashion, and once again our fine electric light re-
places the petroleum-lamp. From every point of view I am not sorry for this. Good temper returns, and above all, we are not wasting more of a combustible of which our stock is, through an error in my calculations, rather limited.
Whether it is through the seal's meat — seals of the Weddell species having appeared in great numbers last month — or for some other reason, the improvement in the health of Godfroy and myself increases daily. I enthusiastically prepare for the trips which I wish to undertake in September.
On the glacier which we shall have to cross, the motor sledges will probably be useless, and our first attempt will have to be purely a trial trip. I decide that six of us shall go — Gourdon, Godfroy, Gain, Senouque, a sailor and myself, divided into two parties, each with their own sledge, tent, and separate stores. I have loaded the sledges with the weights winch we shall have to carry, and for some hours every day we practise ourselves in dragging them over the most difficult parts of the island. I am studying also the question of foot-wear, which is one of my great preoccupations, and I make some slight alterations in the frost-nails, which we have had made like those of the Discovery, which Captain Scott, with good cause, praised to me very highly. I wish to leave nothing to chance, while the particular conditions of climate under \\ hich we live oblige us to take additional precautions. We have not only to struggle against cold, but also against abrupt and considerable changes of temperature, against incessant snow and persistent wind.
Our excursion-provisions are unanimously admitted to be excellent and their stowage in little boxes for three men each day is practical, fn this way meals can be prepared in the minimum of time and food-depots easily fixed up. Before our departure, 1 arranged everything with the utmost care; but t he final disposit ions can only be made on the spot. We have now but to wail for circumstances favourable to our setting out.
August 29. — Alas ! I cried ' Victory ! ' too soon. Godfroy lias fallen ill again, and I very soon did the same in my turn. Our condition is worse than ever, but I will not give way, and so, panting and my heart beating like a clock, I force myself every day, whatever the weather, to climb to the summit of the island and to take long walks. Oh, these 200-metre climbs, most of the time in solitude, so that there may be no witnesses to my weakness ! I have to take 350steps to reach the summit, and out of breath and choking I count them, obliged to stop every ten steps, my heart leaping as though it would break and my swollen legs giving way under me. I am joyful when I succeed in taking 50 steps without stopping. With frostnails on my boots, I drag myself along miserably every day, sometimes in soft snow up to the knees, sometimes over the frozen surface laid bare by the wind or through snowdrift. How well I know all the corners of the island, all the rocks where I can take shelter and behind which I fall beaten ! There is in particular, on the north-east side of the island, a fine, picturesque ravine, both narrow and deep, where in my solitary walks I gladly sit down when tired out. Sometimes I push on as far as a huge stray rock, oval in shape, split in two by frost, and looking like a monstrous Easter egg. I halt in this rift, pressing my hand to my breast, until the cold forces me to move on again ; and my moral suffering is still worse than the physical. To despair at my own weakness is added anxiety over Godfroy's condition. If his heart is not affected like mine, his legs are more swollen, he is pale and thin, and his hands are covered with horrible ulcerations. He treats himself by rest, puts up with all the regimens and all the drugs, very rational in their way, which Liouville recommends to him ; and I confess I cannot urge him to follow my example.
To-day's splendid weather is a relief after the long and constantly bad days through which we have passed. To the south there is a very remarkable mirage effect, which lasts quite late in the day. In a region where I know very well that
nothing of the kind exists, there rises a high and magnificent wall of ice, which starts from the coast and loses itself in the horizon out to sea. We make out all the details of its perpendicular face, and it is quite certain that a passing explorer would affirm, with the best faith in the world, that there is at this spot a barrier similar to Boss's.
September 5. — It is no good. My condition gets worse, and Godfroy, who is following a regimen the reverse of mine, is no better. I do not wish to confess it yet, but evidently I cannot lead the excursion. I cannot walk, I crawl, and at the end of a few hours I should be obliged to have myself carried by the others.
To give the crew some useful exercise and to lighten the upper part of the ship in view of the coming summer campaign, I have the spare screw, which weighs 1,500 kilos, lowered to the bottom of the hold.
Libois has done his work admirably, and the new rudder is almost finished. Protected by sheets of iron, it will be stronger than the other. Eosselin, for his part, has forged some rudder-irons, which will last better than our former ones. September 13. — Alas ! I am forced to abandon all idea of a trip. In spite of all my efforts and all the will-power which I use to drag myself along, I am beaten. My legs can no longer carry me and my heart is very low. I suffer from palpitations, or, on the other hand, from a slowing down of the action, and from choking fits ; and at night there is a painful praecordial affliction, which makes me think that I have a touch of pericarditis. I can barely drag myself about on board.
Godfroy's heart is all right at present, but his legs are even more weak than mine, and the ulceration of his hands increases. Both of us have a few spot s of purpura. I have now to lie on my back nearly the whole time. After thinking it out, I have arrived at the conclusion that we are suffering from scurvy, or more precisely, from preserved-food sickness. I have decided to remove from our diet all preserved meat
I am going therefore to entrust to Gourdon the command of the excursion. It is heart-breaking for me, but I could not put it in better hands. This excursion is, properly speaking, a trial trip. If the regimen I have adopted succeeds, perhaps I shall be able to join him later or start out with him again on his return.
I attend with the greatest care to the preparations. I devote a lot of thought beforehand to their organization, and I am anxious my comrades should lack nothing and find themselves in the best possible position. With Gourdon will go Gain and Senouque, accompanied by Besnard (who took part in our excursion in 1904), Herv^ and Aveline.
portion of their stores.
On board our regular life continues, and the ordinary work is increased by extras. Bongrain seizes every opportunity to go off with Boland surveying. Rouch succeeds one calm day in inflating a balloon with one of our tubes of hydrogen and sending it up to register atmospheric currents. We attach a message to this balloon, without the slightest hope, of course, that it will ever reach any destination.
One of our dogs, Bibi, has been away for 36 hours and we feared that he had met with an accident, but this morning he turned up again quietly, rather abashed and very hungry. The crew say that he has passed all this time in a crevasse at some distance from the ship, into which he must have fallen, and they have indeed found a tuft of his hair. The poor beast does not seem to have suffered very much from the 20° below zero.
Yesterday was Chollet's fifty-second birthday. I got up a little banquet on the mess deck and sent for our good skipper to come to the ward-room and have a drink with me. He has made himself loved and esteemed by the whole of the staff, to whom his ingenuity and skill have been of the utmost service.
There have been a few changes between fine and stormy, but the weather is a little calmer than last month. The sky, however, is always grey and overcast, and the falls of snow are frequent and abundant.
September 18. — My companions have started on their trip. While shaking their hands and wishing them good luck I felt very sad. Except for Bouch, Godfroy, the cook, Eobert, Chollet and myself, every one else on board accompanied them to drag their sledges as far and as quickly as possible.
Our regimen has certainly had a good effect, and this morning I felt considerably better. The same is the case with Godfroy, and we were able to set off over the ice, like two cripples, to meet the party which is coming back this evening. All went off well. The stores are on the top of the glacier and our six comrades well on their way, though unfortunately much troubled by the thick snow. The weather is calm and overcast. May they succeed in finding the much desired way into the interior !
September 23. — We are getting better and better. It was certainly the preserved-food sickness from which we were Buffering for more than three months, and it is evidently the same thing which afflicted Matha in 1904. All the so-called Polar anaemias turn out to be nothing but maladies allied to scurvy. In the past, when crews lived almost entirely on salt meat they were attacked by the well-known variety of scurvy, with large black spot s, ulceral ion of the gums, etc. But every lliing changes, even diseases, and with the modern preservedfood the classical scurvy has been replaced by the curious kind from which we suffered, characterized especially by oedema of the lower limbs ami myocarditis, without anything wrong
itself in our Army during the Crimean War.
Seals, fortunately, are again abundant and we can kill more than we require for our food supply. On board the Discovery there was also a serious outbreak of scurvy, much more classical in its nature than ours, which was rapidly and completely got rid of by using the flesh of these animals. This meat, which it is difficult to compare with anything else, and which is pleasant to my taste, is a precious resource for Antarctic expeditions and furnishes us with a diet of which we ili> not get tired. When cooked in steaks with a little butter I have consumed great quantities of it with sauerkraut, of which I laid in an ample stock.
The men, in their anxiety to see us cured, hunt for seals on every side and even risk their lives to bring them in. So I have to watch them and prevent them from being too rash. To-day I am told that a fine seal is asleep on one of the little islets to the south. I go to the place from which it can be seen ami make out not one but two, the second appearing qiute small. With some difficulty we get near them and find a female Weddell's Seal, which has just given birth. With the greatest precaution, in order not to frighten them, we approached the interesting couple. The mother seemed in a condition of considerable prostration. Nothing could have been more touching in the midst of this gloomy scenery, so little suggestive of life, than the little seal, disconcertingly human, charming alike in physiognomy and size, beside its mother with her massive and clumsy form.
particularly melodious, little song.
We photographed this Antarctic family group from all sides, and then I drew close and took the little one in my arms. It was delighted, showing no fear, but acting just like a baby, and when I put the soft little body back on the ice again it came crawling up to me, rubbing up against my legs and asking for fresh caresses. Must I confess that the memory of a little being which I left at home in France came to me so sharply that there was a catch in my throat "? I felt ashamed before the rest of the party, and I did not take into my arms again the little seal which caused me so much emotion, though I would have liked to fondle and embrace it. The mother seal was a little anxious and snorted and protested loudly, trying to frighten me, but she was immediately reassured when her infant came back to her.
There was no need for me to order that these animals' lives be spared, for I very much suspect (and some words I overheard confirmed my suspicions) that the men who accompanied me, nearly all of them fathers of a family, had felt the same emotions as myself.
To-day is the first day of spring. It is grey, gloomy and windy. At midday on the 18th, the official hour of the new season's commencement, we sounded the bell on board full peal and the crew sang a few topical verses, scarcely in harmony with the climate in which we still have long months to live.
The weather has been particularly atrocious these last few days, the barometer having even gone down to 703 ! We took advantage of the bad weather, which offers few inducements to go out, and of the temporary thinning out of the ward-room, to go through our cellar and make an invenfcory. Not only in France, but at our different .stoppingplaces, too, presents of wine were made with the greatest
generosity, and we are more plentifully provided than we could have ventured to hope when the Expedition was being organized. Of course this is a luxury, but there is nothing disagreeable about luxury, and it has not cost us a farthing. We have the finest varieties of Madeira, and Argentine and Chilian wines, side by side with the best known brands of Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Champagne. One of my old school comrades, who became a wine merchant — the medical career leads to all sorts of things, as I am myself a proof; — kindly sent me on our departure a few hundreds of wonderful bottles of Nuits, which we drink on fete-days with the respect that is due to it. We do not make undue use of our cellar, for good sense and economy alike forbid this. A second winter may become necessary, and it is then that we shall be glad of our superabundance.
I may say that the Vin Ordinaire on board, otherwise called Chateau Cambusard, is excellent, and that our purveyor showed himself a man of conscience. The French sador is one of the best of fellows, but, unhappily, he must have his regular ' rations,' without which he considers himself lost. This was one of the troubles of storage on board, for the number of hogsheads it was necessary to take occupied a huge space, which I should consider better occupied by other provisions. I got over the difficulty partly by bringing wine very strong in alcohol, which we dilute with more than the same quantity of just warm water before giving it out. Thus a considerable space is saved. During the excursions the men put up with the total absence of wine, though they often speak of their half-pint waiting them on their return. It is a sad thing that for the great majority of our country's sailors all the comfort and joy of life seem to be concentrated in a plentiful supply of wine or alcohol. Can we blame them for this widespread notion, when we of the richer classes are the first to manifest our joy and honour an occasion by opening a bottle ? Still, we live soberly in the ward-room and
I have succeeded, without any difficulty, moreover, iu abolishing the word ' aperitif ' altogether. Would that all our fellow-citizens at home would follow our example !
For four days I have not been able to pay another visit to the little seal, the ice being broken up and the gale allowing no launching of boats. This evening, during a calm, I went there again and found mother and child doing well. My little friend was sleeping beside his mamma. At the noise which I made he woke up and began once more to frisk about quaintly. He had grown a little and had become a little more active in his movements. Mrs. Seal, who was a little anxious about me at the start, soon discovered that she has nothing to fear from me. To give her confidence, I caressed her also, and after this she allowed me to do as I liked with the little one. In my presence she taught him to walk, getting him to pursue her, showing him how he must sweep away the snow with his head as all seals do when they advance ; although the light covering of snow to-day made such a precaution unnecessary. It is very probable that the father comes to visit his wife and child fairly frequently, for close at hand there is a seal-hole with marks of recent use.
A flight of about 200 cormorants has passed over the island, stopping at various spots as if looking for a favourable place to establish themselves in. But apparently they did not find what they wanted, for they have gone away. The manoeuvres of these birds are the more curious because quite unusual. We always sec them fly straight ahead without a stop, like busy birds with a definite object in view. Almost every day, about the same time, we have remarked a single cormorant coming from the direction of Wamlell or Berthelot Island. As there is a rookery, even in the winter, on both
of the two colonies.
Since we have been on an exclusive diet of seal's meat, the ulcerations on Godfroy's hands, which looked so serious, have totally disappeared with surprising rapidity, and he seems completely restored to health. As for me, I have no nunc oedema of the lower limbs, only my heart refusing to grow regular again. Still, I find myself so well after these months of sickness that I have made up my mind, if our comrades do not return in five or six days, to go to meet t hem on the glacier. I shall take with me Jabet and Thomas, who are very excited at the prospect, and I have prepared to this end a lightly loaded sledge, so as to be able to advance rapidly. Our re-victualling will be done from the fooddepdts on the way.
October 2. — I have had to renounce my project again, for at 11 o'clock I espied our six excursionists making the pre-arranged signals on the glacier. The whole ice surface of the channel has been broken up by the constant gales, but fortunately there are a few passage-ways of open water which we can use in going to meet them. But we must be quick about it, for these passages may close up as rapidly as they opened, and we should then risk being isolated from one another for a very long time. In a few minutes, but not without difficulty, in consequence of the lowness of the tide and the amount of ice ddbris, the big canoe is launched, and I start off with Godfroy and four men. To get out of our cove we have to carry the boat over the ice, whereby I get a bath almost from head to foot, and after a bit of a struggle, we reach the glacier-foot. Eecent falls oblige us to cut steps before we can get on shore. The ice is closing up so quickly behind us that we have only just time to shake our comrades' hands and find out that in spite of their fatigue they look well, and then, putting in a safe place the stores, which we Bhall come to fetch later, we re-embark
cut off.
As is shown by Gourdon's report, which sums up the work of the party better than I could do it, if the object, which was to discover a route to the supposed inland ice of Graham Land, was not attained, the trip was in any case interesting from many points of view and does great honour to those who carried it out. They all come back delighted, in a good humour, and satisfied with one another, which is the best point in favour of them all. But I knew that this would be so at the start. Gain's carefully taken meteorological observations will be most useful for comparison with those taken at our station.
In reporting to you on the mission with which you entrusted me I must first of all call attention to the devotion, endurance and good temper which my colleagues, MM. Gain and Senouque, and the sailors, Besnard, Herv^ and Aveline, displayed in pursuance of their duty. I am happy to bear witness to this and to thank them before you. Our mission was to ascend on to Middle Glacier to eastward, where an elbow of the mountain noticed in the course of the spring trips allowed us to suppose a passage into the interior of the land. We were to verify the existence of this and then to push a reconnaissance a few days beyond.
We managed to reach the point indicated and we have ascertained that unfortunately there is not in this direction any means of crossing the line of heights by way of a pass or
a gentle slope.
In spite of the negative result as far as the main object is concerned, the trip has not proved useless, for profitable glaciological, topographical and meteorological observations have been brought back, and also the party has gained experience in sledging.
There were put at our disposition a month's food for six persons, two tents with room for three each, and two sledges. Moreover, a dep6t of fifteen days' provisions and a tent were placed in reserve on the coast at Mount Diamond. A cache containing three days' provisions for six persons could, in case of need, be found at Edge Hill, situated to the south of Middle Glacier. The two sledges with their full loads had been brought on September 15 to Middle Glacier, at a height of 350 metres, thus giving us a good start-off.
On September 18, at 8 a.m., we finally left the ship in clear but somewhat overcast weather. Bongrain and Liouville, with six sailors, accompanied us on the first day. We put on our skis and had only to carry as far as the sledges a cold lunch, our Thermos flasks, and our cameras.
From Petermann Island to the glacier the crossing of the ice covering the channel was made rapidly, although the melted snow stuck to our skis. At 11 o'clock we reached the sledges and at once harnessed ourselves to them. We pushed on till 3 p.m., with a half hour's stop for our cold meal of sausage, tunny-fish, corned beef and jam. The soft snow and rather steep slope only allowed us to make about three metres, which brought us to 12 kilometres from the coast and to a height of 500 metres.
At 3 o'clock our companions say good-bye to us, and after many handshakes start back for the ship. We establish our camp on the glacier, not far from the western spur of Middle Mountain. The two tents are put up side by side. According to your instructions, the party divides itself thus : —
Tent No. 1, Gourdon, Senouque and Besnard ; Tent No. 2, Gain, Herve" and Aveline. Senouqne examines the horizon ■with the theodolite. The apparatus is placed on a little mound of beaten snow and firmly fixed. At the back of sledge No. 1, with Besnard's aid, I fix a bicycle wheel fitted with a register to measure the ground we cover. At 7 o'clock, the food is cooked in the Nansen kitchens, and soon we have some hot soup, washed down with half a pint of coffee. Then everything is put in its place in front of the tents and the bedsacks laid out on the canvas matting which is to keep them from contact with the snow. The thermometer registers — 2 °7, the sky is overcast, and a little wind is rising in the north-east. We make haste to slip into our reindeer skins and at 8.45 I blow out the lantern.
It is not a particularly grand night for most of us. It takes some time to get used to one's bed-sack. One finds oneself squeezed up and stifled if one closes oneself up too much, while there are draughts of air if one opens the bag unduly. Violent gusts shook our tents, and the snowdrift rattled down upon them.
In the morning this snowdrift and the exceedingly heavy weather prevent us from starting. It is not until 11 o'clock that we can get off. We have put on one sledge about 200 kilos of provisions and instruments. We shall take this as far as possible and come back to sleep at the camp, which we leave standing. So we push forward north-eastward, all six harnessed to the sledge and shod with snow-shoos. The surface of the glacier is smooth enough and without crevasses, but the extreme sharpness of the slope in places and still more the thick covering of soft snow make our advance extremely slow and difficult. It is snowing and the wind iskeen. We have to send one of the party on ahead in turns. He takes a hundred steps, stamping down the snow, and l hen conies back to harness himself to the sledge, which advances along the path thus made. In this fashion our
journey is long. At 4 o'clock, we are about 750 metres up, at the foot of Middle Mountain. A tablet of chocolate and a half-pint of lemonade restore us a little, and then, leaving our sledge behind and putting on our skis, we glide down the slope on our way back to the camp. At this moment a break in the weather restores calm to the elements and brings back our good spirits. The soup is put on the fire and soon swallowed, and then we sleep, while a little sleet, mingled with rain, rattles on the tents.
Next day, September 20, we rise at 6 a.m. The weather is calm and clear, despite some mist. At 8 o'clock, the sun appears. The thermometer marks — 4°. Owing to the difficulties of sledging, caused by the state of the snow and the slope of the ground, I decide to leave here a portion of our provisions, the place being well marked out by Senouque's bearings. We leave, therefore, a depdt of eleven days' provisions (for six persons), the two canteens of rum, and two cans containing five litres of petroleum. We have with us seventeen days' provisions, which gives us a freedom of action quite sufficient for our reconnaissance. We set out on our way in fine, even rather warm, sunshine, and about 1 o'clock we reach the sledge brought on in advance yesterday. We employ the halt to dry the tents, eat a tablet of chocolate, and load the sledges afresh. Meanwhile, Senouque examines the horizon with the theodolite. The number of bearings that can be taken is indeed considerable. Behind us, that is to say, westward, the glacier descends in long undulations towards the sea, whose horizon, in the far distance, is marked out by pack-ice. On our left Mount Diamond, with its summit on a level with the horizon, terminates the range which we have skirted. White Hill, a huge snowy ridge, partly hides from us the lofty mass of Glacier Mountain. Then comes the jagged outline of Wandel Island, which loses itself behind Cape Cloos, itself dominated by the high summit between Girard and Deloncle Bays. A long crease of snow, in which
several crevasses appear, allows one to guess the presence of these two bays, basins with a regular girdle of glaciers about them. Between the high points can be seen to the north Mount Francais. Finally in front of us are twin masses, round and perfectly white ; to the right of these opens the valley which should lead us into the interior, and above us rises Middle Mountain, whose high rocky wall is clear grey in colour, streaked with thin lines of darker hue. Unfortunately no rocky point is accessible, and it is impossible for me to collect a specimen.
Our observations being at an end, we start our journey again, only towing a single sledge between six of us. About 3.30, just as we are reaching a region of crevasses, the fog envelops us and forces us to stop. It is snowing, and we go back to fetch the other sledge and put it with the first. The camp is established and the lamps are lighted for the evening meal. The fog is thick, it drizzles, and the thermometer is 3° below zero. We get to bed very quickly, and after examining my companions' legs and assuring myself that they are in good condition, I blow out the light. It is 7.30.
Next day, when we awake, the fog still envelops us. It has snowed abundantly in the night, and sleet is falling continuously. We can do nothing but shelter ourselves. Still in the afternoon, with Gain and Senouque, I reconnoitre the region in front of us, and, coming back to fetch the rest, we go off on skis in the direction of the bearings we took last evening, and advance cautiously with the help of a compass for about a kilometre and a half. Then, planting our skis in the snow, we return to the camp, stamping down the ground to prepare the path which our sledges must take to-morrow. We have an early meal and at 7 o'clock we are in bed.
lighting up in the west a magnificent sea of clouds, over which we seem to float. The thermometer has gone down a little to — 6°, driving away the damp which was so disagreeable yesterday. To-day is Gain's birthday, so I run up the National flag, and we congratulate him warmly. A box of sweets kept in reserve will lend special 6clat to our meal on the journey. We set off gaily with the first sledge over the track prepared yesterday and then come back for No. 2. Our second trip is finishing when suddenly a thick fog envelops us. We have fortunately had time to take our bearings and we can continue on our way with the compass. But travelling becomes very slow and the freshly fallen snow makes it very difficult. Starting off on skis, one of us a hundred paces in advance, and guided by the compass, we journey on some time ; then replacing the skis by snow-shoes, we come back, stamping down the snow, an irksome, discouraging and fatiguing task. We have turned into regular fullers and weariness falls upon us amid the fog. We make our way down with short steps, silent or cursing. Now, harnessed to the sledge, we climb up again, encouraging ourselves with loud cries. Then comes the descent once more, with the breast-strap about us, the traces hanging, and our feet enlarged by our snow-shoes until we look like the heavy spare horses of the Paris omnibuses, coming slowly back to find at the bottom of the hill another 'bus. This comparison amuses us. Finally, the two sledges are together again, and before us stretches the white and powdery surface through which we shall have to dig our way, making the same journey five times for every stage forward.
In the afternoon we were favoured by clear weather, though the sky remained grey. The snow got better, or, I should say, less bad. We resolved to make an extra effort and take the two sledges at once. Besnard and Herv£, the two best in the collar, harnessed themselves with me to the front sledge, which was the more tiring job. Gain, Senouque
and Aveline followed immediately after us. This was a success, with a record for pace, in spite of the often pretty stiff slope. It was not until 6 p.m. that we camped, but we were merry and good-tempered, being delighted with our progress of 7 kilometres, which brought us to a height of 900 metres. The highest point reached in the spring has been surpassed. In the evening, Gain provides us with some excellent hot chocolate, which brings us all six rather close together into his little tent. I produce some packets of cigarettes, and this happy day ends most cheerfully. Outside the cold is keen enough at — 7° 1. The moon, with a, halo about her, lights up the immense glacier, whose sparkling whiteness gives the dead landscape the dazzling beauty of marble.
The night was so cold that in the morning we found all our footwear frozen, even those of us who took the precaution of putting them beside us in the bed-sacks. Up to the present we ^had journeyed in ski-shoes made of sealskin, covered with the Alpine hunters' cloth socks. We had to replace them by reindeer hide mocassins, and we found these sogood that henceforward they were the only footwear used. Their sole drawback is that they wear out rapidly.
The sun is shining, but the cold is keen at — 7°. We start our march again under the same conditions as yesterday. Behind us Middle Mountain, an imposing triangular pyramid, cuts the surface of the glacier into two branches. To the north lies that over which we have journeyed, to the south an immense channel, split up by crevasses, which descends to Cape Rasmussen. To our right the horizontal crest of the Mounts of Ice stands out boldly, while to the left the white dome of the Breasts stands out in a semi-circle, and to the east a series of heights bar the road before us, and at their meeting-point with the Mounts of Ice. make that corner whose mystery we have to clear up.
unfortunately the eastern (lank runs more and more behind the Mounts of lee. If there is a way through, it must be terribly narrow, and in the direction of the south. It is with gradually tottering hopes that we push on, when suddenly the fog descends and completely cuts off our view. We go back to the sledges and put up our tents, for we must renounce all hopes of reaching to-day the solution of our problem.
At 6 o'clock the snow began to fall. Without rest or respite, the white flakes must have been falling down upon us for 96 hours. Next day the wind rose and soon changed into a furious hurricane. From the bottom of our halfopened bed-sacks, we watched with fright the leaps of our tent, desperately swollen out by the wind, which passed through with a terrific roar, while the uprights quivered as if they would break in the infernal dance of the gusts. We remained 48 hours without communication with our neighbours, though they were only a few feet away from us. The snow piled up rapidly about the tents and worked its way in at the sides, over the canvas, to such an extent that the t wo outside bed-sacks were soon buried under a thick blanket of snow, which at every movement of the sleeper pressed more closely upon him. We had the horrible sensation of being held in a vice which only just left us room to move and forced us to sleep in the least comfortable position. One night in Gain's tent, they could only sleep two at a time ; in ours Senouque was obliged to get up at 3 in the morning to sweep his place clear !
Otherwise we tried to kill time as best we could and endured our ills patiently. We spent the morning in the warmth of our bed-sacks. A cake of chocolate sufficed for breakfast, and all the scraps of newspaper found in the parcels were read and re-read. With the aid of my sketch-book, I manufactured a draught-board. In the afternoon the bed-sacks were folded up at the back of the tent, the carpet was placed over them, and installed on this improvised divan and some-
what wet with the water that leaked through the tent, we devised no end of things while the food was cooking. Sometimes we added a cup of chocolate, and then invitation* passed from one tent to the other. Next we swept around the tent as well as possible and proceeded to get to bed, a most complicated operation in so narrow a space.
At last on the evening of the 27th, there was a lull, which permitted us to catch sight of a corner of the mountain. With what joy we greeted it ! The snow stopped, and the valley was bathed in wonderful moonlight. Mars and Venus appeared in the sky. What a pleasure it was to go to sleep peacefully without the rattling of the snow on the tent and the howling of the wind.
On the 28th, we awoke in fog, and I thought for a moment that our prison walls had closed upon us again. But at 5.30 a pink haze appears in the east, and so we are up and away. The weather is calm and the thermometer registers — 19°. The fog takes long to clear off, but we advance carefully. The snow is good for our skis, our beards are loaded with icicles, and the dry cold braces us up. From time to time there is a crash of avalanches close at hand. A half-break in the darkness allows us to double the spur of the Mountains of Ice, and we make our way into the pass at the end of which we hope to find a way through. Alas ! when the sun smiles upon us at last and lights up the mountains which surround us, it is to reveal to us on every side an insurmountable rampart. We are in a vast amphitheatre, but in a cul-de-sac. In an apparently horizontal line, which is perhaps the edge of a plateau — and this makes our disappointment more galling than ever — there is a weltering chaos of glaciers coming down in an irregular stairway. The valley through which we are passing is choked with snow, and at its end fearful avalanches have broken oil from the flank of the mountain enormous masses of ice, which lie at its base, all brokeu up, in long slopes of blocks and dust.
We call this place therefore the Amphitheatre of the Avalanches. The mountain flank where it is laid bare reveals rock ; unfortunately it is too abrupt for us to reach it and amid the ice-d6bris I cannot find the smallest fragment of rock to show me its character.
We take our time now contemplating the beauty of the scene, and truly this ' end of the world ' is splendidly striking. This chaos of ice, grooved in places by the raging torrent of avalanches crashing down the slopes and spreading themselves out in a fan at the foot ; the sun multiplied six times in a parhelion with its many- coloured circles, like some fairy halo ; the air all sparkling with diamond dust, and the wisps of white mist streaming from summit to summit, give us an unforgettable moment which rewards us for our pains and lessens our disappointment.
On our return to camp we prepare to depart. Our tents have disappeared at the bottom of a ditch, surrounded by a wall in which we have to cut a stairway. To unbury our sledge we have to sweep away a depth of 2 metres of snow. It does us good to handle the spade in this dry cold, which at 6 o'clock reaches — 23° 5, and we have all the enthusiasm of captives set at Liberty. A fine sunset favours us with ita golden rays.
On September 29, we strike our camp under a fine sun and with the thermometer at — 12°. In the distance on each side of Middle Mountain, the sea, covered with pack-ice asfar as the horizon, shows itself over the slope of the glaciers. The ground, whose softness we have been fearing on account of the great quantity of freshly fallen snow just now, has hardened again in the very keen frost, and having the slope now in our favour we make an attempt to drag the sledges on our skis. The result is excellent, the only difficulty being to keep the sledge upright. Remembering the good effect of the arrangement which we tried before when dragging a whale-boat over the pack-ice in our 1904 campaign, I lash
firmly across the front part of the sledge, above the load, two tent-uprights. Thus we get a firm rail by which to keep the balance on either side, and Senouque and I, being well matched in height and strength, push against these two horizontal arms, while Besnard pulls. This arrangement succeeds very well with sledge No. 1, but unfortunately our comrades with No. 2 cannot adopt it because of their greater height.
The caravan was getting along well and we were about to reach the position of our camp of September 20, when about 3 o'clock snow began to fall, accompanied by wind. Up to 4, we were able to get along with the aid of the compass, but the wind got steadily stronger, so we had hastily to encamp and take refuge under our tents. In the evening we went to sleep with the rattling of sleet on the canvas and the groaning of the wind.
On the 30th we were back again in the worst phase of our captivity. Rising at dawn to take advantage of the first break of the weather, we were obliged to stay in our tents by the violence of the gusts, the thickness of the fog, and the abundance of the snow. Our draught-board and a little English vocabulary, which Gain discovered, were our only distractions.
Next day opened as unpleasantly, till at 11 a.m. the fog broke up. We hasten to strike camp in spite of the still very keen wind and the freshly fallen snow, into which our sledges sink. Long waves of spoon-drift give the ground the appearance of a frozen sea, and make our progress very uneven. On the slopes, where we occasionally are carried off our feet by the speed, the sledges rock like a launch, and we have numerous falls, which are fortunately comical rather than dangerous. The afternoon is clear. We make good progress and at 4.30, we stop where we placed our depot on September 19. Everything has disappeared and there is not a trace in the thick mantle of snow. While Senouque tries to find the place, first with the compass and then with
the theodolite, we put up our tents and prepare the meal. The sky is clear and the thermometer registers — 16°. We ¥<> to sleep under a fine starry night, in the hope that tomorrow it will be in our berths on the Pourquoi-Pas ? that mc shall rest.
The 2nd of October starts with a rather thick mist, it is true, but accompanied by wind. At 8 o'clock we have not \ i ! had the slightest break, and it is impossible to go on
h our search for the dep6t. As I shall have to come back here sometime to complete my measurements of the pace of [the glacier, we can collect our stores on the same occasion. It is useless to waste time, so we pack up traps and start. The snow is in good condition, in spite of the high waves caused by the drift, and as the slope increases our speed becomes fast. At 11 the fog clears off, and the pack-ice comes in sight, looking very bad, full of crevasses and broken up. Shall we be able to cross it, or shall we be condemned to stop in quarantine in sight of port ? But there is Petermann again, with the masts of the PourquoiI 'as f We hoist our flags and almost immediately we are answered on board. As was agreed, we keep only one flag flying, signifying ' Send to fetch us.' It is with some anxiety that we await the answer. A signal runs up at the mizzengaff, another at the main. This means that the operation will be difficult. A third would show that it is impossible, but happily it does not appear, and hope returns. An hour later Ave have reached the first depdt. With the aid of field-glasses we see a boat leaving the harbour in the middle of the ice. Beneath our feet, to reassure us, the glacier was bathed by an ice-free sea, and indeed before we could get down, your greetings reached us ; a few minutes later we had the pleasure of shaking hands with you, Commandant, coming off personally to meet us, with Godfroy, our old comrade on the spring excursions, and also with the sailors who accompanied you.
In the course of this fifteen days' trip, which took us to a height of nearly 1,000 metres and to a distance of some 25 kilometres from the ship, the state of health of our little party always remained perfect, in spite of the very unfavourable atmospheric conditions with which we had to put up. Good spirits and cheerfulness prevailed throughout, to which contributed very much the excellent choice of provisions due to your care. Our equipment would certainly have given equal satisfaction had we not met with humidity very contrary to what one expects in these regions.
The meteorological observations, summed up herewith, were taken regularly by Gain. The route, recorded by Senouque, was traced out by means of three stations of the theodolite and seven of the compass, in the course of which 64 points were taken. Middle Glacier, which we climbed to its source, is remarkable for an almost complete absence of crevasses, those which we noticed in the spring being at this season hidden by snow-bridges. Only the lower part of the glacier, for about a kilometre before one reaches the sea, is seamed by large cracks, Que to a rapid clearing away of the snow. Before it reaches Middle Mountain, the glacial stream forks and sends out to the south-west an arm, unlike the other, very full of crevasses, which embraces Middle Mountain, Mount Kude, and the Edge, whose mass is thus nothing more than an immense nunatak. This arm rejoins Middle Glacier again, so as to present a single front to the sea. At the level of Girard Bay another part of the ice leaves the principal current to fall in cascades into that kind of funnel which breaches its right flank. This glacier is fed comparatively poorly and from one source only. It does not appear that any considerable masses fall from the crests of the Mountains of Ice, as would be the case if they were the waste-pipe for the regions inland. The quantity of snow which falls locally is sufficient to explain how it is that glaciers of such importance can be without a feeding-basin of any size ; for in four days
the ground rise more than 2 metres.
As for the nature of the regions inland, this important problem remains unsolved. Undoubtedly the long horizontal ridge of the Mountains of Ice suggests the edge of a plateau, particularly when one remembers the frequency of this horizontal contour at other places on the coast, in De Gerlache Strait, at the end of Beascocheia Bay, and at the end of Mat ha Bay ; but this is only an hypothesis. Likewise we have discovered no indication of ^he presence of an iidand ice-plain. Perhaps we shall have the opportunity later of making a new reconnaissance at another point.
I came across no rock which I could reach, but from the similarity of aspect presented by those I could see at a distance to the specimens picked up at the Edge and at Cape Rasmussen, I may conclude in favour of a stereoscopic formation. I took myself about sixty snapshots.
I finish, Commandant, by thanking you for the honour you have done me in entrusting me with this mission and by assuring you once more of my entire devotion.
E. Goukdon.
October 8. — Gourdon and Godfroy came to tell me in turn on the 4th that they had oedema of the legs. This did not alarm me beyond measure, for I knew the treatment now and I was convinced that, by taking the malady at the start, all would be right in a few days. I put them, therefore, on an exclusive diet of seal's meat. Surely enough, at the end of three days, every symptom has disappeared. I have not ceased to reflect upon the cause of this scorbutic disorder. What proves completely that it is provoked by the preservedfoods and not by the absence of fresh meat is that the symptoms disappear, not by adding fresh meat to the diet, but by the total suppression of preserved-food.
since, fore and aft alike, we are eating identically the same products, coming not only from the same purveyor but even from the same boxes, and the crew have been totally immune, only the ward-room suffering. Now in the ward-room, at : lie beginning of the Expedition, there were certain protests to the effect that the menus ought to be a little different, and although I should have preferred to continue with one menu for all, as on board the Fran^ais, I had to allow there were certain advantages and very few drawbacks in making some differences. These consisted almost exclusively of hors-d'oeuvres, coming not from the stores chosen by myself with great care for the trip, but from various presents, over ■which, of course, we had exercised no supervision. The facts force me to conclude that the cause of ill must lie in tltese boxes of hors-d'oeuvres. But the treatment is so simple and easy, especially since with the spring the seals have become abundant, that I am no longer anxious about the matter.
The ice still stretches out of sight to seaward, and it seems that we are completely encircled. De Gerlache Strait, however, and Lemaire Channel, between Wandel and the coast, having always been free during our first winter, I hope that the same will be the case this year and that we shall be able to get out easily when the plug which is at the mouth <>f this channel shall be removed. I should like to be ready to start on November 15 ; for, since we can no longer hope for an important excursion into the interior, I think it would be more interesting to commence our sea-Avork very early and to put in some productive labour in the South Shetland* before turning south again. Therefore I have commenced preparations; for the persistent bad weather, which stops all work for days at a time, my keen desire to leave under the most favourable conditions, and the trouble Ave have over the indispensable swooping away of the snoAV, which takes us several hours a day, make this necessary noA\T.
The ice accumulated around the boat bothers us a lot. For one thing, it prevents us from putting the rudder back in its place, and for another, it surrounds the cables, threatening to break them and subjecting them to heavy strains. I no longer dare slacken them, since the gusts of wind and the movements of the swell are so sudden here that the ice might be broken up in a few seconds and a mishap overtake the ship before we had time to haul them taut again.
The crew cheerfully work at breaking up the ice and we lend a hand, looking for weak points, increasing the cracks and splitting up the large blocks with improvised levers. As soon as enough has been cleared away, we attempt to put the rudder in its place, taking advantage of the transparency of the water, but we have to hoist it on land again to make a small alteration in one of the irons.
A couple of cormorants have returned and taken their place again on a point of rock. In the autumn, Gain had fastened about their legs a band of coloured celluloid, as he had done with a large number of penguins. In this way he was able to ascertain that they are the same ones which have returned.
I have just learnt that the stock of nads on board is exhausted, which is not very astonishing, seeing how large a quantity has been used in the construction of the observatories and for the numerous cases enclosing the naturalists' collections. We want nads, but I am not very worried about this, for I have promised a glass of anisette to every man who brings me a hundred. Immediately ad the pincers on board are requisitioned to pidl them out of old boxes, and if this goes on, we shall have more than we had at the start.
October 15. — The outfitting and repair of the ship is being pushed ahead very actively. The roofs of the cook's galley and the laboratories having been much affected by the temperatures to which they have been exposed, I have them re-covered with painted sad-cloth. In various places the deck has been
re-caulked as best we can. The spirit store-room has been looked to and the lead which lines it has been re-soldered wherever there is a crack. We have still almost 6 tons of spirit to carry with us. Herein there is considerable danger. Thanks to the precautions which we took, all accidents were avoided during our first campaign, and I have every reason to believe that these precautions will continue sufficient, provided we look after the lining of the room and the ventilator.
comparatively easy.
All the sails, after the sail-makers had examined and repaired them, have been bent. I have had a supplementary crow's-nest of canvas set upon the top-mast 'cross-trees. More accessible than that at the top of the mainmast, its height is quite sufficient for the ordinary conditions of navigation amongst ice. The Lucas sounding apparatus, whose electric motor is not strong enough, has been brought from the stern to the port-side forward. After a series of attempts, Kosselin succeeded in connecting it with the little engine of the picketboat brought back from Wandel, and its working seems as if it ought to be quite satisfactory henceforward. At Rouch's orders, Nozal has installed astern a hand-trunnion, which allows the rapid taking of water at various depths during deep soundings.
throughout the winter.
One solitary penguin has come back, apparently to examine the rookery ; perhaps sent by the rest to report on the situation. From my notes I see that the same time four years ago there were twelve penguins back at Wandel, but there was then much more free water about the island.
with violent neuralgia for several days. Liouville too, who, entrusted by me at the start with the medical superintendence of the ship, has devoted the utmost care and attention to his duties, has himself been in bed for some days suffering from stomach or liver, but he now seems quite recovered.
On the 12th a black ice-block ran aground close to the island. Gourdon and I have examined it and, as we expected, find its colour due to the abundant sediment imprisoned in the ice before it got afloat. It is very common to find bergs or blocks thus freighted with various geological specimens, but we have rarely seen one so big or so full of mud and gravel. Meeting one like it at sea, even at close quarters, one would be excused for marking down a rock on the chart.
October 19. — If the ice is constantly broken up by the wind in the direction of the channel, to seaward the pack extends out of sight. Beyond the Le-Myre-de-Vilers Islands it is fragmentary, and so also to the south ; but along Petermann, Hovgard and Wandel Islands it forms, under a very thick covering of snow, a fine, smooth surface, over which we venture frequently, both for work and for exercise.
Yesterday, while Bongrain took Boland surveying to the Le-Myre-de-Vilers Islands and Gourdon was geologizing on Hovgard, I decided to go with Gain as far as Wandel to discover the condition of the ice in Bismarck Strait. We set off on skis at 10 a.m. The pack-ice was excellent ; a little soft and uneven in places, very dense to all appearance, but almost entirely composed of a thick layer of snow through which our staffs pierced easily. Although the thermometer stood at — 16° and we were very lightly clad we really felt the heat of the glorious sunshine to which we had become unaccustomed. The reflection was very strong, and we dared not leave off our glasses for fear of the very painful snow-ophthalmia. Thanks to our yellow glasses, recommended by a surgeonmajor of the Alpine Eifles, none of us has been troubled with his eyes in the present expedition, whereas in 1904 ophthalmia
was the curse of our existence. Apart from their excellent qualities, yellow glasses have this great advantage over smoked ones, that they impart a more agreeable and cheerful hue to the scene, which means a good deal to those who cannot do without glasses. People vary a lot in this respect, for I have seen some attacked by ophthalmia after taking off their glasses for a ridiculously short time, while others have never felt the need of them.
This was the first time since my four months' illness that I had taken part in a trip of any duration, and I started off as gaily as a schoolboy on his holiday, rejoicing in the apparent total recovery of health. Alas ! I presumed too much on my strength, and I had a day of physical and moral suffering such as I had never experienced before. After two hours' journey my heart began to trouble me. Palpitations and irregularity were followed by violent agony, accompanied by shootings in the shoulders and arms. But I resolved to go on and tell nothing to my companion, who must have found my conversation singularly spasmodic.
We reached the headland of Hovgard without difficulty, and came across a female Weddell's seal with her young one, her head all powdered with fine snow. In spite of our reassuring words, the poor mother displayed a fear which is unusual in these animals. We crossed the headland and found more good pack-ice leading to another cape, where we rested and ate a tablet of chocolate. Next we went on to a small cap-shaped island north-west of Hovgard, whence we saw Saipetriere Bay covered by the same thick pack, sprinkled with numerous big icebergs. The seals were very plentiful, including six Weddells with their young and a whole family of Crabbers. My heart grew worse and worse, causing me horrible pain. For all my energy and pride, I was forced to stop every hundred steps and lean on my staffs. I was eager to keep up to the end, but the thought of return caused me {Treat anxiety.
About 3 p.m. we reached Wandel. The magnetic hut was half buried in the snow and it would have been impossible to open the door without protracted labour. So I was obliged to rest in a hollow of snow formed by the wind. Stretching myself on my back with my arms above my head, I succeeded in easing my pain a little, but the cold, which made itself felt as soon as I stopped walking, prevented me from keeping still long. While Gain went on a visit to the cormorant-rookery, which was inhabited all the year round, I managed with the greatest difficulty to get to the cairn, awful cramps suddenly attacking my legs and being only got rid of by rubbing and violent slaps.
The whole of Wandel was buried under a thick layer of snow such as I had never seen before, and the pack-ice stretched out of sight everywhere. Even in the haven of Port Charcot there were imposing ice-blocks, and it is certain that a ship wishing to winter here in this exceptional year, with its ice-free sea right into August, would have been in a very awkward position and would probably have been shattered against the rocks or crushed by the ice-blocks.
The discovery of this condition of the ice made me very anxious, for how and when could the Pourquoi-Pas ? make her way out ? My patience has been sorely tried. For the greater part of the winter we were much troubled by the bad weather and open state of the sea, but we hoped at least to get away early and to find but little ice on our route. Unfortunately the contrary is the case, for we have never seen so much ice at any time ! But we are only in the middle of October, after all, and happily a great deal may happen in a month.
On our way back to Petermann the sun was hidden and afresh south-west breeze made travelling a little less painful. It was necessary to get back before nightfall, and in spite of the condition of my heart and my fear of more cramp I made every endeavour to push on as fast as possible. At last we
reached the foot of the island and had to climb up about 150 metres before descending to our quarters. I was at the end of my strength. A false step caused me to pitch into the soft snow and I should not have been able to pick myself up without help. Gain, however, proved the best possible of companions. He was both patient and energetic and uttered no word of complaint at having to drag me behind him all the way. He showed clearly his greatness of heart, not only cheerfully lending me his aid but also successfully soothing the shame which I felt at showing my weakness before him.
Gourdon, being somewhat anxious, had come to meet us on the summit of the island, and at 11 p.m. we were back on board. I had walked for thirteen hours, covering more than 35 kilometres, in spite of my myocarditis. For the first effort of one recovering from four months' illness this was not bad !
October 31. — The fitting up of the ship goes on apace, and the stores are piling up in the holds. The picket-boat has been carefully repaired and fitted with a well-made and apparently very useful hood, and to-day she has been launched. The task is a delicate one, owing to the extent of the sheet of ice projecting over the sea, and the whole of the crew has to take part in the operation of getting her afloat.
The birds are coming back to Petermann Island. They herald the end of our troublesome winter and furnish us all with a distraction, while to Gain they mean a fresh start of his interesting studies.
November 1. — All Saints' Day, Todos los Santos ! Therefore it is the birthday of Madame Santos Perez, the wife of my dearest friend at Buenos Aires, Dr. Perez, to whom the Expedition owes so much, for he it was who influenced public opinion and interested the Government of his country in my two enterprises. So we drink the health of this charming lady, who can have no idea that at the end of the world the
ring in her honour.
November 12. — The temperature is higher, varying generally between — 5° and + 4°, but the weather is still as desperately bad, and the gales of wind are followed by heavy falls of snow, which do not make our work easier. Often after these big falls there is, in a very short space of time, a series of thaws and frosts, which cover all the tackle with solid ice, outlining their shape and giving the ship a most picturesque appearance. But when the temperature goes up again there is much danger in stopping on deck, for the ici detaches itself and falls in heavy masses from the masts, or in long swords from the rigging. There are a few accidents, fortunately not serious ; but Jabet has had a narrow escape from being killed by a block which fell beside him.
The tarpaulins have been taken off fore and aft, the deck has been cleared and cleaned, the funnel replaced, and the ship has resumed an appearance of active life which is pleasing to see.
On the 7th, after a strong gale of wind, the channel was completely unblocked for several hours and we were able to go hurriedly and recover the sledges which we had had to leave on the glacier the previous month. Since October 2 it has been totally impossible for us to go there, and if by a mischance we had not succeeded in fetching our comrades off that day, they would have stopped in their tents facing the ship for more than a month without being able to communicate with us. The sledges and all that belonged to them were buried under a thick covering of snow, the only indication of where they were being a few tent-poles. We were able to bring back all except one tent and a depdt of provisions, which we abandoned at the top of the glacier.
While the picket-boat was alongside the ship, Frachat, who was in charge of the motor, set fire to the spirit ; immediately a long flame shot out and he had only just time to save himself. Happily a Minimax extinguisher was within reach,
and in a few seconds the blaze was put out. This probably enabled us to save our precious picket-boat without serious damage, although its reservoir at the moment contained more than 30 litres of essence.
Two other cormorants have returned, also with their rings about their legs, so that all those of last spring have come back to their old home. The penguins for their part are extremely numerous and afford us, as was the case on the Francais, one of our principal distractions.
The two couples of cormorants have established their nests on a little point dominating the noisy and ill-kept rookeries of the AdeUe penguins. A great number of these penguins have the rings which Gain put on their legs in the spring. It is proved that we are only seeing the adults back again, not one of the nestlings hatched on the island the previous year having returned. It even seems that these penguins come back to the same places in their rookery. The little family which used to live in a cavity in the rock is back again, but the ' loony ' is missing ; perhaps they have had to shut him up in an asylum.
On (lie 9th the first egg was laid. Access to one portion of the rookery was henceforward totally cut off, so that Gain might continue his embryological researches under the best possible conditions. I lent him my bacteriological stove, which is transformed into an incubator for hatching out the eggs of various species of birds.
water. If necessary, we could use sea-water for the first, but it has been kept in such good order hitherto that I shall only risk this as the last extremity. To-day Gueguen, helped by sonic of his comrades, is busy digging trenches to try to catch the water which the thaw sets running under the glacier covering the island. In spite of all his efforts the quantity ■which he gets is still insufficient. Gueguen, however, does not despair, and night and day we see him wandering about witli a bucket, a spade, and a length of hose. He is a sworn foe to the ice and makes violent attacks on it. When we have to get some off an ice-block or to break or moor one of the blocks, Gueguen is always to the fore, and the usually gentle fellow becomes violent, hitting out wrathfully and insulting his enemy under his breath. He was like this on the first Expedition and has become remarkably clever at his work. He knows the ice and all that can be done with it, and if he cannot find water no one can.
The glacier
shows traces of the road which they traversed ; they climbed up at the spot wdiere we landed ourselves, mounted right up on to the top of the glacier, and then, probably thinking that they were returning to the water, let themselves slide down a slope which they could not climb again, thus finding themselves about 40 metres above sea-level on the cornice of the steep cliff. The poor birds were in great danger of dying of starvation. We saw them for three days in their evil plight, but on the fourth they had disappeared. Perhaps they ended by jumping into the sea.
November 17. — Guegen's ingenuity has only succeeded in getting 6 tons of water for the boiler, and we want about 18. As I am determined at all costs to fill it with fresh water, I have had a small fire lighted up in the furnaces with a few
briquettes and some old boxes, so as to melt gradually the snow which we shall throw in. To get this snow I lay out a line between the ship and the summit of the icecliff to starboard. On this line runs our biggest washingbucket. A party on shore fills the bucket with snow and lets it run to the ship, where another party empties it into the boiler ; then it is again sent back to the cliff. I have calculated that it will take one hundred journeys to finish our task. We all work at it hard, and by dint of urging on the men with a stop-watch, the bucket's full journey is completed in 45 seconds. At 5 p.m. not only is the boiler full, but we have provision of water for two days more. We have been able to light the boiler and as soon as we have a little steam up, the auxiliary gear is successfully tested. Then Rosselin increases the pressure to 7 kilos and, to let me know that the engines are ready, sets the whistle to work. This unwonted sound, which we had forgotten for so long, is at once strange and pleasant. Three-quarters of an hour the engine has been working in a satisfactory manner, and I feel real emotion at hearing the heart of the Pourquoi- Pas f beating once more.
With the engine working it becomes quite easy by means of the pipe for this purpose to melt the ice rapidly and to pump the water into the casks. In a few hours all is finished, Gueguen giving himself the pleasure of destroying a whole ice-block to supply the necessary ice.
We are ready to start, therefore. The only operation remaining to be carried out is to take up the chains and hawsers. These latter, in spite of all our precautions and the clearing work we have done at various times during the winter, are buried under a thick covering of ice and snow, and the men have already begun to dig trenches more than 2 metres deep. I fear that we shall also have some dilliculty with the chains, especially with the port chain round the rock which fell at the beginning of our winter season. It is not until the very day of our departure, however, that I shall venture to cast
them off entirely and take them on board, for oven yesterday a laiLT*.' piece of the cornice camo down, stirring up a wave which gave the ship a violent shock, scraping our starboard chain and breaking three hawsers, including the big tow-line.
The state of the ice is so far satisfactory. From time to time there is a certain loosening in tront of our haven, which allows us to make some interesting dredges and to take bearings and soundings, but the pack-ice in the offing scarcely alters at all. South of the channel it is quite compact, and in the north, between Wandel and the land, the accumulated ice-blocks appear to present an absolute barrier. A large iceberg seems actually buttressed at its two extremities to the two shores and by its own mass to block the whole of the narrow passage.
I am very anxious about Chollet's health. He has fallen a victim in his turn, but to a much more ordinary form of scurvy. He has great black spots on his thighs and can no longer keep on his feet. He is the only man on board who feels towards seal's flesh a repugnance which no amount of effort can overcome. Fortunately the penguins are abundant, and also they are beginning to give us eggs in fairly large quantities. Yesterday we were able to eat our first omelette, which all declared excellent.
Every morning, under the leadership of Gain, some trustworthy men go to gather the eggs, but I am obliged to watch carefully and to show my anger frequently. Some of the crew, at other times most docile, go completely mad where there is a question of eggs, which they try to crack and swallow raw, to the loss of their more obedient comrades.
On the 15th we celebrated the national fete-day of Brazil with the flag of that fine country at our masthead, and I may assert that the wishes we expressed for the prosperity of this generous nation were sincere and came from the bottom of our hearts.
to have shifted a little.
I had insisted that the observation huts should remain to the last moment for the carrying out of our work, but now I give the order for their demolition and the putting on board of their contents. I have decided to leave nothing here. We have before us a long campaign in the unknown and these buildings may be of great service to us. The gangway is lifted up and the topgallant yards lashed together and stowed away. The explosives and the spirit are shipped in their turn, and lastly, on the site of the movable house on Megalestris Hill we build a cairn, surmounted by a signal and supporting a large leaden tablet on which are engraved the names of those taking part in the Expedition.
November 25. — The weather is grey but calm. It seems to me from the summit of the island that a very narrow passage will allow us to enter the portion of Lemaire Channel which is hidden by the mountains and which I suppose at least to be free. I have decided to leave to-day, before midnight. The work done during the day is formidable. We all take part in it, toiling like navvies.
The port-chain, caught under its rock, is fortunately freed by a sharp tug of the steam windlass, and then, with a party of ten men armed with pickaxes and levers, I go down into the trench dug down to the starboard-chain, which, not without considerable difficulty, we succeed in releasing from its covering of ice. We bring it neatly on board without mishap. Meanwhile, the picket-boat and other boats are hoisted and secured.
We free the last hawsers and wc arc even obliged to cut some of t hem. The ice-anchors are brought on board. Finally we destroy the boom which has resisted so well for three months, and nothing remains on shore except three men whose duty it is to loosen the hawsers which prevent us from swinging.
At 9 o'clock we get under way, the manoeuvre being difficult owing to the accumulation of ice; but Godfrey, who made the plan of our harbour with great care, knows every detail thoroughly, and at 10.30 we are outside. The men left on shore return in the dinghy. The three cairns and a heap of empty preserve-boxes are the only indications at a distance that the island has been inhabited.
Farewell, Petermann ! Here for more than nine months, amid snow and fog, we have lived through the tiresome monotony of an almost continual gale, and have been through hardships and sufferings, but we have accomplished our task without quailing. The wind will continue to sweep your hills, snow and fog will always envelop you, but man has been able to safeguard his life in your unfriendly neighbourhood and to struggle victoriously against the forces which protect you, and which, as in the stories, have in the end spared him and revealed to him their secrets.
BEFOEE we are able to draw up a definite programme of our summer campaign we must go to Deception Island, where I have every reason to believe we shall find some coal. We have succeeded in saving about 80 tons of our stock, and if the whalers can let us have another hundred we shall have an unhoped-for opportunity of carrying on the Expedition.
Our short previous stay at this island showed us how much profitable work remained to be done, and at all events we must continue some of our studies there. Our observations, and our collections still more, would be the more valuable for a rather prolonged visit.
November 26. — Our voyage has begun again. We progress slowly, pushing with difficulty through the big floes which block the channel. The current, which is usually so strong in the direction we are going, is hardly to be felt amid the ice, which confirms what I notice from the crow's-nest as we gradually approach Wandel Island. It seems, in fact, that the channel at this spot is hermetically closed. Soon the marine ice is succeeded by a great stretch entirely covered by the hard ice of glacier-debris, and these fragments, small though I hey are in size, are so heaped together that we can scarcely cut a way for ourselves. Then wo get into a perfect maze of icebergs, some of whose summits tower far above our masts. After advancing slowly and steering with the greatest difficulty to avoid dangerous collisions we find our-
selves irremediably checked. The big flat iceberg which I saw from the top of Petcrmann Island completely shuts up the narrow channel and others have come up too to assist in the work. There is in this place an unparalleled accumulation, extending over a wide space. We needs must put about and try to make De Gerlache Strait by way of Salpetriere Bay. This manoeuvre is not easy in the narrow passages between the icebergs, full of huge blocks which restrict the effective action of the rudder. Shocks are frequent, and the silence of this calm night is broken by the noise of the ice, which we are displacing, the tinkling of the engine-room telegraph, and the repeated commands, ' Starboard,' ' Port ! ' ' Helm amidships ! ' But we make our way between Wandel and Hovgard.
I have often been over the course we are trying to take, but only in a small boat, and if I know its principal dangers many shallows and rocks may have escaped my notice. A great strip of pack-ice blocks our way. We hurl ourselves forward at full speed. The ship, being lighter than formerly, climbs up, but she is too broad, and in spite of our repeated efforts we cannot break through. There is a passage about 20 metres wide just open along the coast of Wandel. There is a chance of getting aground, but we have to make up our minds to run the risk if we do not want to go back to Petermann. Uneasily and slowly we make our way into it and get through, thus entering Salpetriere Bay. This is sprinkled with icebergs, but by unforeseen luck quite free from marine ice. Through the narrow Ballier-du-Baty Channel, where Matha fortunately took some soundings four years ago, we steam past our old anchorage. I should have liked to stop a few minutes at Port Charcot, but the whole bay is filled with solid pack-ice and the north-easter is beginning to blow. Farewell once more, Wandel, shall I ever set eyes on you again ! The big cairn seems to me to stand out sadly on the top of its hill, but I cannot get rid of the idea that
Scarcely have we emerged from Ballier-du-Baty Channel when once more the pack-ice stretches before us, completely filling Tip Bismarck Strait as far as the eye can see. It is extremely dense, being composed of slabs of moderate size made very thick by the snow and cemented together by a freezing pulp. The ship progresses with great difficulty through this stuff, the floes will not budge, and our stem cuts into them without shattering them. We go forward therefore desperately slowly. At last in the evening Eoosen and Peltier Channels come in sight, completely free of ice. We thread the latter channel and arrive before Port Lockroy. Tliis harbour is entirely filled with very thick pack-ice, and consequently we must abandon the idea of entering.
While our naturalists go ashore in a boat to visit the rookeries, on board we have a good dredge and survey. When our colleagues come back we continue our voyage. Passing Casabianca Islet, Gourdon lands to deposit a new message in the cairn. This polar letter-box has been regularly cleared for some time past, but up to the present we have been the only postmen.
November 27. — In Eoosen Channel we meet nothing but bergs, ice-blocks, and delms, and the case is the same in De Gerlache Strait. The ice-blocks most to be feared are those of rounded shape, of a size quite sufficient to make them dangerous, but with so small a portion rising out of the sea t l;.it t hey may be mistaken for an insignificant lump of ice. An error of this sort, abreast of Two Hummocks Islet, has let us in for a violent shock, happily without serious consequences.
begins to dance, and at 12.30 the north-easter sets in strong. Deception Island grows up on the horizon and platonic wagers are being made as to whether the whale-men have arrived yet, when the discussion is abruptly cut short by the appearance of one of the little whale-boats coming full speed toward us. She passes close and salutes us with her flag, while the caps of her crew wave in the air ; but the sea is already rough enough to cut off all communications, and after her courteous greeting she puts about to continue the chase. These brave fellows are the first we have seen for a very long time.
This whale-boat is the Almirante Valenzuela, of the Magellan Winding Company. So we know that the factory-ship Gobernador Bories is at Deception ; and she promised last year to bring us our mail. Our mail ! The words are the cause at once of delight and of dread, since for nearly a year we have been cut off from all and whatever the news which awaits us, we must go back into the unknown again for many long months.
We advance through the narrow channel, with grave faces and with but few, forced jests on our lips. The Gobernador Bories is at her usual anchorage. Parallel with her lies another ship, the Orn, and in the middle of the roadstead is a steamer of strange appearance, which we learn later is the Telefon. Already plentiful carcasses of whales prove that the work has begun. When the high cliff no longer hides us, the Chilian and Norwegian flags run up at the mastheads and the decks are covered with people. We moor in a depth of 60 metres and at once I have a boat manned to take me on board the Gobernador Bories.
I find in the clean and well-kept ward-room, with its decoration of flowers, M. and Mine. Andresen, still accompanied by their- parrot and their Angora cat. They give me a charming welcome, cordial and affectionate. My first question is about what is most important to the Expedition — coal —
and M. Andresen tells me that lie can give us 100 tons. So my mind is at rest about our remaining work. During our short conversation on this subject, Mme. Andresen, guessing my thoughts before I speak, with the tact characteristic of sailors' wives, has been to fetch a big packet of letters and sets me in front of a table, bidding me attend to my mail. Alas ! as far as I am concerned, Deception Island this time has earned its name. Probably in consequence of a mistake, or rather through anxiety not to forget them and the consequently excessive care taken of them at Punta Arenas, there are no letters for me from my family, so I know and shall know nothing about what has happened at home ; and the same is the case with several of us. In the impossibility of receiving news it is easy to imagine that all is going well, which explains the saying, ' No news is good news ; ' but now, with letters in our hands dated a little more than a month ago on board a ship arriving from the civilized world, it is quite another matter. I am assailed by the blackest of thoughts, suggesting to me in spite of all my efforts the most foolish and gloomy ideas. Still, one must continue the struggle, voyage on for days and days, and perhaps even risk spending years of anxiety and uncertainty. It is the hardest trial I have ever been called upon to go through ; but as Dumont d'Urville wrote on the day of his departure, ' I have filled the cup and I must drink it.'
Through my hosts, whoso good hearts are anguished at not having been able to bring me happiness, I learn the most interesting to us of the great events which have happened in our absence, the discovery of the North Pole by the American Peary and his controversy with Dr. Cook, the magnificent exploit of the Englishman Shackleton, at which I rejoice sincerely, and lastly the crossing of the Channel by our compatriot Ble>iot. Unfortunately there are no newspapers, and all these tidings are necessarily given to us briefly and without details.
I hear also the history of the Telefon, the vessel lying in the roadstead, which aroused our curiosity. On December 27, 1908, that is to say two days after we left, news reached Deception by one of the little whale-boats returning from the chase that a ship bringing a fresh stock of coal for the whalers was s( landed on the rocks at the entrance to Admiralty Bay and had been abandoned by her crew, who were able to reach the station in boats.
Immediately all the little whale-boats at Deception Island, belonging to the various companies, set out for the scene of the wreck, and a desperate race began. The Almirante Valcnzucla made a late start, but she was the fastest of the squadron. They were all on the winning-post when she shot ahead. Andresen leapt on board the Telefon and hoisted his flag, and since the ship had been totally abandoned by her crew she was considered his fair prize. With great difficulty, seeing the limited means at his disposal, he got her off the rocks on which she was stranded and brought her back to Deception. There could be no idea of repairing her at this moment, but Andresen had his scheme for the future and he stranded his prize at the end of Deception Bay, opposite Pendulum Cove, where he left her for the winter. At the beginning of November, i.e. earlier than usual, so that the rival companies might not on their return take possession of the wreck, the Gobemador Bories reached Deception with a captain and a crew of six for the Telefon, a little boiler and a pump, a diver, some materials of all sorts and above all numerous bags of cement. But the ice which we met in such abundance during our short passage was here also, and a thick covering of it rilled the whole bay. Andresen had some sledges made of planks, and twelve men set off to look for the Telefon. She was entirely frozen in, bunkers, boiler, and engine being all in one compact block. Norwegians, who are the best sailors in the world, are not disheartened at so small a thing as this, and with desperate labour, using the little boiler to
melt the ice, they lightened the ship sufficiently to get her afloat after several attempts. The diver began his work. Without any water-tight gloves — for the poor fellow did not expect to find the sea so cold — he plunged into the water at a tempera ture of — 8°, and after a few minutes of work under these conditions he had hours of suffering. He went on, nevertheless. The Telefon was afloat and, helped by a temporary loosening of the ice, she was brought into Whalers' Cove. The injuries to her hull are tremendous, but Andresen is convinced that he will be able to patch them up sufficiently with cement to take back his 4,000-ton prize to Punta Arenas and even to Europe, where thorough repairs are more easily carried out than in South America. ' She's a fine whale,' he says to me with a smile. He is even sure that he will be able to clear boiler and engine of all the ice which encases them, and as the windlasses and other gear are in good condition he cannot see why the engine should not be the same. So he wishes her to make the voyage by her own efforts and not under tow.1
Already the empty hogsheads and the coal which constitute the cargo have been unloaded ; and it is thanks to this additional stock of fuel that we are enabled to refill our bunkers.
Lastly Andresen gives me the excellent tidings that the workman on whom Liouville operated in the December of last year is completely restored to health.
All the evening on board comment never ceases on the news I bring back, and the fresh and unexpected tidings give such an impetus to conversation that both ward-room and mess-deck are unusually animated.
1 On our roturn to I'lintn Arenas wo s;iw tlio Trie/on arriving calmly from Doeoption at a speed of 10 knots, her colours flying in tho wind, olean and repaiutoil, carrying on hoard not only Andresen, l>vit also Mine. Andresen, who insisted on making Ihc pn igo with her husband. This was tho finest piece of salvago-work imaginable.
During the whole time we were in winter quarters, in fact ever since she grounded in January, the ship has always leaked a little ; but now Rosselin comes to warn me that we are making as much as 2 tons an hour ! We seek in vain to find how this water gets in, carefully examining the whole of the interior of the hull. Is it a case, as some suppose, of a weakening of the planks of the ship or, as I continue to believe (although we see nothing coming from this quarter), is it merely the injury to our bows, the full extent of which indeed we do not know ? It must of course have got worse during the summer campaign, and our struggle with the ice in getting away from Petermann can but have increased it. Or is it perhaps, on the other hand, a fresh injury arising from the repeated and frequently violent shocks the ship sustained in winter quarters ?
M. Andresen, whom I go to see in the afternoon and whom I tell of our leak, very kindly offers to have his diver examine our hull and insists that I shall accept.
When it grows a little calmer the Telefon is to go alongside the Gobernador Bories to unload some cargo, and then we are to take her place to embark our coal. M. Andresen tells me that he insists on giving me this coal in exchange for a similar quantity which he will take from our reserve at Punta Arenas. To remove all my scruples about accepting, the best he can find to say is that our arrival has saved him a great deal of time and also of coal, since he had decided, had we been a month later, to come to look for us with his whalers at least as far as Wandel. I coidd not have expected such generosity, for it would have been quite natural for him to make me pay a big price for this coal, and in the condition in which we are I expect that I should have complied with all demands. He offers me also some petroleum, of which we are short, and sends me in the afternoon a fine present of two sacks of pota-
toes. Mme. Andresen has found out that Chollet is suffering from scurvy. The charming lady at once despatches to him the whole of her own little stock of apples and oranges. She sends to me, with these, some pots of flowers, which she cultivates with great care. How could I ever sufficiently thank these excellent people ?
In the evening the wind drops and Gain goes with some of the crew in the dinghy to look for eggs in a big Antarctic penguin-rookery near the entrance. Further south we have never come across this kind of penguin except one at a time. Here they live in thousands. The seals are equally numerous, and their steaks, with our new supply of potatoes, make a regular treat for us.
November 29. — The north-east gale has started again more strongly than ever, accompanied by snow. I have been fearing all the morning lest we should drag, for one cannot anchor here except in very deep water and the holding is bad. The whalers, too, have warned me that we must keep a look-out, for in spite of all the precautions with which they surround themselves (which we cannot take for so short a stay) they are frequently driven ashore, they say. Happily the anchor has a good grip, and we are holding so well that I am afraid it may be fouled by the chain of the Gobcmador Bories. We cannot complain for the moment, but we may perhaps have great difficulties in consequence when we want to get under way.
The weather is still moderate this morning, and Bongrain has succeeded in taking ashore tin* seismograpMc hut and has begun to set up the instrument. Godfroy, for his part, has been able to instal his tide-gauge. But in the afternoon the weather becomes frightful. Although we are only two cables' lengths from the shore, from which I lie wind is blowing, the sea grows so heavy that we cannot put out a boat. The dinghy has broken its painter and has drifted away. Fortunately the wind must have carried it right into the basin,
At 6.30, in spite of the thick weather, the Svenfoyn, another factory-ship, comes into the roadstead, accompanied by its little whale-boats, and anchors near us. These Norwegians are certainly famous Bailors, for all the whalers are out hunting. One of them has even come in with two whales in tow and gone out again without waiting.
X or ember 30. — There has been a slight calm, and I went out with Godfrey in the picket-boat to look for the dinghy. We saw it at last in the midst of the ice in the big basin. With great difficulty we cut a way for ourselves up to it. It was full of water, but has lost nothing except its rudder, and as Libois made one for the Pourquoi-Pas f he can make one for the dinghy. We had scarcely brought the truant back when the weather again became bad. Nevertheless, Bongrain succeeded in fixing up the seismograph and setting the apparatus to work. At 4 o'clock I went on board the Orn, where Captain Paulsen received me very affably. I had heard that he had the last edition of the English map of the South Shetlands, brought up to date by the aid of our labours on the Francais, Nordenskj old's, and the information given by the whalers. He very kindly agreed to lend it to me to have it copied. He gave me some interesting details about his work here and told me that when the Telefon was wrecked his young wife was on board, on her way to join him. She had to spend six hours in a small boat, and this year he did not allow her to accompany him.
December 1. — The gale still continues from the same quarter. This morning a new ship has arrived, the Bombay, which was expected by the others on this very date. She belongs to the same company as the Orn. New Sandefiord (it is thus that the whalers, in memory of the port at which they fitted out in Norway, call the cove to which we give the name of ' Whalers' Cove ') now shelters all the ships expected,
have the fires made up to be ready for all emergencies.
December 2. — Wind fairly strong or moderate, varying from north-east and north-west to west, and going back to north in the evening. Temperature + 2°.
The ice from the end of the bay is entering the channel in great masses and chokes the greater part of Whalers' Cove. The little boats, therefore, enter and return with the greatest difficulty. The captains tell me that they have never seen so much ice in the four years they have been here. This evidence agrees with what we ourselves found further south, and yet the winter for us was exceptionally mild and the ice very late.
I profit by the ice all around us to take in tow to the picket-boat a big floe, which I have moored alongside us. We cut it up in pieces, which are thrown into the boiler. The water thus obtained is a little briny, but good enough for the engines. Most of the members of our staff scatter over the island. There is work for all, and I have reason to believe that our stay here will be most profitable.
December 3. — Very fine weather, variable breezes, a clear sky, and temperature + 4°. I have the fires made up early and we start to weigh anchor at 6 o'clock, to go alongside the Gobernador Bories and get our coal on board. Our anchor, as we supposed, was fouled by the chain of the other ship, but by heaving in to a short stay, going ahead gently, paying out cable a little, and shortening in again, wo succeed in getting under her stem. The Gobernador Bories then hauls taut her chain, sends ns a line, and we end by clearing our anchor and getting ourselves alongside abreast of the after hold, where is our coal. 1 hi luckily, while getting under way, a regrettable accident happens. A length of
the innumerable whale's intestines which are floating about the cove having wrapped itself round the chain, Herve~ got down into the bowsprit shrouds to take it off. The chain was coming up at this moment and Herv6's foot was caught in one of the links and pulled into the hawse-hole. Fortunately, a very thick boot partly saved him, but he has a bad wound on the joint, which will probably necessitate surgical aid. I am all the more grieved because he is one of our best and bravest sailors ; but the victim himself takes it very cheerfully.
At the moment we come alongside, several cats look down on ours and one of them decides to pay a visit of courtesy. Trying to jump on board, it miscalculates its distances and falls between the two ships. Happily for it Denais saw it and, risking getting crushed himself, he went overboard with the agility of a monkey and saved the poor beast.
We axe now in the midst of cut-up whale corpses and others being cut up. Everything is covered with oil, and the odour is very unpleasant ; but one gets used to anything.
The whalers' doctor, by name Malver, has come to pay us a visit. He is a very intelligent young man, but is making his first voyage and is much astonished at the life he is living and all he sees about him. He speaks French and English fluently, and is enchanted when I talk to him about his beautiful city of Copenhagen.
In the evening I am invited to dinner by M. and Mme. Andresen. For the occasion I get into civilized garb, with a linen shirt, a starched collar, cuffs, tie-pin, and all the rest. I must confess, moreover, that I found myself immediately at my ease and that I mechanically put into my pockets the useless objects I had given up for so many months ; but it was impossible to get into my town shoes and I had to be content with substituting for my boots an enormous pair of snow-shoes.
■we had chicken and some oranges ! Must I confess again, at the risk of disillusionizing my readers on my return, that I found chicken and oranges excellent, but they made no more impression on me than if I had eaten them the night before ! The parrot dined with us and took a most amiable part in the conversation.
December 4. — The weather is overcast, with a calm or light breezes. At 6 o'clock we began to put the coal on board. The men work without stopping all day at the dirtiest job possible ; for not only must they pass the coal into our own bunkers but they have also to get it out of those of the Gobernador Bories. Moreover, our bunker-holes are necessarily very small and the stowage is very difficult. After 12 hours of this work an easily intelligible lassitude prevails, but with kind words and encouragement I succeed in re-establishing peace, and the work goes on till 7 p.m. By shutting the ears to some grumbling on the part of our mercantile sailors, by showing confidence in them and by appearing at least to leave the initiative to them, one gets all one wants.
A serious question at Deception Island is that of fresh water. The whalers have need of very large quantities for their work, and to procure it they bring with them a whole outfit of canvas hose, metal pipes, planks for making gutters, and pierced hogsheads. With great ingenuity they catch the water coming from the little cascades formed by the melting of the snow on the top of the ice-cliffs, or else that coming from the snow covering the beach. Sometimes they go very far afield, as far as the fossil glacier extending between Whalers' and Pendulum Coves. To bring back this water they have astern boats towed by motor-canoes. Unfortunately the temperature up to now has been rather low, and the water only runs in small quantities ami during a few hours of the day. The hot water springs are useless because sulphurous. In spitcof the competition between the different companies, the directors, captains ami crews make no attempt
We have been fortunate enough in our turn to render him a little service. The lack of gloves prevented the diver from working more than a few minutes under water. The captain of the Telefon had very cleverly cut him out a leather pair, but the seams nevertheless let in the water. We have found on board some tubes of liquid rubber, which enables the gloves to be made perfectly watertight, and this apparently insignificant gift is of priceless value in our friend's work.
I have made the acquaintance of the captain of the Telefon, a superb type of Norwegian, of uncommon vigour and shrewdness. He has recently strained his foot seriously, which does not prevent him from jumping a distance of 3 metres, without turning a hair, to return my visit.
The harvests on shore continue to be rich. Gourdon has brought back some fine mineralogical specimens, Gain some Yellow-crested Penguins (catarrhactes chrysolophus), and both have succeeded in making interesting observations in their different departments. On the south-east coast, which is bathed by Bransfield Stpit, there is a rookery of 50,000 Antarctic Penguins, and ik the middle of this is a rookery of Crested Penguins numbering about 1,500. The two species apparently five on very good terms. The sea breaks with considerable force on the coast, and Gain brings back some amusing photographs of penguins in the midst of the breakers. On the west coast is another big rookery of Antarctic penguins, numbering more than 50,000. These birds generally lay two eggs in the nest.
converted into an operating-theatre, and Liouville, Gourdon and I have examined Herve^s wound under chloroform. The articulation of the first joint is laid open, but we agree, from the healthy appearance of the wound, that the amputation which we dreaded is unnecessary, and we content ourselves with some stitches. I have put Heive" to bed in the cabin next mine, where he will be better off than in his own berth, and I shall be able to watch over him by night. It would be difficult to imagine a better patient, always cheerful, content, and good-humoured. This gentle Breton giant, since he has been on board, has never had a moment of bad temper nor aught but a smile on his good-natured, intelligent face.
M. Andresen has given me to understand that to-day being Sunday he would prefer that no work should be done on board his ship. For my part I am not vexed at giving this well-earned day's rest to my crew, but of their own accord this morning the men have gone down into the bunkers and finished the stacking of the coal put on board yesterday.
In the evening we had M. and Mme. Andresen to dinner. We did our best in their honour, our service with the arms of the Pourquoi-Pas ? on it being brought out, while we got together with great difficulty two unbroken tumblers and five champagne glasses. We had some dozens of them when we left Punta Arenas, but the mess-steward tells me that the causes of their disappearance are firstly the rolling of the ship and secondly the cold, and lastly, he adds, everybody knows that glass is fragile ! As I do not wish to appear more ignorant than ' everybody ' and as my scoldings would do no good, I can only be resigned. We produced the best from our stores and our cellar, and 1 must say that our guests were good enough to appear to appreciate French cookery and the generous wines of our country.
Telefon, which came alongside the Gobcmador Bories again.
This morning onr two naturalists, Liouville and Gain, accompanied by Senouque with the cinematograph, went out on the Almiromte Uribe for a whale-hunt, M. and Mine. Andresen being of the party. It was an unique and unexpected opportunity for them to study close at hand the two species of balaenoptera (B. musculus and borealis) and the megaptera (M. longimana) which are to be found in these regions. I was convinced, before we came back here, that the whalers encouraged such observations, and I was not wrong, for not only was Liouville, who is particularly interested in these cetaceans, invited on board all the whale-boats, but every one was eager to give him all the information possible and to bring him any portions worth notice ; and so especially our own collection has been enriched by specimens of the parasites of whales.
The Almirante Vribc came back at 9 p.m., bringing a Blue Whale, and our colleagues are enchanted with their day and the manner in which they have been treated on board.
December 7. — To-day the weather happens to be supeib, and M. and Mme. Andresen have the excellent idea of coming to take us all out whale-hunting on the Almirante Valenzuela. As on my first visit I am struck by the extreme cleanliness of these little vessels, the very practical system in vogue on them and the real comfort displayed in their fitting up. This is one of the most up-to-date and possesses all the latest improvements. For people really fond of the sea she would make a wonderful little yacht.
I need not, I think, give another description either of the boat or of a whale-hunt.1 From noon until 2.30 a.m. we were afloat, searching first along the coast of Livingstone Island and then around Sail Eock. Several times we sighted and
went in pursuit of whales, but they always succeeded in escaping us or presented a poor target for the cannon. It seems that a rather heavy sea is better for the chase, since the body of the animal stands out better among the waves and allows an easier shot. In spite of my desire to see our hosts successful and to be present myself at the various phases of the catch, I confess that I was not sorry each time one of these magnificent, peaceful and amiable brutes managed to escape, and that it was with joy that I saw fading farther away the little black patch on the calm blue sea, with the jet of noisily spouting vapour above it.
Nevertheless, after we had pursued a couple of Blue Whales sailing along happily and unsuspiciously, a series of very adroit manoeuvres brought one of them within the right distance of our cannon. The captain fired calmly, and the beast was hit, making the foam fly up around her and disappearing with a tremendous leap. The cable is paid out with wonderful rapidity and ab'eady the windlass is ready to haul it in again, when suddenly the tension stops. It seems that the harpoon has broken near its head and the prey is lost. We look round on every side to see the wounded beast reappear, but the captain says that she was killed on the spot. This being so, she has sunk and will not rise to the surface before three days are over. In the distance I see her poor companion, now left all alone. No longer will they swim together, in an intimacy which perhaps had its pleasures, through the great green expanses and among the valleys and the fairy grottoes beneath the icebergs which should have protected them from the cruelty of man.
A few hours later we chased four Fin Whales manoeuvring in line abreast wit h.OU.1 gaining or losing an inch on one another, magnificently calm and ignorant of the danger threatening them. They presented a poor target, it seems, and I am not sorry. Certainly I could never be a sportsman.
of the thing, are upset, for hunting is bad this season. Perhaps, they tell me, this is due to the absence of icebergs, which are indeed very scarce about, us ; for it seems that these animals like to haunt the neighbourhood of these masses of ice. A naturalist would find interesting microscopic study in the subject of whale-food — the infinitely small denizens of the water — which must count for much in explaining the routes the whales follow ; and science once again would hereby render eminent services to commerce. The bad weather which has lasted since the beginning of the summer campaign, unparalleled both for persistence and violence, troubles the fishermen a lot.1
There is perhaps also another reason, more important and serious for the whalers. Through dint of being overhunted in the one region, these animals are perhaps becoming warier and instead of coming down south, as they used to do, by way of Bransfield Strait, they may take a devious route, away from Deception Island. Lastly, the reckless hecatombs of four years, numbering sometimes over 2,000 whales a season in this limited region (the whalers themselves are the first to deplore them, without being able to remedy the matter) must necessarily reduce their number and may even bring about their extermination ; for a whale's period of gestation is about a year, and as the pregnant mothers and young whales are hunted with the rest there can be no restoration of the balance.
At 3 a.m. we returned on board, while the Almirante Yalenzuela took a little more coal and some provisions and started off again. These boats indeed only rest once a week, on Sundays, spending the remainder of their time out of harbour in pursuit of their work. The men take watches
1 On our return to Punta Arenas we learnt that the fishery improved later, but that the whalers had to go as far as the entrance of De Gerlache Strait to find their prey. Nearly 1.500 whales were brought in during this season to the five factory -ships.
as on board all ships, but as soon as a whale is sighted every one must be on deck, even the men available for the engine, and under these conditions they can rarely get four consecutive hours of sleep. Far more frequently they pass 2i hours without going to bed. The only moment of real rest, for the captain as for the crew, is when several whales are being towed back and there is no possibility of pursuing others for a time. But all these men, though their fixed monthly wage is small, make money when the catch is good, and they forget the miseries of this arduous profession when they think that the wife and children at home in Norway lack nothing in the clean little cottage where they themselves may perhaps one day enjoy their hardly earned repose.
The diver, M. Michelson, an intelligent Norwegian, has been down to-day to examine the hull of the Pourquoi-Pas ?. He has been at work nearly three hours beneath the ship, examining minutely all the submerged portions. The low temperature of the water compels him to come up to the surface practically every ten minutes, and even then he remains a few moments without power of speech. Before he began his inspection I asked him, if he found anything serious, to tell no one but me. His report on the hull, apart from the bows, is satisfactory, and is given out aloud. He has discovered a curious big hole on the port-side, extending a long way ; a good deal of wood torn off where the hull struck the rock several times at Petermann Island ; a few grazes almost all over, caused by the ice ; and, finally, what we saw ourselves, a fragment of the false keel torn off astern. Our new irons on the rudder have held good. But when the diver conies up after examining the bows he contents himself with saying, in front of the crew, that there is evidently an injury, though of small importance ; and he makes a sign to me that he wants to speak to me in private. A few minutes later I
go to see him on board his own ship and, looking rather pale, he tolls me that he has discovered a most serious injury. The whole stem below water-line is torn away as well as several metres of the keel, the wood being pulped right down to the rabbet, and splinters sticking out on all sides. ' You cannot, you must not navigate in such a state in the midst of ice,' he says to me. ' Mere ordinary navigation is already dangerous, and the slightest shock might send you to the bottom.' 1
A few minutes later M. Andresen comes to look for me and tells me that Michclson has begged him to speak to me and explain to me the seriousness of the matter. I thank them both, but in my turn beg them to let out nothing of what they know. We must continue the task we have undertaken, our honour and, still more important, that of our country being at stake. Nothing will make me renounce this summer campaign, bad weather and the observations now in progress alone preventing me from starting at once. These strenuous men understand me and shake my hand. They would do the same in my place.
1 When the Pourquoi-Pas 1 went into dry dock at Montevideo in April we were able to verify Michelson's statements. The big hole on the port side extended for 15 metres, cutting clean through the outer planking in places. We could not make out either how or when it was made ; perhaps on January 8, 1909, when we felt no shock but that curious rolling motion. In any case, it is certain that it was caused by a rapid passage over the top of a rock. A few fractions of an inch more and the ship would infallibly have gone to the bottom fast. As for the damage to the bows, it was most serious and took a long time to repair. The water which effected a lodgement on board came in there in floods, and with my pocket-knife I was able to cut right through the wood and make new openings in it. The wood was so pulped that the whole of the bows looked like an enormous brush. Our hard struggle with the ice since we grounded, during both the first andthe second summer campaigns, had considerably increased the damage and had it continued must in the end have worn out what still held firm.
Our making two tons of water an hour was caused solely by this injury to the bows. The rest of the hull was in admirable condition, proving its excellent construction and solidity, and showed not the slightest trace of weakening or wearing out. When once this injury had been repaired through the good offices of the French Montevideo Co., the ship no longer made a drop of water, and hor hull might be considered as good as new.
I think it right to tell at least a portion of the truth to my colleagues on the staff, but it seems to me useless to alarm the crew ; and yet I feel sure that if both parties had known all, not one among them would have dreamt of an immediate return home.
I try in vain to induce Michelson to accept some remuneration for his examination of the ship. He answers with a laugh that he did not come to Deception Island to dive around the vessels of scientific expeditions, so that this has been a pleasant distraction for him. I feel that by insisting I shall in the end offend him, and I have to content myself with expressing as best I can my gratitude and my admiration for his disinterestedness.
December 9. — The north-easter is blowing very hard and soon turns into a gale. If we remain moored to the Telefon it will be dangerous for both of us, so we must anchor in the roadstead. I desire to take advantage of our move to sound and dredge in the basin of Deception Island. Just as we are starting we have a great shock, for news is brought us that the engine-room, which was made dry an horn" before, has over 40 tons of water in it. After yesterday's report we have reason to believe that something serious has occurred suddenly and surreptitiously. Happily after examination we conclude that the valve of the pump must have accidentally jammed ; and when the water has been exhausted it does not come back more quickly than before — which was quite enough.
The thermometer registers — 2°, and with the wind that is blowing the weather is very cold. We go to the end of the basin, sounding and dredging as we go, with very good results. The ice, since our arrival, has gradually left Deception, and there is now but little, all of it to the south-west. At 5 o'clock we anchor in Pendulum Cove, where the gusts ■Avi' as strong if not stronger than in Whalers' Cove, but the holding is good at a moderate depth. I should have liked
to stop here during the continuance of this gale, for at the other anchorage I am always afraid of driving or of losing our anchors in the network of chains belonging to the whalers; but Gourdon, who has gone on a trip in the picket-boat is to rejoin as there, and his observations with the pendulum and the seismograph are not yet finished. So we return and try to moor as close to land as possible, in the hope of finding bottom at less depth and with better holding. But all of a sudden we drive and our anchor- shackle breaks and is lost. Luckily I had taken the precaution of bringing five. The weather is so bad that it is extremely difficult to manoeuvre in the midst of all these vessels and we run dangerously near the high cliff. Not till 9 o'clock are we able to moor again, but we are now holding so well that I believe this time we are caught in the chain of the Bombay.
December 18. — The weather has been so frightful these last days that despite our close proximity to the land, off which the wind is blowing, we have scarcely been able at short intervals to communicate with the other vessels or leave our ship. For three successive days it has been impossible to launch a boat. The wdialers have been unable to go out and those outside have quickly returned. Even to leeward of the island the sea seems to have been tremendous.
We have nearly finished our labours, and I should like to be once more on our way, but we cannot hope to do anything at sea with these gales and the snow, which cuts off the view. Here at least we are not burning coal and we are not wasting our time, for there are always interesting pursuits for us all. The soundings at the entrance to Whalers' Cove are incomplete or erroneous ; and, since this place is now frequented, as from its situation it deserves to be, both by whalers and by scientific expeditions, it is right for us to try to rectify and complete its charting. There is work therefore for our officers, while the naturalists and geologist have plenty to do for their part.
As I still believe that we are moored to the chain of the Bombay and as it may in consequence take us a whole day to get under way, I have made up my mind on the first lull to attempt to get our anchor up and then to go and moor in Pendulum Cove, whence we can start out whenever we want and in a very short space of time.
I could have wished, before going south, to do a little more work in the neighbourhood. We are sure of making profitable researches here, and, in case our navigation into the unknown turns out fruitless, we shall thus have made certain of a good haul in the way of collections and observations. The programme which I have mapped out for myself is to try to reach Esperauce Bay, where Duse and J. Gunnar Andersson, of the Nbrdenskjold Expedition, wintered under such dramatic conditions. Professor Nordenskjold gave me in writing information to enable me to recover some fossils which they were obliged to leave behind. Lastly the whale men are very anxious to know whether there cannot be found in the bays of Joinville Island some good anchorages, at which they could carry on their work. It comes within the scope of our duties to discover this for ourselves and to try to bring the information back to them.
We have offered our hospitality to Captain Stolkani of the Gobernador Bories and to Captain Eouvre of the Bombay. Both are very interested in our Expedition, and are pleased to see that we are paying attention to their labours. In conversation with them we, on our side, pick up useful information about these regions, and we tell them in return what we can about Port Lockroy and De Gerlache Strait, which it may be advantageous for them to know. But I am astonished at the difficulty which we have in learning anything precise about the weather conditions at Deception. We meet with contradictions every moment from one and the same person. So when the young Danish doctor on the station, Dr. Malver, comes to dine with us I ask him whether he would care during
his stay to make some meteorological observations. Ho has very little to occupy him and is delighted to oblige us while doing something in the cause of science. This meat, of which the whalers themselves are very fond, is simply exquisite. It may be compared with the best veal. Unfortunately it does not keep and must be cut from the animal as soon as it is killed.
The fresh water problem still worries us and, in spite of everybody's kindness, we can with difficulty keep our casks full. Still, this will not keep me from starting, for I am convinced that we can complete our watering at Pendulum Cove.
December 20. — All our erections on land have been taken to pieces, and as the weather was a little finer yesterday we attempted to get under way; but our anchor is in fact caught in the Bombay's chain, and we must take the greatest care not to lose it and at the same time two links of chain. We worked up to noon, but the wind rose again, and as wo had to abandon the operation all has to be done over again. This morning we recommenced our work in calm weather and at 7 p.m. we were able to ship both anchor and chain. A little whale-boat, the Svip, came back while we were at work, with the fine catch of seven whales all on her own.
At last at 8 o'clock we anchor in several metres of water in Pendulum Cove. Before leaving, in case we cannot return to Deception, I hand to M. Andresen our mail and some reports which he undertakes to transmit to the Acad^mie des Sciences if he gets back to Punta Arenas before us.
1 I have since received from Dr. Malver a very interesting series of observations, which he mado with the utmost care. It is most curious to compare them with those which we made further south. I hope he will allow mo to offer him here my aineerest thanks.
In the morning we all scattered, Gourdon, Gain and Senouque going out in the picket-boat on a trip to the other side of the basin. Bongrain and Godfroy have been surveying, and Eouch sounding. I myself go with the men to look for a wateringplace, and in the end I find some cascades which we tap by means of our canvas hose. We have also to clean up the ship and her boats as much as possible. In consequence of our stop in Whalers' Cove, everything is simply covered with a thick and disgusting coating of oil which we cannot get rid of. In the evening, I go to look for Gourdon and his companions at the spot where the Telefon passed the winter stranded. In this part of the island there are a number af undoubted smoke-vents, and Gourdon says that he found at the height of about 100 metres, plain traces of volcanic activity.
December 22. — The weather remains good, and while Gourdon and Senouque make the ascent of Mount Pound I have everything got ready for our start and go to leave a new message in the Uruguay'' s cairn.
At 4.15 we got under way, and half an hour later stopped at Whalers' Cove, where I went on board the Gobernador Bories to say goodbye — or au rcroir ! — to M. and Mme. Andresen. Then we start off, saluted by the flags and whistles of all the steamers. The weather is magnificent and the little wind which is blowing is astern. At sea we meet the small whalers and exchange salutes with them. Unfortunately, at 6.30, Eosselin comes to tell me that the gear of the highpressure cylinder is broken and that there is an injury to the air-pump. This repair will take four or six hours' work and we are too close to Deception Island to hesitate to go back. At 8 p.m. we are again in Pendulum Cove.
December 23. — Our repairs are finished about midnight and we are off again at 7 a.m. The weather is superb, the sky cloudless, the horizon clear, and the sea smooth. The thermometer, at + 5° in the afternoon, goes down at night to — 2°. Everything promises a fine voyage, and the coast stands out clearly, tinted with that old-gold which is peculiar' to Polar lands under strong sunshine. We mark out on the map, as we recognize them one by one, the lands discovered by Dumont d'Urville and surveyed by Lieutenant Duse and Captain Larsen, who completed the study of this region, one of the smallest but not least interesting portions of the work of the Nordenskjold Expedition. We are already anticipating all the pleasures of a landing in this neighbourhood, historical since their time through their dramatic wintering there, when once more ' we find ourselves in the hands of the gods like flies in those of naughty children.' Sixty miles from land, apparently starting from Astrolabe Island, the ice lies before us, composed of jagged but fairly big floes, which are more and more closely packed as we make our way in. In the distance, nearer to land, the ice even looks as if it formed a dense pack ; on its border are great indentations, but its general trend is towards the north-east. I search in vain for a passage, for I am not thinking of breaking through the ice to take the Antarctic's channel. To have any chances of success we should have to expend upon this attempt, which is only an extra in our programme, too much coal and perhaps too much time. We should also have to run the risk, not only of being reduced to inactivity for long weeks at the mercy of the ice and thus of compromising the rest of our campaign, but also of seeing the Pourquoi-Pas ? (in this case without absolute necessity) finish her career in the same way as the Antarctic did so gloriously. It will be remembered how this vessel was lost after having vainly attempted, while trying to pick up Nordenskjold and his companions wintering at Snow Hiil, to pass through the ice-choked strait which bears
her name. Captain Larsen, who was in command of her, succeeded in turning Joinville Land, but after landing Duse, Gunnar Andersson and a sailor in Esperance Bay, the Antarctic, crushed by the ice in spite of all the skill of her commander, sank in sight of Paulet Island. The rescue of the whole expedition thereafter makes one of the finest and most extraordinary chapters of Polar history. Now that year the ice in Bransficld Strait was in a condition very similar to what we have come across ourselves. When the Antarctic was there, the basin of Deception Island was choked by ice, as it was for us during the greater part of November, and it was almost in the same latitude, to seaward of Joinville Land, that the Antarctic met it again.1
by trying to force one.
December 24. — Magnificent weather, with a light breeze from the south-east, or calm. The pack-ice, in which the floes are getting more and more gigantic, runs on still northeastward, leading us away from Louis Philippe and Joinville Lands. At 4 a.m. Bridgmann Island is in sight. No expedition as far as I know, at any rate no scientific expedition, has yet landed on these islands. Several reports from captains, notably one from one of the whalers that we have just left, are to the effect that Bridgmann Island is in full eruption, so that it is interesting to try and land there. At 7.30 Gourdon, Godfrey and two men start off in the dinghy and succeed in getting ashore on a little beach to the south-east, somewhat sheltered from the swell prevailing at the moment. During this time we take a sounding, which gives 328 fathoms. On the beach, the only spot on the island where the shore does not rise up in cliffs or in high steep rocks, Gourdon saw some thirty seals,
a few Adelio and Papua penguins, some terns and sheathbills. He did not discover the slightest trace of present volcanic activity, but numerous proofs of comparatively recent activity. We reached the same conclusion while making a circuit of the island as close as it is safe to go. It is clear, as often happens, that the ' smoke ' and ' vapours ' mentioned as proof of volcanic activity, were nothing but piles of dust raised by the wind, clouds clinging to the summit or even snowdrifts. A few years ago, at Jan Mayen Island, we had to penetrate right into a blown-out crater before we could persuade ourselves that it was really dust and not smoke that was coming out of it. This rugged, barren and almost snowless island is a curious sight as it rises in isolation from the midst of the sea, tinted by the brick-red tufa and yellowish scoriae. We take numerous photographs of it, of which one notably proves not only the skill of the artist accompanying Dumont d'Urville, whose picture is before our eyes, but also that there has been no change of shape since the passage of the Astrolabe and the Zilee.
Since Joinville Island is beyond our reach, I decide to turn back to Admiralty Bay, the refuge of the old-time sealers, which was of recent years, and may be again, a whaling station. Apart from the physical and natural history observations we shall be able to make there, it may be interesting to make a more minute and exact survey than those engaged in these commercial undertakings have yet succeeded in getting. In still magnificent weather, which allows Bongrain to take bearings of the land and outlines of the coast, we skirt the south of St. George Island, and at 4.30 p.m. we reach Admiralty Bay.
The end of this huge bay, which is a kind of arm of the sea open to the south-east, splits into two profound culs-de-sac, clear-cut and picturesque, and walled in by glaciers and steep mountains. The north-western branch is itself divided into two narrow channels by a high island. At present, we penetrate into the north-eastern branch. The ice-blocks which
have come from the cliffs are rather numerous but give way before us, driven by the north-east wind, which is beginning to blow pretty strong. We look for an anchorage, and first of all, at a distance of scarcely 50 metres from a big beach, the slope of which we hoped to see stretching down gently toward the sea, we sound and find 150 metres of water. At length at the end of the cul-de-sac, in a very sheltered spot, we find at the foot of the glacier a muddy bottom with good holding, varying in depth from 7 to 20 metres ; and we anchor over 10.
We can have our supper in peace, and our cardboard Christmas tree, which has been in its box since last year, is brought out again and decorated with all its little knick-knacks, to the delight of the men.
December 25. — Christmas-Day, the season of memories, of thoughts which go afar and strive to imagine what is happening beyond the seas. Here the north-easter has started again, and the weather is grey and cloudy. We all of us land at places which interest us, to go on with our usual work.
There is a curious sound to be heard, which is singularly like the siren of a distant ship. We had already heard it at Pendulum Cove, but although I am convinced that it is produced on board, Ave cannot discover its origin. So strong is the illusion that the crew several times come to insist that there is a slip in distress and ask me to go to her assistance. No amount of reasoning can convince them of their error, and in the end I send some of them on shore, and these, hearing nothing, while the sound persists on board, finally return converted.
December 26. — The weather has become line again, and while Bongrain and Boland go from point to point in a Norwegian boat surveying, I si ail out in the ship for the Bay, properly so-called.
Gouidon and Senouque have landed on a beach on the east coast, and Gain on the west coast, close to a rookery where he found more than 20,000 Papua Penguins. We in the Pourqiioi-
Pas f make a series of soundings and a good dredge at a depth of 400 metres. At the end of the day we take on board all our comrades and return to our anchorage, after leaving the Christmas tree on a point where it stands up proudly — waiting for the wind to knock it over.
We have left the north-eastern cul-de-sac to go into the north-western. The wind is at first very strong from the north-west, but soon veers to the east-north-east, blowing in very big gusts. This portion of Admiralty Bay is especially picturesque, with lofty black-hued mountains, bare of snow and standing between majestic glaciers. A big high island, also almost totally devoid of snow, occupies as I have said the centre of this branch of the bay, the bottom of which ends in two rounded coves, bordered by high glaciers and separated by a tall rocky promontory. The beaches are fairly numerous, and the corpses of whales in large numbers bear witness that whalers formerly worked there. We make a dredge over about 60 metres and the dynamometer shows from the start either that the trawl-net is caught or that it contains a heavy weight. Almost the whole day is spent in bringing it up. As soon as it begins to come out of the water we see that the netting is full, not only of animals, but of mud, gravel and rock. At all costs, we wish to save the contents and, if it is possible, the net itself.
We hoist it with difficulty, taking infinite precautions. To diminish the enormous weight, we water it with the hose, thus washing away a lot of the mud, and when with the help of a series of slings we have got it a little way out of the sea, I send under it the big canoe, into which the trawl-net is allowed to fall. The boat almost sinks under the weight, but our fine harvest is saved, and promises work for the laboratory.
We anchor 300 metres from the island in 25 metres of water, and Gourdon, going out in the Norwegian boat, comes back loaded with interesting mineralogical specimens and some fine crystals.
December 30. — We have just had here a formidable gale from the east-north-east. The water of the channel, uplifted in powdery spray by the gusts, covered the ship. We dragged a little, but the anchor held in the end, when the ship was overlapping the end of the island. Here the gusts attacked us from both sides at once and the unfortunate ship could not tell which shore to avoid. However, we could not complain much, for the spot where we were was the best sheltered in this part of Admiralty Bay, and moreover our chain seemed somewhat eased by the current, which ran against the wind. We barely managed, during the lulls, to save the precious contents of the dredger, entrusted to the big canoe ; and we also made some very fruitful trips, our geologist in particular being enchanted with his sojourn.
At 1.30, as the weather had a better appearance, we got under way, and at 2 o'clock we were en route for the sea, making surveys and taking soundings as we steamed along. At 5.30 we were outside the bay, feeling after we had turned the rocks on which the Telefon was wrecked, a fairly strong swell from the east, but no wind. During the evening, however, the wind began to blow from the north-west, bringing a thick fog. Still, we were able to ascertain, by passing very close to its supposed site, that ' Middle Island ' no longer exists. Already as we made our way toward Joinville Land, it seemed to us that what might have been taken for an island was notliing else than a promontory of Greenwich Island. Now we have certain corroboration of the assertions of the Nordensfcjold Expedition that this island must be finally erased from the map. I do not know who was the first to mark it, but it is to be found notably on George Powell's map, dated 1882, 1 while Bellingshausen in 1821 did not put it on his.'- In spite of these assertions, however, it continued for some unkuown reason to figure enormously
Chart.
December 31. — North-cast wind, fog and rain, which do not prevent us from sounding. At length there is a slight break which allows us to make the land at Deception Island and in the evening to take up our anchorage at Pendulum Cove.
January 6, 1910. — Before our departure to the South Shet lands M. Andresen led me to hope that he could give us, if we called again, another 30 tons of coal. Unfortunately, in taking stock of his bunkers, he found that he could not spare them. This is rather a blow, but I cannot regret the expenditure of these last few days, so fruitful have the results of our last trip been.
The 1st of January has been celebrated in our various ways, and the Norwegians, after having taken 24 hours of complete rest, have never ceased firing their guns, whose sound has echoed all over the island. We have been detained here afresh by frightfully bad weather. This time the wind has blown a little from all directions, varying from the south-west, to the north-west, then to the north-east, to settle down at last in the north-west. In spite of our two anchors we have been blown outside Pendulum Cove, and we found ourselves therefore dangerously near to the shore in a rather heavy sea. We could only keep our place by having the engine at work.
This morning it was calm and in spite of the fog and an abundant snowfall, we got under way. After giving a few casks of spirit in passing to the Gobernador Bories, and embarking ourselves a hogshead of oil, I shake hands for the last time with these amiable people and at 10.30 we leave Deception Island.
I consider that the possibility of taking a fresh stock of coal at Deception Island was one of the principal causes of the success of the expedition. We owe it to the extreme kindness of Andresen and the great generosity of the Magellan Whaling Company. Our fellow countrymen MM. Blanchard and DetaUle,
who live at Punta Arenas, and who are important shareholders in this Company, managed to interest their colleagues in our work. Let me assure them once more of my sincere and profound gratitude.
The south-wester has arisen and blows pretty hard, rather stopping our way, but it scatters the fog and snow, and we see all the neighbouring islands at once, Smith, Low, Hoseason, Brabant, Gand, etc We eat our ' Twelfth Xight ' cake, in which for the bean we substitute a pebble picked up on Alexander I Land.
January 7. — The wind continues to blow strongly from the south-west, that is to say, straight ahead, but the weather is clear, there being mist only on land. It has been a hard night, not so much on account of the strength of the wind, but because the choppy sea tosses the ship a lot. We scarcely make 9 knots. In the afternoon, to save coal, and spare the engine, which is working hard without much profit, I set the sails and lay the ship to. Gourdon and I were the only ones at lunch.
January 8. — About 11 o'clock last night, the wind fell completely and then, after a little fog, the north-easter began to blow, while the barometer went down. Snow fell, the weather was thick and the thermometer marked +1°. The sea rapidly became rough, the wind was behind us, and we stood for the south-west with all the sail we could carry and the engine at rest. By chance we found ourselves almost at the same spot where the Franqais was the same day five years ago, but the gale from the north-east was then much stronger, and instead of flying before it we were struggling hard against it.
more for the south and set the engine to work.
The sufferers are still rather numerous in the ward-room, but nevertheless, after dinner, I had a game of dominoes with Godfroy, Gain and Liouville. We had to go in for regular gymnastics in order not to lose our dominoes.
January 9. — Fog and calm during the night, compelling U8 to go slow. In the morning the north-easter begins to blow again with its usual accompaniment of mist and soon turns to a gale. Rouch has nevertheless succeeded in taking good soundings, but in bringing up the wire again in the very heavy sea, we lost 1,200 metres of it, and we have also lost, on the same day, two registering-logs.
We intentionally keep out well from the coast in order not to travel over ground already covered. Around us are flying numerous albatrosses, admiral-birds, mollymauks and Cape-pigeons. We are again using sail alone, and the ship, with a good list on, is rolling less.
January 10. — The north-easter still blows as hard, with snow, fog, and drizzle. If one could see a little further in front of one, I should consider the weather fine, since we are making good progress, but we have to keep a most careful look-out. At 3.30, I see to port through the fog, the bluish shape of an iceberg against the grey sky, and then we meet a whole quantity of brash-ice, and lastly, abundant drift-ice, followed by apparently very dense pack. Unfortunately, we can see so little in front of us that it is difficult to know what to do about this ice, and for the present we must content ourselves with skirting it. At 4 o'clock, finding ourselves in a kind of porridge of ice, we stop and, taking a sounding, we find 455 metres. We shoidd be in 69° S. Lat. ; another ten miles and we shall have beaten Evensen's furthest latitude. In clear weather we ought to have had an interesting view of Alexander I Land.
January ll.1 — I am unwilling to leave this neighbourhood without taking advantage of a break in the weather to have a look about us, and I heave to the ship under light canvas. I am expecting, indeed, after this north-east gale at least a few hours of clear weather and I have told my colleagues, who nevertheless look sceptical. We remain thus gently balanced in the midst of the mass of small ice, under a never ceasing snow-fall, which covers the ship with a pretty white
mantle but makes the deck dangerously slippery. Quite close at hand, through the imposing silence of the night, I hear the crashing collisions of the ice tossed by the swell, producing a sound like the distant murmur of a great city at the bottom of a valley. It is the voice of the Antarctic, -which, too, can be sweet.
In the morning a few brief rifts which I was expecting appear. From the height of the crow's-nest, I seem to see something strange in the south-east. Is it an iceberg, or is it something else which I cannot venture to describe ? I say nothing about it to any one, so afraid am I of being mistaken, and once again the horizon is hidden. Taking advantage of the calm and to disguise my impatience, which is getting actually painful, I have the dinghy manned and in several trips she brings back about a ton of iceberg-debris, which we ton into the boiler for making water. At last, at noon, the weather completely clears up, and I examine the horizon anxiously. Far off in the pack-ice there appears Alexander I Land at a new angle, which allows Bongrain to complete his map ; but nearer at hand, I find again what I saw in the morning, and my conviction is complete. Nevertheless, I will speak of it to no one before acquiring absolute and indisputable certainty. I restart the engine and to every one's great astonishment, contrary to previous orders, I steer for the east. I overhear even a few small criticisms, which might have been well founded, though now they only make me smile. I hurry over lunch in order not to excite any one's attention, and I climb up into the crow's-nest again wit h my field-glasses. All doubts are gone. It is necessary to have lived through these months of waiting and anxiety, of fear of failure, of desire to do something, of eagerness to take back to one's country something important, to understand all that is conveyed by these two words, which 1 repeat
to myself under my breath, a New Land ! I call up Bongrain to the topgallant mast and hand him my glasses, asking him not to say aloud what he is going to see. He utters but one word, ' Oh ! '
We go ahead and now I can announce my discovery, which brings almost everybody with a bound on deck. We make out two high mountainous masses, from which emerge the black rocks and between them a smaller mass, just like Adelaide Island or Alexander I Land, springing from a large cap of ice, which seems to extend very far east and west, though sharply separated from Alexander I Land, south of which it lies. It appears to me that there are some high peaks on the horizon, passing behind Alexander I Land in the direction of Fallieres Land ; but not being absolutely certain, I prefer not to have them marked on the map.
My conviction therefore is that Fallieres Land continues westward, either in the shape of land or at least as an archipelago, and our soundings in addition to those of De Gerlache (who did not see these lands, since he entered into the ice field further west) might have caused this to be suspected. The fine weather allows us to take observations and to place our discovery in Long. 77° W. and Lat. 70° S.
We have little chance of being able to reach these lands, but I cannot resist the desire of approaching them, and we hurl ourselves into the pack-ice, once more forgetting the injury to our bows. The pack is composed of such big and thick floes, soldered together by an icy mixture, that we cannot even shift them, and in spite of sail and steam combined, we only make 20 metres in the hour. After four hours of this disheartening progress, which wears the boat enormously, we sight a Ross's Seal on the ice. This is a variety lacking in our collection ; at all costs we must have it. Liouville, Godfroy and Jabet, armed with guns, post themselves on the bow and pour a volley at the poor beast at 30 metres. We go to fetch it with a Norwegian boat, hauled over the ice to bring it in,
ice, cannot approach it.
It is useless to persist in our attempt to push forward. With the greatest difficulty, still under sail and steam, while the crew push with all their united strength to part the ice with poles, we seek to regain the edge of the pack. At one moment, while the ship is among huge icebergs, which roll in the swell, she grounds on the base of a berg. We dare not use our engine for fear of smashing our screw, and it is only after an hour's work with our poles that we rescue ourselves from our dangerous position.
discovery from us.1
1 On my return to France, in perusing an interesting work published during my absence by the learned American geographer, Edwin Swift Buleh, T was disagreeably surprised, I must confess, to find on the map of the Antarctic, to the south-west of Alexander Land, a little island marked Smiley. Although this island was notably further south than the land which we discovered, and although the name Smiley was accompanied by a ?, I was justified in fearing that Mr. E. S. Balch had, during our expedition, found a document bearing witness to this discovery by the American whale-man, of which I was consequently ignorant. I was quite ready to bow to facts, without a struggle, and I should have been consoled by confirming Smiley's discovery. I wrote to this effect to Mr. E. S. Balch, who, with his accustomed kindness and perfect impartiality answered in a letter from which T think I should, in view of the undisputed authority of the signatory, quote the following passage, which sets things out clearly, and caused me to give a sigh of relief : —
' There is not the smallest doubt that all your discoveries arc yours and yours alone. Wo know next to nothing of Smiley, simply what is quoted by Wilkes and Maurey, which 1 mentioned in my Antarctica. I found Smiley Island on a globe " made " by Oilman Joslin at Boston and " edited " by Charles Copley at Washington in 1852. I marked this name on my map, because this part of the Antarctic was then unknown to US. There mi^-lit have been an island there. It is clear that this is a mistake. If Smiley had been where you have been, there would have been a roust marked, not an island. This mistake probably arose in the following fashion. The cartographer must have had some vague information ; hemust have heard something about Smiley, and must have put down this island somewhat at haphazard. Very possibly Smiley saw Alexander Land. The old sealors sometimes went very far afield in pursuil of their accursed work of destruetionnl the poor lui-seals. Therefore you certainly have the right to say that you are the first to see Charcot Land. 1 should like this land to he called thus, anil I Im.j)o that your companions have so christened the now discovery. In any case,
January 12. — We have followed the edge of the pack-ice all night, bringing us south of the 70th degree, which is a little record in latitude, in view of the longitude in which we are. What is most interesting is that our route, while a little more to the south, runs almost parallel to that of De Gerlache, so that our soundings thus add their value to his. We are also south of the course sailed by Bellingshausen. The pack-ice, at least in this particular region, stretches less further north than during the years 1821 and 1898.
The edge of the pack has some profound indentations, making the whole look like an enormous saw, but its general direction at the present moment is west. Its configuration makes it identically like what we found to seaward of Alexander I Land, and of our new land, and it is strewn with icebergs and ice-blocks which are also identical in number and character. I am persuaded that if we had been favoured by clear weather we should have seen still more lands. Unfortunately this is far from being the case. The north-easter has been blowing -.iuce morning, accompanied by snow squalls and fog, which oblige us to go as slowly as possible. In the afternoon the wind changes to north, moderate. Hoping for a rift, I stop, but in vain. We take the opportunity, however, to sound and to make two dredges, in which we succeed in bringing up, amongst other things, a few specimens of rock.
Wind north-east in the morning, with fog and very violent squalls of snow. We continue on our course, still following the pack-ice, of which we distinguish the edge standing out beneath the grey wall of fog like a vast kerb of white marble, marked out by icebergs rising up like superb pillars of the same
Others having supported Mr. E. S. Balch, I thought fit to yield to their amiable insistence, and it is under the name of Charcot Land that this region figures on the map accompanying this book ; but I wish it to be understood that it is the name of ray father, Professor Charcot, who has done so much for French science, that i3 thus honoured, and not mine.
material. One or two detached bergs are floating out at sea. We cross as rapidly as our means allow, this region where the Belgica was a long time at sea, frozen up in the ice for the winter. The great indentations still persist, but the general direction is now north-west.
In the afternoon the wind blows feebly from the northnorth-east, the sun shows himself for a while, and the horizon clears up in the offing, but the pack still remains enveloped in fog. About 2 o'clock we stop and begin a sweep of the horizon to adjust our compasses, but the sun hides himself again and stops us from finishing the operation. In the evening, the north-easter begins to blow again hard, and the sky grows heavy. Up to now we have been sheltered from the sea by the pack ; in fact we have hardly felt the swell, but now once more we begin to roll.
January 14. — The north-east wind is fairly strong all the morning and all day, accompanied by squalls of snow. It is a worthy sequel to the detestable winter which has caused us so much suffering. If it were not for the continuous daylight we should certainly not be able to guess in what month we are. We go on sounding as regularly as the circumstances of our navigation permit, and to-night about 9 o'clock, in spite of the swell and the wind, we have been able to pursue this operation successfully by putting ourselves to windward of two big icebergs. We found a depth of 3,030 metres, and in spite of the bad conditions, we have only lost 15 metres of our wire, which has, as unfortunately often happens, caught in the splintered wood of our damaged bows.
This navigation through the fog along the pack-ice is dreadfully monotonous. Birds, however, are fairly numerous, and a few whales are plunging around us, but we do not see a single Emperor Penguin, which is missing in our collection, though the Belgica found it in abundance. The pack seems to lead us now directly to the point where Bellingshausen placed Peter I Island. We are between the route of this navigator,
of this island.
The icebergs are becoming more and more numerous. There arc some superb ones, and as, in spite of the great quantity we have been permitted to see since our arrival in the Antarctic, we are not altogether blasd by their marvellous architecture, I pass quite close to a few to enable us to photograph them. The sea breaks on their bases with a dull roar, sometimes sending up its spray to a prodigious height, at other times invading their grottoes which re-echo and then empty themselves with a rumble like a torrent.
The mighty sea and the monstrous icebergs are playing their giant's games under the grey and lowering sky, caressing or fighting, and in the midst of these marvellous manifestations of nature, which are not made for man, we feel that we are merely tolerated, although a kind of intimacy may be created between us and our magnificent hosts.
About 5 p.m. there comes in sight an indescribable welter of these monsters of ice, some recumbent, others broken off as though after a great battle ; and to seaward, on all sides, others are grouped like spectators, or as though waiting their turn to enter the lists. As we climb higher in the mast to enlarge our view others and still others appear, surrounding us with a barrier which seems impassable.
In the fog which melts away two or three miles from us there appears suddenly an enormous black mass enveloped in clouds. It is Peter I Island, which was discovered by Bellingshausen and which we are the first to see since this great navigator. It was on January 11, 1821, that this island was discovered and for a number of years it and Alexander I Land remained the most southerly lands known in the Southern Hemisphere. Bellingshausen, who sighted it when coming from the south-west, and could not get near
owing to the ice, assigned to it about nine miles in length, four miles in breadth, and 4,000 ' feet ' in height. The deplorable circumstances in which we found ourselves at the end of the day did not allow us to add anything to Bellingshausen's description. We can only, while confirming his discovery, admire the accuracy of the observations of this Eussian Admiral at a period when navigating instruments were still so inaccurate.
The distance which separates us from Peter I Island is very slight and the drift ice very loose, but the icebergs on the other hand are numerous and closely packed. We attempt, nevertheless, to get nearer and push through the ice. Eouch tries to take a sounding, but the pieces of ice, swept about by the swell, cut his thread. Other soundings, taken later, at a distance of about six miles, give 1,400 metres without touching bottom, so that one can say, without exaggeration, that the island rises up out of the ocean-bed, especially as De Gerlache, 1\° south of it, found a depth of 1,148 metres.
The weather has become extremely threatening, the wind blowing in a tempest from the south-east, accompanied by fog and a storm of snow which hides everything. Our situation is getting dangerous, and we are menaced on all sides by the icebergs about us. We have not even the resource of lying to, we must try to get away at all costs and to escape from the ring which is closing in upon us.
We leave with heavy hearts, but in the imminent danger we have not time to give way to regrets. To-night has been frightful through the violence of the wind, the seas are gigantic, the rollers are beaten back by the icebergs, and the thick fog is made still worse by heavy squalls of snow.
Under bare poles, with full steam up, so as to be able to steer quickly, we fly without even knowing where we are going and with no thought but how to avoid collision.
At first things go fairly well, the icebergs which we come across being large and far enough apart to give us time to manoeuvre, but at the end of four hours icebergs and ice-blocks stud the boiling sea on every side. The men have to take the helm in turn at short intervals, so wearying is the constant manoeuvring. I feel as if I was being hurried by an invisible torrent into a black gulf of which I cannot see the end. Without leaving the speaking-tube T shout out contradictory orders. We are steaming through a winding passage sown with huge blocks, which we must avoid at all costs. Out of the fog, as we gradually advance, there rise up icebergs and still more icebergs, and all idea of a plan vanishes in this heavy atmosphere, for we do not know even whether there will be a way open before us. Our anxiety gives place to a kind of intoxication ; we take no further heed of danger and our course, which the slightest shock or the slightest error of judgment might bring to ruin, becomes a game. Shall we get through or shall we not ? Ever the torrent leads us on. The high icebergs, whose walls our yards seem to touch, tower over us and the smaller ones dance in front of the ship. Like us and with us, the hours fly on and our mad course through the unknown continues. At this moment had the strangest of sights risen up before my eyes it would not have astonished me, but there is never anything except the white masses and walls emerging from the black background, growing larger, hurling the sea off in great waves, whose spray dashes over the ship, and then vanishing behind us.
All of a sudden before me the black gulf turns brilliant and golden, dazzling with light, adding to the fantastic strangeness of the scene, but giving the impression of an entry into paradise after leaving hell. This brightness is merely produced by the iceblink from a large sheet of drift-ice, and
as soon as we penetrate amid the small ice the sea calms down, and the dull roar of the ice is like a restful silence after the crash of the waves breaking on the base of the icebergs.
We quickly get through this drift ice, and the storm still rages ; but the weather is brightening and the icebergs become fewer. I throw myself for a couple of hours on my berth, and when I awake I ask myself whether this strange voyage was not a dream.
January 15. — The wind still continues very strong and the temperature is at zero. The seas are tremendous, and the icebergs are still rather numerous but easy to avoid now the weather is clear. The engine is stopped and we go ahead with our sails only. In the evening we set the engine going and forge ahead with wind and sail to the west-south-west and then to the south-west.
January 16. — From midnight onward the wind has been blowing moderately from the south-east and soon the weather is radiantly clear. There are still a lot of icebergs, some of them very fine and large, but they are comparatively far apart and do not trouble us. We enjoy all these hours of sunshine ( he first for a long time, and we feel as if we had come out of a vault.
We swing ship to adjust our compasses and take a sounding, which gives us a depth of 4,000 metres. The packice runs in a huge point towards the north, continued by a collection of icebergs, and prolonged still further north by the iceblink, which we now know so well and which augurs nothing good.
At 4 p.m. a moderate wind rises from the north-east then veers to the north-west, bringing a fog which thickens until it prevents us from seeing furl her than 30 metres ahead. I limit the number of revolutions of the engine in such a way as to keep the ship stationary in the wind, merely steering her
straight, and it is thus that we pass with the protection of Providence through the midst of dangers. From time to time a small block of ice appears suddenly before us, passes alongside, and as rapidly disappears. Occasionally it is a huge mass, one end of which is already hidden in the fog before we can see the other, and the silence is so impressive in the midst of tins damp pall that we ourselves speak low. At last at 3 a.m. the curtain rises, and we discover that as we drifted we passed the icebergs at the northern end of the pack. All the rigging of the ship is encased in a shell of ice one or two centimetres thick, and it is absolutely impossible to make the ropes run.
Libois is tired out, and we are obliged to order him to sleep. Frachat very courageously offers to take his place in the stokehole, but as he is little accustomed to this work he will not be able to keep it up for long. Many of the crew are pale, for the severe winter has rather damaged all our healths. Godfroy especially begins to cause me anxiety again ; he looks dreadfully bad and drags himself along rather than walks. He will not complain but I know full well that he is attacked by scurvy again. As far as I am concerned, since we left Petermann my condition is always the same. I cannot make an effort without suffering from a stifling feeling and palpitation, and in climbing the mast, which I have to do more than twenty times a day, I have to take frequent rests ; but things have gone on like this up to now and since they are getting no worse, there is no reason for me to feel anxious about them.
west, often very light. The thermometer at zero.
We are still skirting the edge of the pack-ice, which is very compact, and through which it would be practically impossible to navigate. Its contour causes several changes of route, but keeps us several miles south of the 69th degree.
Banks of fog are very frequent and prevent us from seeing the indentations in the pack, which is generally composed of small loose blocks of ice which we could easily get through
and which would offer us some short cuts. The iceblink, however, despite the fog, gives us useful warnings. We are steaming through a fairly dense pack, without knowing much where we are going.
January 18. — The weather is foggy this morning and the. winds light, between north and north-west ; but soon the sun shines out and the sky becomes very fine and clear to the south. Our course has turned during the last few hours to the south-west. In the same latitude of 70° we have passed the longitude where Knox, captain of one of the ships in the Wilkes Expedition, was stopped by the ice on March 22, 1839. He narrated that he had seen, at this spot, a high impassable barrier, which impression I suppose must be attributed to a mirage. It was in the same longitude, but 50 miles further south, that the Belgica escaped from the pack after her long winter in 1899.
Frequently we' have to navigate amid ice, violently cutting our way through. We are now in the longitude which the great English navigator, Cook, reached on January 30, 1774, 106° 54' West of Greenwich, 71° 10' South latitude, which remained the record for a long time. At the same place, we are stopped by the pack-ice in 70° 30' South latitude. I think I may say that it would have been easy for us, pushing straight forward into the ice, to make some 60 miles, which would have allowed us to say that we had beaten Cook's latitude, but this small satisfaction would have cost us a lot of time and st ill more coal, and just as Bellingshausen voluntarily took Cook's course, judging it to be more profitable to science to continue eastward, so we in our turn voluntarily continued westward. It is interesting, nevertheless, to note that we found at the same spot as Cook a deep notch in the pack'; it •was certainly not an ordinary indentation caused by the prevailing wind such as one meets on all the edges of these fields. My impression that
We stop to go alongside a huge fragment of iceberg, which I have moored to the ship. Some of the men get in the dinghy to break off pieces, which we take on board, and put into the pipe of the boiler for making fresh water. Finally, we let down the Prince of Monaco's vertical net to a depth of 1,000 metres, with one of the best results of our whole campaign. The table-bergs in the pack-ice are of colossal size, one of them in particular being certainly the biggest I have ever seen. This agrees well with Cook's description, for he was astonished at the size of the icebergs which he came across at this spot.
January 19. — This night the barometer went down a lot, the appearance of the weather grew bad, and the ship was tossed by a great swell. The gale thus heralded was not slow in making itself felt and began to blow immediately very strongly from the north-east. We were in a bad plight, for besides the very numerous icebergs to be looked out for, the pack-ice lay to leeward, sloping toward the north-east, far into the distance, as the iceblink only too plainly showed us. In the prevailing state of the sea it would have been disastrous to be driven into this moving pack-ice, composed of big thick floes and the remains of icebergs, so, cost what it might, we had to haul up. We succeeded in beating to windward under steam, but we were obliged to force our way through the heavy drift-ice and thus to encounter some big shocks, which made me tremble for our badly damaged bows, of which we are taking so little care. The presence of drift-ice, even in small quantity, always stops the sea from breaking, even during most violent storms, and makes big zones of calm, but it does not in any way check the swell, and the fragments which crash against one another are terrible foes for the ship that finds itself amongst them.
when we get through the narrow channel, we find ourselves in free water but in the midst of a heavy and agitated sea. Happily the ship is behaving admirably, though it is evident that we cannot congratulate ourselves on being in a safe haven.
January 20. — The gale has gradually diminished in strength during the night, veering to the south-east after a succession of very short squalls of sleet. The barometer has gone up immediately, the thermometer falling to — 2°. At 4 a.m. I set all sail and steer for the west. We are in 68° 32' South lattitude, and we are thus crossing, at a speed of 8 knots, a region never yet explored. Cook indeed, to reach his high latitude, starting from the 64th degree, followed a course due south and then turned again straight north. Bellingshausen, and then Biscoe, coming from the west, stopped by the ice, were sailing, the first in 63° and 64° south latitude, the second in 65°. We are therefore more than 3° farther south than our predecessors, and soon we shall be able to go beyond the 69th degree.
The sea is good, but the icebergs are innumerable and increase in number as we gradually advance. For some days I have tried, merely when on the watch, to count them, but I have had to give it up after reaching, in 48 hours, the respectable figure of 5,000.
The coal question is beginning to worry me again. It is impossible to dream for a moment of navigation by sail alone in the midst of these icebergs, which are so thick that we are obliged every minute to alter our course to avoid them, and our stock is gradually giving out. Wc must keep a little, in view of the very long passage we have before us to return to civilization, and there is no possibility in this neighbourhood of taking in ballast to replace the weight gradually growing less as wc Inn ii l he coal. I have put into the bottom of the hold all that I can, but I see nothing more to be moved. The general health also worries me, Godfroy looking worse and worse, though he persistently refrains from complaint and con-
tinues to discharge his duties, and many others having long faces. We ought to have some fresh meat, but in spite of all our efforts, we have not succeeded in capturing any of the seals which we see on the ice. We ought to have rest also for the invalids, and even among those who are in the best health there are only too evident symptoms of weariness. Neverthelees, I wish to push on, for we are in a totally unknown region of the greatest interest.
January 21. — Light winds from the south-south-east with a fine morning, a smooth sea, and a clear sky except on the horizon. At noon foggy and overcast, and then again up to 6 o'clock, fairly clear weather with a moderate wind from the south-south-east. The thermometer fell to — 3° at night, to rise to + 3° during the day.
During the whole of the night we steered south-west, and this morning from the crow's-nest, I see the pack-ice to starboard stretching as far as K 10° E. We steer south and pass the 70th degree, being stopped again this time by the ice. We have therefore penetrated into a huge bay formed by the pack-ice. We have reached an unhoped-for latitude in this region and we push on. At last in the afternoon, in 118° 50' West longitude, blocked by The ice, we stop and moor ourselves to a huge ice-block to get some fresh water in the usual way.
Meanwhile, Eouch sounds and finds only 1,040 metres, with a rocky bottom. There is, therefore, a big chance of land being not far from us, and perhaps in clearer weather we should see it ! In any case, the pack-ice and icebergs are of the same character throughout, and the water is of the same colour. I have no doubt in my mind that land must be near, and this sounding, confirming those of De Gerlache further east and the discovery of our new land, seems to prove the junction of Fallieres and Edward VII Lands.
January 22. — The weather is still fine and the wind constantly in the south. At midnight the sky was super band the sun set with half its disc above the horizon ; this is the half-sun of midnight.
With all sail set, making 8 knots, we steer west and then a little northward, following the general line of the pack. The icebergs, so far from diminishing in number, seem on the contrary as if they were increasing. At 2 o'clock I see from the masthead, which I scarcely ever leave, a long strip of drift-ice composed of extremely thick blocks and the packice on the horizon running north-west.
We wish to stop and heave to to leeward of the strip of driftice, but the engine does not answer in time and the ship plunges into the big floes, some of which rise 5 metres above the level of the water, overhanging the sides of the ship. Fortunately they are composed of soft ice and we get free with ease. While Rouch takes a sounding of 2,310 metres without finding bottom, we try to kill some seals which are asleep on the ice, but our boats cannot push through the thick ice, and if we shot them from on board it would be useless slaughter.
To my great regret we must turn north ; there are too many arguments in favour of return. I had made up my mind to continue westward until we met the ice, and now it bars my way. I have long thought that if Bellingshausen and Biscoe were stopped so much farther north than we, it was by a floating ice-pack like that which must be crossed to reach Victoria Land ; but the very great quantity of icebergs we are meeting would argue in favour of one or two rather exceptional winters in this neighbourhood, of which we have been able to take advantage, and which, by dispersing a great portion of I ho pack, have thus set at liberty the icebergs it imprisoned. Nevertheless, if the first hypothesis were the true one, we should
way through it.
It would be no use, however, giving way to barren regrets. During this second summer campaign, whose discoveries and observations have supplemented those of the first campaign and the winter season, we have reached 124° West longitude, navigating nearly all the time between the 69th and 70th degrees of latitude, sometimes even further south. In spite of the very bad conditions under which we have done this, there has been no accident, we have accomplished our programme, and we have done our best.
January 25. — We are making a good trip to Terra de Fuego. Since the 22nd we have been favoured by light winds, veering from the south-west to the east-south-east, bringing with them very fine clear weather, while the temperature remains between zero and 2°. In Lat. 67° we have to cut through a strip of rather thick pack-ice, extending east and west. Is this the pack-ice coming still further north, which must have stopped Bellingshausen ? The very closely crowded icebergs to the south are now scattered. There is a very distinet dividing line here, beyond which they gradually grow fewer and fewer. Since this morning we have not even seen one. We are making 8 knots with our sails. The swell is fairly strong, but the sun is shining and the whole crew is busy making the ship's toilet. Our stout ship is surely in a condition which may be called glorious, since it is the result of the fights she has been through ; but when we get back to civilization, I want her to be clean, so that it may be seen that, so far from wishing to poseaspeoplewho have been through much, we are striving to hide the traces of our struggles. All the paint is off the hull and the wood is bare, but in this respect we can do nothing for the moment. Within, the paint on the bulwarks and roofs is in a sad state, and we begin to scrape and clean it. Lastly we start to polish the little brass-
In 66° 15' South latitude, and 118° West longitude, we hove to and sounded, finding a depth of 5,100 metres. There is, therefore, a profound depression here.
Now that we have definitely stood in for the north, Godfroy confesses to me what I suspected, that his legs have been very swollen for some ten days.
January 26. — Gale between west-south-west and westnorth-west, with a sky now clear, now overcast, the temperature being + 5°. To tell the truth, it is the wind-gauge which enables me to say that we are going through a gale, for the ship carries herself so well that navigation is pleasant. We are making our 9 knots with sails alone. We leave on our starboard side an iceberg and some debris of ice. This is the first berg we have seen since yesterday, and perhaps it is our last. It is night now, 11 o'clock. The moon, which we have not been able to see for so long in the twenty-four hours of daylight, is now at her full and rises brilliant and superb, as though to wish us a safe return to the inhabited world.
■January 29. — Since the 26th, we have certainly returned to the zone of west winds. We have had a strong gale from the west-south-west, with overcast weather and drizzle, which drove us ahead rapidly. The wind then veered to south-west by west, with some short clear-ups. To-day again the weather is very fine, with a moderate west-south-west wind. The sea is extremely heavy, but the Pourquoi-Pas ? troubles herself little about it, lifting herself admirably on the swell and making good progress. She seems to smell the stable !
Yesterday a shoal of dolphins accompanied the boat. Liouville recognized them as belonging to a species up to now not systematically described, but noticed, and very accurately drawn, by Dr. Wilson, the Discovery's zoologist, who also came across them in these southern seas.
January 31. — The wind has calmed down for three days, veering to the north-west, and we have had to turn somewhat eastward, still making good progress under sail and steam.
The thermometer has gradually gone up to 8°. The barometer followed by going down, and we have come in for a strong gale between north-north-west and north-west, accompanied by rain and fog. There is a heavy sea abeam, but the ship still carries herself admirably, not taking on board a single drop of water and beating 9 knots with all her sails set except her topgallant. At this rate, we ought to enter Magellan Straits to-morrow.
February 1. — During the night, in a full gale, with all our sails set, we made our 10 knots, but unfortunately the wind increases in violence, and rain is reinforced by fog. We can no longer see further than 200 metres ahead. We reckon that we ought at 11 a.m. to be on the Evangelists, a rocky islet at the entrance to Magellan Straits, with a lighthouse on it. But at 10.30, the fog becomes so thick that it would be a folly to push on, and we needs must put about and try to keep away from the shore. The sea is tremendous, and our plight is very bad, for if the wind veers to the west, we are in danger of being hurled on to the coast. At 1 o'clock there is a break, and Bongrain is able to take a position-line. Almost at the same moment there appears through the fog the outline of a cliff, which ought to be Cape Pillar, and the wind veers to the westnorth-west. Land is quite closeand thecurrent is rapidly driving us on to it. At all costs we must double Cape Pillar, and that is not easy in the sea and wind prevailing. I give orders for full steam ahead and to prepare to chock the valves. At the same time we set all possible sail, but a staysad is torn away as it is being hoisted. The coast emerges from the mantle of fog which envelops it and reveals itself close at hand, threatening and terrible, with the sea breaking on the Apostle Eocks. But the Pourquoi-Pas ? is a stout boat and little by little she gains on the wind, and at 4.30, with a sigh of relief, I head her for
We have made a superb passage, taking ten days to come from the ice-pack to here. To-night I at last undress and go to bed. The second French Antarctic Expedition is at an end. H we have invalids on board, still, thank Heaven, no one is absent at the muster.
And now, in a few days time, what shall we hear at Punta Arenas, where our letters are awaiting us ? At the other end of the telegraph, which will put us in a few hours in communication with ourfamilies, what will bethe answer to my despatch? I left my home and happiness of my own free will to do what I considered my duty. What shall I find on my return ?
What I feel for myself, I feel also for the twenty-nine others with me. And now that the great effort has been made I ask myself if it was worth all the sorrow which accompanied our absence, and if I had really a right and a call to cause such sorrows. But my eyes turn to the motto on the poopdeck which, although false shame would not let us confess it, has spurred on and supported us all through this expedition, and up to where, standing out against the sky and flapping in the wind, our ship's ensign answers me, Pourquoi-Pas f (Why not ?).
I decided, for the sake of the men's health, not to go to Punta Arenasuntil we had rested and recovered ourselves a little in Magellan Straits, where we could find a sufficiency of game and fresh fish. Tuesday Bay seemed an excellent spot to me, but the violence of the gusts, the great depth, and the bad holding necessitated so many moves that I was obliged to go and moor in the excellent little roadstead of Puerto Gallante. We found there an Austrian and a Chilian, who barter goods with the Fuegians and who were able to give us fresh meat, eggs and salad.
board all our friends who came, 14 months ago, to wish us good voyage ; but one, alas ! was lacking, Pere Poivre, whose brave life, so full of smiles and kindness, had come to an end.
In this Chilian town we had a charming welcome. Our consul, M. Blanchard, whose friendship is a pleasure and an honour, threw open his house to us and gave us a foretaste of home life, justifying once more his reputation for kindness and generosity. The Governor, M. Chaigneau, proved to us that a high Chilian official's protestations of friendship are no mere words. We spent some charming days there with our good friends, MM. Detaille, Adriasola, Rocca, Beaulier, Bonvalot, Grossi, Baylac and so many others. The little French colony feted us as on our way out, vieing with the rest of the town to make us feel at home. Punta Arenas will remain unforgettable in all our hearts.
Telegrams of congratulation from all quarters of the world showed us that our labours were appreciated and known. Although I had thought that I had done no more than my best, I had now to persuade myself that we had done well ; but once more I refer the credit to my companions.
A few weeks later we reached Montevideo, where we were obliged to make a long stay. We got such a welcome there that we did not regret it. As we entered the harbour, the English cruiser Amethyst, Captain Webb, signalled to us ' Congratulations and welcome,' and the compatriots of Captain Scott and Sir E. Shackleton proved to us that the entente cordiale had lost nothing in our absence. Antonio Lussich and his cousin, the directors of the great Lifeboat Society, to whom humanity and the mercantile marine owe so much, and whose acquaintance I had the pleasure of making seven years ago, when the Francais was here, with Dr. Visca, a pupil of my father's, received us with such generosity and cordiality that an indissoluble tie of friendship and gratitude was formed. The condition of the Pourquoi-Pas ? called for immediate repairs, about which I worried myself needlessly ; for I had a
visit from M. A. Amiot, engineering director of the French Montevideo Company, who put at our disposal the great resources of his company — a company whose admirable work does the greatest honour to our country, and especially to the Director M. Sillard (since become a friend whom I cannot forget) and to the engineers, MM. Caubois, Plazonich, and Muller. A few months later M. Amiot succumbed in the middle of his work. His memory is ineffaceable ; well placed with his colleagues in charge of this great French enterprise, he was a type of intelligent energy, one who knew how to hide under an affectation of brusqueness his enthusiasm and good heart. He has gone, but his memory will remain with us.
Thanks to the generosity and activity of our fellow-countrymen of the French Montevideo Company, and of A. Lussich, the Pourquoi-Pas ? left the harbour in good repair and as smart as a yacht and made her way to Eio de Janeiro.
Already in Montevideo the reception we got from M. de Lisboa, Brazilian Minister to Uruguay, gave us a foretaste of the welcome awaiting us in the great South American republic, but it surpassed all our expectations. Our friend, M. Boudet, French Consul, and all the kindly French colony in Brazil, received us with open arms. Captain Barros Cobra, from the first an enthusiastic supporter of the Expedition, did his best, together with the inhabitants and the government of this great and generous country, to make us forget that we were being awaited with impatience in France. At Pernambnco, the authorities, our friend Sanpiao Feraz, and the port engineers, MM. Barbiere, Beraud, Eouberol and Baudin took care that our last stop in South America should not leave lis with the least pleasant memory.
Our trip from this port to the Azores, along the sailing vessels' route to Europe, was long and tedious, but at Punta Deldada the reception prepared for ns by the Governor, M. Luis Betteneonrt de Medeiros e Comara, Commandant Alfonso Chaves, and our Vicc-cousnl, M. A. Ferin, quickly made us
forget it. Portugal, who reckons among her glories the greatest explorers in the world, kindly welcomed, at their first stop in an European port, the humble French explorers.
I could not forget the Hide port of St. Pierre, Guernsey, thai refuge which we had had no cause to regret during the tempesl w hich assailed u.s as we left Prance. So at this island, where we were sure to find a hearty welcome, I wished to have the Pourquoi-r«s ? cleaned and re-painted, that she might reach Fiance after her arduous labours, trim and neat. After about two years' absence, I met my family again and in a few minutes t he toils and anxieties were effaced as though by magic.
June 4, 1910. — At 10 o'clock yesterday evening in Havre roadstead, we exchanged the ordinary signals with the pilot, who came on board at once, and at 11 we were anchored, awaiting the tide. Our anchor, for the first time for two years, Mas fixed in French soil. At 4 a.m. we get under way. Chance has it that I am on the last sea watch of the Expedition. It is grey weather and a small fine rain is fading. I see Trouville, the charming coast of Vflerville, and then Honfieur, the picturesque little old town with its grey houses where the presence of a steamer seems an anachronism. The great grass meadows over which the cattle are grazing spread themselves out before me, and then the wooded hillsides with their restful verdure, the chateaux, the villas, the coquettish farms. The sun now drives away the rain and the bright patches of field flowers and clumps of fruit-trees enamel the green plain, through which the waters of the river cut a channel. We are penetrating into the heart of France. Nature herself is elegant, and man's work in the erection of the humblest buildings has but given an additional touch of charm to her grace. A bend of the Seine hides from us the sea, our home for so many long months. We push further and further through this ideal countryside, the most beautiful in the world. It sets the heart beating, not with that violence of anguish which extorts a cry, but with a sigh of pure enjoyment of perfection.
My eyes have just ceased contemplating the noble and unforgettable spectacle of the Antarctic's dreaded pack-ice, the cliffs and magnificently savage mountains of Magellan Straits, the wonderful scenery of Rio Bay, the splendours of tropical vegetation, the smiling Azores, but now it is really La doulce France, our beautiful country ; and we are entering her by the road which should naturally lead to great cities, the homes of art and science, where courage is gay and labour smiles.
On this morning of our return, in my solitary watch on the bridge of the Pourquoi-Pas ?, which has just crossed the whole breadth of the world, I felt more than ever how beautiful is our France, how she deserves to be loved and to be served at the price even of the greatest sacrifices. With a smile she has amply repaid me for all my toil.
8 o'clock. — The ensign rises slowly to the gaff. The sailor who hoists it must feel like myself. The blue, white and red unfold themselves and flap in the breeze, giving a finishing touch to the wonderful scenery, which seems to light up with a new gleam. Mechanically, standing all alone, I uncover my head in honour of this emblem. To the devil with reasoning and researches into the why of our feelings, and with the excuses which false shame makes for our actions ! It is our country, and that is enough !
We anchor at Duclair. Only the families of my companions have been apprised of this stoppage, which I do not wish public, so that, away from the crowd and official receptions, amid the peace of this charming little corner of the world, they may take to their arms those who have passed so many months of anxiety and fear.
At last, on June 5, at 2 o'clock precisely, the Pourquoi-Pas f escorted by two torpedo boats sent to meet her by Admiral Boue de la Peyrere, Minister of Marine1 (whom I can never thank sufficiently for his benevolent interest), by numerous
yachts and excursion-steamers, reached Rouen. In our journey up the Seine every village, and every gaily decorated house echoed with cries of welcome, but the magnificent reception which Rouen reserved for us was unexpected, and will never be forgotten by us. We felt the movement of the hearts of the whole population of this beautiful and famous town, which by its enthusiastic emotion proved that it knew how to appreciate disinterested scientific work and to reward the efforts of those engaged in it.
This fete, which touched us deeply, was organized by the Norman Geographical Society. Let me here express my profound gratitude to MM. Leblond and Monflier, President and General Secretary of the Society.
The Government was represented by Admiral Fournier, the Minister of Foreign Affairs by M. Pavie, the Minister of Public Instruction by M. Rabot, the Minister of Marine by Lieutenant Dumesnil, the'Museum by Professor Joubin, H.S.H. the Prince of Monaco by Lieutenant Bounce, the Paris Geographical Society by M. Margerie, and the Oceanographical Institute by M. Meyer, who handed us a magnificent medal in the name of the Institute. The very choice of these representatives, teachers, savants and friends who worked so hard for the organization of the expedition, proved to us once more the sympathy which it was desired to show us.1
M. Paul Doumer, the father of the Expedition, President of its Committee of Organization, who was the last to wish me a safe voyage as we left Havre, was the first to welcome me at Rouen, and as he shook my hand he assured me that he did not regret the interest that he had never ceased to take in us all through. Admiral Fournier presented to the whole crew, on
1 I cannot bring this book to an ond without giving an assurance of my affectionate gratitude to my mastors and friends, MM. Joubin and Rabot, who, near and far alike, were, with M. G. Deschamps and C. Boyn, the illustrious supporters of the Expedition and its leader, and who watohed over its interests in a spirit of that precious friendship which I tiuve put to the test for so many years.
The mission was received by M. Leblond, Deputy and Mayor of Eouen, supported by the whole Municipality, at the Hotel de Ville, and then at the Geographical Society, and lastly, at a magnificent banquet in the Chamber of Commerce by Senator Waddington, President of the Chamber, who presented to me a magnificent medal in memory of the day.
Next day, on its arrival in Paris, the mission was received afresh at the station by M. Bayet, Superintendent of Higher Education, representing the Minister of Public Instruction, Professor Edmond Perrier, Member of the Institute and Governor of the Museum, and H.I.H. Prince Boland Bonaparte, Member of the Institute and President of the Geographical Society.
And now the Pourquoi-Pas ? is resting at Eouen amid the greenery of the pretty yacht-harbour, whose constructor, M. Depeaux has kindly given her hospitality. Her hull is still all covered with the glorious scars of the fight she carried through to victory, but she is ready to take again her mark of interrogation into the region of the unknown and to face fatigues and dangers for the honour of French Science.
De Gerlache, Commandant A., and his expedition, 2, 8, 35, 51, 52, 69, 91, 108, 138, 285, 287, 290, 297. L40, 189
Pendleton, Captain B., 1, 35, 36, 85,
Pendulum Covo, 33, 37, 39, 40, 43, 256, 262, l'Vo. 272 27i,27.x, 281 Penguins, 81, 152, 244, 217, 283, 288 I'orchot, 16
Petormann, A., 53
Petermaim (Lund) Island, 53, 06, 130, 140, 141, 149, 107, 179, 100, 223, 233, 239, 241, 242, 249, 251, 257, 208, 276, 293 Petrels, 176, 196
dition, 15-21 ; staff of expedition, 21-24 ; doparturo of expedition, 25 ; aground on Cape Tuxon, 78-80 ; success of equipment, 183-184; daily
| 138,836 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | voyageofwhynotin00char | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0009.json.gz:2749 | https://archive.org/download/voyageofwhynotin00char/voyageofwhynotin00char_djvu.txt |
iU2chXjHH7k8DFGK | 2.4: Stereotypes | 2.4: Stereotypes
Stereotypes are generalizations, or assumptions, that people make about the characteristics of all members of a group, based on an image (often wrong) about what people in that group are like.
We need labels to make quick judgments, but relying on labels leads to stereotyping and prejudice. We ignore individual differences. Soon we see only the label. We usually stereotype groups to which we do not belong. The poor stereotype the rich and the rich stereotype the poor. Kids stereotype “old folks”, who in turn stereotype “today’s kids”. We have trouble identifying individual members of groups we stereotype. To us, “they all look alike”. Police notice this when witnesses try to pick the guilty person out of a line-up consisting entirely of one ethnic group. Many of us hold a stereotype that “bad guys” should look bad; learned probably from watching movies and television. But the most evil criminals can look very ordinary. Believers in the “criminal stereotype” sometimes protect themselves against the label only to fall victim to the reality.
Nations at war create stereotypes to label the enemy. Soldiers find killing humans like themselves difficult. So, propaganda departments create labels for the enemy so that they appear less than human, and therefore more “killable”. This process is called dehumanization. When those stereotyped believe the label applied to them it becomes a “self-fulfilling prophecy”. The label encourages behavior that makes the label come true.
Many, and possibly most, judgments of people based on membership in a group are likely to be based on stereotyping. Statements that begin with “people like you”, or “you people” are likely stereotypes even if you believe they are factual. We think the best way to overcome a stereotype is by personal contact. The more individuals in a group you know personally, the more difficult it is to believe a stereotype. In this regard, we would like to encourage you to make contact with fellow students who belong to cultural groups other than yours, because exposure to individual differences is part of a true education. Travel can have the same effect. As simple a stereotype as “Scandinavians are blue-eyed blondes” is challenged by a trip to Sweden, Finland, or Denmark where simple observation proves it false. | 484 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://human.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Research_and_Information_Literacy/Critical_Thinking_in_Academic_Research_(Gruwell_and_Ewing)/02%3A_Barriers_to_Critical_Thinking/2.04%3A_Stereotypes | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:36631 | https://human.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Research_and_Information_Literacy/Critical_Thinking_in_Academic_Research_(Gruwell_and_Ewing)/02%3A_Barriers_to_Critical_Thinking/2.04%3A_Stereotypes |
tnC97t9aoBOP4X5x | The Nicomachean Ethics | Book 8: Friendship or Love.
Chapter 10: Of the three forms of constitution.
Now, of constitutions there are three kinds, and an equal number of perverted forms, which are, so to speak, corruptions of these. Constitutions proper are kingly government and aristocracy; and, thirdly, there is a form of government based upon an assessment of property, which should strictly be called timocracy, though most people are wont to speak of it as constitutional government simply.
Of these, kingly government is the best and timocracy the worst. The perversion of kingly government is tyranny: both are monarchies, but there is a vast difference between them; for the tyrant seeks his own interest, the king seeks the interest of his subjects. A man of another character than this could only be the sort of king that is chosen by lot.
Tyranny is the opposite of kingly rule, because the tyrant seeks his own good; and of this government it is quite obvious that it is the worst of all: we may add that the opposite of the best must be the worst.
Kingly government degenerates into tyranny; for tyranny is a vicious form of monarchy: the bad king, then, becomes a tyrant.
Aristocracy degenerates into oligarchy through the vice of the rulers, who, instead of distributing public property and honours according to merit, take all or most of the good things for themselves, and give the offices always to the same people, setting the greatest store by wealth; you have, then, a small number of bad men in power, in place of the best men.
Lastly, timocracy degenerates into democracy: and indeed they border closely upon each other; for even timocracy is intended to be government by the multitude, and all those who have the property qualification are equal.
Democracy is the least bad [of the corrupt forms], for it is but a slight departure from the corresponding form of constitution.
These, then, are the ways in which the several constitutions are most apt to change; for these are the directions in which the change is slightest, and encounters the least resistance.
Likenesses of these forms of government and patterns of them, so to speak, may be found in families. For instance, the association of father and sons has the form of kingly rule; for the father cares for his children. This, also, is the reason why Homer addresses Zeus as father; for kingly government aims at being a paternal government. But in Persia the association of father and son is tyrannical; for fathers there use their sons as slaves. The association of master and slave is also tyrannical; for it is the interest of the master that is secured by it. But this seems to be a legitimate kind of tyranny, while the Persian kind seems to be wrong; for different beings require different kinds of government.
The association of man and wife seems to be aristocratic: for the husband bears rule proportionate to his worth, i.e. he rules in those matters which are his province; but he entrusts to his wife those matters that properly belong to her. But when the man lords it in all things, he perverts this relation into an oligarchical one; for he then takes rule where he is not entitled to it, and not only in those matters in which he is better. Sometimes, on the other hand, the wife rules because she is an heiress. In these cases authority is not proportionate to merit, but is given on the ground of wealth and influence, just as in oligarchies.
The association of brothers resembles a timocracy; for they are equal except in so far as they differ in age. On this account, if they differ very widely in age, their friendship can no longer be a brotherly friendship.
A democratic form of association is chiefly found in those households which have no master (for there all are on a footing of equality), or where the head of the house is weak, and every one does what he likes. | 874 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca/nicomacheanethics/chapter/10-of-the-three-forms-of-constitution/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:56957 | https://pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca/nicomacheanethics/chapter/10-of-the-three-forms-of-constitution/ |
R4VWwaAhdEXEm5O5 | Introduction to Soil Science | Soil life
Cole Dutter
- Explain the importance of soil life
- Compare major classes of organisms found in the soil
- Identify interactions of other soil properties and organisms
- Predict impacts of a management decision on soil organisms
Soil Life is important for the breakdown and stabilization of organic matter, breakdown of toxic compounds, nitrogen fixation and nutrient cycling.
Primary Producers
Primary producers is the term used for organisms that use energy from the sun to create organic molecules (autotrophs). Vascular plants are the most commonly known form of primary producers, however in the soil, other primary producers are mosses, algae, and certain photosynthesizing bacteria. Primary producers hold a central role in soil due to their importance to synthesize and produce new compounds and introduce them to the soil environment. In other words, they are the base of the food web.
Primary Consumers
Primary consumers are organisms that feed off of the primary producers. Some may try to term these organisms herbivores, but that is only a portion of the group considered primary consumers. Herbivores are organisms that eat live plants and contain parasitic nematodes, insect larva, ants, and larger vertebrates. Detritivores are organisms that consume debris from live tissue. Detritivores include larger mesofauna: springtails and mites. A third group is the saprophytic microorganisms. These microorganisms consume dead tissue and include bacteria and fungi. These consumers’ purpose is to break down (decompose) plant and animal tissue and begin to facilitate the cycling of nutrients.
Secondary and Tertiary Consumers
Secondary and tertiary consumers are the predators of the soil, they feed off of other consumers. These consumers include bacteria, fungi, and larger fauna considered carnivores (centipedes, nematodes, snails, etc.). This group can also contain parasites of other animals. This group is titled after the old “food chain” paradigm, thus we distinguish between secondary and tertiary consumers. In the newer paradigm of the “food web” there is less distinction between these two groups. This group helps cycle the nutrients that are stored in the primary consumer group.
Ecosystem Engineers
Ecosystem engineers are larger animals that are capable of altering the physical environment that influence other soil fauna habitat. In the Midwest, these are primarily burrowing animals such as ants, worms, or gophers. These animals affect air and water movement through the soil, as well as create channels for plant roots.
Not all earthworms help the soil: Check out this study!
Producer Consumer Symbiosis
Symbiotic relationships occur between the plants and microbes because they are both benefiting from each other. The plant is able to provide a food source and home for the microbes and, in exchange, the microbes provide the plant with nutrients it requires.
Soil fungi that have formed symbiotic relationships with plants is one of the most economically important groups of soil organisms. Mycorrhizae have been studied for benefits such as increased drought tolerance and increased phosphorus uptake in crops. Mycorrhizal fungi also help soil structure by contributing to aggregation through the production of glomalin.
Rhizobium or Bradyrhizobium bacteria species are best known for their relationships with legumes. These species are not generalists but are either host specific or have a range of hosts, however they do not inoculate all legume species. These species are responsible for the root nodules on legumes that fix nitrogen. Fixing nitrogen is a critical function because it takes nitrogen from the air and makes it available for the plants to use.
Rhizobacteria is a term for the bacteria that have adapted to living along the root surface. These species are the most common symbiosis, yet are seldom studied. The root surface becomes so encrusted with bacteria that little soil actually interacts with the root without some intervening microbial influence. These species assist in cycling nutrients near the root, including nitrogen. Rhizobium are the face of nitrogen fixation yet Rhizobacteria also help supply nitrogen to the plant as well.
There are also pathogenic species as well! Sudden Oak Death is a Phytophthora species that kills trees. Named for the fact that early victims of this disease were oaks, this species can also prey on agriculturally important species such as Almonds. Sudden Death Syndrome is caused by a Fusarium species and is common in soybeans. Phytophthora and Fusarium are two genera that contain many diseases that attack economically important plants. Examples include: damping off disease, root and stem rot, crown rot, fusarium wilt, and fruit rot. These diseases are commonly controlled through crop rotation and planting resistant varieties.
Management and Soil Life
Soil life, in general, needs two things to thrive: minimized disturbances and an adequate food source. In terms of management this means that practices that increase soil organic matter, decrease erosion, and increase soil structure are the key to increasing microbial communities and thus nutrient cycling. This can take many forms but there are two easy management practices that fulfill this: no-till and cover crops. Generally speaking, it can be said that “life creates life.” One interpretation of this is that the more plants there are on the ground, the more microbial activity there is in the ground. In California, farmers are often concerned with weeds competing for water with the crop. Which leads to the implementation of strip spraying (pictured below).
Removing the plants around the trees may reduce the amount water used, but it also reduces the amount of nutrients cycled near the tree in the early years of the orchard. As a consequence of this, many nutrients need to be applied either by pelletized fertilizer or foliar application. Similarly cover crops may cost the farmer a little more, but the plants contributions to microbial food sources or food complexity is important for a sustained robust microbial community.
Soil aggregation, facilitated by no-till agriculture, is not simply for better drainage and less erosion. Soil aggregation is important for niche complexity within the soil environment. Niche complexity allows for community complexity. Soil life, much like all forms of life, is not homogenous. Certain microbes may do well in saturated soils, others like drier spaces. A stable aggregate allows for the microbes to find their niche, the moisture desiring microbe will colonize the outside of the aggregate while the other will colonize the interior of the aggregate.
Disease pressure in the soil can be tricky to manage, however, one of the best methods to simply manage it is to rotate crops or plant resistant varieties. Soil fumigants can be used but commonly are expensive and difficult to employ. In California, the threat of nematodes have caused farmers to fumigate their fields with methyl bromide. This procedure was effective for two reasons, the farmers deep rip the field to open up the soil and the soil texture is sand to sandy loam. This allowed for effective use of the fumigants. Methyl bromide has now been phased out and farmers are struggling to find effective fumigants for the soil borne diseases. The new fumigants are targeted towards specific pests within the soil and are not generalists. While farmers complain about the ineffectiveness of the new fumigants, the overall effect will be for a healthier soil.
- Soil Life is important for a variety of reasons:
- Breakdown and stabilization of organic matter
- Breakdown of toxic compounds
- Nitrogen fixation
- Nutrient uptake and cycling
- Mycorrhizal associations with plants influence:
- Drought tolerance
- Nutrient uptake
- Soil Structure
- Management effects soil life in three ways:
- Food sources
- Disturbances
- Disease cycles | 1,614 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://iastate.pressbooks.pub/introsoilscience/chapter/soil-life/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:24454 | https://iastate.pressbooks.pub/introsoilscience/chapter/soil-life/ |
39Eyle-UfjgbjTyO | Western Civilization I | 26 Reading: Culture in Classical Greece
Classical Greek Philosophy
The three most famous Classical Greek philosophers are Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle.
LEARNING OBJECTIVES
Understand the main philosophical beliefs of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Key Points
- Socrates is best known for having pursued a probing question-and-answer style of examination on a number of topics, usually attempting to arrive at a defensible and attractive definition of a virtue.
- In 399 BCE, Socrates was charged for his philosophical inquiries, convicted, and sentenced to death.
- Plato was a student of Socrates, and is the author of numerous dialogues and letters, as well as one of the primary sources available to modern scholars on Socrates’ life.
- In his defining work, The Republic, Plato reaches the conclusion that a utopian city is likely impossible because philosophers would refuse to rule and the people would refuse to compel them to do so.
- Aristotle was a student of Plato, the tutor of Alexander the Great, and founder of the Lyceum and Peripatetic School of philosophy in Athens. He wrote on a number of subjects, including logic, physics, metaphysics, ethics, rhetoric, politics, and botany.
Key Terms
- allegory of the cave: A paradoxical analogy wherein Socrates argues that the invisible world is the most intelligible, and the visible world is the least knowable and obscure. Plato has Socrates describe a gathering of people who have lived chained to the wall of a cave all of their lives, facing a blank wall upon which shadows are projected. The shadows are as close as the prisoners get to viewing reality.
- aporia: In philosophy, a paradox or state of puzzlement; in rhetoric, a useful expression of doubt.
- Socrates: A classical Greek (Athenian) philosopher credited as one of the founders of Western philosophy. Known for a question-answer style of examination.
- Plato: The student of Socrates and author of The Republic. A philosopher and mathematician in classical Greece.
- Aristotle: The student of Plato, tutor to Alexander the Great, and founder of the Lyceum. A Greek philosopher who wrote on a number of topics, including logic, ethics, and metaphysics.
Classical Greece saw a flourishing of philosophers, especially in Athens during its Golden Age. Of these philosophers, the most famous are Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle.
Socrates
Socrates, born in Athens in the 5th century BCE, marks a watershed in ancient Greek philosophy. Athens was a center of learning, with sophists and philosophers traveling from across Greece to teach rhetoric, astronomy, cosmology, geometry, and the like. The great statesman Pericles was closely associated with these new teachings, however, and his political opponents struck at him by taking advantage of a conservative reaction against the philosophers. It became a crime to investigate issues above the heavens or below the earth because they were considered impious. While other philosophers, such as Anaxagoras, were forced to flee Athens, Socrates was the only documented individual charged under this law, convicted, and sentenced to death in 399 BCE. In the version of his defense speech presented by Plato, he claims that the envy others experience on account of his being a philosopher is what will lead to his conviction.
Many conversations involving Socrates (as recounted by Plato and Xenophon) end without having reached a firm conclusion, a style known as aporia. Socrates is said to have pursued this probing question-and-answer style of examination on a number of topics, usually attempting to arrive at a defensible and attractive definition of a virtue. While Socrates’ recorded conversations rarely provide a definitive answer to the question under examination, several maxims or paradoxes for which he has become known recur. Socrates taught that no one desires what is bad, and so if anyone does something that truly is bad, it must be unwillingly or out of ignorance; consequently, all virtue is knowledge. He frequently remarks on his own ignorance (claiming that he does not know what courage is, for example). Plato presents Socrates as distinguishing himself from the common run of mankind by the fact that, while they know nothing noble and good, they do not know that they do not know, whereas Socrates knows and acknowledges that he knows nothing noble and good.
Socrates was morally, intellectually, and politically at odds with many of his fellow Athenians. When he was on trial, he used his method of elenchos, a dialectic method of inquiry that resembles
the scientific method, to demonstrate to the jurors that their moral values are wrong-headed. He tells them they are concerned with their families, careers, and political responsibilities when they ought to be worried about the “welfare of their souls.” Socrates’ assertion that the gods had singled him out as a divine emissary seemed to provoke irritation, if not outright ridicule. Socrates also questioned the Sophistic doctrine that arete (virtue) can be taught. He liked to observe that successful fathers (such as the prominent military general Pericles) did not produce sons of their own quality. Socrates argued that moral excellence was more a matter of divine bequest than parental nurture.
Plato
Plato was an Athenian of the generation after Socrates. Ancient tradition ascribes 36 dialogues and 13 letters to him, although of these only 24 of the dialogues are now universally recognized as authentic. Most modern scholars believe that at least 28 dialogues, and two of the letters, were in fact written by Plato, although all of the 36 dialogues have some defenders. Plato’s dialogues feature Socrates, although not always as the leader of the conversation. Along with Xenophon, Plato is the primary source of information about Socrates’ life and beliefs, and it is not always easy to distinguish between the two.
Much of what is known about Plato’s doctrines is derived from what Aristotle reports about them, and many of Plato’s political doctrines are derived from Aristotle’s works, The Republic, the Laws, and the Statesman. The Republic contains the suggestion that there will not be justice in cities unless they are ruled by philosopher kings; those responsible for enforcing the laws are compelled to hold their women, children, and property in common; and the individual is taught to pursue the common good through noble lies. The Republicdetermines that such a city is likely impossible, however, and generally assumes that philosophers would refuse to rule if the citizenry asked them to, and moreover, the citizenry would refuse to compel philosophers to rule in the first place.
“Platonism” is a term coined by scholars to refer to the intellectual consequences of denying, as Plato’s Socrates often does, the reality of the material world. In several dialogues, most notably The Republic, Socrates inverts the common man’s intuition about what is knowable and what is real. While most people take the objects of their senses to be real if anything is, Socrates is contemptuous of people who think that something has to be graspable in the hands to be real. Socrates’s idea that reality is unavailable to those who use their senses is what puts him at odds with the common man and with common sense. Socrates says that he who sees with his eyes is blind, and this idea is most famously captured in his allegory of the cave, a paradoxical analogy wherein Socrates argues that the invisible world is the most intelligible and that the visible world is the least knowable and most obscure.
In the allegory, Socrates describes a gathering of people who have lived chained to the wall of a cave facing a blank wall. The people watch shadows projected on the wall from the fire burning behind them, and the people begin to name and describe the shadows, which are the closest images they have to reality. Socrates then explains that a philosopher is like a prisoner released from that cave who comes to understand the shadows on the wall are not reality.
Aristotle
Aristotle moved to Athens from his native Stageira in 367 BCE, and began to study philosophy, and perhaps even rhetoric, under Isocrates. He eventually enrolled at Plato’s Academy. He left Athens approximately twenty years later to study botany and zoology, became a tutor of Alexander the Great, and ultimately returned to Athens a decade later to establish his own school, the Lyceum. He is the founder of the Peripatetic School of philosophy, which aims to glean facts from experiences and explore the “why” in all things. In other words, he advocates learning by induction.
At least 29 of Aristotle’s treatises have survived, known as the corpus Aristotelicum, and address a variety of subjects including logic, physics, optics, metaphysics, ethics, rhetoric, politics, poetry, botany, and zoology. Aristotle is often portrayed as disagreeing with his teacher, Plato. He criticizes the regimes described in Plato’s Republic and Laws, and refers to the theory of forms as “empty words and poetic metaphors.” He preferred utilizing empirical observation and practical concerns in his works. Aristotle did not consider virtue to be simple knowledge as Plato did, but founded in one’s nature, habit, and reason. Virtue was gained by acting in accordance with nature and moderation.
Classical Greek Poetry and History
Homer, one of the greatest Greek poets, significantly influenced classical Greek historians as their field turned increasingly towards scientific evidence-gathering and analysis of cause and effect.
LEARNING OBJECTIVES
Explain how epic poetry influenced the development of classical Greek historical texts
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Key Points
- The formative influence of the Homeric epics in shaping Greek culture was widely recognized, and Homer was described as the teacher of Greece.
- The Iliad, sometimes referred to as the Song of Ilion or Song of Ilium, is set during the Trojan War and recounts the battles and events surrounding a quarrel between King Agamemnon and the warrior Achilles.
- Herodotus is referred to as “The Father of History,” and is the first historian known to have broken from Homeric tradition in order to treat historical subjects as a method of investigation arranged into a historiographic narrative.
- Thucydides, who had been trained in rhetoric, provided a model of historical prose-writing based more firmly in factual progression of a narrative, whereas Herodotus, due to frequent digressions and asides, appeared to minimize his authorial control.
- Thucydides is sometimes known as the father of “scientific history,” or an early precursor to 20th century scientific positivism, because of his strict adherence to evidence-gathering and analysis of historical cause and effect without reference to divine intervention.
- Despite its heavy political slant, scholars cite strong literary and philosophical influences in Thucydides’ work.
Key Terms
- Homer: A Greek poet of the 7th or 8th century BCE; author of the Iliad and the Odyssey.
- dactylic hexameter: A form of meter in poetry or a rhythmic scheme. Traditionally associated with the quantitative meter of classical epic poetry in both Greek and Latin, and consequently considered to be the grand style of classical poetry.
Homer
In the Western classical tradition, Homer is the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey, and is revered as the greatest of ancient Greek epic poets. These epics lie at the beginning of the Western canon of literature, and have had an enormous influence on the history of literature. Whether and when Homer lived is unknown. The ancient Greek author Herodotus estimates that Homer lived 400 years before his own time, which would place him at around 850 BCE, while other ancient sources claim that he lived much nearer to the supposed time of the Trojan War, in the early 12th century BCE. Most modern researchers place Homer in the 7th or 8th centuries BCE.
The formative influence of the Homeric epics in shaping Greek culture was widely recognized, and Homer was described as the “Teacher of Greece.” Homer’s works, some 50% of which are speeches, provided models in persuasive speaking and writing that were emulated throughout the ancient and medieval Greek worlds. Fragments of Homer account for nearly half of all identifiable Greek literary papyrus finds.
The Iliad
The Iliad (sometimes referred to as the Song of Ilion or Song of Ilium) is an ancient Greek epic poem in dactylic hexameter. Set during the Trojan War (the ten-year siege of the city of Troy (Ilium) by a coalition of Greek states), it tells of the battles and events surrounding a quarrel between King Agamemnon and the warrior Achilles. Although the story covers only a few weeks in the final year of the war, the Iliad mentions or alludes to many of the Greek legends about the siege. The epic narrative describes events prophesied for the future, such as Achilles’ looming death and the sack of Troy. The events are prefigured and alluded to more and more vividly, so that when the story reaches an end, the poem has told a more or less complete tale of the Trojan War.
Nineteenth century excavations at Hisarlik provided scholars with historical evidence for the events of the Trojan War, as told by Homer in the Iliad. Additionally, linguistic studies into oral epic traditions in nearby civilizations, and the deciphering of Linear B in the 1950s, provided further evidence that the Homeric poems could have been derived from oral transmissions of long-form tales about a war that actually took place. The likely historicity of the Iliad as a piece of literature, however, must be balanced against the creative license that would have been taken over years of transmission, as well as the alteration of historical fact to conform with tribal preferences and provide entertainment value to its intended audiences.
Herodotus
Herodotus was a Greek historian who was born in Halicarnassus (modern-day Bodrum, Turkey) and lived in the 5th century BCE. He was a contemporary of Socrates. He is referred to as “The Father of History” and is the first historian known to have broken from Homeric tradition in order to treat historical subjects as a method of investigation arranged into a historiographic narrative. His only known work is a history on the origins of the Greco-Persian Wars, entitled, The Histories. Herodotus states that he only reports that which was told to him, and some of his stories are fanciful and/or inaccurate; however, the majority of his information appears to be accurate.
Athenian tragic poets and storytellers appear to have provided heavy inspiration for Herodotus, as did Homer. Herodotus appears to have drawn on an Ionian tradition of storytelling, collecting and interpreting oral histories he happened upon during his travels in much the same way that oral poetry formed the basis for much of Homer’s works. While these oral histories often contained folk-tale motifs and fed into a central moral, they also related verifiable facts relating to geography, anthropology, and history. For this reason, Herodotus drew criticism from his contemporaries, being touted as a mere storyteller and even a falsifier of information. In contrast to this type of approach, Thucydides, who had been trained in rhetoric, provided a model of historical prose-writing based more firmly in factual progression of a narrative, whereas Herodotus, due to frequent digressions and asides, appeared to minimize his authorial control.
Thucydides
Thucydides was an Athenian historian and general. His History of the Peloponnesian War recounts the 5th century BCE war between Athens and Sparta. Thucydides is sometimes known as the father of “scientific history,” or an early precursor to 20th century scientific positivism, because of his strict adherence to evidence-gathering and analysis of historical cause and effect without reference to divine intervention. He is also considered the father of political realism, which is a school of thought within the realm of political science that views the political behavior of individuals and the relations between states to be governed by self-interest and fear. More generally, Thucydides’ texts show concern with understanding why individuals react the way they do during such crises as plague, massacres, and civil war.
Unlike Herodotus, Thucydides did not view his historical accounts as a source of moral lessons, but rather as a factual reporting of contemporary political and military events. Thucydides viewed life in political terms rather than moral terms, and viewed history in political terms. Thucydides also tended to omit, or at least downplay, geographic and ethnographic aspects of events from his work, whereas Herodotus recorded all information as part of the narrative. Thucydides’ accounts are generally held to be more unambiguous and reliable than those of Herodotus. However, unlike his predecessor, Thucydides does not reveal his sources. Curiously, although subsequent Greek historians, such as Plutarch, held up Thucydides’ writings as a model for scholars of their field, many of them continued to view history as a source of moral lessons, as did Herodotus.
Despite its heavy political slant, scholars cite strong literary and philosophical influences in Thucydides’ work. In particular, the History of the Peloponnesian War echoes the narrative tradition of Homer, and draws heavily from epic poetry and tragedy to construct what is essentially a positivistic account of world events. Additionally, it brings to the forefront themes of justice and suffering in a similar manner to the philosophical texts of Aristotle and Plato.
Classical Greek Theater
Classical Greek theater, whether tragic or comic, has had great influence on modern literature and drama.
LEARNING OBJECTIVES
Describe the common themes found in classical Greek plays
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Key Points
- The city-state of Athens was the center of cultural power during this period, and held a drama festival in honor of the go Dionysus, called the Dionysia.
- Two dramatic genres to emerge from this era of Greek theater were tragedy and comedy, both of which rose to prominence around 500-490 BCE.
- Greek tragedy is an extension of the ancient rites carried out in honor of Dionysus; it heavily influenced the theater of ancient Rome and the Renaissance.
- Tragic plots were often based upon myths from the oral traditions of archaic epics, and took the form of narratives presented by actors.
- Aeschylus was the first tragedian to codify the basic rules of tragic drama, and is considered by many to be the “father of tragedy.” Athenian comedy is divided into three periods: Old Comedy, Middle Comedy, and New Comedy.
Key Terms
- chorus: In the context of Greek theatre, a homogeneous, non-individualized group of performers who comment, with a collective voice, on dramatic action.
- deus ex machina: A plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly resolved by the unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability, or object.
- monody: In the context of ancient Greek theater and literature, lyric poetry sung by a single performer rather than by a chorus.
The theatrical culture of ancient Greece flourished from approximately 700 BCE onward. The city-state of Athens was the center of cultural power during this period and held a drama festival in honor of the god Dionysus, called the Dionysia. This festival was exported to many of Athen’s numerous colonies to promote a common cultural identity across the empire. Two dramatic genres to emerge from this era of Greek theater were tragedy and comedy, both of which rose to prominence around 500-490 BCE.
Greek Tragedy
Sometimes referred to as Attic tragedy, Greek tragedy is an extension of the ancient rites carried out in honor of Dionysus, and it heavily influenced the theater of ancient Rome and the Renaissance. Tragic plots were often based upon myths from the oral traditions of archaic epics, and took the form of narratives presented by actors. Tragedies typically began with a prologue, in which one or more characters introduce the plot and explain the background to the ensuing story. The prologue is then followed by paraodos, after which the story unfolds through three or more episodes. The episodes are interspersed by stasima, or choral interludes that explain or comment on the situation that is developing. The tragedy then ends with an exodus, which concludes the story.
Aeschylus and the Codification of Tragic Drama
Aeschylus was the first tragedian to codify the basic rules of tragic drama. He is often described as the father of tragedy. He is credited with inventing the trilogy, a series of three tragedies that tell one long story. Trilogies were often performed in sequence over the course of a day, from sunrise to sunset. At the end of the last play, a satyr play was staged to revive the spirits of the public after they had witnessed the heavy events of the tragedy that had preceded it.
According to Aristotle, Aeschylus also expanded the number of actors in theater to allow for the dramatization of conflict on stage. Previously, it was standard for only one character to be present and interact with the homogeneous chorus, which commented in unison on the dramatic action unfolding on stage. Aeschylus’s works show an evolution and enrichment in dialogue, contrasts, and theatrical effects over time, due to the rich competition that existed among playwrights of this era. Unfortunately, his plays, and those of Sophocles and Euripides, are the only works of classical Greek literature to have survived mostly intact, so there are not many rival texts to examine his works against.
The Reforms of Sophocles
Sophocles was one such rival who triumphed against the famous and previously unchallenged Aeschylus. Sophocles introduced a third actor to staged tragedies, increased the chorus to 15 members, broke the cycle of trilogies (making possible the production of independent dramas), and introduced the concept of scenery to theater. Compared to the works of Aeschylus, choruses in Sophocles’ plays did less explanatory work, shifting the focus to deeper character development and staged conflict. The events that took place were often left unexplained or unjustified, forcing the audience to reflect upon the human condition.
The Realism of Euripides
Euripides differs from Aeschylus and Sophocles in his search for technical experimentation and increased focus on feelings as a mechanism to elaborate the unfolding of tragic events. In Euripides’ tragedies, there are three experimental aspects that reoccur. The first is the transition of the prologue to a monologue performed by an actor informing spectators of a story’s background. The second is the introduction of deus ex machina, or a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly resolved by the unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability, or object. Finally, the use of a chorus was minimized in favor of a monody sung by the characters.
Another novelty introduced by Euripidean drama is the realism with which characters’ psychological dynamics are portrayed. Unlike in Aeschylus or Sophocles’ works, heroes in Euripides’ plays were portrayed as insecure characters troubled by internal conflict rather than simply resolute. Female protagonists were also used to portray tormented sensitivity and irrational impulses that collided with the world of reason.
Greek Comedy
As Aristotle wrote in his Poetics, comedy is defined by the representation of laughable people, and involves some kind of blunder or ugliness that does not cause pain or disaster. Athenian comedy is divided into three periods: Old Comedy, Middle Comedy, and New Comedy. The Old Comedy period is largely represented by the 11 surviving plays of Aristophanes, whereas much of the work of the Middle Comedy period has been lost. New Comedy is known primarily by the substantial papyrus fragments of Menander. In general, the divisions between these periods is largely arbitrary, and ancient Greek comedy almost certainly developed constantly over the years.
Old Comedy and Aristophanes
Aristophanes, the most important Old Comic dramatist, wrote plays that abounded with political satire, as well as sexual and scatological innuendo. He lampooned the most important personalities and institutions of his day, including Socrates in The Clouds. His works are characterized as definitive to the genre of comedy even today.
Middle Comedy
Although the line between Old and Middle Comedy is not clearly marked chronologically, there are some important thematic differences between the two. For instance, the role of the chorus in Middle Comedy was largely diminished to the point where it had no influence on the plot. Additionally, public characters were no longer impersonated or personified onstage, and objects of ridicule tended to be more general rather than personal, and in many instances, literary rather than political. For some time, mythological burlesque was popular among Middle Comic poets. Stock characters also were employed during this period. In-depth assessment and critique of the styling of Middle Comedy is difficult, given the lack of complete bodies of work. However, given the revival of this style in Sicily and Magna Graecia, it appears that the works of this period did have considerable widespread literary and social impact.
New Comedy
The style of New Comedy is comparable to what is contemporarily referred to as situation comedy or comedy of manners. The playwrights of Greek New Comedy built upon the devices, characters, and situations their predecessors had developed. Prologues to shape the audience’s understanding of events, messengers’ speeches to announce offstage action, and ex machina endings were all well established tropes that were used in New Comedies. Satire and farce occupied less importance in the works of this time, and mythological themes and subjects were replaced by everyday concerns. Gods and goddesses were, at best, personified abstractions rather than actual characters, and no miracles or metamorphoses occurred. For the first time, love became a principal element in this type of theater.
Three playwrights are well known from this period: Menander, Philemon, and Diphilus. Menander was the most successful of the New Comedians. Menander’s comedies focused on the fears and foibles of the ordinary man, as opposed to satirical accounts of political and public life, which perhaps lent to his comparative success within the genre. His comedies are the first to demonstrate the five-act structure later to become common in modern plays. Philemon’s comedies dwell on philosophical issues, whereas Diphilus was noted for his use of farcical violence.
Classical Greek Architecture
Classical Greek architecture can be divided into three separate styles: the Doric Order, the Ionic Order, and the Corinthian Order.
LEARNING OBJECTIVES
Describe the distinguishing characteristics of Classical Greek Architecture
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Key Points
- Classical Greek architecture is best represented by substantially intact ruins of temples and open-air theaters.
- The architectural style of classical Greece can be divided into three separate orders: the Doric Order, the Ionic Order, and the Corinthian Order. All three styles have had a profound impact on Western architecture of later periods.
- While the three orders of Greek architecture are most easily recognizable by their capitals, the orders also governed the form, proportions, details, and relationships of the columns, entablature, pediment, and stylobate.
- The Parthenon is considered the most important surviving building of classical Greece, and the zenith of Doric Order architecture.
Key Terms
- stylobate: In classical Greek architecture, a stylobate is the top step of a stepped platform upon which colonnades of temple columns are placed. In other words, the stylobate comprises the temple flooring.
- capitals: In architecture, a capital forms the topmost member of a column.
- entablature: An entablature is the superstructure of moldings and bands that lay horizontally above columns and rest on capitals.
- pediment: A pediment is an element in classical, neoclassical, and baroque architecture that is placed above the horizontal structure of an entablature, and is typically supported by columns.
Classical Greek architecture is highly formalized in structure and decoration, and is best known for its temples, many of which are found throughout the region as substantially intact ruins. Each classical Greek temple appears to have been conceived as a sculptural entity within the landscape, and is usually raised on higher ground so that its proportions and the effects of light on its surface can be viewed from multiple angles. Open-air theaters are also an important type of building that survives throughout the Hellenic world, with the earliest dating from approximately 525-480 BCE.
Greek architectural style can be divided into three separate orders: the Doric Order, the Ionic Order, and the Corinthian Order. These styles have had a profound impact on Western architecture of later periods. In particular, the architecture of ancient Rome grew out of Greek architecture. Revivals of Classicism have also brought about renewed interest in the architectural styles of ancient Greece. While the three orders of Greek architecture are most easily recognizable by their capitals, the orders also governed the form, proportions, details, and relationships of the columns, entablature, pediment, and stylobate. Orders were applied to the whole range of buildings and monuments.
The Doric Order
The Doric Order developed on mainland Greece and spread to Italy. It is most easily recognized by its capital, which appears as a circular cushion placed on top of a column onto which a lintel rests. In early examples of the Doric Order, the cushion is splayed and flat, but over time, it became more refined, deeper, and with a greater curve.
Doric columns almost always feature fluting down the length of the column, numbering up to 20 flutes. The flutes meet at sharp edges, called arrises. Doric columns typically have no bases, with the exception of a few examples dating from the Hellenistic period. Columns of an early Doric temple, such as the Temple of Apollo at Syracuse, could have a column height to an entablature ratio of 2:1, and a column height to a base diameter ratio of only 4:1. Later, a column height to a diameter ratio of 6:1 became more usual, and there is a column height to an entablature ratio at the Parthenon oapproximately 3:1.
Doric entablatures consist of three parts: the architrave, the frieze, and the cornice. The architrave is composed of stone lintels that span the space between columns. On top of this rests the frieze, one of the major areas of sculptural decoration. The frieze is divided into triglyps and metopes. The triglyphs have three vertical grooves, similar to columnar fluting, and below them are guttae, small strips that appear to connect the triglyps to the architrave below. The triglyps are located above the center of each capital and the center of each lintel.
Pediments in the Doric style were decorated with figures in relief in early examples; however, by the time the sculptures on the Parthenon were created, many pediment decorations were freestanding.
The Parthenon
The Parthenon is considered the most important surviving building of classical Greece and the zenith of Doric Order architecture. It is a former temple on the Athenian Acropolis dedicated to the patron goddess of Athens, Athena. Construction began on the Parthenon in 447 BCE, when the Athenian Empire was at its peak. Construction was completed in 438 BCE, but decoration of the building continued until 432 BCE. Although most architectural elements of the Parthenon belong to the Doric Order, a continuous sculptured frieze in low relief that sits above the architrave belongs to the Ionic style.
The Ionic Order
The Ionic Order coexisted with the Doric Order and was favored by Greek cities in Ionia, Asia Minor, and the Aegean Islands. It did not evolve into a clearly defined style until the mid-5th century BCE. Early Ionic temples in Asia Minor were particularly ambitious in scale.
The Ionic Order is most easily identified by its voluted capital. The cushion placed on top of the column is similarly shaped to that of the Doric Order, but is decorated with a stylized ornament and surmounted by a horizontal band that scrolls under to either side.
Ionic Order columns are fluted with narrow, shallow flutes that do not meet at a sharp edge, but have a flat band between them. The usual number of flutes is 24, but there can be as many as 44. The architrave is not always decorated, but more often it rises in three outwardly-stepped bands. The frieze runs in a continuous band and is separated from other members by rows of small projecting blocks.
The Ionic Order is lighter in appearance than the Doric Order, with columns that have a 9:1 ratio, and the diameter and the whole entablature appears much narrower and less heavy than those of the Doric. Decorations were distributed with some variation, and Ionic entablatures often featured formalized bands of motifs. The external frieze often contained a continuous band of figurative sculpture of ornament, though this was not always the case. Caryatids—draped female figures used as supporting members to the entablature—were also a feature of the Ionic Order.
Corner capital in the Ionic style with a diagonal volute, showing also details of the fluting separated by fillets.
The Corinthian Order
The Corinthian Order grew directly from the Ionic in the mid-5th century BCE, and was initially of a very similar style and proportion, with the only distinguishing factor being its more ornate capitals. The capitals of the Corinthian Order were much deeper than those of the Doric and Ionic Orders. They were shaped like a bell-shaped mixing bowl and ornamented with a double row of acanthus leaves above which rose splayed, voluted tendrils. The ratio of column height to diameter of the Corinthian Order is generally 10:1, with the capital taking up more than a tenth of the height. The ratio of capital height to diameter is generally about 1:16:1.
Initially the Corinthian Order was used internally in such sites as the Temple of Apollo Epicurius at Bassae. By the late 300s, features of the Corinthian Order began to be used externally at sites such as the Choragic Monument of Lysicrates and the Temple of Zeus Olympia, both in Athens. During the Hellenistic period, Corinthian columns were sometimes built without fluting. The Corinthian Order became popular among the Romans, who added a number of refinements and decorative details.
Scientific Advancements in the Classical Period
The Hellenistic Period witnessed significant scientific advancements, due to the mixing of Greek and Asian culture and royal patronage.
LEARNING OBJECTIVES
Describe the various scientific advancements made during the Hellenistic period
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Key Points
- Great seats of learning rose during the Hellenistic Period, including those at Alexandria and Antioch.
- Scientific inquiries were often sponsored by royal patrons.
- The discoveries of several Greek mathematicians, including Pythagoras and Euclid, are still used in mathematical teaching today. Important developments include the basic rules of geometry, the idea of a formal mathematical proof, and discoveries in number theory, mathematical analysis, and applied mathematics.
- The Greeks also developed the field of astronomy, which they treated as a branch of mathematics to a highly sophisticated level.
- Hippocrates was a physician of the classical period, and is considered one of the most outstanding figures in the history of medicine. Most notably, he founded the Hippocratic school of medicine, which revolutionized medicine in ancient Greece by establishing it as a discipline distinct from other fields, and making medicine a profession.
Key Terms
- Hellenistic period: The period of ancient Greek and Mediterranean history between the death of Alexander the Great in 323 BCE and the emergence of the Roman Empire, as signified by the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE.
- Alexandria: An important seat of learning within the Hellenistic civilization and the capital of Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Egypt for almost 1,000 years, until the Muslim conquest of Egypt in 641 CE.
Hellenistic Culture
Hellenistic culture produced seats of learning in Alexandria, Egypt and Antioch, Syria, along with Greek-speaking populations across several monarchies. Hellenistic science differed from Greek science in at least two ways. First, it benefited from the cross-fertilization of Greek ideas with those that had developed in the larger Hellenistic world. Secondly, to some extent, it was supported by royal patrons in the kingdoms founded by Alexander’s successors.
Especially important to Hellenistic science was the city of Alexandria in Egypt, which became a major center of scientific research in the 3rd century BCE. Two institutions established there during the reigns of Ptolemy I Soter (reigned 323-283 BCE) and Ptolemy II Philadelphus (reigned 281-246 BCE) were the Library and the Museum. Unlike Plato ‘s Academy and Aristotle ‘s Lyceum, these institutions were officially supported by the Ptolemies, although the extent of patronage could be precarious, depending on the policies of the current ruler.
Mathematics and Astronomy
The discoveries of several Greek mathematicians, including Pythagoras and Euclid, are still used in mathematical teaching today. Important developments include the basic rules of geometry, the idea of a formal mathematical proof, and discoveries in number theory, mathematical analysis, and applied mathematics. Ancient Greek mathematicians also came close to establishing integral calculus.
The Greeks also developed the field of astronomy, which they treated as a branch of mathematics, to a highly sophisticated level. The first geometrical, three-dimensional models to explain the apparent motion of the planets was developed in the 4th century BCE, by Eudoxus of Cnidus and Callippus of Cyzicus. Their younger contemporary, Heraclides Ponticus, proposed that the Earth rotates around its axis. In the 3rd century BCE, Aristarchus of Samos was the first to suggest a heliocentric system. In the 2nd century BCE, Hipparchus of Nicea made a number of contributions, including the first measurement of precession and the compilation of the first star catalog, in which he proposed the modern system of apparent magnitudes.
The Antikythera mechanism, a device for calculating the movements of the planets, was the first ancestor of the astronomical computer. It dates from about 80 BCE, and was discovered in an ancient shipwreck off the Greek island of Antikythera. The device became famous for its use of a differential gear, which was previously believed to have been invented in the 16th century, as well as the miniaturization and complexity of its parts, which has been compared to that of clocks produced in the 18th century.
The Medical Field
The ancient Greeks also made important discoveries in the medical field. Hippocrates was a physician of the classical period, and is considered one of the most outstanding figures in the history of medicine. He is sometimes even referred to as the “father of medicine.” Most notably, he founded the Hippocratic school of medicine, whic revolutionized medicine in ancient Greece by establishing it as a discipline distinct from other fields, and making medicine a profession.
Other notable Hellenistic scientists and their achievements include:
- Herophilos (335-280 BCE), who was the first to base medical conclusions on dissection of the human body and to describe the nervous system
- Archimedes (c. 287-212 BCE), a geometer, physicist, and engineer who laid the foundations of hydrostatics and statics, and explained the principle of the lever
- Eratosthenes (c. 276 BCE-195/194 BCE), who measured the distance between the Sun and the Earth, as well as the size of the Earth | 8,314 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pimaopen.pressbooks.pub/westciv1/chapter/reading-culture-in-classical-greece/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:88659 | https://pimaopen.pressbooks.pub/westciv1/chapter/reading-culture-in-classical-greece/ |
af102hsXCAPOM4pi | COM112: Course Text | Chapter 3
Section 3.2 – Moving, Renaming, Inserting, and Deleting Worksheets
Learning Objectives
- Understand how to move, rename, insert, and delete worksheet tabs.
FILE: CH 3.2
The default names for the worksheet tabs at the bottom of workbook are Sheet1, Sheet2, and so on. However, you can change the worksheet tab names to identify the data you are using in a workbook. Additionally, you can change the order in which the worksheet tabs appear in the workbook. The following steps explain how to rename and move the worksheets in a workbook:
Open file CH 3.2
- With the left mouse button, double click the Sheet1 worksheet tab at the bottom of the workbook (see Figure 3.9). Type the name Sales by Month.
- Press the ENTER key on your keyboard.
- With the left mouse button, double click the Sheet2 worksheet tab at the bottom of the workbook.
- Type the name Unit Sales Rank to prepare the worksheet for future use.
- Press the ENTER key on your keyboard.
- Click the Sheet3 worksheet tab.
- Click the Home tab of the Ribbon.
- Click the down arrow on the Delete button in the Cells group of commands.
- Click the Delete Sheet option from the drop-down list. This removes the unneeded worksheet.
- Click the Delete button on the Delete warning box (if a warning box appears).
- Complete the steps above to delete the newly named Unit Sales Rank worksheet since it’s decided that worksheet is also unnecessary so that you are left with just one worksheet (see Figure 3.10).
- Save the changes to your workbook by clicking either the Save button on the Home ribbon; or by selecting the Save option from the File menu.
Integrity Check
Deleting Worksheets
Be very cautious when deleting worksheets that contain data. Once a worksheet is deleted, you cannot use the Undo command to bring the sheet back. Deleting a worksheet is a permanent command.
Keyboard Shortcuts
Inserting New Worksheets:
- Press the SHIFT key and then the F11 key on your keyboard.
Skill Refresher
Renaming Worksheets:
- Double click the worksheet tab.
- Type the new name.
- Press the ENTER key.
Moving Worksheets:
- Left click the worksheet tab.
- Drag it to the desired position.
Deleting Worksheets:
- Open the worksheet to be deleted.
- Click the Home tab of the Ribbon.
- Click the down arrow on the Delete button.
- Select the Delete Sheet option.
- Click Delete on the warning box. | 544 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://open.baypath.edu/com112ebook/chapter/3-2/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:23096 | https://open.baypath.edu/com112ebook/chapter/3-2/ |
koOU3frOGSSsvktJ | The Renewable Anthology of Early American Literature 2.0 | From The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavas Vassa, the African, Written by Himself (1789), From Chapter III
OLAUDAH EQUIANO
I now totally lost the small remains of comfort I had enjoyed in conversing with my countrymen; the women too, who used to wash and take care of me, were all gone different ways, and I never saw one of them afterwards.
I stayed in this island for a few days; I believe it could not be above a fortnight; when I and some few more slaves, that were not saleable amongst the rest, from very much fretting, were shipped off in a sloop for North America. On the passage we were better treated than when we were coming from Africa, and we had plenty of rice and fat pork. We were landed up a river a good way from the sea, about Virginia county, where we saw few or none of our native Africans, and not one soul who could talk to me. I was a few weeks weeding grass, and gathering stones in a plantation; and at last all my companions were distributed different ways, and only myself was left. I was now exceedingly miserable, and thought myself worse off than any of the rest of my companions; for they could talk to each other, but I had no person to speak to that I could understand. In this state I was constantly grieving and pining, and wishing for death rather than any thing else. While I was in this plantation the gentleman, to whom I suppose the estate belonged, being unwell, I was one day sent for to his dwelling house to fan him; when I came into the room where he was I was very much affrighted at some things I saw, and the more so as I had seen a black woman slave as I came through the house, who was cooking the dinner, and the poor creature was cruelly loaded with various kinds of iron machines; she had one particularly on her head, which locked her mouth so fast that she could scarcely speak; and could not eat nor drink. I was much astonished and shocked at this contrivance, which I afterwards learned was called the iron muzzle. Soon after I had a fan put into my hand, to fan the gentleman while he slept; and so I did indeed with great fear. While he was fast asleep I indulged myself a great deal in looking about the room, which to me appeared very fine and curious. The first object that engaged my attention was a watch which hung on the chimney, and was going. I was quite surprised at the noise it made, and was afraid it would tell the gentleman any thing I might do amiss: and when I immediately after observed a picture hanging in the room, which appeared constantly to look at me, I was still more affrighted, having never seen such things as these before. At one time I thought it was something relative to magic; and not seeing it move I thought it might be some way the whites had to keep their great men when they died, and offer them libation as we used to do to our friendly spirits. In this state of anxiety I remained till my master awoke, when I was dismissed out of the room, to my no small satisfaction and relief; for I thought that these people were all made up of wonders. In this place I was called Jacob; but on board the African snow I was called Michael. I had been some time in this miserable, forlorn, and much dejected state, without having any one to talk to, which made my life a burden, when the kind and unknown hand of the Creator (who in very deed leads the blind in a way they know not) now began to appear, to my comfort; for one day the captain of a merchant ship, called the Industrious Bee, came on some business to my master’s house. This gentleman, whose name was Michael Henry Pascal, was a lieutenant in the royal navy, but now commanded this trading ship, which was somewhere in the confines of the county many miles off. While he was at my master’s house it happened that he saw me, and liked me so well that he made a purchase of me. I think I have often heard him say he gave thirty or forty pounds sterling for me; but I do not now remember which. However, he meant me for a present to some of his friends in England: and I was sent accordingly from the house of my then master, one Mr. Campbell, to the place where the ship lay; I was conducted on horseback by an elderly black man, (a mode of travelling which appeared very odd to me). When I arrived I was carried on board a fine large ship, loaded with tobacco, &c. And just ready to sail for England. I now thought my condition much mended; I had sails to lie on, and plenty of good victuals to eat; and every body on board used me very kindly, quite contrary to what I had seen of any white people before; I therefore began to think that they were not all of the same disposition. A few days after I was on board we sailed for England. I was still at a loss to conjecture my destiny. By this time, however, I could smatter a little imperfect English; and I wanted to know as well as I could where we were going. Some of the people of the ship used to tell me they were going to carry me back to my own country, and this made me very happy. I was quite rejoiced at the sound of going back; and thought if I should get home what wonders should have to tell. But I was reserved for another fate, and was soon undeceived when we came within sight of the English coast. WhileI was on board this ship, my captain and master named me _Gustavus Vassa_. I at that time began to understand him a little, and refused to be called so, and told him as well as I could that I would be called Jacob; but he said I should not, and still called me Gustavus; and when I refused to answer to my new name, which at first I did, it gained me many a cuff; so at length I submitted, and was obliged to bear the present name, by which I have been known ever since. The ship had a very long passage; and on that account we had very short allowance of provisions. Towards the last we had only one pound and a half of bread per week, and about the same quantity of meat, and one quart of water a-day. We spoke with only one vessel the whole time we were at sea, and but once we caught a few fishes. In our extremities the captain and people told me in jest they would kill and eat me; but I thought them in earnest, and was depressed beyond measure, expecting every moment to be my last. While I was in this situation one evening they caught, with a good deal of trouble, a large shark, and got it on board. This gladdened my poor heart exceedingly, as I thought it would serve the people to eat instead of their eating me; but very soon, to my astonishment, they cut off a small part of the tail, and tossed the rest over the side. There was on board the ship a young lad who had never been at sea before, about four or five years older than myself: his name was Richard Baker. He was a native of America, had received an excellent education, and was of a most amiable temper. Soon after I went on board he shewed me a great deal of partiality and attention, and in return I grew extremely fond of him. We at length became inseparable; and, for the space of two years, he was of very great use to me, and was my constant companion and instructor. Although this dear youth had many slaves of his own, yet he and I have gone through many sufferings together on shipboard; and we have many nights lain in each other’s bosoms when we were in great distress. Thus such a friendship was cemented between us as we cherished till his death, which, to my very great sorrow, happened in the year 1759, when he was up the Archipelago, on board his majesty’s ship the Preston: an event which I have never ceased to regret, as I lost at once a kind interpreter, an agreeable companion, and a faithful friend; who, at the age of fifteen, discovered a mind superior to prejudice; and who was not ashamed to notice, to associate with, and to be the friend and instructor of one who was ignorant, a stranger, of a different complexion, and a slave! My master had lodged in his mother’s house in America: he respected him very much, and made him always eat with him in the cabin. He used often to tell him jocularly that he would kill me to eat. Sometimes he would say to me–the black people were not good to eat, and would ask me if we did not eat people in my country. Though this hearing relieved my mind a little as to myself, I was alarmed for Dick and whenever he was called I used to be very much afraid he was to be killed; and I would peep and watch to see if they were going to kill him: nor was I free from this consternation till we made the land. …. | 2,139 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://open.maricopa.edu/earlyamericanliteratureanthology2ed/chapter/from-the-interesting-narrative-of-the-life-of-olaudah-equiano-or-gustavas-vassa-the-african-written-by-himself-1789-from-chapter-iii/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:73173 | https://open.maricopa.edu/earlyamericanliteratureanthology2ed/chapter/from-the-interesting-narrative-of-the-life-of-olaudah-equiano-or-gustavas-vassa-the-african-written-by-himself-1789-from-chapter-iii/ |
M5R3E4Fy1bC0WZ8N | 21.5D: Breathing Patterns | 21.5D: Breathing Patterns
Breathing is an autonomic process that moves air in and out of the lungs.
LEARNING OBJECTIVE
Describe the process of breathing in humans
Key Takeaways
Key Points
- Breathing patterns consist of tidal volume and respiratory rate in an individual.
- An average breathing pattern is 12 breaths per minute and 500 mL per breath.
- Eupnea is normal breathing at rest.
- There are types of altered breathing patterns that are symptoms of many diseases.
- Altered breathing patterns refer to changes in respiratory rate or amount of air exchanged during breathing, and do not always indicate changes in alveolar ventilation.
- The mechanism of generation of the ventilatory pattern involves the integration of neural signals by respiratory control centers in the medulla and pons.
Key Terms
- altered breathing patterns : Abnormal breathing patterns that indicate typically indicate either too fast or too slow respiratory rate or too much or too little tidal volume.
- tidal volume : The amount of air displaced or exchanged in a single breath.
Breathing patterns refer to the respiratory rate, which is defined as the frequency of breaths over a period of time, as well as the amount of air cycled during breathing (tidal volume). Breathing patterns are an important diagnostic criteria for many diseases, including some which involve more than the respiratory system itself.
Characteristics of the Breathing Patterns
The respiratory rate is frequency of breaths over time. The time period is variable, but usually expressed in breaths per minute because it that time period allows for estimation of minute ventilation. During normal breathing, the volume of air cycled through inhalation and exhalation is called tidal volume (VT), and is the amount of air exchanged in a single breath. Tidal volume multiplied by the respiratory rate is minute ventilation, which is one of the most important indicators of lung function. In an average human adult, the average respiratory rate is 12 breaths per minute, with a tidal volume of .5 liters and a minute ventilation of 6 liters per minute, though these numbers vary from person to person. Infants and children have considerably higher respiratory rates than adults.
Spirometry curve: The normal respiratory rate refers to the cyclical inhalation and exhalation of tidal volume (VT).
The respiratory rate is controlled by involuntary processes of the autonomic nervous system. In particular, the respiratory centers of the medulla and the pons control the overall respiratory rate based on a variety of chemical stimuli from within the body. The hypothalamus can also influence the respiratory rate during emotional and stress responses.
Normal and Altered Breathing Patterns
Eupnea is the term for the normal respiratory rate for an individual at rest. Several other terms describe abnormal breathing patterns that are indicative of symptoms of many diseases, many of which aren’t mainly respiratory diseases. Some of the more common terms for altered breathing patterns include:
- Dyspnea: commonly called shortness of breath. It describes dramatically decreased tidal volume and sometimes increased respiratory rate, leading to a sensation of breathlessness. It is a common symptom of anxiety attacks, pulmonary embolisms, heart attacks, and emphysema, among other things.
- Hypernea: refers to increased volume of air cycled to meet the body’s metabolic needs, which may or may not involve a change in frequency of breathing. It is a symptom of exercise and adjustment to high altitude, which are generally not problematic, but can also be seen in those with anemia or septic shock, which is problematic.
- Tachypnea: describes increased respiratory rate. Often a symptom of carbon monoxide poisoning or pnuemonia.
- Bradypnea: describes decreased respiratory rate. Often a symptom of hypertension, heart arryhmias, or slow metabolic rate from hypothyroidism.
- Apnea: Transient stopped breathing that begins again soon afterwards. It is the main symptom of sleep apnea, in which breathing temporarily stops during sleep.
These terms all describe an altered breathing pattern through increased or decreased (or stopped) tidal volume or respiratory rate. It is important to distinguish these terms from hyperventilation and hypoventilation, which refer to abnormalities in alveolar gas exchange (and thus blood pH) instead of an altered breathing pattern, but they may be associated with an altered breathing pattern. For example dyspnea or tachypnea often occur together with hyperventilation during anxiety attacks, though not always.
LICENSES AND ATTRIBUTIONS
CC LICENSED CONTENT, SHARED PREVIOUSLY
- Pulmonary ventilation. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulmonary_ventilation . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Modes of mechanical ventilation. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Modes_of_mechanical_ventilation%23Pressure_controlled . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- ventilation. Provided by : Wiktionary. Located at : en.wiktionary.org/wiki/ventilation . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Respiratory physiology. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Respiratory_physiology . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Inhalation. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Inhalation . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- negative pressure. Provided by : Wiktionary. Located at : en.wiktionary.org/wiki/negative_pressure . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- inspiration. Provided by : Wiktionary. Located at : en.wiktionary.org/wiki/inspiration . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- The respiratory system. Provided by : Wikibooks. Located at : en.wikibooks.org/wiki/Human_Physiology/The_respiratory_system . Project : Human Physiology. License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Respiratory system. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Respiratory_system . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Exhalation. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Exhalation . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- exhalation. Provided by : Wiktionary. Located at : en.wiktionary.org/wiki/exhalation . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Respiratory system. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Respiratory_system . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Thoracic diaphragm. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Thoracic_diaphragm . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Breathing. Provided by : Wikipedia. Located at : en.Wikipedia.org/wiki/Breathing . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
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- breathing. Provided by : Wiktionary. Located at : en.wiktionary.org/wiki/breathing . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike
- Lung Volume. Authored by : Vihsadas. Provided by : Wikimedia. Located at : commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LungVolume.jpg . License : Public Domain: No Known Copyright
- Curation and Revision. Authored by : Boundless.com. Provided by : Boundless.com. License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike | 1,345 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Anatomy_and_Physiology_(Boundless)/21%3A_Respiratory_System/21.5%3A_Mechanics_of_Breathing/21.5D%3A_Breathing_Patterns | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:45936 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Anatomy_and_Physiology_(Boundless)/21%3A_Respiratory_System/21.5%3A_Mechanics_of_Breathing/21.5D%3A_Breathing_Patterns |
0XI32R6ysGsHX0YZ | 4.1: Objectives | 4.1: Objectives
After completing this chapter, you should
Algebraic Expressions
- be familiar with algebraic expressions
- understand the difference between a term and a factor
- be familiar with the concept of common factors
- know the function of a coefficient
Equations
- understand the meaning of an equation
- be able to perform numerical evaluations
Classification of Expressions and Equations
- be familiar with polynomials
- be able to classify polynomials and polynomial equations
Combining Polynomials Using Addition and Subtraction
- understand the concept of like terms
- be able to combine like terms
- be able to simplify expressions containing parentheses
Combining Polynomials Using Multiplication
- be able to multiply a polynomial by a monomial
- be able to simplify +(a+b)+(a+b) and −(a+b)-(a+b)
- be able to multiply a polynomial by a polynomial
Special Binomial Products
- be able to expand (a+b)2(a+b)2, (a−b)2(a-b)2, and (a+b)(a+b)(a+b)(a+b)
Terminology Associated with Equations
- be able to identify the independent and dependent variables of an equation
- be able to specify the domain of an equation | 227 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Algebra/Elementary_Algebra_(Ellis_and_Burzynski)/04%3A_Algebraic_Expressions_and_Equations/4.01%3A_Objectives | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:41922 | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Algebra/Elementary_Algebra_(Ellis_and_Burzynski)/04%3A_Algebraic_Expressions_and_Equations/4.01%3A_Objectives |
uxKiWS-LQFD8pHRS | 8.1: Circumcircle and circumcenter | 8.1: Circumcircle and circumcenter
Perpendicular bisectors to the sides of any nondegener- ate triangle intersect at one point.
The point of intersection of the perpendicular bisectors is called circumcenter. It is the center of the circumcircle of the triangle; that is, a circle that passes thru all three vertices of the triangle. The circumcenter of the triangle is usually denoted by \(O\).
- Proof
-
Let \(\triangle ABC\) be nondegenerate. Let \(\ell\) and \(m\) be perpendicular bisectors to sides \([AB]\) and \([AC]\) respectively.
Assume \(\ell\) and \(m\) intersect, let \(O = \ell \cap m\).
Let us apply Theorem 5.2.1 . Since \(O \in \ell\), we have that \(OA = OB\) and since \(O \in m\), we have that \(OA = OC\). It follows that \(OB = OC\); that is, \(O\) lies on the perpendicular bisector to \([BC]\).
It remains to show that \(\ell \nparallel m\); assume the contrary. Since \(\ell \perp (AB)\) and \(m \perp (AC)\), we get that \((AC) \parallel (AB)\) (see Exercise 7.1.1 ). Therefore, by Theorem 5.3.1 , \((AC) = (AB)\); that is, \(\triangle ABC\) is degenerate - a contradiction.
There is a unique circle that passes thru the vertexes of a given nondegenerate triangle in the Euclidean plane.
- Answer
-
Apply Theorem \(\PageIndex{1}\) and Theorem 5.2.1 . | 275 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Geometry/Euclidean_Plane_and_its_Relatives_(Petrunin)/08%3A_Triangle_Geometry/8.01%3A_Circumcircle_and_circumcenter | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:27223 | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Geometry/Euclidean_Plane_and_its_Relatives_(Petrunin)/08%3A_Triangle_Geometry/8.01%3A_Circumcircle_and_circumcenter |
Wm1E6M7nqLbSfm-T | 16.5: Values Assigned to Objects | 16.5: Values Assigned to Objects
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The identity which conservation aims to safeguard can be seen as the sum of the values assigned to the object. Values are accumulated (and lost) throughout the life of the object. Value may change when an object is studied and reinterpreted, and it is quite possible for apparently insignificant, mass-produced objects to be assigned new value, perhaps because of changes in fashion or because of a link with a significant person or event.
One set of values is related to the material character of an object. A wide range of organic and inorganic materials has been used to provide surfaces for writing, some of them more durable than others; the character and working properties (e.g. hardness, ductility) provide insight into the eventual form of the writing (Brown 1998). The Babylon exhibition, held at the British Museum in 2008 (Finkle and Seymour 2008), included the display of large numbers of clay writing tablets which demonstrated very clearly not only the technique of impressing a writing tool into soft clay, but the remarkable survival of the tablets themselves (though some or many of these may have been made more durable by baking as part of conservation treatment — see below). In the case of books, the form of the book and the style of the binding may have technological, historical and aesthetic value, and may carry important information about previous ownership (Foot 1984). Although the wording of a text may be highly significant on its own, preserving the material original means that there remains the potential to learn more from it in the future. In addition to text, documents may carry other important material evidence, such as seal impressions or signatures, which indicates the text’s authenticity and legal standing.
Complementing the material values assigned to an object are the meanings which may be attached to it. Obliterated text on a coin or medal may be frustrating if the aim is to identify it, but it may add other values by indicating how long the coin may have been in circulation, or how lovingly a medal may have been polished. Here, loss of material may mean gain in another aspect of meaning. The material and form of writing has meaning, e.g. for early printed text, both the uneven layout and the heavy impressions left in the page indicate the difficulties of regulating early hand printing, especially if cheaply produced ( Figure 1 ). Handwriting provides an insight into the person: the skill of a medieval scribe seen in the Domesday book (National Archives 2009); the apparent energy and confidence of John Stewart Mill’s handwriting, as seen in the documents displayed in the exhibition entitled Taking Liberties held at the British Library in 2009 (Ashley 2008). | 604 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://socialsci.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anthropology/Archaeology/Book%3A_Writing_as_Material_Practice_-_Substance_Surface_and_Medium_(Piquette_et_al.)/16%3A_Writing_Conservation_-_The_Impact_of_Text_on_Conversation_Decisions_and_Practice_(Elizabeth_Pye)/16.05%3A_Values_Assigned_to_Objects | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:11062 | https://socialsci.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anthropology/Archaeology/Book%3A_Writing_as_Material_Practice_-_Substance_Surface_and_Medium_(Piquette_et_al.)/16%3A_Writing_Conservation_-_The_Impact_of_Text_on_Conversation_Decisions_and_Practice_(Elizabeth_Pye)/16.05%3A_Values_Assigned_to_Objects |
7rajYwtfUK-pnNVg | Field experiments with oats, 1890 / [George E. Morrow, Thomas F. Hunt]. Milk and butter tests / [G.E. Morrow]. Cream raising by dilution / [G.E. Morrow, E.H. Farrington]. The hessian fly / [S.A. Forbes]. Canada thistles : their extermination / [T.J Burrill]. | FIELD EXPERIMENTS WITH OATS, 1890.
This article gives a record of experiments conducted during three years, in regard to the quantity of oats to sow per acre, the time and depth of sowing, and the manner of preparing the seed-bed; of experiments during two years in sowing oats and spring wheat together, and a test of a large number of varieties of oats.
It is the aim to report and interpret facts obtained; no prophecy is made with regard to the future. There are no means of determining absolutely that these results will -be obtained again. Where, however, substantially the same results have been obtained during two or three years, the probabilities are that in this locality similar methods will in the future give similar results.
The largest yield of grain was produced from sowing two and onehalf bushels of seed in 1888 and 1890, and from three and one-half in 1889. The average yield was slightly larger when three and one-half bushels of seed were sown per acre. Between two and one-half and three and one-half bushels of seed per acre there was but little difference, in yield, and with four bushels the yield was not much less.
In 1888 and 1889, a medium loose, and in 1890, a fairly compact seed-bed, gave the best results. A very compact and a very loose seedbed have uniformly given the poorest results. The unplowed land gave this season better results than the plowed.
The time of sowing has had in these tests a more marked influence on the yield than any other condition. The earlier sowings, with one exception the earliest, have uniformly given the best yields. In these tests sowing prior to April ist has given decidedly the best results.
four inches, and has not been the same in any two seasons.
No advantage has been found in sowing spring wheat with oats, either in the total quantity of grain produced or in the quality of the wheat. The percentage of wheat harvested was less than that sown.
In 1890, the so-called dun-colored rust-proof varieties, Texas rustproof, Texas red, and new red rust-proof, yielded the best; in 1889, they were among the poorest. Texas rust-proof gave the largest yield this season and the smallest yield last season. Giant yellow French, which gave the largest yield in 1889, yielded indifferently in 1890. Early Dakota white is the only variety which did especially well both seasons.
There was an average of 66.2 per cent, of kernel in the berry of the seed, and 71.3 per cent, in the crop in 1890. The greatest difference of kernel in any two varieties was 15 per cent, in the seed sown, and 16 per cent, in the crop.
Those varieties which contained the higher per cent, of kernel in the seed sown contained the higher average per cent, of kernel in the crop, but did not yield quite so well as those containing a less per cent, of kernel in the crop.
closed panicled side oats, have yielded equally well.
In 1890, the dun-colored varieties stood first in yield of grain, the black, second, and the white, third. In 1889 the white varieties stood first and the dun-colored, last. The dun-colored varieties have contained the largest per cent, of kernel.
The yield was not materially affected by the length, plumpness, or by the weight of the berry, or the weight per bushel. Those varieties with long, slender, light berries and light weight per bushel contained appreciably the larger per cent, of kernel. In other words, those varieties which would have sold best on the market, or, what is less important, would have taken the premium at the fairs, did not yield better than the other varieties and did not have so high a food value.
Experiment No. 12. Oats, Quantity of Seed per Acre.
Seven contiguous plats, each 2x4 rods, were sown broadcast with welcome oats at the rate of from i to 4 bushels per acre, April 5, 1888, March 27, 1889, and April 2, 1890. The first two seasons the oats were sown on fall-plowed land and covered with a disk harrow and twice harrowing. The last season a different tract of land was used and the land was plowed nine days before seeding. The land was rolled before seeding, and the oats were covered with a disk harrow and a common tooth harrow.
twice. Plats 3 and 4 were treated as were plats 2 and 3 in 1888.
The oats came up and ripened evenly. They were down rather badly on plat I, less on plat 2, still less on plat 3, and were standing fairly on plat 4, this condition being due probably, to differences in the soil. They were harvested July igth and threshed August loth.
April i, 1890, four plats each 2x4 rods, were sown broadcast with welcome oats at the rate of two and one-half bushels per acre. The land, which was used without previous preparation, was partly in the same experment last year and partly in sorghum, each plat being equally so used.
In plat 4, the land was plowed four inches deep just before seeding.
The oats were covered with the disk harrow, the driver walking while going over the plowed plat to prevent the oats being too deeply covered. The whole tract was afterwards harrowed with a common tooth harrow. On several square feet of plat i, considerable sweet clover sprung up, which was removed May 6th.
Experiment No, 14. Oats, Time of Sowing.
Four adjacent plats, each 2x4 rods, were sown broadcast, at intervals of one week, from April 6 to April 27, 1888. In 1889, seven plats were sown at intervals of one week, from March i4th to April 25th. In 1890, twelve plats were sown, two each week, from March 22d to April 28th, the duplicate plats being six plats apart. Each season welcome oats were sown on fall-plowed land at the rate of two and one-half bushels per acre and were covered by use of a disk harrow and the common tooth harrow.
May 5, 1890, the first and second weeks' sowings were nearly equal in growth; the third weeks' sowing smaller; the fourth weeks' sowing distinctly smaller; the fifth weeks' still smaller; while the sixth weeks' sowing was just coming up.
June 27th the first three weeks' sowings were fully panicled. July 2d the fourth and fifth weeks' sowings were fully panicled. July 7th the sixth sowing was fully panicled.
July 1 2th, the first three weeks' sowings were harvested; July i7th, the fourth weeks'; July igth, the fifth weeks'; and July 2ist, the sixth weeks'. July 24th to 28th, the oats were threshed. For details of the first two seasons see bulletin No. 7, p. 195.
The substantial agreement of the duplicate plats is quite striking. The first two weeks' sowings gave decidedly better results this season than any of the later sowings. A great many acres of oats were sown at a later date in this latitude and farther south.
For three seasons, April 25, 1888, March 28, 1889, and April 16, 1890, sixty selected berries of welcome oats were sown in each of twelve rows, ten feet long. The first two rows were covered one inch deep, and each succeeding two rows one inch deeper, rows n and 12 being covered six inches deep. In 1890 as in 1889, an extra row was sown at each side so that the twelve rows in the test would be under similar conditions. For details of the experiment in 1888 and 1889 see bulletin No. /,/. 196.
May 5, 1890, Oats sown one and two inches deep looked the strongest and healthiest. Those sown deeper were slender and weak and were not so upright and stocky. Many of the plants from seed sown five and six inches deep were bent over and lay upon the ground.
Below is given the yield of grain in ounces from two rows ten feet long, and the relative yield for 1888, 1889, and 1890. In 1889 the rows sown five and six inches deep were disturbed by some underground animal and are not reported.
Experiment No. 83. Oats, Effect of Sowing Spring Wheat with them.
It is the practice of some farmers in a limited way to sow oats and spring wheat together. Good results have been reported. It has been claimed that spring wheat of good quality has been raised in this way, while when sown alone it was more or less a failure. The total yield of grain has been said to be greater, and it has been urged as an explanation of this result that the wheat and oat roots were differently distributed and hence able jointly to use more completely the food supply of a given area.
A test of this question was attempted in 1889 and again in 1890.
Both seasons nine plats, 2x4 rods, were sown with welcome oats and Saskatchewan Fife spring wheat as given in the tables below. In 1889, the grain was sown on fall-plowed land, in 1890 on spring-plowed land. The seed was sown March 27, 1889, and April 2, 1890, and was covered with a disk harrow and a common tooth harrow.
The preceding table gives the yield for 1890.
From the above tables, it will be seen that in 1889 the six plats sown with varying mixtures of oats and wheat yielded an average of 57 pounds, while the two plats sown with oats alone averaged 65 pounds of grain. In 1890, the six plats sown with a mixture of oats and wheat gave an average of 42 pounds while the two plats sown with oats alone yielded 41 pounds.
1890 it yielded 43 pounds.
It is evident that in these tests no appreciable increase in yield was obtained by sowing wheat and oats together. From the table given below, it will be seen that the quality of the wheat, as measured by the size of the kernel, was not increased, and that, in general, the percentage
of oats harvested was greater than that sown. This would seem to indicate the better adaptability of the oat than of spring wheat to the conditions under which they were tested in this experiment.
The following table gives the weight of 1,000 berries in grams and the per cent, by weight of berries in the seed and crop of the two grains in 1890. The wheat was so poor in 1889 as to make the results in this direction of little value.
In 1889, thirty varieties of oats were tested by this Station and the results reported in bulletin No. 7, p. 197. These varieties have been tested again in 1890 together with seventeen other varieties.
In the following table are the varieties not tested in 1889. The land used in this experiment had been in corn three years. March 25, 26, 1890, the tract was plowed about four inches deep without
removing corn stalks. April ist it was rolled. April 2d the tract was •divided into 60 plats each 2x4 rods. A space of from 2.5 to 5 feet was left between plats. Plats i to 48 and 52 to 60, inclusive, were sown with the varieties as specified in table p. 360. The oats were sown at the rate, by weight, of two and one-half bu. per acre. They were covered by going over the ground once with a disk harrow. April 8th, plats 49, 50, and 5 1 were sown with varieties which had not arrived when the other varieties were sown.
of accuracy of the method employed and the probable limit of error.
Eleven varieties were sown on two plats each. The duplicates were, on an average, about 20 rods apart, so arranged as to give the maximum variation likely to occur on the tract used.
The average difference in yield of grain between two plats of the same variety was 5.3 bushels; the least difference, 1.6 bushels; and the greatest difference, n.6 bushels. If one variety in this test yields five bushels more than another, it does not 'necessarily indicate that the former was superior, even for this season, to the latter. Differences of twelve bushels per acre may be due to uncontrollable differences in the condition of *the test, although such differences are very much less likely to occur. It is worthy of note, however, that the variety which gave the largest yield was grown adjacent to that which gave the poorest yield, and that the five varieties yielding best were widely distributed over the tract used.
The greatest difference in the weight of a bushel of oats from two plats of the same variety was four pounds; the average difference about one and one-half pounds. It is probable that the number of pounds of oats in a bushel is less trustworthy than any other item given in the table. The chance of variation in the mere mechanical operation of obtaining the result is very great.
With the exception of improved American (plats 3 and 55) the percentage of kernel in the berries of oats of the same variety grown on different plats is substantially alike. The average difference is less than one and one-half per cent, and the greatest difference, 2.3 per cent. The samples of improved American contained, as did other samples, a considerable number of hull-less kernels and there seems to have been many more hull-less kernels in oats from plal 55 than from plat 3.
In determining the per cent, of kernel in the berries of the several varieties ten grams of each sample were hulled and the weight of kernel and hulls obtained together with the number of berries. In order to test the accuracy 'of this method, four subdivisions of a sample of Clydesdale oats were analyzed as follows:
VITALITY OF SEED.
In 1889, twenty-eight varieties of oats, most of which had been received from seedsmen, were tested in the Geneva apparatus for 18 days at the mean temperature of 66.5° F. Ninety-three per cent, sprouted.
A portion of the crop of 1889 was saved for the seed of the crop of 1890. Thirty-two samples, thus saved, were tested in the Geneva apparatus first at a mean temperature 60.4.0 F., and again at essentially the same mean temperature 60. i° F. The average vitality was 87 per cent, six per cent, less than that shown by the test of a year ago.
In 1889, it was shown that the foreign mattter contained in the seed sent to this Station was less than two-tenths of one per' cent., and that the impurities were usually of the most harmless, nature, such as pits of straw, chaff, etc.
SYNOPSIS OF VARIETIES.
The early, medium, and late maturing are grouped on p. 364 according to their more striking characteristics, so that the reader may more readily understand the similarities and dissimilarities of the several varieties. This obviates the necessity of a description of each variety. It does not follow that all the names in one final group are but different names for the same variety. There are minor differences between some of the oats which may doubtless constitute variety characteristics; but for ordinary farm purposes these differences are probably unimportant.
Those varieties which were harvested from July loth to i2th, are classed as early. Plat 59 is an exception. It was harvested July isth, which was doubtless an oversight, as the same variety on plat 7 was harvested July nth. The medium maturing varieties are those harvested July i7th and i9th,and thelate maturing those harvested July 2ist and 23d.
correctly as to the comparative ripeness of several varieties.
There are some changes from the classification made in 1889. Early Dakota, centennial, and Hargetfs white are changed from medium maturing to early maturing. Egyptian has been changed provisionally from the open to the closed panicle group. Probably other changes will be made from year to year as the experiment progresses.
YIELD.
As was commonly the case with oats in this state in 1890, in the experiment under consideration the yield of grain was low, being for the sixty plats an average of 35.2 bushels per acre. The yield of straw was 3,063 pounds per acre. In 1889, the average yield per acre of grain from thirty-three plats was 41.2 bushels; of straw, 2,394 pounds. This year there were 2.8 pounds of straw for each pound of grain produced, while last year there were but 1.84 pounds of straw for each pound of grain. It is evident from this that the oats gave promise in the early part of this season of an abundant yield, but from some cause or causes the fulfillment of that promise was prevented. The problem is too intricate — the effect of climatic conditions and the damage from insect depredations and from the prevalence of plant diseases have been too little studied, to make it possible to speak dogmatically with regard to the failure in this particular case. Suffice it to say that the rainfall (11.47 mO f°r tne three principal months, April, May, and June, was but little below the normal for the whole season, but was in excess in April, somewhat deficient in May, and considerably more deficient in June, while the temperature for May and June was above normal; and that the oats were somewhat, although not in this case excessively, infested with the grain plant louse, Aphis avenae.
The table on page 365 gives for the several plats, in order, the yield of grain per acre, beginning with the highest, while the table on pages 365-6 gives more details both with regard to the yield and quality of the grain.
It is a striking fact, as will be seen from the tables, on page 365, that many of the varieties yielded nearly alike. Thirty-three varieties yielded between thirty and forty bushels per acre; that is, they did not vary over five bushels above or below the average of all the varieties.
Only five varieties, Texas rust proof, Texas red, Early Dakota, Pringle's progress, and new red rust proof stands conspicuously above the other varieties, Texas rust proof, stands somewhat ahead of any other. This
variety gave the poorest yield in 1889. Giant yellow French, which last year gave the best yield, this year yielded indifferently. Early Dakota is the only variety which yielded especially well both seasons. It gave the second best yield last season, 51.3 bushels, and the third best yield this season, 48.8 bushels.
QUALITY.
The quality of the several varieties, as indicated by the ratio of kernel to berry has been studied again this season, and is shown in the table oa pages 366-7. There was an average of 66.2 per cent, of kernel in the seed and 71.3 per cent, in the crop. In 1889, there was 69.6 per cent, of kernel in the seed and 65.1 per cent, in the crop. In other words there was a decrease of 4.5 per cent, in 1889, and an increase of 5.1 per cent, in 1890, in the crop as compared with the seed. This season there were more kernels without hulls than last season, which was one reason for the • increased percentage of kernel. Whether this was due to the conditions of growth or to the differences in handling cannot be told.
In 1889, Canadian black had the largest per cent, of kernel, 78 i in the seed. In 1890, the same variety had the largest per cent, of kernel, 80.8, in the resulting crop. The least per cent, of kernel in the seed sown was 59, in black Tartarian and the least in the crop was 64.8, in Clydesdale; and the per cent, was almost as low in black Tartarian.
There was a difference of 15 per cent, between the highest and lowest per cent, of kernel in the seed, and a difference of 16 per cent, between the highest and lowest per cent, of kernel in the crop. It was shown in bulletin No. 7, p. 207, that these differences were a matter of some importance to the individual oat raiser and of vast importance when applied to the total crop of the United States.
On thirty-four plats the varieties whose seed had in each case more than 65 per cent, of kernel and an average of 68.6 per cent, contained in the crop 72.8 per cent, of kernel. From twenty-four plats varieties whose seed had in each case less than 65 per cent, of kernel and an average of 62.8 per cent., contained in the crop 69.7 per cent, of kernel. The average yield of the former class was 34 bushels, while that of the latter was 36.6 bushels. That is, in 1890 those varieties whose seed had the largest per cent, of kernel averaged the largest per cent, in the crop. Unlike last year, however, those varieties having the less per cent, of kernel in the seed gave the larger crop of grain. On the thirty-six plats the varieties which had in the crop more than 70 per cent, of kernel, gave the same average yield as the varieties from twenty-two plats which had less than 70 per cent, of kernel in the crop.
The average weight of the berries harvested was equal to that of those sown. It appears, therefore, that the deficiency in yield was due to a less number of berries rather than to a decrease in the weight of the berry.
Thus it is seen that there is a wide variation in the yield, and to some, but apparently less extent, in the quality of individual varieties. The question arises, therefore, whether there is any traceable relation between the more striking characteristics of the oat, as time of ripening, color, size, and shape of berry, weight per bushel, etc., and the yield and quality. The table below shows that the following were the facts in« this experiment in 1890:
Date of Ripening. The extreme difference in the ripening of the several varieties was but thirteen days. The early ripening varieties yielded appreciably more grain than the medium maturing, and the medium maturing somewhat more than the late maturing. The yield of straw was in the reverse order, being over one-fourth more in the late than in the early maturing varieties, and the proportion of straw to grain was over one-half more.
The percentage of kernel both in the seed and in the crop was the greatest in the late maturing and the least in the early maturing varieties. In regard to quality this agrees with the results of last season. Last season there was no determinable relationship between the date of ripening and the yield. This season the yield of the early maturing varieties is
increased by the fact that the three heavy yielding dun Varieties came into this group. If they are left out, however, the yield of the early maturing varieties is still considerably above the other varieties.
per cent, of kernel both in the seed and the crop.
Color. The black varieties yielded one bushel of grain and about 400 pounds more of straw per acre than the white varieties. The dun-colored varieties yielded about seven bushels of grain and 500 pounds of straw less per acre than the black varieties. One of the dun-colored varieties yielded 20 bushels only of grain, and is otherwise different from the remaining three. Omitting this one, the dun-colored varieties yielded about fifteen bushels more than the black varieties and sixteen more than the white varieties.
The percentage of kernel was most in the dun-colored varieties and least in the white varieties. Last season the white varieties yielded decidedly the best and the dun-colored varieties the poorest. The duncolored varieties had, last season and this, the largest per cent, of kernel; but the black instead of the white varieties, had the least per cent, of kernel.
Plumpness of berry. The varieties with short plump berries did not yield quite so much grain or straw as those varieties with long slender berries. The per cent, of kernel was in favor of the latter both in the seed and the crop.
Weight per bushel. The varieties which weighed 32 or more pounds per bushel yielded slightly more grain and less straw than those that weighed less than 32 pounds per bushel. The per cent, of kernel was distinctly in favor of varieties which weighed less than 32 pounds per bushel. The varieties with the heavier berries gave substantially the same results.
MILK AND BUTTER TESTS.
At the request of the Illinois State Board of Agriculture, through Mr. E. E. Chester, superintendent of the dairy cattle department, Mr. E. H. Farrington, of this Station, made chemical analysis of the milk of the cows competing for certain prizes at the State Fair held at Peoria, September 29 to October 3, 1890. These prizes were in two classes — for cows
under and over three years of age — for each of the recognized dairy breeds, the awards to be made to cows whose milk, produced in 24 hours •during the progress of the fair, should show the greatest quantity of fat.
For these prizes 18 cows competed — 6 Ayrshires, 5 Holstein-Friesians, !5 Jerseys, and 2 Shorthorns. All were pure-bred cattle; most, if not all, had recently been shown at a series of fairs in different states.
In studying this table it is well to bear in mind that the rule that a single trial cannot conclusively settle all questions at issue, is especially applicable to a test of this kind. The comparative standing of different cows of different breeds depends, in large degree, on conditions not shown in the table. Under the regulations of the State Board of Agriculture the award was made on the quantity of fat produced without reference to quantity or quality of food, time since calving, pregnancy, size of cow, etc. In a test of this kind it is difficult to secure equally creditable representatives of the different breeds.
In this test quantity of milk proved to be as important as large percentage of fat. All the prizes were awarded to the cows giving the largest quantities of milk in their classes. The milk of the first and second
prize Jersey cows had not so large a percentage of fat as that of one other Jersey cow. The first prize young Aryshire cow had a slightly lower percentage of fat in her milk than did the second prize cow in same class. In the case of the older Aryshire, Holstein, and Shorthorns, the cows giving the largest yield of milk had also the largest percentage of fat.
Three of the Holstein cows gave yields of milk unusually large for a show-yard test — averaging almost 65 pounds each, which was more than twice as much as was given by any cow of any of the other breed. The average milk yield of the five Holsteins was more than twice the average in any of the other breeds. This larger yield more than counterbalanced the lower percentage of fat, so that the average quantity of fat produced by the five Holsteins was greater than that produced by any cow of any of the other breeds and twice the average of either the Ayrshires or Shorthorns. The average percentage of fat, of solids other than fat, and of total solids was lower than in either of the other breeds. One cow had a noticeably low percentage of fat.
The Ayrshires were remarkably uniform in quantity and quality of milk, the four cows over three years old having but two pounds variation in milk yield, and comparatively little in percentage of fat. The average percentage of both fat and total solids was low.
The Jerseys gave the smallest average yield of milk, but showed a high average percentage of fat, of total solids, and of solids other than fat. There was greater -variation in the percentage of fat in the milk of the Jerseys than in that of either of the other breeds.
The two Shorthorn cows gave milk of almost identical composition, having a moderate percentage of fat and total solids. Their yield of milk was less than that of the Ayrshires and but very little larger than that of the Jerseys.
The general average results, taking the 18 cows as one herd of mixed character as to breed and age, are interesting and make a creditable showing. An average milk yield of nearly 32 pounds per day, and almost one and one-fourth pounds of fat per cow, is above the average results obtained in practice. The differences to be found in such a herd are also well illustrated. Four of the cows gave an average of a little over two pounds of fat; four others a little less than three-fourths of a pound each. One-half the herd gave an average of about 1.6 pounds of fat; the other half about .85 of a pound each.
The differences in the composition of the milk of different cows, or the average composition of that of cows of different breeds is much more important than appears, if we think of these differences in comparison with the milk as a whole. If we take the average percentage of fat in the milk of the cows of different breeds, it will be seen that, in equal quantities the Jersey milk would have 78 per cent, more fat than the Holstein, 68 more than the Ayrshire, and 44 more than the Shorthorn. The differences in the milk of single cows is still more striking. In equal quantities the richest milk of a Jersey cow had 3.1 times as much fat as
that of the Holstein with exceptionally low percentage of fat; 2.1 times as much as that of one Aryshire; 1.7 times as much as that of either Shorthorn, and 1.5 times as much as that of one other Jersey. If the milk was bought on the basis of quantity of fat contained in it, a pound of the milk of this Jersey cow would be worth more than three times as much as a pound of the milk of the cow with the lowest per cent, of fat.
If the milk was bought with sole reference to its value for butter making, it is possible there would be even more difference in value than is indicated by the differences in the fat. It is impossible to secure all the fat in the milk by any system of cream separation in practical use. The skim milk from different cows may show the same percentage of fat, but this is obviously a less percentage of the total fat in rich than in poor milk. As much as one per cent, of fat may be found in skim milk in some cases. This would be almost one-half the fat in the milk of one cow in this test, and less than one-sixth of that of one other. When milk is set under conditions favorable for cream raising, and especially when the centrifugal separator is used, the percentage of fat left in the skim milk is comparatively unimportant.
Fat is not the only valuable element in milk. The other solids have also a decided value. Less difference is found in this test when the solids other than fat are compared with each other than in the case of the fat. The greatest difference in this respect in the milk of any two cows is a little less than 33 per cent.; while the greatest difference in the average milk of the cows of different breeds is 13 per cent, in favor of the Jerseys as compared with the Holsteins.
centage of fat in the milk of a cow in determining her value.
The four Holsteins giving the largest yield of milk were milked three times during the day — noon, evening, and morning. It was noticeable that in each case the morning's milk of these cows showed a considerable less percentage of fat than in that given either at noon or at night. In one case the night milk showed 4.45 and the morning, 2.68 per cent, of fat. The one Holstein cow which was milked but twice, also had a less percentage of fat in the morning's than in the night's milk. Of the other 13 cows, six had less in the night and seven less in the morning milk. One Ayrshire cow showed only 2.12 per cent, of fat at night and 4.16 per cent, in the morning. With the care taken in securing a fair sample of milk in each case, and in analyzing the milk, there is no reasonable doubt that the percentages of fat given are correct; but the differences noted give additional emphasis to the fact that no single test can be conclusive.
Some interesting comparisons with the results at this trial are suggested by the results of the milking trials at the show of the British Dairy Farmers' Association, held in. London, the first week in October, partial reports of which have been received. At this show 39 cows went through the trial, lasting two days. In making the awards of prizes not only was 3—
the weight of fat considered, but the weight of solids other than fat, and of the whole milk, as well as the time since calving, were taken into account, with a deduction of 10 "points" if less than three per cent, of fat was found in the milk given at any one of the four milkings.
The accompanying table gives a summary of the results for the Shorthorn, Jersey, and Guernsey cows and heifers standing highest in their classes, and for a single cow of each of the following breeds: Ayrshire, Dutch, Red Poll, and Dexter Kerry, the only ones of which reports are at hand.
In striking contrast with the Peoria trial are the large yields of milk by the Shorthorn cows and the one Ayrshire, and the creditable quantity of fat produced by them. Eleven of the seventeen cows gave more than one and three-fourths pounds of fat in a day.
The fuller report from which the above table is compiled shows more striking variations in the results in the milkings of the same cow. The daily milk yield of two or three cows varied more than five pounds in the two days. In the case of one Shorthorn cow the evening milk showed twice the percentage of fat found in the morning milk. This cow, No. 3 of the table, and the first prize Guernsey cow suffered a loss of 10 "points" because the fat in their morning milk was below 3 per cent.
During the progress of this show the English Jersey Cattle Society made a test of churning one day's milk of each of 13 Jersey cows and heifers. The largest yields were 2.21 and 2.09 pounds of butter. Seven
other cows gave more than 1.50 pounds. The largest yield of milk was 43.87 pounds. Of the milk of the first prize cow 14.28 pounds made a pound of butter. Of that of the cow giving the largest yield of milk, 28.36 pounds were required. The very creditable average result for the 13 cows and heifers was: 31 pounds milk, 1.67 pounds butter. One cow was in both tests. The result in butter was almost exactly the same as the average quantity of fat found in her milk during the two days' test.
These two trials were of cows of different breeds competing for prizes. Equally striking differences may be found in farm dairies, and any farmer milking cows. has a direct interest in ascertaining the facts concerning them. Thus a dairy of 35 cows, near Urbana, was visited by a representative of this Experiment Station, who weighed the milk from each cow and took a sample of it. This was done at each of the two milkings in 24 hours and the percentage of fat determined in the. 70 samples so collected. The cows were in their winter quarters, were of fair average weight, and in good flesh.
Dividing the herd into lots of seven we find one fifth giving an average of 5.35 per cent, of fat; while another fifth gave an average of 2.86 per cent, of fat — only a little over one-half as much.
The cows gave small yields of milk; the average per cow for 24 hours was 11.87 lb.; highest yield, 29 lb.; lowest yield, 5^ lb. The average quantity of fat was 0.45 lb.; highest, i lb.; lowest, 0.25 lb.
The importance of care in securing a fair sample of all the milk is shown by the following illustrations, purposely made extreme. A very small quantity of the first and also of the last milk drawn from each of three cows in the University herd was tested with this result:
Experiment No. 115.
A series of experiments was made in September last, to determine the effect of diluting milk with water when setting it for cream raising. As further experiments in this direction are to be made, the results are not given in detail.
In these experiments the milk was set in glass vessels three inches in diameter, filled to the depth of 8 inches, a little more than one quart of. milk being used in each case. In one series of the experiments the milk was set when at 95° F.; in another at 90° F. The water added varied in the different trials from 530 F. to 57° F.; the air temperature from 46° F. (in the night) to 75° F.
In every case the addition of water caused the cream to rise more quickly than when water was not added; and in all cases the time decreased as the percentage of water increased. When the mixture was equal quantities of water and milk, nearly all the fat secured apparently rose within one hour, or one and one-half hours, the volume of cream decreasing after this time. .
When no water was added the volume of cream continued to increase for at least ten hours. In one case about one-half the fat only rose in ten hours when no water was added, nearly one-half of the remainder rising after the milk was allowed to stand 16 hours longer; while nearly three-fourths rose in ten hours (probably much'less) when an equal quantity of water had been added to the milk and only a very small additional percentage was secured because of the additional 16 hours' standing. When the water was added to the milk, especially if in equal volume, the cream not only rose more quickly, but the line of separation was quite distinct from the first hour. When no water was added the line of separation was indistinct for several hours.
When the milk was set in moderately cool water the fat was more completely separated than when in the air, but here, as in the other case, the dilution with water hastened the rising of the cream and left a smaller percentage of fat.
In trials with the milk of individual cows, it was proved that the cream rose much more completely from the milk of some cows than from that of others, not only when the milk of each cow was set by itself, but when an equal quantity of water was added. In the case of one Jersey cow, the skim milk had .93 per cent of fat; that of two Holstein cows, under like conditions, 1.24 and 1.35 respectfully. This when the undiluted milk was set for 15 hours. When an equal volume of water was added to the milk, the differences were much more marked and smaller percentages were in the milk of the Holstein. Corrected for the water added, the skim milk showed fat percentage as follows: Jersey, 1.21; Holsteins, .60 and , respectively.
THE HESSIAN FLY. 377
These experiments do not make it probable that adding water to the milk is a desirable substitute for setting in cold or ice water. They do suggest that dilution may be helpful if ice or a considerable quantity of cold water cannot be secured. They do not clearly show the influence of a higher or lower temperature of the water added.
dilution method.
There is a possibility of being easily misled as to the gain from diluting the milk. The cream not only rises more quickly, but is thinner; that is, contains less fat in a given volume than when no water is added, while the diluted skim milk will look bluer, and chemical analysis will, of course, show a less percentage of fat in it, because of the added water.
The very general occurrence of the Hessian fly this season in destructive numbers in parts of central Illinois where it is but little known by the practical farmer, and where the most important preventive measures are not commonly understood, makes it desirable that a general account of the principal facts in its life history and economic relations should be now presented.
The views of the history and habits of this insect current among those who suffer from its ravages, are often confused and largely erroneous, chiefly because the egg is minute and almost never seen by the ordinary observer, the young maggot being commonly mistaken for it, — and because very few have ever recognized or seen the adult winged insect.
The Hessian fly is, in this state, practically a wheat insect only, its occurrence here in rye being merely occasional. Each generation goes through the four distinct stages of (i) the egg, (2) the maggot or larva, (3) the pupa or "flaxseed," and (4) the adult or winged insect. The injury is done wholly in the second of these stages, — the "flaxseed" being dormant, a stage of transformation merely from the maggot to the winged fly — and the latter being itself entirely harmless. [See plate, p. j8o.~\
There are always two destructive generations in a single year, and tinder some circumstances at least three. In fact, I have obtained evidence this spring from breeding cage and experimental work in the new
insectary of this office, that there may be even four generations which attack the wheat with destructive effect, — two in the spring and two in autumn. The principal injuries, however, are done by the last autumnal and the first spring generations.
The eggs are a slender oval, about a fiftieth of an inch in length, and small enough to lie lengthwise in the grooves upon the upper surface of the leaf of the wheat. Those for the principal autumn brood of the maggots are laid most commonly upon the leaf of the young wheat. The maggot hatching from these makes its way down -the leaf to the base of its sheath near the root, and here this milk-white, oval, smooth larva remains almost motionless, until it gets its growth — commonly in November — after which it forms a tough, smooth, dark brown case, within which it spends the winter, still in the same position. From this case (the "flaxseed " above mentioned) the winged insect bursts forth about the first of the following April, in the form of a delicate, nearly black, two-winged fly or gnat, which has a very close resemblance to a small mosquito. The sexes pair at once, and the eggs for another generation are laid almost immediately in the field, the adults perishing soon thereafter.
The maggots hatching from these spring eggs go through the same course of development, at the base of the stalk, behind the sheath of the leaf, and do the principal part of the damage noticed in the spring, causing the well-known " crinkling " or falling down of the straw as the wheat heads out. Many of the winged flies of this brood hatch some time before harvest, beginning to appear, in fact, by the end of May, and these lay eggs at once and give rise to a second spring brood, — a fact clearly established this season by breeding experiments at Champaign. By harvest practically all are in the so-called flaxseed state, and the greater part of them remain behind in this condition in the stubble after the grain is cut. A few, however, are carried away with the" straw. From these harvesttime flaxseeds the fall generations descend, the first of them appearing either in the volunteer grain or in early sown wheat, and the second — the hibernating generation already referred to — in wheat of the regular crop. The laying of the eggs for the first of these generations certainly begins by September ist, and apparently somewhat earlier. The average length of life of one generation or brood (except the hibernating one), from any stage around to the same stage again, is about six weeks.
It is, however, a fact of considerable economic interest that this division into generations is not anywhere complete, but that flaxseeds of any generation may lie dormant during the whole life of a generation following, finally hatching with the descendents of their original contemporaries. Thus, of those flaxseeds which form in May and June, some may give the winged fly in June and July and others not until September; and some of those which form in volunteer wheat in September, may hibernate and emerge the following spring.
This life history, complicated as it is, will repay careful study by every wheat farmer, for on it must be based all practical measures for the prevention of injury to the wheat. [See illustration, p. 380^
the following:
I. As a large percentage of the insects remains in the stubble at harvest, in the flaxseed state, and as the flies which hatch from them later are weak and delicate, the ground may well be plowed as soon after harvest as practicable, and rolled to close the cracks through which the winged insects might escape. If the stubble can be made to burn, this will, of course, destroy the flaxseeds even more effectually.
2. The volunteer grain springing up in the fields must be closely watched, and measures taken to destroy it about four weeks after its appearance, as it will otherwise assist to carry the insect through the summer in undiminished or perhaps larger numbers. The most convenient method of doing this will depend so much upon the season and the cropping planned, that each must select his method for himself.
ing or burning the screenings from the thresher, if the wheat is threshed at once.
4. To prevent the wheat from becoming infested in fall by the first autumnal brood, and to escape as much of the second as possible, the sowing of the wheat may, with advantage, be postponed as late as is consistent with its reasonable safety from winterkilling—to the last of September or the first of October, according to the common prac-. tice in the southern half of Illinois.
5. The damage done by any but the severest kind of an attack will depend, other things being equal, on the fertility of the soil and the strength of the plant. If the latter be strong enough to send out from the root new and vigorous stalks to replace those killed by the maggots of the fly, a considerable amount of fly attack may be scarcely noticeable at harvest time. From this it follows that the maintenance of the fertility of the soil is often a measurable safeguard against loss. I have no doubt that the soluble commercial fertilizers applied in spring to infested fields would have a happy effect, whether with profit or not can only be tested by experiment.
6. Finally, other things being equal, those varieties of wheat with a stiff and flinty stem, and those which tiller somewhat freely from the root, will suffer least under fly attack— the first because the straw will not so readily bend or break at the point weakened by the maggot; and the second because the flies of the second spring brood select fresh young shoots for the deposition of their eggs in preference to the older and tougher stalks, with the effect to kill only these valueless sprouts and to diminish by so much the injury to the heading stems.
The so-called Canada thistles are, in certain great areas of our country, justly considered the worst weed-pests of tillable land. (Notwithstanding the popular name, the plant is of European origin and was early introduced throughout our eastern seaboards and thence more or less scattered westward.) Among all bad weeds they are pre-eminently bad
Explanation of Plate. The Hessian fly and its transformations. A healthy stalk of wheat on the left, the one on the right dwarfed and the lower leaves beginning to wither and turn yellow; the stem swollen at three places near the ground, where the flaxseeds (A) are situated, between the stem and sheathing base of the leaf.
ai egg °f tfie Hessian fly (greatly enlarged, as are all the figures except e and A); b, the maggot, enlarged, the line by the side, in this and other figures, showing the natural length; c, the flaxseed, puparium, or pupa case; </, the pupa or chrysalis; f, the Hessian fly, natural size, laying its eggs in the creases of the leaf; f, female Hessian fly much enlarged; g, male Hessian fly; A, flaxseed between the leaves and stalk; i, parasite of the Hessian fly, male, enlarged.
Their facility of distribution by seeds, their perennial multiplication by root-stocks, their great tenacity of life, their rank growth, and their defensive, sharp-pointed spines cause them to be dreaded by the farmer and avoided by his flocks and herds. It is not strange therefore, that in the Mississippi valley several of the state legislatures have enacted special laws intended to prevent the introduction of this well recognized pest and to exterminate it where it has obtained a foot-hold. In Illinois such enactments have been in force since February 28, 1867, and the present law dates from March 15, 1872. Any board of town auditors, or commissioners in counties not under township organization, any city council, or trustees of villages, may appoint a "Commissioner of Canada thistles," who, when appointed, is clothed with proper authority and required to attend to the thorough eradication of every plant of this noxious weed. Prosecutions may be made and fines imposed upon anyone neglecting the requirements of, or refusing to obey, the law. The only other weed against which the laws of our state are directed is that known as the cocklebur — act in force July i, 1879, an(^ aPPtymg only to highways.
But no law, in and of itself, can extirpate Canada thistles, and the provisions of the Illinois statute have been much too often neglected. There exist to-day, within the borders of our state, numerous patches of these thistles — centers from which, in the ordinary course of distribution, larger areas must become infected. It is high time that the battle of extermination should be earnestly begun and persistently continued until not a plant is left to perpetuate its kind. This is entirely feasible as the account hereafter given shows. Whatever may be thought of the reproductive and recuperative powers of- these noxious plants, they can be beaten at no great cost if the warfare is begun early enough, though each year's delay must make the expenditure greater. But even after the total annihilation of the plant we should still have to be alert, however, to prevent its regaining a foothold with us, because it is very liable to be reintroduced, especially in the packing used in shipping heavy goods, like iron castings and marble, from the New England states and Canada. Most of the plants now found in Illinois are from seed originally brought in this way. But if attended to at once any such new starts would be easily subdued.
Having thus recognized Canada thistles as exceedingly bad weeds in Illinois and, as such, appropriately condemned by special laws, it must be said further that throughout most of our area the plant is by no means so obnoxious as it is in poorer and more clayey soils further north and east. A very striking pecularity in the development of the plant in Illinois, and the adjoining regions, is that it rarely produces seed. Nowhere is the weed more vigorous in its growth and nowhere does it spread more rapidly through the soil by its subterranean root-stocks, and nowhere are flowers more abundantly formed; but for some unknown reason, seed, capable of germinating, is almost never developed in Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, except in certain restricted areas. This is probably true of other
parts of the Mississippi valley, though the writer has no direct knowledge upon the subject beyond the boundaries named. On the bluffs bordering Lake Michigan, in Illinois, seed is not rare in the heads of the great numbers of plants there everywhere found. But this does not change the general statement just made. By a careful examination of hundreds of these heads grown in the central part of Illinois, and from scores of different patches of the plant, not a single sound seed has been found. It is much to be regretted that the cause of this peculiarity cannot be now given. No doubt there is a reasonable explanation, and no doubt sufficient further investigation would reveal the cause of the observed unfruitfulness. In the localities where the plant does produce seed in abunnance, there are two easily recognized forms of the thistle. One plant has a shorter stem, more condensed foliage, with smaller and more numerous leaf lobes, and a decidedly shorter head or flower cluster than the other. There is also a different shade of green in the foliage, which is easily recognized, when the plants are side by side, in a good light. As the flower heads mature an examination reveals the fact that the shorter ones never produce seed capable of germination, though the rudiment of the fruit is present. In these heads the pappus or downy growth fitted for carrying the seed through the air, has comparatively little development, while it is abundant in the heads of the other form. If now we examine more closely we shall find that the flofets of the shorter heads produce an abundance of pollen, while in those of the longer heads the stamens are rudimentary, or at least bear little or no pollen. The pappus of the latter attains double the length of that of the shorter heads, and admirably serves the purpose. of widely distributing the abundantly produced seed. We see, therefore, that the plants are essentially male and female, or staminate and pistillate as the botanists call them, though in both all the parts of a perfect flower exist structurally. All the stems springing from the same root are alike in this respect, so that it is common to find each form in separate patches of greater or less extent. Numerous insects visit the flowers and carry the adhesive pollen from patch to patch. Possibly some pollen is thus carried by the wind, though it is better fitted for the former method of distribution.
The seeds maturing in July and August, germinate at once, under suitable conditions and the hardy little plantlets survive the winter, ready for the first opportunity in the spring to push into vigorous growth, though no doubt much of the seed lies unsprouted in the ground during the winter.
This species differs from all other thistles in our country, in the possession of underground stems, called root-stocks. These are white, flexible, often greatly elongated growths, sufficiently different from the true roots to be readily recognized by any one. These root-stocks, unlike roots, are abundantly furnished with buds, from which the new, airgrowing stems may arise. They usually grow horizontally in the soil, at depths varying from a few inches to from one to two feet. Separation
from the mother plant does not kill them, because in the normal condition of things they are abundantly supplied with stored nutriment quite sufficient to enable the young, upward-rising stems to reach the surface and develop their first green leaves. Then these new leaves furnish a further supply to the subterranean root-stock, and its continued growth is rendered possible. It is in this way that a single plant of Canada thistle may give origin to an acre's dense growth in a few years without the production of a single seed. In the winter this subterranean part of the plants is not killed, hence the early and abundant development of the aerial portion in the succeeding spring and summer.
This plant has few natural enemies, but it does not altogether escape. Certain parasitic fungi blister and corrode its spine-bearing leaves. Among these Puccinia suaveolens, a rust like that of wheat, sometimes aids considerably in checking the growth and reproduction of the thistles. A little fly renders still better service, in destroying the seeds where these mature. In August, 1889, the writer collected heads of this thistle in Ontario, Canada, and put some of them into a box where they remained until November, 1890. At the latter date the box was opened and there were found good specimens of this pretty fly, which Mr. John Marten kindly identified as Trypeta florescentiae, described in Loew's Monographs of the Diptera of North America, Part III., p. 254. In this place it is said the larvae inhabit the flower heads of different species of thistles in Canada and all Europe. I do not know that the fly has been observed in Illinois, though several other insects help in destroying the seeds of other thistles.
The most important question in this matter, and the special one for which this report is made, is how may Canada thistles be exterminated in the surest manner and with the least expense. As at least a partial answer to this question the following account is submitted:
Information having been received of the existence of a patch of Canada thistles near Mattoon, 111., on the farm of Mr. Wm. Burgess, and having the promise of the proprietor to furnish the necessary labor, this Experiment Station undertook the direction of their extermination. Upon a personal inspection it was found that the patch consisted of about two and one-half acres in the corner of a field recently purchased by Mr. Burgess. The land was originally prairie and the soil continues to be rich and black. The surface is generally, in this region, very level but the thistles occupied the crest of a slight elevation. Some of the neighbors knew that they had existed in this spot during at least eight years, but no further history of the patch could be obtained. No others were known in the neighborhood though some had grown in certain streets of the town less than two miles away. That these thistles in the farm patch had not spread by seed was evident, because in that case they would have been far more widely dispersed over the adjoining fields in which there existed no greater obstacles to their growth than were present in this sperial corner. During the last year it has been observed that the plants had spread upon the borders of the patch two or three rods into previously
unoccupied ground, and this in spite of the cultivation and growth of a crop of corn. When the field was visited June 22, 1889, the thistles were found to be about two feet high,budded for bloom, and so thick upon the ground that it seemed impossible for anymore to gain standing room. Unless one wore leather leggins it was painful business to walk through them, and horses refused to be driven through for the same reason. Upon digging down in the earth the soil was found to be plentifully supplied with the horizontal root-stocks, the lowest of which were nearly two feet from the surface, — most adundant however about one foot deep. After surveying the special conditions of the place three experiments were determined upon as set forth in the letter of instructions, written after the examiner returned home, and from which the following extract is made:
2. Divide the land in three equal strips running north and south. Plow strip No. I as soon as practicable after cutting. Then harrow well to bring the roots to the surface. Sow millet or Hungarian grass seed at once, so as to make a heavy crop. The plowing in no place to be more than four inches deep. It is expected that this crop with that of the thistles that will grow will be plowed under later in the season when rye is to be sown, to be similarly turned under next spring.
On the second strip, after the first mowing, leave the land until the thistles sprout anew, about 10 days, then plow say four inches deep and harrow. Leave this land without crop of any kind this year; but with some surface cultivator, which will effectually remove all of the new'growth of thistles, go over the land as often during the season as the thistles make their appearance above the surface, or once in about two weeks. During the driest weather the interval may perhaps be longer.
On the third strip, soon after the thistles are cut, cover 'such part as may be practicable with straw, so that it will be six inches deep when well settled, taking care that it is evenly spread. On the rest of the strip spread a heavy coat of barn-yard manure at the rate of thirty good sized loads to the acre. After it is thoroughly spread plow the land as in the first and second strips, and cultivate in same manner as the second strip.
closely followed.
October 8, 1889, Mr. W. C. Lane, who rented the farm and to whom was entrusted the execution of the plans for extermination!, reported that the whole patch had been mowed July lyth, when the plants were in full bloom with some of the first flowers becoming dry. Wet weather followed and further operations were somewhat delayed, but July 3ist and August ist lots i and 2 were plowed and harrowed and the n'ext day lot 2 was sowed with millet at the rate of one bushel to the acre. Lot 3 was now manured as directed and plowed and harrowed, but the straw was not applied. At the time of the plowing numerous sprouts had started from the old stocks. Rain occurred and the millet made a good start. August 2oth, fresh plants about 2 inches high were abundant and lots i and 3 were thoroughly cut with a disk harrow, which in the rather mellow ground did good execution. September loth the disk harrow was again tried, but this time on account of considerable rain the ground proved
too hard for the implement to destroy all the plants and a plow was substituted. At this time the thistles in the millet were very numerous and 4 to 5 inches high while the millet itself was about one foot high. The whole was turned under. At the date of the report (October 8th) the whole had just been replowed and seeded with i^ bushels per acre of rye. Preceding this plowing it was observed that the thistles on the part having millet were not half so thick as on the other portions, but no decided difference was observed on the manured plot. The total expense to date was $13.75. This included wages for a man at $1.25 per day and a man and team at $2.50 per day.
From April 15 to 25, 1890, the rye, which had made a good stand, was plowed under and the ground thoroughly harrowed. Some thistles of weak growth had appeared in the rye before this plowing and scattering ones came up afterward, but very different in vigor from those of the preceding year. A second and third plowing followed May 25th and June 25th. A visit was made to the place on the first of these dates, while the team was at work, and a close examination was made for living thistles which were found to be few in number and widely scattered. There were still great numbers of subterranean portions of the plants turned up by the plow, but except in very rare instances these were dead and beginning to decay. A plat one rod wide and ten rods long was measured off, upon which a year before thousands of distinct thistles were luxuriantly growing, and an exhaustive search was made for living plants then showing above ground. It will be remembered that this was two months subsequent to the last plowing during which time the thistles had aa excellent chance to grow, as far as external conditions werfe concerned. Twenty-six such plants were found, all small and of feeble growth. At the tim e of the third plowing in June, there were reported still fewer plants. July i4th, no thistles having again appeared, all but half an acre of the area was sowed with about one bushel of millet seed per acre. At this time the ground was quite dry and little rain fell during several succeeding weeks. The millet made a comparatively poor growth, yet not a single thistle could be found in this part of the field at any time during the season. The millet was cut for hay September i5th. The half acre not seeded with millet was worked with the disk harrow August 2oth, after which nothing was done except to search from time to time for thistles of which up to the time of the report (October 8th) 45 plants had been found. These were commonly found in little clusters, 2 to 4 together, springing from the same subterranean source.
From the above it may be assumed that the job is practically completed, though careful cultivation should be given some crop on the ground next year, and the closest possible watch kept during the season for the last straggling representatives of their wonderfully vigorous predecessors. It will be observed that the original directions were not fully followed. This resulted from the fact that the man who did the work was so thoroughly occupied by other duties on the farm, that could not give
this experiment more time. It seems, however, that little difference could be observed the second year on account of the difference in treatment of parts of the field the first year. That upon which the first millet grew probably had the fewest thistles during the early part of the second year, but we have no exact data. The manure was applied with the hope of so stimulating the growth of the plants that the shock of disturbance with plow or otherwise would have more effect. It is regretted that we have here nothing positive from the results, or rather that the observations were not critically enough made to make known such diferences as probably existed.
The expenses for the second year amounted to $17.50 with a credit for hay (millet) of about $5.00, or a net cost of $12.50. Adding that of the previous year we have for the total expense $26.25, or $10.50 per acre. That amount would have been less had the entire plat been treated in the same manner during the first year; for, of necessity, time was lost in changing from one thing to another in managing the small areas. It ought to be said that during the second year a strip twenty-five feet wide around the patch, outside of the outermost thistles, was treated the same as the infested area, to make assurance doubly sure.
From the experience obtained, and from other information, we may formulate the best method of exterminating these pests when in full pos-session of tillable ground as follows:
plow and seed liberally with rye.
4. Plow under the rye in May and seed again with millet, or Hungarian grass, or plant to some hoed crop [corn] and give the most thorough cultivation, with continued searching for, and destruction of, every remaining thistle.
5. Continue the clean cultivation and sharp lookout for thistles another year.
On poor land labor would no doubt be saved by manuring, beginning preferably in the early spring of the first year, or better still, the preceding autumn or winter. The cultivation need not be deep at any time. Cutting the thistle stems three inches below the surface is as effective as at any greater depth, and labor is saved. But the utmost endeavor should be made to include in each process every living plant. From repeatedly . cutting off the aerial parts, the underground portions are sure to die of exhaustion, and mostly within the limits of one summer.
I have now to report the results of an experiment in exterminating this pest from a small area in blue-grass sod. This infested spot, about eight square rods in area, was on the campus of the University, in an out of the way place not kept in order with the lawn mower. The soil in this particular locality is not very fertile, and the grass makes a poor growth compared with the usual luxuriance on these grounds.
ning June 17, 1889, this was carefully done once each week until September 23d, of the same year. No record was at first kept of the number of plants thus cut, but from August 5th the count was made and is reported as follows:
hidden in the grass.
During the summer of 1890 the spot was similarly examined and treated the first of each month (once a month only) from May to November. The number of thistles found and cut off each time were in order as follows: i, i, 3, i, o, i, o.
This, too, practically closes the experiment, though some attention will doubtless be demanded next year. The time consumed in each examination was from one to two hours, — necessarily longer on account of the care required to find the plants among the grass. Counting the workman's wages at $1.25 per day, the total cost is about $4.00, or fifty cents per square rod.
From the foregoing it may be inferred that Canada thistles in Illinois can be practically exterminated within one or two years. The former time is sufficient, if every plant is frequently enough cut off at or just beneath the surface of the ground. On arable land only one year's crop need be lost, though practicing the greatest possible economy of labor. The total necessary expense of eradication is trifling compared with the rapidly increasing detrimental results of allowing the noxious plants to exist and multiply from year to year. In our part of the country to allow the thistles to grow is all the more inexcusable because the thistle produces no seed.
not to any person, but to the
AGRICULTURAL EXPERIMENT STATION, CHAMPAIGN, ILLINOIS. The bulletins of the Experiment Station will be sent free of all charges to persons engaged in farming who may request that they be sent.
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_Pr9_E1LYcb5tPuL | Geology of Devils Tower National Monument, Wyoming
A Contribution to General Geology | Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Geology of
Devils Tower
National Monument
Wyoming
_By_ CHARLES S. ROBINSON
A CONTRIBUTION TO GENERAL GEOLOGY
[Illustration: DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR · March 3, 1949]
The National Park Service and the Devils Tower Natural History
Association wishes to thank the United States Geological Survey for
their kind permission to have this Bulletin reprinted with minor
changes.
CONTENTS
Page
Abstract 1
Introduction 1
Geology 3
Devils Tower 3
Sedimentary rocks 6
Spearfish formation 6
Gypsum Spring formation 7
Sundance formation 7
Stockade Beaver shale member 8
Hulett sandstone member 8
Lak member 9
Redwater shale member 9
Stream terrace deposits and alluvium 10
Talus and landslide material 10
Structure 11
Geologic history 11
Origin of Devils Tower 12
Selected bibliography 13
ILLUSTRATIONS
FIGURE Page
52.--Index map showing location of Devils Tower National Monument 2
53.A.--Northwest side of Devils Tower showing how the columns
taper or converge and in places unite near the top and are
cut by numerous cross-fractures 4
B.--Southwest corner of Devils Tower showing the columns
flaring out and merging to form the massive base 4
54.--Generalized section of the sedimentary rocks of the Devils
Tower National Monument 6
A CONTRIBUTION TO GENERAL GEOLOGY
GEOLOGY OF DEVILS TOWER NATIONAL MONUMENT, WYOMING
By Charles S. Robinson
ABSTRACT
Devils Tower is a steep-sided mass of igneous rock that rises above
the surrounding hills and the valley of the Belle Fourche River in
Crook County, Wyo. It is composed of a crystalline rock, classified as
phonolite porphyry, that when fresh is gray but which weathers to
green or brown. Vertical joints divide the rock mass into polygonal
columns that extend from just above the base to the top of the Tower.
The hills in the vicinity and at the base of the Tower are composed of
red, yellow, green, or gray sedimentary rocks that consist of
sandstone, shale, or gypsum. These rocks, in aggregate about 400 feet
thick, include, from oldest to youngest, the upper part of the
Spearfish formation, of Triassic age, the Gypsum Spring formation, of
Middle Jurassic age, and the Sundance formation, of Late Jurassic age.
The Sundance formation consists of the Stockade Beaver shale member,
the Hulett sandstone member, the Lak member, and the Redwater shale
member.
The formations have been only slightly deformed by faulting and
folding. Within 2,000 to 3,000 feet of the Tower, the strata for the
most part dip at 3°-5° towards the Tower. Beyond this distance, they
dip at 2°-5° from the Tower.
The Tower is believed to have been formed by the intrusion of magma
into the sedimentary rocks, and the shape of the igneous mass formed
by the cooled magma is believed to have been essentially the same as
the Tower today. Devils Tower owes its impressiveness to its
resistance to erosion as compared with the surrounding sedimentary
rocks, and to the contrast of the somber color of the igneous column
to the brightly colored bands of sedimentary rocks.
INTRODUCTION
Devils Tower, a mass of bare rock that rises abruptly from the
surrounding grasslands and pine forests, is one of the most conspicuous
geologic features of the Black Hills region. Because of its scenic
beauty and scientific interest, President Theodore Roosevelt in 1906
established Devils Tower and a small surrounding area as the first
National Monument.
The Devils Tower National Monument covers an area of about 2 square
miles near the center of Crook County in northeastern Wyoming (fig. 52).
A paved road from the entrance of the National Monument goes south 7
miles to join U. S. Highway 14 at a point 29 miles northwest of
Sundance, Wyo., and 33 miles northeast of Moorcroft, Wyo. The entrance
to the National Monument may also be reached by a road (paved in
Wyoming) that goes northeastward from the entrance, via Hulett and
Aladdin, Wyo., to Belle Fourche, S. Dak., a distance of about 54 miles,
where it joins U. S. Highways 212 and 85.
[Illustration: Figure 52.--Index map showing location of Devils
Tower National Monument.]
Public campgrounds and a natural history museum are maintained by the
National Park Service at the base of the Tower about 3 miles by paved
road from the Monument entrance.
The geology of the Devils Tower National Monument was mapped during the
summer of 1954 by the U. S. Geological Survey in collaboration with the
National Park Service. The work was part of a study of the geology of
the northern and western parts of the Black Hills region conducted by
the Survey on behalf of the Division of Raw Materials of the U. S.
Atomic Energy Commission. The author wishes to acknowledge the
assistance of the National Park Service and, in particular, Mr. Raymond
McIntyre, Superintendent of Devils Tower National Monument.
GEOLOGY
The rocks exposed in the Devils Tower National Monument may be divided
on the basis of their origin into two general types; igneous and
sedimentary. The Tower itself is composed of igneous rock; that is, rock
formed directly by cooling and crystallization of once molten materials.
The rocks exposed in the remainder of the Monument are sedimentary; that
is, they were formed by the consolidation of fragmental materials
derived from other rocks or accumulations of chemical precipitates that
were deposited either on the floors of prehistoric seas or near the
shores of such seas. These rocks, which crop out around the igneous
mass, are layers of shale, sandstone, siltstone, mudstone, gypsum, and
limestone. Devils Tower owes its impressiveness to the differing rates
of erosion of these rock types--the soft sedimentary rocks erode more
easily than the hard igneous rock--and to the contrast of the somber
color of the igneous column to the brightly colored bands of sedimentary
rock that surround its base.
DEVILS TOWER
Devils Tower rises steeply for about 600 feet from a broad talus slope
at its base. The top of the Tower, at an altitude of 5,117 feet, is
about 1,270 feet above the Belle Fourche River. The Tower is about 800
feet in diameter at the base. The sides rise almost vertically from the
base for a distance of from 40 to 100 feet and then slope in more gently
to form a narrow bench. Above this bench, the sides again rise steeply,
at angles of 75° to over 85°, to within about 100 feet of the top where
the angle becomes less steep and the top edge of the Tower is somewhat
rounded. The top of the Tower is almost flat and measures about 180 feet
from east to west and about 300 feet from north to south.
One of the most striking features of the Tower is its polygonal columns
(fig. 53). Most of the columns are 5 sided, but some are 4 and 6 sided.
The larger columns measure 6 to 8 feet in diameter at their base and
taper gradually upward to about 4 feet at the top. The columns are
bounded by well-developed smooth joints in the middle part of the Tower,
but as the columns taper upward, the joints between them, rather than
being smooth, may be wavy and some of the columns may unite. Numerous
cross-fractures in the upper part of the Tower divide the column into
many small irregularly shaped blocks (fig. 53_A_).
[Illustration: Figure 53.--A. Northwest side of Devils Tower showing
how the columns taper or converge and in places unite near the top
and are cut by numerous cross-fractures.]
[Illustration: Figure 53.--B. Southwest corner of Devils Tower
showing the columns flaring out and merging to form the massive
base.]
The columns in the central and upper parts of the Tower are almost
vertical but flare out at the bench about 100 feet above the base (fig.
53_B_). On the southwest side the columns are nearly horizontal. Where
the columns flare out, several columns may join to form a larger, less
distinct column that merges with the massive base.
At the base of the tower, below the bench, the rock is massive and
jointing, poorly developed. Here the joints form large irregularly
shaped blocks rather than columns.
Columnar joints form as the result of contraction within a rock mass. In
igneous rock the contraction is the result of cooling; that is, the cold
solidified rock requires less volume than the same rock when molten. As
a rock cools it contracts, and the resulting tension is in a plane
parallel to the cooling surface. When rupture takes place, three
fractures radiate from numerous centers in the plane parallel to the
cooling surface. Ideally, the fractures are at 120° to each other. If
the centers were evenly distributed, the fractures from different
centers would join forming hexagonal (6 sided) columns. These fractures
will go deeper and deeper into the rock as cooling progresses. This
condition because of many factors, is seldom attained in nature, so the
columns may have 4, 5, 6, or even more sides.
The rock making up Devils Tower is classified as phonolite porphyry
(Darton and O'Harra, 1907, p. 6) and is of Tertiary age. The fresh
specimens have a light- to dark-gray or greenish-gray very fine-grained
groundmass with conspicuous crystals of white feldspar--commonly about
one-fourth to one-half inch in diameter--and smaller very dark-green
crystals of pyroxene. On the weathered surfaces the phonolite porphyry
is a light gray or brownish gray. Lichens growing on the rock may give
it a green, yellowish-green, or brown color.
Using a microscope, Albert Johannsen (Darton and O'Harra, 1907, p. 6)
identified the feldspar crystals as a soda-rich orthoclase and the
pyroxene crystals as augite with an outer zone of aegirite. In addition,
phenocrysts of apatite and magnetite, were identified. The groundmass,
according to Johannsen, consists of orthoclase laths in subparallel
arrangement, needles of aegirite, possibly some nephelite, small cubes
of magnetite, and secondary minerals of calcite, kaolin, chlorite,
analcite, and a anisotropic zeolite.
[Illustration: Figure 54.--Generalized section of the sedimentary
rocks of the Devils Tower National Monument.]
System
Series
Formation and member; Thickness, in feet; Columnar section;
Description
JURASSIC
Upper Jurassic
Sundance formation
Redwater shale member; 100+; Gray and gray-green shale. Thin
fine-grained sandstones in lower part; thin fossiliferous
limestones in upper part
Lak member; 40-65; Yellow soft fine-grained calcareous sandstone
Hulett sandstone member; 60-70; Yellow massive fine-grained
calcareous sandstone
Stockade Beaver shale member; 85-100; Gray and gray-green shales
with thin calcareous sandstones
UNCONFORMITY
Middle Jurassic
Gypsum Spring formation; 15-35; White massive gypsum interbedded
with thin red mudstone
UNCONFORMITY
TRIASSIC
Spearfish formation; 100; Red to maroon siltstone and sandstone
interbedded with some thin shale
SEDIMENTARY ROCKS
The sedimentary rocks that surround Devils Tower have a total exposed
thickness of about 400 feet. They are divided, from oldest to youngest,
into the Spearfish formation of Triassic age, the Gypsum Spring
formation of Middle Jurassic age, and the Sundance formation of Late
Jurassic age (fig. 54).
SPEARFISH FORMATION
The Spearfish formation crops out in the southern and northeastern parts
of the Devils Tower National Monument along the valley of the Belle
Fourche River and its tributaries and forms conspicuous brownish-red to
maroon cliffs that border the Belle Fourche valley for several miles in
the Devils Tower region. The formation is 450 to 600 feet thick in the
northern Black Hills area (Darton, 1909, p. 28); however, only the
uppermost 100 feet are exposed within the National Monument.
The Spearfish formation consists of red to maroon siltstone and
sandstone interbedded with mudstone or shale. Locally, greenish-blue
shale partings are found in the siltstone and sandstone. The formation
is poorly cemented and weathers very easily forming, for the most part,
gentle slopes, as on the northeast and southwest sides of the monument.
Where it does form cliffs, as south of the Tower, the cliffs are cut by
many sharp gullies.
No fossils have been found in the Spearfish formation in the Devils
Tower region, but elsewhere in Wyoming, stratigraphically equivalent
rocks contain land vertebrates of Triassic age.
GYPSUM SPRING FORMATION
The Gypsum Spring formation is exposed in a thin but almost continuous
band around the Tower on the southwest to northeast sides. It also crops
out near the top of the small hill at the eastern boundary of the
National Monument, a few hundred feet north of the Registration
Building. This formation is composed mostly of white gypsum, which
stands out conspicuously between the red beds of the underlying
Spearfish formation and beds of gray-green shale at the base of the
overlying Sundance formation.
The Gypsum Spring formation ranges in thickness from about 15 to about
35 feet. It is thickest on the hill at the eastern boundary of the
Monument. Here the formation is made up of a lower unit consisting of a
bed of white massive gypsum 20 feet thick overlain by 14 feet of
interbedded white gypsum and dark-maroon mudstone. The formation is 15
feet thick along the cliff directly south of Devils Tower. At this
place, the formation consists of 12 feet of white massive gypsum
interbedded with 1-6 inch thick beds of dark-maroon mudstone overlain by
3 feet of dark-brownish-red mudstone. The differences in thickness are
primarily the result of erosion of the Gypsum Spring formation prior to
the deposition of the Stockade Beaver shale member of the Sundance
formation (Imlay, 1947, p. 243).
SUNDANCE FORMATION
The Sundance formation consists of an alternating sequence of
greenish-gray shale, light-gray to yellowish-brown sandstone and
siltstone, and gray limestone. The formation crops out above the gypsum
and red shale of the Gypsum Spring formation on the bluffs and low
rolling hills that surround the Tower. The formation consists of four
members that are, in order of age from oldest to youngest, the Stockade
Beaver shale member, the Hulett sandstone member, the Lak member, and
the Redwater shale member (fig. 54) (Imlay, 1947, p. 227-273).
_Stockade Beaver shale member._--In general, this member, because it is
composed mostly of shale, is poorly exposed. The best exposures of the
lower part are on the hill at the east boundary of the Monument and
along the steep slope south of the Tower. The upper part is fairly well
exposed on the south side of the ridge north of the Tower, near the
north boundary of the Monument. The member has a thickness of 85 to 100
feet.
The composition differs considerably in detail from one exposure to
another, but in general it consists of gray-green shale with interbedded
fine-grained calcareous sandstone. At the base of the member, at nearly
all exposures, is a thin sandstone, 1 to 24 inches thick, containing
black or dark-gray water-worn chert pebbles that have a maximum
dimension of about 2 inches. Above the basal sand, the lower half of the
member is composed mostly of gray-green shale, which locally contains
some interbedded fine-grained calcareous sandstone, thin sandy and shaly
limestone or dolomitic limestone, and rarely thin beds of red mudstone.
The upper half of the member consists of dark-gray to gray-green shale
with interbedded fine-grained calcareous sandstone that range from less
than 1 foot to 6 feet in thickness.
The contact of the Stockade Beaver shale member with the overlying
Hulett sandstone member is gradational. The sandstone becomes more
abundant in the upper part of the Stockade Beaver shale, and the contact
between those two members is placed at that point where the sandstone
makes up more than 50 percent of the rocks.
_Hulett sandstone member._--The Hulett sandstone member is resistant to
weathering and forms a conspicuous, almost vertical, cliff that nearly
encircles the Tower. This member ranges in thickness from about 60 to 70
feet.
The Hulett sandstone member consists, in general, of massive
fine-grained glauconitic calcareous sandstone. It is typically yellow or
brownish yellow but locally may be pink or red. In the lower 5 to 10
feet the sandstone is in beds from less than 1 inch to 2 feet thick
separated by gray or greenish-gray shale partings of from less than 1
inch to 6 inches thick. Many of the sandstone beds at the base of the
member are ripple marked.
The 50 to 60 feet in the middle of the member consists of massive beds
that range in thickness from 5 to 20 feet. This portion is well cemented
and forms the conspicuous cliff seen throughout the area. The upper 5 to
10 feet is thin bedded (beds from less than 1 inch to 6 inches in
thickness) locally shaly, and poorly cemented. This grades upward into
the overlying sandstone and siltstone of the Lak member.
_Lak member._--The Lak member crops out above the cliff of Hulett
sandstone that almost encircles the Tower, and it underlies a broad
rolling area in the northwestern part of the Monument. The member is
rarely exposed because it is composed of soft sandstone and siltstone
that usually weather to gentle slopes and become covered with
vegetation. The best exposure is on the steep hill east of the Tower and
northwest of the bridge across the Belle Fourche river.
This member is 65 feet thick a few hundred feet east of the Tower, but
mapping within the Monument and measured sections within a few miles of
the Monument indicate that the average thickness is about 45 feet.
The Lak member is typically poorly bedded soft, very fine-grained
calcareous sandstone and siltstone with a few thin gray-green sandy
shale partings. At the base and near the top of the member may be a few
thin (less than 1 inch to 6 inches thick) well-cemented sandstone beds
that form small ridges. The sandstone and siltstone grade almost
imperceptibly from one to the other. The color ranges from light yellow
brown and yellow to red. In the Devils Tower area, shades of yellow and
yellowish brown are most common.
The contact of the Lak with the overlying Redwater shale member can be
observed only in the exposure east of the Tower. Here, the upper 3 feet
of the Lak is a yellowish-brown calcareous silty sandstone with a few
discontinuous sandy shale partings (less than 1 inch thick), and the
lower 3 feet of the overlying Redwater shale consists of dark-gray-green
shale with interbedded, thin silty sandstone.
_Redwater shale member._--This member encircles Devils Tower, but at
most places it is covered by talus from the Tower. Even where it is not
covered by talus, it is poorly exposed. It consists mostly of shale that
weathers into gentle slopes, which are usually covered by vegetation.
The Redwater shale is partly exposed on Fossil Hill, northwest of Devils
Tower, and on the hill in the northwest corner of the Monument. The best
exposures are on Fossil Hill.
The top of the Redwater shale member is not exposed within the limits of
the Monument; consequently, the thickness could not be determined. In
surrounding areas the Redwater shale ranges in thickness from 150 to 190
feet. It is at least 100 feet thick on the hill in the northwest corner
of the Monument.
The Redwater shale consists mostly of light-gray to dark gray-green soft
shale. In the lower 20 or 30 feet are beds of yellow soft sandstone, 3
inches to 2 feet thick. In the upper part, ranging from 50 feet above
the base to the top, are lenticular beds of fossiliferous limestone 1
inch to 4 feet thick. Two such beds of fossiliferous limestone are
exposed on Fossil Hill.
The Sundance formation contains clams, oysters, belemnites (squids), and
other marine fossils that establish its age as Late Jurassic (Imlay,
1947, p. 244-264).
STREAM TERRACE DEPOSITS AND ALLUVIUM
Stream deposits (alluvium) are found in the valleys of the small streams
around the Tower and, in particular, in the valley of the Belle Fourche
River, that cuts across the southeast corner of the Monument. The
deposits consist of unconsolidated gravel, sand, silt, and mud.
Along the Belle Fourche River, northwest of the river and between it and
the main road, the river cut a terrace in the Spearfish formation. On
the terrace were deposited gravel and sand.
TALUS AND LANDSLIDE MATERIAL
The talus and landslides are composed primarily of the material from the
Tower and the Hulett sandstone.
Talus from the Tower forms a broad apron that completely surrounds the
Tower. The talus extends from high on the shoulders of the Tower down to
and across the sedimentary rock. Locally, landslides of this talus have
extended through valleys in the sedimentary rock down almost to the
level of the surrounding streams. The talus from the Tower is composed
of fragments of the columns that range from a few inches in diameter to
large sections of the columns as much as 8 feet in diameter and 25 feet
long.
The cliff of Hulett sandstone that surrounds the Tower breaks off into
rectangular blocks that form talus slopes at the base of the cliffs and
locally large landslides down the hill below the cliffs. These blocks of
Hulett sandstone range in size from a few inches to many feet in
diameter. The talus material from the Tower has at several places
overlapped the cliff of Hulett sandstone and become mixed with the
material from the cliff.
About 1,400 feet north of the Tower are two patches of what is believed
to be talus formed from sedimentary rocks that once surrounded the
Tower. The talus consists of fragments of medium-grained brownish-white
sandstone and, what is apparently, a highly silicified gray or white
fine-grained quartzite. The sandstone resembles that found in the Lakota
(Darton and O'Hara, 1907, p. 3) that lies about 200 feet
stratigraphically above the Redwater shale in the area west of the
Monument.
The sandstone and quartzite occur in angular blocks that range from less
than 1 inch to several feet in diameter. The spaces between the blocks
are filled with a yellowish or brownish-white sand.
The Lakota sandstone at one time surrounded the Tower and it is believed
that these blocks are residual blocks that have not been removed by
erosion.
STRUCTURE
The sedimentary rocks in the National Monument, and in the surrounding
area, are gently folded into many small rolls, basins and domes, which
locally are cut by faults of small displacement. These small folds are
superimposed on a large dome that is collapsed in the middle.
Devils Tower is near the middle of the collapsed dome. From one-half to
about a mile from the Tower the sedimentary rocks dip gently from 2° to
5° away from the Tower to form a broad dome. Within a radius of about
2,000 to 3,000 feet of the Tower, the dips change, and the rocks dip, in
general, from 3° to 5° towards the Tower to form a shallow structural
basin. In the basin itself and on the dome are several small folds. As
an example, Spring No. 1 southwest of the Tower is in the center of a
comparatively sharp syncline or down-fold at the edge of the basin.
Fossil Hill northwest of the Tower is another small structural basin.
The beds along the top and on the north side of Fossil Hill dip from 12°
to 52° S. Those on the south side of the hill, north of the road,
apparently dip very gently northward.
Three faults were observed in the area of the National Monument. Two of
the faults are in the Hulett sandstone west of the main road and west of
the Tower, and the third is in the northwestern side of the Tower near
its base (pl. 30). The faults in the Hulett sandstone are probably
vertical, and the displacement along them is believed to be less than 10
feet. The fault at the base of the Tower is a low-angle fault that
trends northwesterly. The attitude of this fault at the point where it
disappears below the talus is: strike, N. 41° W.; dip, 21° NE. The fault
zone is 4 to 12 inches wide and is filled with a yellowish-green clay
and sheared fragments of altered phonolite porphyry. The rock of the
Tower below this fault is somewhat altered; the groundmass is a light
greenish gray, and the normally shiny crystals of feldspar have a dull
earthy luster.
GEOLOGIC HISTORY
The geologic history of the Devils Tower area is part of that of the
Black Hills region. The uplift of the Black Hills and the subsequent
erosion have exposed the rocks, from which the geologic history of the
area may be interpreted.
Most of the rocks within the area around the Black Hills are composed of
sediments deposited by water. These sedimentary rocks, which overlie
much older rocks (Precambrian), were deposited in a series of successive
layers during time intervals from the Cambrian period to well into the
Tertiary period. Deposits in the ancient seas are represented by
limestone, shale and some sandstone; deposits on low lands adjacent to
seas, as flood plains and deltas, by sandstone, siltstone, and some
mudstone; and deposits along streams by conglomerate, sandstone and
siltstone. Between the periods of deposition were intervals when the
land was relatively high, and in certain areas all of the sediments of
an earlier period were eroded away.
The oldest formation exposed in the National Monument, the Spearfish
formation, was deposited during Triassic time along flat lands bordering
the sea. Arms of the sea locally invaded the area to leave deposits of
gypsum, which are found near the base of the Spearfish in areas outside
the National Monument. The Gypsum Spring formation was deposited in the
sea in Middle Jurassic time following a period of uplift and erosion
that occurred after the deposition of the Spearfish formation. After the
Gypsum Spring formation was deposited, the sea retreated, and another
period of erosion followed before Late Jurassic time when the sea
invaded the area again and the Sundance formation was deposited. The
depth and conditions for deposition in this sea changed from time to
time, as shown by the alternating beds of shale and sandstone in the
Sundance formation.
Following the deposition of the Sundance formation, there were several
periods when the area was above sea level and when the sea covered the
area. During the periods when it was above sea level, the higher land
was eroded, and the sediments deposited at a lower level. When the area
was covered by the sea, marine sediments, principally shales, were
deposited. Near the end of the Cretaceous period, the sea made its final
withdrawal, and the sediments from late Cretaceous time to the present
were deposited in fresh water.
The Black Hills uplift developed primarily during early Tertiary time,
although it may have started in very late Cretaceous time. At this time
the present general structural features of the Black Hills area were
developed, and, probably, the igneous rocks, such as Devils Tower, were
intruded (Jaggar, 1901, p. 266). Following this, the Black Hills area
was repeatedly uplifted, and erosion exposed the older sedimentary and
intrusive rocks. Even today streams continue to strip more and more rock
from the country, leaving only local deposits, such as alluvium and
terrace deposits, along the valleys.
ORIGIN OF DEVILS TOWER
The origin of Devils Tower has been a matter of speculation for many
years, and even today after detailed geologic mapping of the area, no
conclusive proof of its mode of origin can be presented.
Several theories of the origin have been proposed. One of the more
popular of these is that it is the neck of an extinct volcano
(Carpenter, 1888; Dutton and Schwartz, 1936). Another theory is that
Devils Tower and Missouri Buttes (a mass of the same type of rock about
4 miles northwest of the Tower) are the remnants of a laccolith (a
tabular intrusive igneous body, thickest in the middle, and with a
relatively level floor), the vent for which was under Missouri Buttes
(Jaggar, 1901, p. 264). Darton (1901, p. 69) believed that the Tower is
the remnant of a laccolith, smaller than the one proposed by Jaggar, the
feeding vent for which was underneath the Tower.
Much more detailed geologic work will have to be done in the surrounding
area before the mode of origin of Devils Tower may be proved
conclusively. The evidence gathered during the present investigation,
however, suggests that Devils Tower is a body of intrusive igneous rock,
which was never much larger in diameter than the present base of the
Tower, and which at depth (1,000 feet or more) is connected to a sill or
laccolith type body. The bases for this theory are--
1. The exposed portion of the Tower is the result of recent erosion.
At the time of its intrusion it was surrounded and probably
covered by several hundred feet of sedimentary rock.
2. The mineral composition and texture are more typical of shallow
intrusive rocks, which are formed at depth, than extrusive
rocks, which are formed on the surface.
3. No evidence of extrusive igneous activity has been found in the
surrounding area.
4. Missouri Buttes, about 4 miles to the northwest, and the Tower have
the same composition so it is assumed that they were derived
from a common magma; possibly the magma of a large intrusive
body, such as a laccolith or sill.
5. In a well drilled about 1-1/2 miles southwest of Missouri Buttes,
near the center of a structural dome, rock similar to the
Tower and Missouri Buttes was encountered at about 1,400 feet
below the base of Missouri Buttes. Inasmuch as the thickness
of the sedimentary rocks in this area is normally much greater
than this depth, the rock in the drill hole probably
represents an intrusive body, rather than the Precambrian
igneous rocks upon which the younger sedimentary rocks were
deposited.
6. The relatively small amount of talus, slope wash, or terrace gravel
derived from the Tower and Missouri Buttes suggests that they
have not been extensively eroded, and therefore the original
igneous bodies were not much larger than at present.
7. Columnar jointing is common in intrusive bodies formed at
comparatively shallow depths.
_The following new material has been added to this booklet by the
National Park Service (Devils Tower National Monument, 1985)_
The most recent in depth, geologic study of Devils Tower was done by Don
L. Halverson (1980) and presented in a dissertation, to the Graduate
Faculty of the University of North Dakota.
He stated that, "The Missouri Buttes and Devils Tower, however, are
necks of extinct volcanoes which have been exposed by erosion. This
theory was first proposed by Carpenter (1888) and later expanded by
Dutton and Schwartz (1936). The material which fed these volcanoes came
from a minimum depth of 18 km. Evidence for this conclusion is listed in
the following statements:
1. The alloclastic breccia in the vicinity of Devils Tower and the
Missouri Buttes is definitely igneous in origin and probably
represents periods of violent eruption.
2. A very definite similarity exists between these two features and
the volcanic necks in the Taylor Mountain area of New Mexico.
3. The distinctive columns with basal flare are also found in the
volcanic necks of the Taylor Mountains (Dutton and Schwartz
1936), but have not been reported in columnar-jointed
laccoliths.
4. The Missouri Buttes and Devils Tower were intruded directly through
horizontal sediments without disrupting them, even in the
immediate vicinity of the igneous bodies.
5. Recent research indicates that many of the laccolithic intrusions
in the Black Hills region may have been less passive than
previously considered. Sundance Mountain may be a mixed
volcanic cone consisting of welded ash fall, massive quartz
latite, and ash flow tuffs. Nearby Sugarloaf Mountain is
composed of layered tuffs (Fashbough 1979).
6. Collapse of materials into partly evacuated reservoir chambers
accounts for the depressions surrounding the Missouri Buttes
and Devils Tower. The 90 m of depression at the southern end
of the Buttes is difficult to explain with a laccolithic
model.
7. Flow directions deduced from oriented thin-sections and field
observations indicate mostly vertical flow. It must be noted
that in both igneous bodies orientation of some grains is
horizontal; this could, however, simply indicate turbulent
flow.
8. The stability field for the analcime-liquid system is 5 kbar
minimum (Roux and Hamilton 1976), which indicates that the
original melt of Devils Tower and Missouri Buttes rock had to
originate at a minimum depth of 18 km.
9. It is unlikely that magma which had ascended from great depths and
had just penetrated the resistant Hulett Member of the
Sundance Formation, as well as the Lakota and Fall River
Formations, would be stopped abruptly by the less resistant
shales above. When the magma reached the shale beds, the
weight of the column of igneous rock could have exceeded the
strength of the shale, causing the magma to flow horizontally.
No indication of horizontal spread, however, is observed. The
continuously cylindrical shape of the intrusions indicates
that the magma moved steadily upward and probably reached the
surface.
10. Carbonatites have been found, and formally reported, in the nearby
Bear Lodge Mountains, and also as fragments in the alloclastic
breccias of the Missouri Buttes. Their presence suggest a high
volatile content for the magma and the possibility of
explosive volcanism."
[Illustration: 1.]
[Illustration: 2.]
[Illustration: 3.]
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
Carpenter, F. R., 1888, Notes on the geology of the Black Hills:
Preliminary report of the South Dakota School of Mines, Rapid
City, S. Dak.
Darton, N. H., 1909, Geology and water resources of the northern
portion of the Black Hills and adjoining regions in South
Dakota and Wyoming: U. S. Geol. Survey Prof. Paper 65.
Darton, N. H., and O'Harra, C. C., 1907, Description of the Devils
Tower quadrangle, Wyoming: U. S. Geol. Survey Geol. Atlas,
folio 150.
Dutton, C. E., and Schwartz, G. M., 1936, Notes on the Jointing of the
Devil's Tower, Wyoming: Jour. Geology, v. 44, no. 6, p.
717-728.
Imlay, R. W., 1947, Marine Jurassic of the Black Hills area, South
Dakota and Wyoming: Am. Assoc. Petroleum Geologists Bull., v.
31, no. 2, p. 227-273.
Jaggar, T. A., Jr., 1901, Laccoliths of the Black Hills: U. S. Geol.
Survey 21st Ann. Report, pt. 3, p. 163-290.
Pirsson, L. V., 1894, On some phonolite rocks from the Black Hills:
Am. Jour. Sci., 3d ser., v. 47, p. 341-346.
Zuidema, H. P., 1948, The touring public discovers Mato Tipi (Devils
Tower, Wyo.): Earth Science Digest, v. 3, no. 1, p. 3-7.
Halverson, D. L., 1980, Geology and petrology of the Devils Tower,
Missouri Buttes and Barlow Canyon Area, Crook County Wyoming,
Dissertation.
Transcriber's Notes
--Publication information is from the original print copy--this e-text
is public domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.
--Split single captions describing multiple images, into multiple
captions.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.) | 10,573 | common-pile/project_gutenberg_filtered | 49966 | project gutenberg | project_gutenberg-dolma-0008.json.gz:2946 | https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49966.txt.utf-8 |
RYW1bQ168C8NdnCt | Nurse Practitioners Delivering Primary Care in the Long Term Care Setting | Module 1: Introduction & Overview of NP Role in LTC
1.9 References
Canadian Institute for Health Information. (n.d.). Nurse practitioners. Nurse practitioners | CIHI
Canadian Institute for Health Information. (2020). Nurse practitioner scopes of practice vary across Canada’s provinces and territories [infographic]. Ottawa, ON. https://www.cihi.ca/en/nurse-practitioner-scopes-of-practice-vary-across-canadas-provinces-and-territories
Canadian Nurses Association. (n.d.). Nurse practitioners. https://www.cna-aiic.ca/en/nursing/advanced-nursing-practice/nurse-practitioners
Canadian Nurses Association. (n.d.). Nursing statistics. https://www.cna-aiic.ca/en/nursing/regulated-nursing-in-canada/nursing-statistics
Canadian Nurses Association. (2006). Practice framework for nurse practitioners in Canada. Retrieved from: Practice Framework
Canadian Nurses Association. (2010). Canadian Nurse Practitioner Core Competency Framework. Retrieved from: CompetencyFramework_en (cno.org)
Canadian Nurses Association. (2016). Position statement: Nurse practitioner. The Nurse Practitioner Position Statement
Canadian Nurses Association. (2020). Nurse practitioners: Untapped resource. Nurse Practitioners — Untapped Resource
Dangwa, P., Scanlan, J., & Krishnan, P. (2022). Integrating Nurse Practitioners into Long-Term Care: A Call for Action. The Journal for Nurse Practitioners, 18, 488-492. https://www.npjournal.org/article/S1555-4155(22)00055-1/fulltext
Health Standards Organization. (2023). National LTC services standard. HSO National Long-Term Care Services Standard (longtermcarestandards.ca)
Library of Parliament. (2020). Long-Term Care Homes in Canada-How are they funded and regulated? https://hillnotes.ca/2020/10/22/long-term-care-homes-in-canada-how-are-they-funded-and-regulated/ | 221 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca/npltc/chapter/1-9-references/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:5562 | https://pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca/npltc/chapter/1-9-references/ |
fYAZyOcWyX1qpRfy | Texas Government | 30 Elections
Learning Objectives
By the end of this section, you will be able to:
- Understand the four types of elections used in Texas
- Understand the type of primary used in Texas
The Texas Secretary of State serves as Chief Election Officer for Texas, assisting county election officials and ensuring the uniform application and interpretation of election laws throughout Texas.
Types of elections in Texas
Texas uses four types of elections:
- Primary Elections
- Runoff Elections
- General Elections
- Special Elections
Primary Elections
A primary election is an election used either to narrow the field of candidates for a given elective office or to determine the nominees for political parties in advance of a general election. State law, not federal, regulates most aspects of primary (as well as general) elections, and local election officials (county, city, and township) are predominantly responsible for administering them.
Runoff Elections
A runoff election is held when no candidate gets 50 percent plus one vote in the primary election. Primary elections often have multiple canddiates vying to represent a party in the general election and it’s not uncommon that a single candidate fails to win 50 percent plus one vote. In such a case there is a runoff election between the top two vote-getters.
General Elections
General elections are elections held at any level (e.g. city, county, congressional district, state) that involve competition between at least two parties. General elections determine the final winner–the candidate to take office. The candidate obtaining the most votes (even if not necessarily a majority of votes) wins.
Special Elections
Special elections are used for constitutional amendments or to fill elected offices that have become vacant between general elections.
In most cases these elections occur after the incumbent dies or resigns, but they also occur when the incumbent becomes ineligible to continue in office.
Special elections are called by the Texas Legislature.
Primaries in Texas
Type of Primaries
Among the fifty states, there are several different types of primary elections:
- Closed primary. People may vote in a party’s primary only if they are registered members of that party prior to election day. Independents cannot participate. Note that because some political parties name themselves independent, the terms “non-partisan” or “unaffiliated” often replace “independent” when referring to those who are not affiliated with a political party. Eleven states – Delaware, Florida, Kansas, Kentucky, Maine, Maryland, District of Columbia, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, Pennsylvania, and Wyoming – have closed primaries.
- Semi-closed. As in closed primaries, registered party members can vote only in their own party’s primary. Semi-closed systems, however, allow unaffiliated voters to participate as well. Depending on the state, independents either make their choice of party primary privately, inside the voting booth, or publicly, by registering with any party on Election Day. Thirteen states – Alaska, Arizona, Colorado, Iowa, Kansas, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New Jersey, North Carolina, Oregon, Rhode Island, Utah, and West Virginia – have semi-closed primaries that allow voters to register or change party preference on election day.
- Open primary. A registered voter may vote in any party primary regardless of his or her own party affiliation. Eleven states – Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Hawaii, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Montana, North Dakota, Vermont, and Wisconsin – have open primaries. When voters do not register with a party before the primary, it is called a pick-a-party primary because the voter can select which party’s primary he or she wishes to vote in on election day. Because of the open nature of this system, a practice known as raiding may occur. Raiding consists of voters of one party crossing over and voting in the primary of another party, effectively allowing a party to help choose its opposition’s candidate. The theory is that opposing party members vote for the weakest candidate of the opposite party in order to give their own party the advantage in the general election.
- Semi-open. A registered voter need not publicly declare which political party’s primary that they will vote in before entering the voting booth. When voters identify themselves to the election officials, they must request a party’s specific ballot. Only one ballot is cast by each voter. In many states with semi-open primaries, election officials or poll workers from their respective parties record each voter’s choice of party and provide access to this information. The primary difference between a semi-open and open primary system is the use of a party-specific ballot. In a semi-open primary, a public declaration in front of the election judges is made and a party-specific ballot given to the voter to cast. Certain states that use the open-primary format may print a single ballot and the voter must choose on the ballot itself which political party’s candidates they will select for a contested office.
- Blanket primary. A primary in which the ballot is not restricted to candidates from one party.
- Nonpartisan blanket primary. A primary in which the ballot is not restricted to candidates from one party, where the top two candidates advance to the general election regardless of party affiliation. Louisiana has famously operated under this system, which has been nicknamed the “jungle primary.” California has used a nonpartisan blanket primary since 2012 after passing Proposition 14 in 2010, and the state of Washington has used a nonpartisan blanket primary since 2008.
Texas Primaries
Texas’ primaries are difficult to classify–they are somewhere betwen open and semi-open. Voters in Texas don’t register under a party label, and may choose to vote in either party’s primary (but not both).
Voters who cast ballots in one of the major party primary elections may only vote in the runoff election for the same party in which they cast their primary ballot. Voters who did not cast a ballot in primary elections are free to choose either party’s runoff ballot, but may only vote in one party’s runoff election. | 1,275 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://library.achievingthedream.org/austincctexasgovernment/chapter/elections/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:36115 | https://library.achievingthedream.org/austincctexasgovernment/chapter/elections/ |
bo0ic5iL0M8TbA5z | Building Maintenance & Construction: Tools and Maintenance Tasks (Interactive) | 2.4 Threaded Fasteners, Drivers, Pliers & Wrenches
Threaded Fasteners
Selecting the appropriate fastener for a particular application involves considering many factors to include: functionality, strength and durability, exposure to natural elements, and aesthetics.While most bolts and many screws are designed for the head to press firmly against flat surfaces of materials and parts, screws with tapered or bugle style heads are manufactured to be countersunk even with or below material surfaces. Screws, bolts and other threaded fastener accessories are normally made of brass; or mild, hardened or stainless steel; or plastics in some designed for lighter and cosmetic applications. In many cases, threaded fasteners are treated with processes such as galvanization, electroplated phosphate, or chemical primers such as zinc oxide.
Screws are taper tipped and threaded in a manner that helps wood, or other materials, draw together as the screw is inserted. They are used in place of nails when stronger joining power is needed. A screw makes its own thread pattern in the material. Also the slots or drive types of screws are available in a wide variety (slotted, Phillips, Robertson, square, Pozidrive®, etc.).
Bolts are male threaded fasteners that require a female threaded counterpart (a “nut” or a threaded hole in a material) in order to secure themselves. Nuts and bolts allow for future disassembly and when used with flat and locking style washers, provide strong mechanical bonds and stability. These threaded fasteners are available in coarse and fine thread configurations which are recognized by the amount of threads per inch (tpi) in SAE fasteners and by pitch in metric fasteners. Cap head and stove type bolts are also rated by their hardness or shear strength. Various cast or embossed markings can be found on the head of these kinds of bolts, with each type of marking symbolizing a bolt’s capacity.
SAE Bolt Sizes by Clifford Rutherford is licensed under CC BY 4.0
Metric Bolt Sizes by Clifford Rutherford is licensed under CC BY 4.0
Specialty Anchors
Specialty anchors such as eye hooks, J-hooks for drywall, masonry, tile, wood, and other materials are available in both screw and bolt designs.
Tap and Die sets can be used to thread materials to accept another fastener. Taps are tools made to cut female threads while Dies are tools designed to cut male threads on round stock materials. It is important that the drilled hole size for tapping, or the diameter of the material to be threaded with a die, be of a specific size and tolerance so that the final threaded product fits properly. Taps and dies are also individually available in each machine fastener diameter and thread count.
All of the fasteners listed above require tool to tighten when assembling projects and loosen them when disassembly is required. Drivers, pliers and wrenches facilitate the assembly of items with threaded objects such as nuts, bolts, screws, plumbing and electrical fittings and pipes. Various styles of pliers can also be used to cut, bend, pull and crimp materials and mechanical fittings. While the proper selection of tools for particular fastener or fitting will result in easier and more rapid assembly and disassembly of projects, improper tool selection may result in material, parts, and tool damage, lost time, and possible injury.
Drivers
Pliers
Pliers are primarily used to grip objects that utilize leverage. Different configurations of the jaw are also used to grip, turn, pull, crimp and sometimes cut a variety of things. Many types are commonly identified by a manufacturer brand or model name and used by workers in multiple construction trades fields (Channellock® is a registered trademark for a manufacturer that makes numerous styles of tools, however tongue and groove pliers are commonly referred to as channel-lock pliers).
Wrenches
Wrenches can be used to turn bolts, nuts, or other hard to turn items. Wrenches provide excellent leverage compared to pliers, and most are designed to fit specific sized fasteners. The choice of an appropriate wrench depends upon the torque or leverage required to perform a function or the design of a fastener. The wrong choice of a wrench for a task can cause slipping of the wrench, damage materials and parts, and result in bodily injury. As nuts, bolts, and fasteners are offered in standardized fractional (SAE (Society of Automotive Engineers) and metric (millimeter or mm.) sizes, most wrenches are designed to fit hexagonal (six-sided) or hex fasteners and mechanical fittings. Wrenches can be purchased either individually or in sets based on style or combinations of styles.
TOOL TIPS:
- Only use bits and sockets rated for impact use with impact drivers and impact wrenches. Non-impact tools are made of materials that can crack, break, or shatter when used with impact tools.
- Apply a penetrating oil according to manufacturer directions to rusted fasteners prior to trying to loosen them.
- “Stuck” or rusted nuts, bolts, and screws can sometimes be freed by striking them sharply on the head with a steel punch.
- Traditional fasteners turn in a clockwise direction to tighten and counter-clockwise to loosen. Fasteners of this design are also known as “right-hand” threaded fasteners.
- Specialty fasteners required for certain mechanical applications turn counter-clockwise to tighten and clockwise to loosen. These are also referred to as “left-hand” threaded fasteners. | 1,134 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.oer.hawaii.edu/buildingmaint/chapter/pliers-wrenches/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:26152 | https://pressbooks.oer.hawaii.edu/buildingmaint/chapter/pliers-wrenches/ |
xtMKdEZW5fKhdzq2 | 3.2: Water Loss | 3.2: Water Loss
Learning Objectives
After reading this section, you will
- Differentiate among real losses
- Differentiate among apparent losses
- Prioritize leak fixing
If you were asked to picture water loss, you would probably think of a leak. Water is definitely lost through leaks. In this section, you will learn about types of leaks, but there are other ways systems lose water as well. As a general rule, you can estimate the amount of loss in a system by subtracting total consumption from total production.
Real losses include leaking pipes, joints, fittings; leaks from reservoirs and tanks; reservoir overflows, and improperly open drains and system blow-offs. Real losses are typically used (in terms of a percent of total production) to show how efficient a water retailer is in managing its assets. You can think of real losses as three primary types:
Reported leaks - These are the most dramatic leaks that end up in the local newspaper. These have high flow rates, but a relatively short run time because they are reported. They can be disruptive to staff (Stop everything and fix this!) as well as the customer (Why don’t I have any water?)
Unreported leaks —These are hidden underground. They may have low to moderate flow rates, and often very long run times. How would a utility find these leaks? They would need an active leak detection program of some sort or the leak would need to increase in flow to become noticed on the surface.
Background leakage —All systems have weeps and seeps. The flow rates are generally too small to be detected and not cost-effective to be fixed (until the leak escalates).
Keep in mind that as much as customers like to have water under relatively high pressure delivered to their homes, and high pressure is necessary to make it up to the top of hills in your service area, high-pressure systems are much more likely to leak than lower pressure systems.
Leaks are wasted water and money, but there are other consequences too. Wet areas may be liabilities for a water supplier and create a slippery surface or even a sink hole where people may get hurt.
Misconception Alert!
Many people think of real losses as the only type of loss. But there are losses that occur in all sorts of ways, which you’ll learn about below. Imagine what has to happen from the meter read to the actual delivery of the bill. Inaccuracies can be introduced in any number of ways.
Real losses are not the only source of leaks; they are just the most obvious ones. Water can be lost because of under-recording customer meters or theft. These are considered apparent losses. With an apparent loss, water may not be actually lost from the system. You can think of apparent losses as stemming from these sources:
- Customer metering inaccuracies—It is considered a best practice for all connections to be metered (though in some communities this is certainly not the case). Metering allows customers to make a connection between the volume of water used and the cost of water. It also provides information for water resource planners in terms of consumption trends. As meters age, they slow down. Without a meter replacement program, a water utility could easily be under billing based on customer metering inaccuracies.
- Customer billing system errors and data handling errors—Think of the process to get information from the customer meter to the customer water bill—there are a number of steps, including the actual read of the meter and transfer of information into the customer information system to billing. At any point in data transfer, an error can occur, but data errors can also be introduced in the analysis if estimates are used or accounts are closed or not transferred between customers.
- Unauthorized consumption—You would be surprised how much water is stolen! Yes, intentionally stolen! This could be an illegal opening of a fire hydrant, illegal connection, or tampering with a meter. Some customers will reactivate their own service connection after the service connection has been terminated for non-payment.
As you can see, there are a half dozen ways a water utility can lose water. The biggest reason for recovering water that was lost through real and apparent losses is revenue. This is literally money that is lost, whether it is by a medium-sized leak underground, a broken main above ground, theft, or meter reading errors. Other than weeps and seeps, all of these losses can be fixed, and usually cost-effectively.
Try It!
- If a water agency tracks the difference between consumption (the sum of all meter reads) and production (the sum of all water pumped from the ground or imported), would the difference between consumption and production be real or apparent losses?
- What is the relationship between pressure and leaks?
- What might be an argument to implement a leak detection program?
Glossary
- Apparent losses—Losses from customer metering inaccuracies, customer billing system errors and inaccuracies, and unauthorized consumption (theft)
- Background leakage—Weeps and seeps that have small flow rates and are not cost-effective to fix
- Real losses—Leaking pipes, joints, fittings; leaks from reservoirs and tanks; reservoir overflows and improperly open drains and system blow offs
- Reported leaks—Leaks that are reported with high flow rates, but short run times
- Unreported leaks—Leaks that are most likely hidden underground with moderate flow rates and long run times | 1,175 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://workforce.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Water_Systems_Technology/Water_132%3A_Water_Supply_and_Demand_in_California_(Anagnoson)/03%3A_Demand-Side_Management/3.02%3A_Water_Loss | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:45180 | https://workforce.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Water_Systems_Technology/Water_132%3A_Water_Supply_and_Demand_in_California_(Anagnoson)/03%3A_Demand-Side_Management/3.02%3A_Water_Loss |
t2nNbbxFfPhwiwpZ | 2.2: Vectors, Scalars, and Coordinate Systems | 2.2: Vectors, Scalars, and Coordinate Systems
Learning Objectives
By the end of this section, you will be able to:
- Define and distinguish between scalar and vector quantities.
- Assign a coordinate system for a scenario involving one-dimensional motion.
What is the difference between distance and displacement? Whereas displacement is defined by both direction and magnitude, distance is defined only by magnitude. Displacement is an example of a vector quantity. Distance is an example of a scalar quantity. A vector is any quantity with both magnitude and direction . Other examples of vectors include a velocity of 90 km/h east and a force of 500 newtons straight down.
The direction of a vector in one-dimensional motion is given simply by a plus (+) or minus (−) sign. Vectors are represented graphically by arrows. An arrow used to represent a vector has a length proportional to the vector’s magnitude (e.g., the larger the magnitude, the longer the length of the vector) and points in the same direction as the vector.
Some physical quantities, like distance, either have no direction or none is specified. A scalar is any quantity that has a magnitude, but no direction. For example, a 20ºC temperature, the 250 kilocalories (250 Calories) of energy in a candy bar, a 90 km/h speed limit, a person’s 1.8 m height, and a distance of 2.0 m are all scalars—quantities with no specified direction. Note, however, that a scalar can be negative, such as a −20ºC temperature. In this case, the minus sign indicates a point on a scale rather than a direction. Scalars are never represented by arrows.
Coordinate Systems for One-Dimensional Motion
In order to describe the direction of a vector quantity, you must designate a coordinate system within the reference frame. For one-dimensional motion, this is a simple coordinate system consisting of a one-dimensional coordinate line. In general, when describing horizontal motion, motion to the right is usually considered positive, and motion to the left is considered negative. With vertical motion, motion up is usually positive and motion down is negative. In some cases, however, as with the jet in Figure \PageIndex{2}\), it can be more convenient to switch the positive and negative directions. For example, if you are analyzing the motion of falling objects, it can be useful to define downwards as the positive direction. If people in a race are running to the left, it is useful to define left as the positive direction. It does not matter as long as the system is clear and consistent. Once you assign a positive direction and start solving a problem, you cannot change it.
Exercise \(\PageIndex{1}\)
A person’s speed can stay the same as he or she rounds a corner and changes direction. Given this information, is speed a scalar or a vector quantity? Explain.
- Answer
-
Speed is a scalar quantity. It does not change at all with direction changes; therefore, it has magnitude only. If it were a vector quantity, it would change as direction changes (even if its magnitude remained constant).
Summary
- A vector is any quantity that has magnitude and direction.
- A scalar is any quantity that has magnitude but no direction.
- Displacement and velocity are vectors, whereas distance and speed are scalars.
- In one-dimensional motion, direction is specified by a plus or minus sign to signify left or right, up or down, and the like.
Glossary
- scalar
- a quantity that is described by magnitude, but not direction
- vector
- a quantity that is described by both magnitude and direction | 772 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://phys.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/College_Physics/College_Physics_1e_(OpenStax)/02%3A_Kinematics/2.02%3A_Vectors_Scalars_and_Coordinate_Systems | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:486 | https://phys.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/College_Physics/College_Physics_1e_(OpenStax)/02%3A_Kinematics/2.02%3A_Vectors_Scalars_and_Coordinate_Systems |
b9ouLktF6E2htL1b | College Physics | Chapter 7 Work, Energy, and Energy Resources
7.6 Conservation of Energy
Summary
- Explain the law of the conservation of energy.
- Describe some of the many forms of energy.
- Define efficiency of an energy conversion process as the fraction left as useful energy or work, rather than being transformed, for example, into thermal energy.
Law of Conservation of Energy
Energy, as we have noted, is conserved, making it one of the most important physical quantities in nature. The law of conservation of energy can be stated as follows:
Total energy is constant in any process. It may change in form or be transferred from one system to another, but the total remains the same.
We have explored some forms of energy and some ways it can be transferred from one system to another. This exploration led to the definition of two major types of energy—mechanical energy [latex]{(\text{KE}+\text{PE})}[/latex] and energy transferred via work done by nonconservative forces [latex]{(W_{\text{nc}})}.[/latex] But energy takes many other forms, manifesting itself in many different ways, and we need to be able to deal with all of these before we can write an equation for the above general statement of the conservation of energy.
Other Forms of Energy than Mechanical Energy
At this point, we deal with all other forms of energy by lumping them into a single group called other energy [latex]{(\text{OE})}.[/latex] Then we can state the conservation of energy in equation form as
All types of energy and work can be included in this very general statement of conservation of energy. Kinetic energy is [latex]\text{KE},[/latex] work done by a conservative force is represented by [latex]\text{PE},[/latex] work done by nonconservative forces is [latex]{W_{\text{nc}}},[/latex] and all other energies are included as [latex]\text{OE}.[/latex] This equation applies to all previous examples; in those situations [latex]\text{OE}[/latex] was constant, and so it subtracted out and was not directly considered.
MAKING CONNECTIONS: USEFULNESS OF THE ENERGY CONSERVATION PRINCIPLE
The fact that energy is conserved and has many forms makes it very important. You will find that energy is discussed in many contexts, because it is involved in all processes. It will also become apparent that many situations are best understood in terms of energy and that problems are often most easily conceptualized and solved by considering energy.
When does [latex]\text{OE}[/latex] play a role? One example occurs when a person eats. Food is oxidized with the release of carbon dioxide, water, and energy. Some of this chemical energy is converted to kinetic energy when the person moves, to potential energy when the person changes altitude, and to thermal energy (another form of [latex]\text{OE}[/latex] ).
Some of the Many Forms of Energy
What are some other forms of energy? You can probably name a number of forms of energy not yet discussed. Many of these will be covered in later chapters, but let us detail a few here. Electrical energy is a common form that is converted to many other forms and does work in a wide range of practical situations. Fuels, such as gasoline and food, carry chemical energy that can be transferred to a system through oxidation. Chemical fuel can also produce electrical energy, such as in batteries. Batteries can in turn produce light, which is a very pure form of energy. Most energy sources on Earth are in fact stored energy from the energy we receive from the Sun. We sometimes refer to this as radiant energy, or electromagnetic radiation, which includes visible light, infrared, and ultraviolet radiation. Nuclear energy comes from processes that convert measurable amounts of mass into energy. Nuclear energy is transformed into the energy of sunlight, into electrical energy in power plants, and into the energy of the heat transfer and blast in weapons. Atoms and molecules inside all objects are in random motion. This internal mechanical energy from the random motions is called thermal energy, because it is related to the temperature of the object. These and all other forms of energy can be converted into one another and can do work.
Table 1 gives the amount of energy stored, used, or released from various objects and in various phenomena. The range of energies and the variety of types and situations is impressive.
PROBLEM SOLVING STRATEGIES FOR ENERGY
You will find the following problem-solving strategies useful whenever you deal with energy. The strategies help in organizing and reinforcing energy concepts. In fact, they are used in the examples presented in this chapter. The familiar general problem-solving strategies presented earlier—involving identifying physical principles, knowns, and unknowns, checking units, and so on—continue to be relevant here.
Step 1. Determine the system of interest and identify what information is given and what quantity is to be calculated. A sketch will help.
Step 2. Examine all the forces involved and determine whether you know or are given the potential energy from the work done by the forces. Then use step 3 or step 4.
Step 3. If you know the potential energies for the forces that enter into the problem, then forces are all conservative, and you can apply conservation of mechanical energy simply in terms of potential and kinetic energy. The equation expressing conservation of energy is
Step 4. If you know the potential energy for only some of the forces, possibly because some of them are nonconservative and do not have a potential energy, or if there are other energies that are not easily treated in terms of force and work, then the conservation of energy law in its most general form must be used.
In most problems, one or more of the terms is zero, simplifying its solution. Do not calculate [latex]{W_{\text{c}}},[/latex] the work done by conservative forces; it is already incorporated in the [latex]\text{PE}[/latex] terms.
Step 5. You have already identified the types of work and energy involved (in step 2). Before solving for the unknown, eliminate terms wherever possible to simplify the algebra. For example, choose [latex]{h=0}[/latex] at either the initial or final point, so that [latex]\text{PE}_{\text{g}}[/latex] is zero there. Then solve for the unknown in the customary manner.
Step 6. Check the answer to see if it is reasonable. Once you have solved a problem, reexamine the forms of work and energy to see if you have set up the conservation of energy equation correctly. For example, work done against friction should be negative, potential energy at the bottom of a hill should be less than that at the top, and so on. Also check to see that the numerical value obtained is reasonable. For example, the final speed of a skateboarder who coasts down a 3-m-high ramp could reasonably be 20 km/h, but not 80 km/h.
Transformation of Energy
The transformation of energy from one form into others is happening all the time. The chemical energy in food is converted into thermal energy through metabolism; light energy is converted into chemical energy through photosynthesis. In a larger example, the chemical energy contained in coal is converted into thermal energy as it burns to turn water into steam in a boiler. This thermal energy in the steam in turn is converted to mechanical energy as it spins a turbine, which is connected to a generator to produce electrical energy. (In all of these examples, not all of the initial energy is converted into the forms mentioned. This important point is discussed later in this section.)
Another example of energy conversion occurs in a solar cell. Sunlight impinging on a solar cell (see Figure 1) produces electricity, which in turn can be used to run an electric motor. Energy is converted from the primary source of solar energy into electrical energy and then into mechanical energy.
| Object/phenomenon | Energy in joules |
|---|---|
| Big Bang | [latex]{10^{68}}[/latex] |
| Energy released in a supernova | [latex]{10^{44}}[/latex] |
| Fusion of all the hydrogen in Earth’s oceans | [latex]{10^{34}}[/latex] |
| Annual world energy use | [latex]{4\times10^{20}}[/latex] |
| Large fusion bomb (9 megaton) | [latex]{3.8\times10^{16}}[/latex] |
| 1 kg hydrogen (fusion to helium) | [latex]{6.4\times10^{14}}[/latex] |
| 1 kg uranium (nuclear fission) | [latex]{8.0\times10^{13}}[/latex] |
| Hiroshima-size fission bomb (10 kiloton) | [latex]{4.2\times10^{13}}[/latex] |
| 90,000-ton aircraft carrier at 30 knots | [latex]{1.1\times10^{10}}[/latex] |
| 1 barrel crude oil | [latex]{5.9\times10^9}[/latex] |
| 1 ton TNT | [latex]{4.2\times10^9}[/latex] |
| 1 gallon of gasoline | [latex]{1.2\times10^8}[/latex] |
| Daily home electricity use (developed countries) | [latex]{7\times10^7}[/latex] |
| Daily adult food intake (recommended) | [latex]{1.2\times10^7}[/latex] |
| 1000-kg car at 90 km/h | [latex]{3.1\times10^5}[/latex] |
| 1 g fat (9.3 kcal) | [latex]{3.9\times10^4}[/latex] |
| ATP hydrolysis reaction | [latex]{3.2\times10^4}[/latex] |
| 1 g carbohydrate (4.1 kcal) | [latex]{1.7\times10^4}[/latex] |
| 1 g protein (4.1 kcal) | [latex]{1.7\times10^4}[/latex] |
| Tennis ball at 100 km/h | [latex]{22}[/latex] |
| Mosquito [latex]{(10^{-2}\text{ g at }0.5\text{ m/s})}[/latex] | [latex]{1.3\times10^{-6}}[/latex] |
| Single electron in a TV tube beam | [latex]{4.0\times10^{-15}}[/latex] |
| Energy to break one DNA strand | [latex]{10^{-19}}[/latex] |
| Table 1. Energy of Various Objects and Phenomena. |
Efficiency
Even though energy is conserved in an energy conversion process, the output of useful energy or work will be less than the energy input. The efficiency [latex]{Eff}[/latex] of an energy conversion process is defined as
Table 2 lists some efficiencies of mechanical devices and human activities. In a coal-fired power plant, for example, about 40% of the chemical energy in the coal becomes useful electrical energy. The other 60% transforms into other (perhaps less useful) energy forms, such as thermal energy, which is then released to the environment through combustion gases and cooling towers.
| Activity/device | Efficiency (%)1 |
|---|---|
| Cycling and climbing | 20 |
| Swimming, surface | 2 |
| Swimming, submerged | 4 |
| Shoveling | 3 |
| Weightlifting | 9 |
| Steam engine | 17 |
| Gasoline engine | 30 |
| Diesel engine | 35 |
| Nuclear power plant | 35 |
| Coal power plant | 42 |
| Electric motor | 98 |
| Compact fluorescent light | 20 |
| Gas heater (residential) | 90 |
| Solar cell | 10 |
| Table 2. Efficiency of the Human Body and Mechanical Devices. |
PHET EXPLOTATIONS: MASSES AND SPRINGS
A realistic mass and spring laboratory. Hang masses from springs and adjust the spring stiffness and damping. You can even slow time. Transport the lab to different planets. A chart shows the kinetic, potential, and thermal energies for each spring.
Section Summary
- The law of conservation of energy states that the total energy is constant in any process. Energy may change in form or be transferred from one system to another, but the total remains the same.
- When all forms of energy are considered, conservation of energy is written in equation form as [latex]{\text{KE}_{\text{i}}+\text{PE}_{\text{i}}+W_{\text{nc}}+\text{OE}_{\text{i}}=\text{KE}_{\text{f}}+\text{PE}_{\text{f}}+\text{OE}_{\text{f}}},[/latex] where [latex]\text{OE}[/latex] is all other forms of energy besides mechanical energy.
- Commonly encountered forms of energy include electric energy, chemical energy, radiant energy, nuclear energy, and thermal energy.
- Energy is often utilized to do work, but it is not possible to convert all the energy of a system to work.
- The efficiency [latex]{Eff}[/latex] of a machine or human is defined to be [latex]{Eff=\frac{W_{\text{out}}}{E_{\text{in}}}},[/latex] where [latex]{W_{\text{out}}}[/latex] is useful work output and [latex]{E_{\text{in}}}[/latex] is the energy consumed.
Conceptual Questions
1: Consider the following scenario. A car for which friction is not negligible accelerates from rest down a hill, running out of gasoline after a short distance. The driver lets the car coast farther down the hill, then up and over a small crest. He then coasts down that hill into a gas station, where he brakes to a stop and fills the tank with gasoline. Identify the forms of energy the car has, and how they are changed and transferred in this series of events. (See Figure 3.)
2: Describe the energy transfers and transformations for a javelin, starting from the point at which an athlete picks up the javelin and ending when the javelin is stuck into the ground after being thrown.
3: Do devices with efficiencies of less than one violate the law of conservation of energy? Explain.
4: List four different forms or types of energy. Give one example of a conversion from each of these forms to another form.
5: List the energy conversions that occur when riding a bicycle.
Problems & Exercises
1: Using values from Table 1, how many DNA molecules could be broken by the energy carried by a single electron in the beam of an old-fashioned TV tube? (These electrons were not dangerous in themselves, but they did create dangerous x rays. Later model tube TVs had shielding that absorbed x rays before they escaped and exposed viewers.)
2: Using energy considerations and assuming negligible air resistance, show that a rock thrown from a bridge 20.0 m above water with an initial speed of 15.0 m/s strikes the water with a speed of 24.8 m/s independent of the direction thrown.
3: If the energy in fusion bombs were used to supply the energy needs of the world, how many of the 9-megaton variety would be needed for a year’s supply of energy (using data from Table 1)? This is not as far-fetched as it may sound—there are thousands of nuclear bombs, and their energy can be trapped in underground explosions and converted to electricity, as natural geothermal energy is.
4: (a) Use of hydrogen fusion to supply energy is a dream that may be realized in the next century. Fusion would be a relatively clean and almost limitless supply of energy, as can be seen from Table 1. To illustrate this, calculate how many years the present energy needs of the world could be supplied by one millionth of the oceans’ hydrogen fusion energy. (b) How does this time compare with historically significant events, such as the duration of stable economic systems?
Footnotes
- 1 Representative values
Glossary
- law of conservation of energy
- the general law that total energy is constant in any process; energy may change in form or be transferred from one system to another, but the total remains the same
- electrical energy
- the energy carried by a flow of charge
- chemical energy
- the energy in a substance stored in the bonds between atoms and molecules that can be released in a chemical reaction
- radiant energy
- the energy carried by electromagnetic waves
- nuclear energy
- energy released by changes within atomic nuclei, such as the fusion of two light nuclei or the fission of a heavy nucleus
- thermal energy
- the energy within an object due to the random motion of its atoms and molecules that accounts for the object’s temperature
- efficiency
- a measure of the effectiveness of the input of energy to do work; useful energy or work divided by the total input of energy
Solutions
Problems & Exercises
1:
[latex]{4\times10^4\text{ molecules}}[/latex]
2:
Equating [latex]{\Delta\text{PE}_{\text{g}}}[/latex] and [latex]{\Delta\text{KE}},[/latex] we obtain [latex]{v=\sqrt{2gh+v_0^2}=\sqrt{2(9.80\text{ m/s}^2)(20.0\text{ m})+(15.0\text{ m/s})^2}=24.8\text{ m/s}}[/latex]
4:
(a) [latex]{25\times10^6\text{ years}}[/latex]
(b) This is much, much longer than human time scales. | 3,265 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.online.ucf.edu/algphysics/chapter/conservation-of-energy/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:40871 | https://pressbooks.online.ucf.edu/algphysics/chapter/conservation-of-energy/ |
613rcxcCdl0Pb4ur | 19.4: Sodium-Glucose Cotransporter 2 Inhibitors (SGLT2Is) | 19.4: Sodium-Glucose Cotransporter 2 Inhibitors (SGLT2Is)
By the end of this section, you should be able to:
- 19.4.1 Identify the characteristics of sodium-glucose cotransporter 2 inhibitor drugs used to treat heart failure.
- 19.4.2 Explain the indications, actions, adverse reactions, and interactions of the sodium-glucose cotransporter 2 inhibitor drugs used to treat heart failure.
- 19.4.3 Describe nursing implications of sodium-glucose cotransporter 2 inhibitor drugs used to treat heart failure.
- 19.4.4 Explain the client education related to sodium-glucose cotransporter 2 inhibitor drugs used to treat heart failure.
Initially, sodium-glucose cotransporter 2 inhibitor (SGLT2I) medications were introduced as pharmacologic therapy for clients with type 2 diabetes. After years of use in clients with type 2 diabetes and comorbid heart failure, the benefits of SGLT2Is were noted and researched for all clients with heart failure (regardless of whether they also had type 2 diabetes). Subsequently, SGLT2Is were found to reduce mortality in clients with heart failure, and a new class of medications for heart failure was introduced (Heidenreich et al., 2022).
The nephrons in the kidneys actively reabsorb glucose. Nearly all glucose is reabsorbed in the proximal tubule by “piggybacking” it with sodium reabsorption. Sodium is actively reabsorbed (requires energy expenditure), and during the process, glucose is also reabsorbed via a cotransporter system. If the cotransporter is inhibited, then less sodium and glucose are reabsorbed. That means that more sodium and glucose will pass through the nephron into the collecting duct and ultimately into the urine. Since sodium and glucose are solutes, or osmotically active, more water will also end up in the urine, which will result in diuresis.
The diuretic effect of SGLT2Is helps to reduce preload. If preload is reduced, then the heart does not have to work as hard. There also appear to be direct benefits that help the left ventricle pump more effectively, which is most likely the reason these drugs have become first-line therapy for clients with heart failure (Shah & Fang, 2022).
Table 19.12 lists the two SGLT2Is that are FDA-approved for heart failure and typical routes and dosing for adult clients.
| Drug | Routes and Dosage Ranges |
|---|---|
|
Dapagliflozin
( Farxiga ) |
10 mg orally daily; maximum dose: 10 mg orally daily. |
|
Empagliflozin
( Jardiance ) |
10 mg orally daily; maximum dose: 10 mg orally daily. |
Adverse Effects and Contraindications
Adverse effects of SGLT2Is include ketoacidosis in clients with diabetes mellitus, urinary tract infection, pyelonephritis, genital infection, necrotizing fasciitis of the perineum, volume depletion, and hypotension.
Contraindications to SGLT2Is include history of serious hypersensitivity reaction to dapagliflozin, chronic and/or acute kidney disease, and pregnancy.
Table 19.13 is a drug prototype table for SGLT2Is featuring dapagliflozin. It lists drug class, mechanism of action, adult dosage, indications, therapeutic effects, drug and food interactions, adverse effects, and contraindications.
|
Drug Class
Sodium-glucose cotransporter 2 inhibitor Mechanism of Action Blocks reabsorption of sodium and glucose in the proximal tubule by inhibiting the sodium-glucose cotransporter |
Drug Dosage
10 mg orally daily; maximum dose: 10 mg orally daily. |
|
Indications
Heart failure Diabetes type 2 Therapeutic Effects Diuresis Reduced blood glucose |
Drug Interactions
Insulin (hypoglycemia) Lithium Food Interactions No significant interactions |
|
Adverse Effects
Ketoacidosis in clients with diabetes mellitus Volume depletion/hypotension Urinary tract infection Pyelonephritis Genital infection Necrotizing fasciitis of the perineum Hypoglycemia |
Contraindications
History of serious hypersensitivity reaction to dapagliflozin Severe renal impairment, end-stage renal disease, or dialysis Pregnancy (potential fetal risk in third trimester) |
Safety Alert
SGLT2Is
Clients must be assessed for volume status prior to initiating an SGLT2I. When administering SGLT2Is, it is important to assess whether the client has signs of dehydration such as sunken eyes, skin tenting, or rapid heart rate. The nurse should notify the provider if these signs are noted prior to administering an SGLT2I. Low fluid volume can lead to significant hypotension with this drug.
Clients’ renal status also must be assessed prior to initiating SGLT2Is.
Nursing Implications
The nurse should do the following for clients who are taking SGLT2Is:
- Assess the client’s blood pressure and pulse on an ongoing basis with initial dosing and intermittently during drug therapy.
- Monitor the client for interactions because many medications and herbal supplements interact with SGLT2Is.
- Assess and monitor the client for adverse effects, drug and food interactions, and contraindications.
- Provide client teaching regarding the drug and when to call the health care provider. See below for client teaching guidelines.
Client Teaching Guidelines
The client taking an SGLT2I should:
- Inform their health care provider if they have diabetes and take insulin. Both insulin and SGLT2Is lower blood glucose. The client may be prescribed a lower dose of either of the two drugs.
- Inform their health care provider if they have been told they have renal insufficiency.
- Monitor for signs and symptoms of dehydration such as dry mouth or lightheadedness. SGLT2Is can cause significant hypotension in the presence of hypovolemia.
- Inform their health care provider if they are pregnant or intend to become pregnant. | 1,094 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nursing/Pharmacology_for_Nurses_(Openstax)/19%3A_Heart_Failure_Drugs/19.04%3A_Sodium-Glucose_Cotransporter_2_Inhibitors_(SGLT2Is) | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:15202 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nursing/Pharmacology_for_Nurses_(Openstax)/19%3A_Heart_Failure_Drugs/19.04%3A_Sodium-Glucose_Cotransporter_2_Inhibitors_(SGLT2Is) |
zvm3Y-wIhzV1lSvl | Principles of Macroeconomics | 33 Constructing the CPI
Constructing the CPI
The CPI for the month equals 100 multiplied by the ratio of the cost in the current month to the cost in the base period, or
For example, suppose the initial survey shows that the CPI market basket is 2 books and 20 coffees. The initial base period prices and quantities are in the first table below. In this base period, say 2011, the cost of the CPI market basket is $100.
Next, suppose that the BLS survey taken one month in 2012 reveals that the price of a book is $35 and the price of a coffee is $3. These 2012 prices and the initial base period quantities are shown in Table 1. In this period, the cost of the CPI basket is $130.
Using these data, the CPI equals ($130 ÷ $100) x 100, or 130%.
So, between the base period and the current period, the CPI has risen by 30 percent (130% – 100%). (1)
Table 1. Hypothetical CPI Calculations
| Item | Quantity | Price | Cost (dollars) |
|---|---|---|---|
| Books | 2 | $30 | $60 |
| Coffee | 20 | $2 | $40 |
| Basket | 1 | $100 | $100 |
| Item | Quantity | Price | Cost (dollars) |
|---|---|---|---|
| Books | 2 | $35 | $70 |
| Coffee | 20 | $3 | $60 |
| Basket | 1 | $130 | $130 | | 319 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://library.achievingthedream.org/fscjmacroeconomics/chapter/constructing-the-cpi/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:22313 | https://library.achievingthedream.org/fscjmacroeconomics/chapter/constructing-the-cpi/ |
pFvqBm9fJ5br_XlO | Readings for Writing | In This Chapter
So you have a main idea, and you have supporting ideas, but how can you be sure that your readers will understand the relationships between them? How are the ideas tied to each other? One way to emphasize these relationships is through the use of clear transitions between ideas. Like every other part of your essay, transitions have a job to do. They form logical connections between the ideas presented in an essay or paragraph, and they give readers clues that reveal how you want them to think about (process, organize, or use) the topics presented.
Why Transitions Are Important
Transitions signal the order of ideas, highlight relationships, unify concepts, and let readers know what’s coming next or remind them about what’s already been covered. When instructors or peers comment that your writing is choppy, abrupt, or needs to “flow better,” those are some signals that you might need to work on building some better transitions into your writing. If a reader comments that she’s not sure how something relates to your thesis or main idea, a transition is probably the right tool for the job.
When to Build Transitions
There’s no right answer to this question. Sometimes transitions occur spontaneously, but just as often (or maybe even more often) good transitions are developed in revision. While drafting, we often write what we think, sometimes without much reflection about how the ideas fit together or relate to one another. If your thought process jumps around a lot (and that’s okay), it’s more likely that you will need to pay careful attention to reorganization and to providing solid transitions as you revise.
When you’re working on building transitions into an essay, consider the essay’s overall organization. Consider using reverse outlining and other organizational strategies presented in this text to identify key ideas in your essay and to get a clearer look at how the ideas can be best organized.
Let’s take some time to consider the importance of transitions at the sentence level and transitions between paragraphs.
Sentence-Level Transitions
Transitions between sentences often use “connecting words” to emphasize relationships between one sentence and another. A friend and coworker suggests the “something old something new” approach, meaning that the idea behind a transition is to introduce something new while connecting it to something old from an earlier point in the essay or paragraph. Here are some examples of ways that writers use connecting words (highlighted with red text and italicized) to show connections between ideas in adjacent sentences:
To Show Similarity
When I was growing up, my mother taught me to say “please” and “thank you” as one small way that I could show appreciation and respect for others. In the same way, I have tried to impress the importance of manners on my own children.
Transitions to show similarity:
also
similarly
likewise
To Show Contrast
Some scientists take the existence of black holes for granted; however, in 2014, a physicist at the University of North Carolina claimed to have mathematically proven that they do not exist.
Transitions to show contrast:
in spite of
on the other hand
in contrast
yet
To Exemplify
The cost of college tuition is higher than ever, so students are becoming increasingly motivated to keep costs as low as possible. For example, a rising number of students are signing up to spend their first two years at a less costly community college before transferring to a more expensive four-year school to finish their degrees.
Transitions to exemplify:
for instance
specifically
to illustrate
To Show Cause and Effect
Where previously painters had to grind and mix their own dry pigments with linseed oil inside their studios, in the 1840s, new innovations in pigments allowed paints to be premixed in tubes. Consequently, this new technology facilitated the practice of painting outdoors and was a crucial tool for impressionist painters, such as Monet, Cezanne, Renoir, and Cassatt.
Transitions to show cause/effect:
therefore
so
thus
To Show Additional Support
When choosing a good trail bike, experts recommend 120–140 millimeters of suspension travel; that’s the amount that the frame or fork is able to flex or compress. Additionally, they recommend a 67–69 degree head-tube angle, as a steeper head-tube angle allows for faster turning and climbing.
Transitions to show support:
also
besides
equally important
in addition
A Word of Caution
Single-word or short-phrase transitions can be helpful to signal a shift in ideas within a paragraph, rather than between paragraphs (see the discussion below about transitions between paragraphs). As with anything else that happens in your writing, they should be used when they feel natural and feel like the right choice.
Here are some examples to help you see the difference between transitions that feel like they occur naturally and transitions that seem forced and make the paragraph awkward to read:
Too Many Transitions: The Impressionist painters of the late 19th century are well known for their visible brush strokes, for their ability to convey a realistic sense of light, and for their everyday subjects portrayed in outdoor settings. In spite of this fact, many casual admirers of their work are unaware of the scientific innovations that made it possible this movement in art to take place. Then, In 1841, an American painter named John Rand invented the collapsible paint tube. To illustrate the importance of this invention, pigments previously had to be ground and mixed in a fairly complex process that made it difficult for artists to travel with them. For example, the mixtures were commonly stored in pieces of pig bladder to keep the paint from drying out. In addition, when working with their palettes, painters had to puncture the bladder, squeeze out some paint, and then mend the bladder again to keep the rest of the paint mixture from drying out. Thus, Rand’s collapsible tube freed the painters from these cumbersome and messy processes, allowing artists to be more mobile and to paint in the open air.
Subtle Transitions that Aid Reader Understanding: The Impressionist painters of the late 19th century are well known for their visible brush strokes, for their ability to convey a realistic sense of light, for their everyday subjects portrayed in outdoor settings. However, many casual admirers of their work are unaware of the scientific innovations that made it possible for this movement in art to take place. In 1841, an American painter named John Rand invented the collapsible paint tube. Before this invention, pigments had to be ground and mixed in a fairly complex process that made it difficult for artists to travel with them. The mixtures were commonly stored in pieces of pig bladder to keep the paint from drying out. When working with their palettes, painters had to puncture the bladder, squeeze out some paint, and then mend the bladder again to keep the rest of the paint mixture from drying out. Rand’s collapsible tube freed the painters from these cumbersome and messy processes, allowing artists to be more mobile and to paint in the open air.
Transitions between Paragraphs and Sections
It’s important to consider how to emphasize the relationships not just between sentences but also between paragraphs in your essay. Here are a few strategies to help you show your readers how the main ideas of your paragraphs relate to each other and also to your thesis.
Use Signposts
Signposts are words or phrases that indicate where you are in the process of organizing an idea; for example, signposts might indicate that you are introducing a new concept, that you are summarizing an idea, or that you are concluding your thoughts. Some of the most common signposts include words and phrases like first, then, next, finally, in sum, and in conclusion. Be careful not to overuse these types of transitions in your writing. Your readers will quickly find them tiring or too obvious.
Instead, think of more creative ways to let your readers know where they are situated within the ideas presented in your essay. You might say, “The first problem with this practice is…” Or you might say, “The next thing to consider is…” Or you might say, “Some final thoughts about this topic are….”
Use Forward-Looking Sentences at the End of Paragraphs
Sometimes, as you conclude a paragraph, you might want to give your readers a hint about what’s coming next. For example, imagine that you’re writing an essay about the benefits of trees to the environment and you’ve just wrapped up a paragraph about how trees absorb pollutants and provide oxygen.
You might conclude with a forward-looking sentence like this: “Trees benefits to local air quality are important, but surely they have more to offer our communities than clean air.”
This might conclude a paragraph (or series of paragraphs) and then prepare your readers for additional paragraphs to come that cover the topics of trees’ shade value and ability to slow water evaporation on hot summer days. This transitional strategy can be tricky to employ smoothly. Make sure that the conclusion of your paragraph doesn’t sound like you’re leaving your readers hanging with the introduction of a completely new or unrelated topic.
Use Backward-Looking Sentences at the Beginning of Paragraphs
Rather than concluding a paragraph by looking forward, you might instead begin a paragraph by looking back. Continuing with the example above of an essay about the value of trees, let’s think about how we might begin a new paragraph or section by first taking a moment to look back. Maybe you just concluded a paragraph on the topic of trees’ ability to decrease soil erosion and you’re getting ready to talk about how they provide habitats for urban wildlife.
Beginning the opening of a new paragraph or section of the essay with a backward-looking transition might look something like this: “While their benefits to soil and water conservation are great, the value that trees provide to our urban wildlife also cannot be overlooked.”
Evaluate Transitions for Predictability or Conspicuousness
Finally, the most important thing about transitions is that you don’t want them to become repetitive or too obvious. Reading your draft aloud is a great revision strategy for so many reasons, and revising your essay for transitions is no exception to this rule. If you read your essay aloud, you’re likely to hear the areas that sound choppy or abrupt. This can help you make note of areas where transitions need to be added.
Repetition is another problem that can be easier to spot if you read your essay aloud. If you notice yourself using the same transitions over and over again, take time to find some alternatives. And if the transitions frequently stand out as you read aloud, you may want to see if you can find some subtler strategies. | 2,324 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.pub/dunicklm/chapter/developing-relationships-between-ideas/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:86105 | https://pressbooks.pub/dunicklm/chapter/developing-relationships-between-ideas/ |
mqbToeIcaEevIdJC | English 1101 Central New Mexico CC | 26 Chapter 18.1 Digital Tools for the Prewriting Process
Digital Tools for Prewriting
With the advent of the digital age, many tools have been created to aid writers in the prewriting and brainstorming process. Prewriting is the first stage of the writing process, typically followed by drafting, revision, editing, and publishing. For a more detailed look at the prewriting process, check out chapter six, Drafting Strategies in this OER.
This chapter covers methods of prewriting using digital tools: word clouds, concept maps, and storyboarding. These methods can be especially helpful for visual learners. If you prefer outlining during your prewriting process, revisit chapter seven in the OER for tips on outlining and develop your big ideas.
Typically, when you begin prewriting, you can start with the four following places:
- Using experience and observations
- Reading
- Freewriting
- Asking questions
Brainstorming
Before you begin formal research using databases, you must first try to thoroughly develop your interests and then construct viable research terms and questions, which requires some critical thinking skills. The first step in the writing process, a process that begins with a problem and normally ends with a solution, is brainstorming.
Brainstorming has many benefits:
- It balances the busyness of our lives with reflection.
- It encourages us to put our ideas on paper so we are taking our first step toward action.
- It helps us focus on constructive, creative, and exciting pursuits, and we are freed from needless worry.
The benefits of developing this brainstorming technique are far-reaching. You can use this process to narrow a topic from a larger subject, develop a plan for your writing, and prepare for your upcoming writing goals.
Word Clouds
Another artistic way to visualize your ideas and common themes is to create a word cloud. Based on any of the subjects that sparked your interest from the in-class free-writing (or a dialogue or reading log), you can create a map or cluster of words. There are no restrictions! Be free in your word associations! Feel free to “copy and paste” your free-writing text to create a word cloud at wordclouds.com. This option helps you see a visual pattern of the words that appear most in your writing.
Brainstorming and Word Clouds was written by Maggie Brophy, published by Central New Mexico Community College, 2020, and licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International
Concept Maps
Another way to analyze and narrow your topic is to use a concept map. This will help you brainstorm ideas and then focus your topic so your research is manageable. There are different ways to create a concept map. One of the most common methods is to write the broad topic in the middle and then branch out with subtopics, related issues, and examples or details.
If you don’t know much about your topic, you can refer to a tertiary source, such as an encyclopedia or Wikipedia, to gather background knowledge on the subject. Often, tertiary sources use an outline to organize information, then you can use those sub-headings in your concept map.
The concept map is a visual organizer that also helps you narrow your topic to a research question. Chapter 30 of the OER explores research questions and developing a research process.
Concept Map Template
Concept Map Example: Death Penalty
Concept Maps is adapted from Introduction to College Research by Lumen Learning and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.
Concept Maps in the Digital Age
There are many tools available online for students to develop their ideas using concept or idea maps. One mind map tool, called mindmaps.app, allows you to create a mind map and then export that image to your computer for later use in your writing process. Many students benefit from a visual representation of their ideas, so creating a map is often a great way to move forward in the research process.
Instructor Jamilee Gerzon created a video (embedded below) that covers how to develop mind maps as a prewriting process for rhetorical analysis. For more information on the genre of analytical writing, read chapter 19 in the OER, What Is Analysis?
Storyboarding
Storyboarding is another helpful tool to help you during the prewriting process. Suppose you need to write a personal narrative in English 1110. You’d want to make sure you read over Chapter 12, Personal Narratives before you begin developing a storyboard. Then, you can reflect on an experience you would like to write about. If you are required to write a literacy narrative, focused questions like the following can help you brainstorm ideas:
- What was your most compelling learning experience?
- Which of your learning experiences would make the most interesting story to share with your team?
- Which of your learning experiences is the most fun for you to think about and share?
- What was the impact of your learning experience?
How to Make a Storyboard
If you often visualize your ideas in a story format, you may benefit from the use of a storyboard. Many apps and websites allow you to use their software, so you can create storyboards for free. One sample website is Canva. Some of their templates do cost money, so double-check that you are using a free template before you begin. The following video, “What Is a Storyboard?” gives you more direction and ideas for how to begin storyboarding a writing project.
Storyboarding is adapted from Worsham, D., & Roux, S. (2019). Foundations in Learner-Centered Design. Retrieved from https://uclalibrary.github.io/foundations, and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 | 1,207 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.pub/newmexico5/chapter/chapter-18-1-digital-tools-for-the-prewriting-process-mytext-cnm/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:77667 | https://pressbooks.pub/newmexico5/chapter/chapter-18-1-digital-tools-for-the-prewriting-process-mytext-cnm/ |
__GZb7BMuLeOhgpk | Chapters on papermaking ... by Clayton Beadle. | 7, Great George Street, Westminster, S.W.
y^mong the chief objects of this Association are (i) to suggest the best course to be adopted for preserving the water supply under the special circumstances of any particular case; (2) to suggest the best position for locating pumping stations with a view of doing as little injury as possible to local interests; (3) to suggest the best course to be adopted in storing for domestic purposes, the ordinary rainfall, and (4) to take all possible steps to prevent Water Com¬ panies from obtaining money and powers from Parliament for the erection of pumping stations in districts where there is a shortage of water, and where such pumping operations threaten to deprive the inhabitants of the district of their natural supply.
Lecturer on Papermaking
before the Society of Arts , 1898 and 1902 ; at the Papermakers' Exhibition , 1897 ,* at the Dickinson Institute , on behalf of the Hertford County Council , 1901, and at the Battersea Polytechnic Institute , 1902; awarded the John Scott Legacy Medal and Premium of the Franklin Institute by the City of Philadelphia , and the Gold Medal of “ La Societe pour I encouragement de V Industrie Nationale " of Paris , and other Medals and Awards.
PREFACE.
This small contribution to the subject of Papermaking consists of a reprint of the ten Lectures prepared on behalf of the Battersea Polytechnic Institute in 1902, the right of publication of which was reserved to the Author.
These Lectures appeared in the columns of Papeb and Pulp. Many of the readers of that Journal haring expressed a desire to have them for reference, the Author determined to reprint them in book form.
Papermaking, like other progressive industries, is undergoing changes : what is new to-day will be old to-morrow ; and lectures on Papermaking must share a similar fate ; but the subjects with which these lectures deal will remain with us, and will continue to engage the attention of the Papermakers and Papermaking Chemists of the future.
Examination of Fibrous Eaw Materials for Papermaking 7
Moisture — Ash — Cellulose — Non-cellulose — Chemical behaviour — Yield — Commercial value — Consumption of chemicals — Chlorination — Precautions for treatment — Eag examination.
Art Papers as Applied to Process Printing . . . . . . 19
Art — Imitation art — Nature of surface — Nature of fibres — Minerals used — Preparation and application of coating — Casein — Gelatine — Test for coating — Preparation of process blocks — -Chemical and physical examination — Nature and utility of coated surface.
Bleaching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Peculiarities of ultimate fibres — Eelative lengths — Character¬ istics — Nature of <l chloride of lime ” — As powder — In solution — -Table of strengths — Effects of heat and time on the storage of bleaching powder — Change of strength on storage of solution — Chlorine gas — Tumbler bleaching — Bleaching in beater — -Effects of carbonic acid gas on bleaching solution — The Thompson process — Eau de Javelles— Eelative efficiencies of different solutions.
Early history of bleaching — Sun bleaching — Ozone — The atmosphere — Its bleaching effect — Sunlight — Hermite electrolytic bleachi ng— “ Still ” — 4‘ Circulating ” — Continuous use of bleach liquor — Temperature of bleach liquor.
The Influences of Moisture ok Paper . . . . . . 63
Effects of heat — Expansion and contraction of cellulose with change of moisture — “ Sensible ” moisture — The curling of paper with change of moisture1 — Testing for “ machine ” and “cross ” direction by means of damping — Effects of damping.
Chemical Residues in Paper . . . . . . . . . . 75
Metallic salts — Purity of ash — Lime salts due to bleach — Influence of acidity — Discharge of lines— Presence of iron — Reasons for — Amount in raw materials — Chemistry of rusting — Prevention of rusting — Effects of iron in water on paper — Elimination of iron during manufacture — Test for iron — Iron in chemicals — In finished papers — Iron and other metallic particles.
Definition of paper — Contamination of paper from raw materials — Lime boiling— Removal by subsequent washing — Impure caustic— Fixation of lime from water by fibres — Effects of different materials added to the chest — Mode of testing papers— Indicators — Chemical condition of paper — Soluble constituents — Insoluble constituents — Effects of metallic residues at high temperatures — Behaviour of iodide paper — Acidity and alkalinity of different papers.
The Function of Water in the Formation of a Wed of Paper 102
Effects of water on fibres — Flexibility — Felting qualities — Elasticity — Shrinkage on drying — Removal of water — Influence of temperature when hydraulic pressing — Capillarity — Brittleness — Effects of rosin — Beating — Calendering — Physical properties of fibres.
Early attempts at preservation — The effects of the fibre — Sizing — Clay — The atmosphere — Sunshine — Temperature and moisture — Discoloration — Fading of water colours — Organisms — Moisture — Fermentation — Nitrogenous matter — Methods of examination for — Liability to decay.
The Society of Arts Committee — Their decision — The acid action of drawing papers — Influence of rosin and gelatine sizing on strength — Deterioration due to mechanical wood —
H.M.Stationery Office contracts— National Physical Laboratory — Work in Italy — Banknotes — Work in LTnited States and Sweden — Climatic and local conditions affecting requirements —Drawing papers — Improvement on storage of papers — Effects of time on stretch and strength — Question of bulkinfluence of glazing on bulk — Effects of mineral constituents on bulk — Influence of glazing on appearance — Action of light on papers — Transparency — Opacity — Methods for determin¬ ing opacity — Necessity for a uniform method.
FOR PAPERMAKING.
Moisture — Ash — Cellulose— Non-cellulose — Chemical behaviour — Yield — Commercial value — Consumption of chemicals — Chlorination — Precautions for treatment — Rag examination.
It will be noticed on looking at the syllabus of these lectures that there is no mention made of this subject. The fact is that the syllabus was only intended to give a general statement of some subjects, as a rough guide, which might be treated of in this course of lectures. For future lectures 1 shall have to be guided largely by the composition of the class, and the requirements of the students who attend. This I hope to discover during the half-hour devoted to discussion on the lecture.
I have long ago given up all attempt to deal with the subject of papermaking in a general sort of way, as it is generally dealt with in text-books. I do not think it advisable to attempt to give an elaborate and detailed description of the processes as they follow one another in the ordinary course of papermaking, such as is attempted in Hoffman’s Treatise and other text-books dealing with the subject from a general point of view.
It is impossible for anyone to become a papermaker, or to acquire a practical knowledge of papermaking, merely by listening to lectures or by studying publications on the subject ; but it should be possible for students to obtain a more intellectual grasp of the subject, especially if they are engaged in a paper mill.
I understood that this class would consist partly of students engaged in paper manufacture and partly of students engaged in large stationery businesses who desire to get a closer knowledgeof the paper which goes through their hands. I cannot hold out any hopes that the latter will ever be able to consider themselves papermakers, however much they may study the subject. In
order to 'understand the manufacture of paper, and to be of real practical service in a paper mill, it is necessary, of course, to go through the mill, working in each of the chief departments. This, however, is only the privilege of the few who are likely to become foremen and managers of paper mills; the majority have to be contented with a more limited experience. It is possible, however, that aii ordinary workman may go through one depart¬ ment to another, as opportunities arise for his promotion.
I have always claimed that it is important for any workman 'to have some knowledge of the actual mechanical operations which he may have to conduct in his ordinary routine work, and also of the operations which are affected by his own labour. This I endeavoured to emphasise in my lecture before the Society ■of Arts. I regard this as particularly true of papermaking. In many of the departments a man’s work is largely dependent upon -the work of other departments. As an instance of this, I would mention the way that the work is done in the rag-house will affect that process right throughout. The beating also has an important effect upon the way the material will work upon the machine. It is important for the machineman to know something, at any rate, about beating ; and it is important also that the beaterman should know something about the way the treatment of the fibres in the beater influences the stuff as it passes over the paper machine, in order that he may beat his stuff to the best advantage for the machineman.
It is evident that the large stationers of this country who are engaged in the selling of paper desire that some of their staff should possess some knowledge, at any rate, of the process of papermaking and the composition of papers. It appears to me that this may be carried too far. Taking a more broad-minded view, 1 think, on the whole, it would be more to ihe advantage both of the papermaker and the stationer if they knew something about the difficulties with which they each have to contend, and without trespassing on each other’s domains. This might be done in some measure by the holding of classes where practical subjects are discussed.
1 have chosen for the subject of this evening’s lecture the preparation of fibrous raw materials. I think it is a subject which should prove of a good deal of general interest. The information which I have to put before you may be rather in .advance of some of the students in the class, but as the lecture is to be printed in the columns of Papek and Pulp, they will have ■.opportunities of studying it at their leisure, and to ask me
lectures.
If any of those who take notes of these lectures desire to ask any question whieh deals directly with the subject of the lecture, I should be obliged if they would briefly state their question in writing, that I may endeavour in a future lecture to give them information on the question which they raise, or, if time is short, to refer them to some means of obtaining information through some publication bearing on the matter.
The examination of fibrous raw materials in a systematic wav is outside the province of an ordinary worker, and such work requires a good deal of experience and special appliances ; but it is instructive, as, in order to examine the raw material, it is often necessary to put it through treatments and processes more or less imitating what takes place in the paper mill. By the results obtained from such treatments and processes, a very fair practical knowledge can be obtained of the quality and value of the fibres under treatment.
As far as I am aware no systematic attempt was made in this direction until the Indian and Colonial Exhibition in 1886. My cousin, Mr. E. H. Joynson, at whose mill I was at work at the time of this Exhibition, was very anxious to undertake, in con¬ junction with the well-known chemists, Messrs. Cross & Bevan, a systematic examination of the fibres exhibited at this Exhibition. This was finally arranged at a conference held at the Exhibition, and I was deputed by Mr. Joynson to carry out the analytical work in conjunction with Messrs. Cross & Bevan, of London. This work lasted about six months. As a result a special report was issued by the authority of the Secretary of State for India, dealing with the various Indian fibres, and a further report was. issued by the Colonial Secretary, edited bv Sir Henry Trueman. Wood.
proportion of moisture, or as we may term it, water of condition, which
within the limits of variation ( 1 —2%), due to atmospheric changes, is definite, and characteristic of each fibre. It is noteworthy that the proportion of hydroscopic moisture is an index of susceptibility of attack by hydrolytic agents ; it is certainly true that the textile fibres of the highest class are distinguished by their relatively low moisture. The extent to which this condition is applicable will he seen by an examination of the table of analytical results.
“ It is scarcely necessary to say tbat-the moisture is determined by drying a weighed quantity of the fibre. It is necessary to raise the temperature to 110 degrees (C.) to drive off the whole of the water. At 100 degrees a fibre will often retain 1% of its weight. Owing to the variations in this constituent, it is expedient to express all the results of analysis as percentages of the dry fibre.
“ Mineral Constituents. — The ash left on incinerating the fibre is ■determined in the usual way. The proportion is low in the iigno-celluloses, higher in the pecto-celluloses, and especially when the proportion of noncellulose is high. Cellular tissue further contains a higher proportion of mineral constituents than the fibres, and an admixture of the former, therefore, raises the percentage.
“ Hydrolysis. — There are two classes of reagents which intensify that resolving action of water upon organic bodies known as hydrolysis, they are the acids and alkalies of these. The former, for the most part, exert a very destructive action upon the vegetable fibres, and though the study of this action would doubtless afford valuable information, it has not been found expedient to include it in our scheme of analysis.
“ The action of boiling dilute alkalies, on the other hand, effecting a ■simpler resolution, and involving very important points in the practical applications of the fibres, gives results which form a necessary part in their diagnosis. A convenient, though of course arbitrary method, has been selected as follows:— -The fibre is boiled (a) for five minutes in a solution of caustic soda (1 per cent. Na20), washed, dried, and weighed. The loss of w'eight presents the proportion of the fibre which yields to the solvent action of the alkali. (b) In a second portion of the fibre boiling is continued for one hour. The loss of weight is an indication of the ‘ degrading ’ action of the alkali. In many of the pecto-celluloses the hydrolytic action of the prolonged boiling is such that the non-cellulose is almost completely dissolved away. Generally in this class the loss is considerable, snd the difference between the loss in a and b also. Further, the hydrolytic effect is extended to the undissolved portion or cellulose, and the evidence of the hydrating and gelatinising action is the stiffening of the fibres on drying, and when the action is very pronounced, reagglutiDation into bundles which dry to wiry strands. This latter effect is minimised by dehydrating the boiled specimen with alcohol and drying at a gentle heat. The hydro-celluloses, as already stated, are not readily attacked by the dilute alkalies, and it is only when digested at very high temperatures that the resolution into cellulose and non-cellulose is effected. In either group it will be found that whatever the condition of the hydrolysis it is always more or less incomplete, and requires, for the isolation of the cellulose, to be sup¬ plemented by the treatmeut about to be described.
“ Cellulose. — A fresh specimen having been boiled in the dilute alkali (1 per cent. Na„0), is well washed and exposed for one hour, at the ordinary temperature, to an atmosphere of chlorine gas. It is then removed, washed, and treated with a solution of sodium sulphite, which is
slowly raised to the boil. After two or three minutes’ boiling it is washed, oa a filter when necessary, though in most cases it may be so placed in a funnel as to aet as its own filter, lastly treated with dilute acetic acid, washed, dried, and weighed. The percentage yield on the raw fibre is the most important criterion of its composition and value. We have already pointed out that these celluloses, although similar in external characteristics, are of widely different chemical constitution, and consequently vary considerably in their power of resisting the further action of oxidising and hydrolytic agents. To follow up these cellulosic products into the region of specific variations is a special study in itself, and further investigation must, therefore, he reserved. It is sufficient here to have indicated that the various celluloses are not identical, and that the term is applied to an aggregate of unknown components obtained as the residue from the treatment above described.
Mercerising. — The action of concentrated solutions of the alkalies upon the vegetable fibres is an important feature in the diagnosis of their composition The structural modification which the cotton fibre undergoes under this treatment was originally studied by Mercer, and hence the term ‘ mercerising,’ by which the process is known.”
There must of necessity be a considerable variation in the modus operandi to suit the peculiarities of the fi bre under treatment. A knowledge of this can only come after considerable practice. It will be seen that the figures and recommendations to follow will not in all respects tally with the foregoing. IVly remarks are intended to apply in a general sense only, and that is all we can hope to do within the scope of this lecture.
From results on a number of fibres tested according to the foregoing scheme, very useful conclusions were arrived at, and this scheme for the analysis and examination of fibres, which was originally worked out by Mr. Cross, was so valued as to be made a general scheme by the Imperial Institute authorities in their researches and publications on industrial fibres, the results of which w^ere published in the Imperial Institute Journal. With many fibres which I have had occasion to examine since that time I have made use of that, scheme of analysis.
I should like to draw your attention to one or two points of interest in connection with the estimation of cellulose. In the ordinary papermaking process for the purification of fibre, an attempt is made to remove all the non-cellulose matter, and to retain only the cellulose as far as is practicable. As a general rule this is done in practice by boiling under pressure with soda, and then washing and finally bleaching by means of calcium hydrochlorite or bleaching powder. In laboratory practice on a small scale, this would entail too much time and too many special appliances. The same result is brought about in laboratory work by boiling in the open with a weak solution of caustic soda for a
period say up to one hour, so as to soften the fibres and render the lignified or non-cellulose portion of the fibre more reactive to treatment with chlorine. The fibre is then washed to free it from caustic soda, and is loosely suspended in a damp condition in a beaker into which a stream of chlorine gas is passed. If the fibre is a lignified one, that is of the nature of wood or jute, a change takes place, and the fibre alters in colour, but instead of the chlorine having the effect of bleaching the fibre in the way that ordinary bleaching powder does with rags, it combines with the lignin or non-cellulose portion of the fibre, forming what is called a chlorinated product. The fibre is allowed to remain in chlorine gas for about say five hours, at the end of which time there should be excess of chlorine, showing that the fibre has taken up as much as it will. There is a tendency during chlorination for the fibre to rise in temperature, due to the chemical action. This is detrimental, and can be avoided by surrounding the beaker with a jacket of cold water. The chlorinated product is now removed from the beaker and immersed in a dilute solution of cold sulphite of soda. This gives rise to a beautiful red reaction. The red compound so formed is dissolved out on heating the solution after it has been allowed to stand for some time. It will be noticed, therefore, that the non-cellulose has been removed as a chlorinated product, instead of by treatment under pressure with caustic soda, as would be the case in ordinary practice.
When the boiling has been allowed to continue for some time the fibre is washed with hot water, and may be treated with a w7eak solution of sodium hypochlorite to remove any colour still remaining, then washed perfectly free from bleach and treated with a dilute solution of acetic acid, and again washed ; .then, in order to get the greatest amount of purification, it can be washed with hot alcohol, and dried off and weighed at a 'temperature of 105° C.
The bone dry weight of fibre so obtained, calculated on the original bone dry weight, gives a percentage yield of cellulose. The difference between this percentage and the 100 gives us a percentage of foreign matter removed during treatment.
There are many precautions necessary in conducting this treatment. Sometimes it happens that one chlorination is not enough to remove the whole of the lignin. It is a dangerous practice to resort to a second chlorination after boiling with sulphite of soda, although this may be done if care is exercised.
The best plan in such cases is to use bromine water, by pouring a few drops of bromine into water. The fibre treated with bromine in this way is said to be brominated, that is, a lignified portion combines with bromine and is afterwards treated with sulphite of soda. A soluble compound is produced as with the chlorine compound ; the result is the same, but bromine is a much safer substance to use. Instead of sulphite of soda, after the chlorination or bromination, sometimes ammonia is used. This is a very safe chemical for removing the chlorination product, and is a safer one than caustic soda, and far less liable to reduce the yield of cellulose.
I would point out that what is known as the “ personal equation ” enters very largely into this class of work. A great deal depends upon the exact conditions as to the yield of cellulose obtained.
at the work.
In regard to the estimation of moisture in the fibre, this is generally done by heating it at a temperature of 105® C. : it is necessary to go above boiling point, because at boiling point some fibres still retain an appreciable amount of moisture. It is necessary here also to exercise a considerable amount of care, because with some products oxidation takes place, oxygen combining with the fibre and actually increasing its weight, besides impairing its qualities.
In other products, on the other hand, there are volatile substances, such as in the case of wood, in addition to moisture, which are driven off at the temperature of boiling water, but for all practical purposes it is near enough if the fibre in question is dried at a temperature of 105° Fahr., and weighed in a weighing tube until the iveight is constant. The time should not be pro¬ longed beyond this, so as to avoid as far as possible any chance of oxidation taking place.
For more careful work and to avoid the removal of volatile substances other than water, it is best to dry the sample in a desiccator over sulphuric acid. This I have often done and compared with the method above cited, and found to give very good results, although it may take longer and require greater care. The amount of moisture which the fibre is found to contain by the first-mentioned method will give some idea of its purity ; the greater the moisture, as a general rule, the greater the impurities ; but, in addition to this, the moisture of every fibre is dependent upon the atmospheric conditions. If
moisture will be comparatively low.
If, therefore, you wish to compare different fibres for moisture, you should expose them to the same atmosphere. In order to get really concordant results for a large number of determinations, it is far better to weigh all fibres under known atmospheric conditions, using the wet and dry bulb thermometer to indicate the atmospheric conditions, and always to adhere to these conditions for the purpose of comparison of each series.
Having got some general knowledge of the qualities of the fibre by means of the tests above mentioned, we will pass on to the more practical part of the subject.
I would point out that it does not follow that if the fibre gives a certain yield of cellulose that it will yield in practice the same amount. In practice it may yield less, but, nevertheless, it is a very valuable guide to what we may expect of the fibre if treated on a large scale.
It is particularly valuable for the purposes of comparison. Thus, if we determine in exactly the same manner the cellulose in, say, half a dozen samples of chemical wTood pulp, we shall be right in assuming that the one which gives the highest yield of cellulose is the purest pulp, and will, other things being equal, require the least amount of bleaching powder to make it white. [Furthermore, it is approximately true to say that if sulphite wood A contains 5 per cent, of non-cellulose, and sulphite wood B contains 10 per cent, of non-cellulose, B will require double the amount of bleaching powder as compared with A to make it white. We can draw useful inferences in this way from such work. In making a comparison of different brands of unbleached pulp, the estimation of cellulose affords a useful criterion, for it not only enables us to get some idea of the bleach required, but also of the yield we may expect of bleached pulp from each brand.
Turning to the work of the examination of raw wood in order to arrive at the yield which the wood majr yield, it is essential that we take an average section of the wood so as to represent the average composition of the trunk. This must be done with the greatest care, and. in order to treat on a small scale, we must get the wood into thin shavings, which can be done easily by means of an ordinary plane. It is an extremely difficult matter to treat wood in the laboratory in large masses, as is done in ordinary factories, in fact it is out of the question. Such shavings, of course, must be produced in the direction in which the fibres run, so as to avoid cutting the ultimate fibres as
far as possible. As explained before the Dickinson Institute, in order that such results may be of real value, we must take into consideration the weight of a given bulk of wood in our calculations.
Seduction to sawdust should never be used as a means of sampling timber, as in sawdust the ultimate fibres are, more or less, broken asunder, and cellulose so obtained would be no criterion of what we should expect in practice.
Now, I will describe to you the mode which I have made use of for arriving at some more practical knowledge of the way the fibre would behave in ordinary practice : —
Determine moisture by drying at 212° Fahr. until weight is constant ; weighing must be done in tube. Determine the cellulose by the following method : —
Boil in dilute alkali until fibre is softened.
Wash, and expose to chlorine gas, for several hours, in beaker, which should be kept cool by surrounding with cold water. (Note whether fibre is changing in colour in chlorine.)
Wash chlorinated fibre to free from HC1, and place in weak solution of neutral sulphite of soda. (Note whether magenta colour is developed.) After one hour boil solution until colouring matter is dissolved.
Wash with hot water.
Bleach with weak solution of sodium-hypochlorite. If cellulose is not white, give further treatment in chlorine gas or in bromine water, but be careful that treatment does not injure fibre. Then repeat treatment with sulphite, wash, bleach, wash, acidify with acetic acid, dry at 212° Fahr., and weigh in weighing tube. The weight calculated on the air-dry original gives the percentage of cellulose.
Note the general appearance and character of the cellulose. Examine cellulose under microscope and note how near it approximates to one or other of the various fibres in common use for papermaking.
with other materials.
If sufficient material is available, treat 1,000 grammes in 5,000 grammes caustic soda liquor in a small spherical revolvingboiler. The strength of soda must be carefully ascertained by titration at commencement, and care must be taken throughout
the treatment that no steam is allowed to escape, thus altering the liquor in strength. Boil at 100 lbs. pressure, and draw off at intervals of an hour small samples, which test for free alkali. When the free alkali remains constant discontinue boiling ; carefully wash boiled pulp, taking care that no fibre is lost.
Dry and weigh pulp at 220° Bahr. ; this weight gives the percentage of unbleached pulp on original weight of fibre. Let the pulp become air-dry by long exposure to air, and until it no longer gains weight ; weigh pulp, and calculate percentage of air-dry pulp on raw material ; this is the figure that should be taken for commercial purposes.
From the analysis of the liquor you know exactly the percentage of soda neutralised during the boiling. Bor the purpose of final analysis of liquor, the liquor, together with all the washing, is made up to a known volume, and the “free” and “total” soda are carefully determined. The difference is the soda combined and used up by the fibre.
The original amount of soda added is known. We can easily calculate the weight of soda consumed, and then see what percentage this bears to the original weight of the fibre treated.
We should now conduct another boiling trial, adding soda slightly in excess of that found to be “consumed” in the first trial. The extent to w’hich this soda should be diluted must depend upon the condition of the raw fibre, and must be left to the discretion of the observer. The same pressure is applied (unless there is good reason to suppose that a higher or lower pressure would be advantageous from the general appearance of the first treated lot). Samples are again drawn off every hour, and the boiling continued until no further neutralisation of soda takes place. The rest of the treatment should be conducted as in previous trial. The calculated percentage of pulp should be near that of first trial.
The cellulose should now be determined in a small portion of the bone-dry boiled pulp, and should not be less than 90 per cent. ; the ash should also be determined in unbleached pulp.
A portion, say half of one of the boilings, should be carefully weighed and then treated with successive quantities of bleach solution, equal to 5 per cent, of dry bleaching powder at a time. One quantity should exhaust itself before another is added. Any excess of bleach remaining after the colour no longer shows improvement should be determined and deduction from the total added before calculating the bleach consumed by fibre.
A second bleaching experiment should be done as a check, adding just the equivalent of bleach found to have been consumed in first trial. The bleached pulp is washed, acidified, washed, dried, and weighed, and then exposed to air-dry. Bleached pulp should be calculated upon the original raw fibre boiled. The ash of the bleached pulp should be determined.
hand sheets, under the same conditions as far as possible.
Compare the relative strengths and other physical qualities. The stuff of known furnish will produce paper on machine of known qualities ; from this we can form some rough judgment of what might be expected from the fibre under examination.
Prom the foregoing work one can form a very fair estimate of value. Cceteris paribus the raw material would be in the longrun more valuable in proportion as the consumption of chemicals, &c., and treatment was small, the ease with which it can be manipulated, the cleanliness of the pulp, &c., &c. The length of the fibres, the whiteness and purity of the fibre, and also general utility and adaptability are judged from the quality of paper it produces.
It should be ascertained, if possible, how much bulk a given weight of raw fibre will occupy. If bulky, the freight will be high, and possibly preclude its use.
In fibres of low yield and consuming a large amount of chemicals, the cost of chemical treatment per ton of finished stuff is often so high as to condemn the material for industrial use, no matter even if the resulting cellulose is of excellent quality, and the raw material had for the asking.
purposes of paper manufacture.
Por the examination of rags I would refer you to my publication in the Chemical News, in which I gave the mode of determining the yield on boiling, and the amount of chemicals used up. If you require to know the loss of any quality of rag that happens to be under treatment in the paper mill, it is a very simple matter to take say 10 lbs. of rags and tie them up in a bag of open material, such as cheese cloth, and throw the same into the boiling of the same rags. When the boiler is discharged
the bag of rags is fished out, and after washing is carefully airdried and weighed. The yield can easily be calculated. Many rags contain a lot of dressing. The mineral matter in such dressing can be determined by burning off an average sample, and the total amount of dressing is easily removed by washing in hot water.
As new rags of this description often contain as much as 60 per cent, of dressing, it is a very important matter to determine what the loss is. The most practical way of estimating the value of any particular class of rags is to take a bale of rags and have them sorted and cut into various qualities, weighing each, and as the price of each quality is known in the mill, the value of the original rags can be calculated therefrom.
If time had permitted I should like to have referred you to many other points in connection with this subject, such as the valuation of flax waste, cotton hulls, and other products, but possibly there will be an opportunity of referring to these and other matters in some future lecture.
Literature. — Indian and Colonial Exhibition Reports. (Wm.Clowes & Sons, Ltd. 1887.) Report on Indian Fibres and Fibrous Substances. (E. & F. N. Spon. 1887.) Cellulose. (Cross, Bevan, and Beadle. Longmans, Green, & Co. 1895.) Beadle : Paper and Pulp, October 15th, 1901. Beadle: The Systematic Treatment of Rags, Chemical INews, 1901.
PRINTING.
Art — Imitation art — Nature of surface — Nature of fibres — Minerals used — Preparation and application of coating — Casein — Gelatine — Test for Coating — Preparation of process blocks — Chemical and physical examination — Nature and utility of coated surface.
vogue very much during the last few years.
They have rendered so-called process printing not only possible, but have been largely the means of reducing it to a tine art. Although such papers are by no means artistic, either in appear¬ ance or composition, they have through their very nature become the means or medium of rendering art by mechanical processes. It must be remembered that the surface of an enamelled paper is not paper at all. Paper must consist of fibres, and ordinary paper which is not coated partakes not only of the chemical nature of cellulose, but of its physical nature also. The physical structure of the cellulose fibres renders it difficult to impart to paper of any description the fine tones and half-tones of process printing. Any spreading or diffusion of the ink would naturally tend to travel along the tubes of the fibres, but with a coated paper, although there is great power of absorption, there is no tendency to diffuse in one direction more than in any other. On the other hand, when the paper is enamelled, the surface alters its character entirely, and partakes of the nature of whatever mineral matter the enamel contains, the paper itself playing a subordinate part. Assume that the basis of the coating consists largely of clay. In the process of printing the ink does not come in contact with the fibres at all, but merely in contact with the enamelled surface of the paper. In other words, it comes in contact with a uniform smooth surface of clay held together by means of some adhesive material. The ink is absorbed by this surface, and has no tendency to spread, as it might do should it come in contact with the fibres of the paper. But the main difference between the enamelled surface and
smoothness.
Particles of clay are infinitely smaller and finer than the fibres composing the paper, and consequently present a much more uniform and compact surface than fibres would do if uncovered with enamel.
Even with a great deal of glazing with calenders it is im¬ possible to give to the surface of an uncoated paper the same regularity as to the surface of an art paper. If you could very much magnify an art paper w'hen viewed in sections, you would notice the surface of the paper proper, i.e., the waterleaf, has an undulating or wavy appearance, whereas the surface of the enamel, although it might appear granular and show the individual particles of mineral, would present a fairly flat and compact surface.
I will endeavour to give you a brief description of the preparation of the paper, together with preparation and use of the enamel for the manufacture of an art paper : —
An art paper, in order to stand wear and tear, must be made of good material, but if it is not required to be strong, and if it admits of being heavily coated, the fibrous material is not of so much consequence; in fact, I have known common papers heavily loaded with enamel and containing as much as 30 per cent, of mineral matter to consist largely of mechanical wood. The enamelled surface may be made to cover a multitude of sins. When such papers are moistened and rubbed, the whole of the surface, together with the printed matter, comes away, and it can be readily seen, when the enamel is removed, that the paper itself is made of very common material.
Such paper is very deceptive material for any publication which may be required for reference. If exposed to the daylight it discolours and becomes rotten, and easily pulverises. These papers are deceptive because the thickness of the enamel hides their imperfections. AVhen an imitation art paper of this description is used for the purpose of publications, it will be noticed, on turning over the pages, that the paper has quite a leathery feel and sound, although the paper is easily torn. The mineral contained in the enamel will largely influence the character of surface as regards feel and general physical qualities.
Such papers are also very fatiguing to the eye if the printed matter is read in a bright light, especially when the light strikes at certain angles, but they possess in a very high
are so admirably adapted. This is their great redeeming feature.
The following is a description of the method employed in the coating of an art paper, as described by “ A Header ” in the columns of Paper akd Pulp, January 1st, 1902 :
“The coating machine consists of a cylinder or drum varying from three to four feet in diameter, which acts as a support to the paper as well as a carrier when under the influence of the brushes. The colour box is made of copper, and is arranged so that heat may be applied, in order to keep the colour always at the same temperature. The coating is applied to the paper by means of a vertically-running felt which does not pass through the colour box, but to which the colour is transferred by means of a copper roll running in the box, the amount of coating so transferred being regulated by the degree of pressure of the felt against a parallel roll between which the paper passes. The distribution of the coating is effected bv means of five or seven brushes, the bristles being so selected in quality as to become softer and softer in succession. The brushes work with different motions, some being stationary, others moving to and fro sideways, the latter motion being supplied by cranks all fixed on one shaft and driven by belt. At the end of the coating machine is generally fixed a pneumatic suction table on which the now coated paper passes. This table acts as a drawer, and prevents the paper slipping on the drum, after which it passes on to the drying apparatus. This apparatus consists of a system of endless chains, on which are carried sticks, the paper hanging from these sticks in loop torm, and is subjected to a tempera¬ ture varying from 80 degrees to 90 degrees Fahr. If the drying room is not long enough this apparatus is fitted with a turntable, which takes the sticks, describes with them a semi-circle, puts them in turn on to returning chains and finally delivers them into a self-taking and removing apparatus, the coated paper passing on to the reeling machine. After tie reel is of sufficient size it is taken off, and in the case of a high class ‘art, is recoated on the opposite side. As a rule, part of the day is devoted to coating one side, and the rest the opposite side. The coating or enamel consists of a mixture of satin white, blanc fixe, enamel or china clay, used in varying proportions according to the desired finish. Gelatine is added to the mixture to size, in order tc prevent the coat from lifting when printed. The speed of coating varies according to the width of reel coated, but an average may he taken at 80 to 120 feet, and in some cases at the speed of 140 feet.” .
Blanc fixe is also known as permanent white, or chemically as barium sulphate. It is prepared artificially, and is much preferred to the natural ground mineral, as the latter is crystal¬ lised and has very little covering power or “body.”
recent years, although gelatine appears to possess certain advan¬ tages which casein does not. It is difficult to find information on this subject in any of the text-hooks, but here and there one finds fragmentary references in our scientific literature. For much of the following information, in regard to the use of casein, I am indebted to Messrs. Spicer Brothers, Ltd.
Insoluble casein, as you may know, requires an alkali to dissolve it. The alkalies generally used in practice are either ammonia, soda, or borax. Which alkali should be used, or whether a combination of alkalies should be used, depends upon whether china clay, blanc fixe, satin white, or other material forms the basis of the enamel.
The user must bear in mind that once having got his solution the rest of the work is practically the same as with glue. It may be necessary to neutralise if the blanc fixe or other material is of an acid nature. Some colours used in mills are so acid, that to add the casein solution to them straight away would have resulted in nothing but a curdled mass, impossible to use for coating. When, however, the mixing is neutralised the colours should give no trouble in the working. There are many mills in this country now using the casein, as it gives a clear solution and preserves special features which render it of service for certain work. Casein has to a certain extent been used for engine sizing, particularly in the United States, but not to any extent, so far as I can ascertain, in this country.
borax, or soda.
To every pound of dry casein to be used add three pints of cold water (if very thin coats are required, four pints), and stir the casein in the cold water so that no lumps are left. Soak for ten minutes or so and then apply heat in the usual way, either by turning in live steam or by heating in a steam-jacketed pan. The mass should be stirred while heating, the same as with glue. When the temperature is, say, 100° Fahr. the alkali may be added ; and when the temperature has reached 140° or 150° Fahr. the heat should be turned off and the size agitated until a perfectly smooth solution without any sediment is obtained. It is of advantage to dissolve as slowly as possible, as the size will be stronger.
If ammonia be the alkali used to dissolve the casein, one ounce of ammonia 26 per cent, (or .901 specific gravity) should be sufficient to dissolve each pound of casein used. If the ammonia should have lost any of its strength due to evaporation more will be needed.
For using casein with colours borax is the best alkali to use, as it does not affect the colours nor change the shades. 20 per cent, to 25 per cent, of borax is ample to dissolve the casein, and the borax should be dissolved in part of the water to be used for mixing with the casein.
For white, such as china clay or blanc fixe, the alkali may be monohydrate of soda (Solvay process) or crystal carbonate of soda, the proportion of monohydrate to be used being 12 per cent., and the proportion of crystal carbonate 15 per cent. The soda should be dissolved in a portion of the water used to mix with the casein.
If it is wished to use soda and borax together, take 8 per cent, of either monohydrate or crystal carbonate of soda and 10 per cent, borax : this solvent can be used with clay, blanc fixe, or colours.
For satin white take 15 per cent, of monohydrate of soda or 18 per cent, of crystal carbonate of soda, dissolving whichever is used in some of the water used for mixing the casein.
in solution.
There are difficulties to be overcome in regard to the addition of colour both in the use of glue and casein. The following method of testing whether the coating is done in a proper manner is given in the Papier Zeitung, as abstracted in the Journal of the Society of Chemical Industry
“For the examination as to the value of the coat there are three tests : (1) The moistened thumb is pressed against the paper and removed. If any of the colour, &c., adheres to the thumb, then the paper is badly coated. (2) A piece of the folded paper is rubbed between the fingers, and notice is taken as to whether any of the coat, and how much, has come off. The most reliable is — (3)- A strip of uncoated sized paper covered with the best glue is moistened and pasted on to the coated paper which is to be examined. After drying, an attempt is made to separate the pieces of paper. According to whether the coat of colour adheres to the paste or not, separation takes
It must be borne in mind that the above test could not be laid down as applying to all coated papers. Some are required to stand better than others. In any case, however, the surface should be such as not to lift on the blocks. The condition of the enamel is largely dependent upon the propor¬ tion of adhesive material to mineral matter. Naturally the papermaker desires to get the proper effect with the least quantity of adhesive. Formaline is often used to render the casein insoluble, so that the coating may be impervious to moisture.
The following particulars in regard to Schmidt’s American Patent are interesting in this connection, as given in the Journal of the Society of Chemical Industry : —
“ When a 5 per cent, solution of soda-casein is mixed with formaldehyde, no coagulation takes place, the solution remains clear and liquid for a long time. But when such a mixture is spread out on glass or paper and allowed to dry, a transparent film of casein is formed which is completely insoluble in water. Films of casein so treated may be distinguished from ordinary films in the following manner. The films are carefully removed from their backings and placed in water to which a couple of drops of methylene blue have been added. On warming, the film which has not been treated with formaldehyde is dyed a pale blue, whilst the formaldehyde film assumes a dark blue colour. A solution of casein in ammonia behaves in a similar manner, but if large quantities of formaldehyde be added, a precipitate is formed. The following proportions are cited: 100 grammes of casein and 1.5 grammes of caustic soda are dissolved in a litre of water, to which are added about 15 grammes of a 40 per cent, solution of formaldehyde, or 100 grammes of casein and 10 c.c. of a 10 per cent, solution of ammonia are dissolved in two litres of water, to which are added about 30 grammes of a 40 per cent, solution of formaldehyde. Either of these gives insoluble films on drying, which may be used for photography, surgical bandages, paper-coating, &c.”
In order to appreciate in what way enamelled papers are of service to the printing trade, it is necessary to know something about the various methods for the mechanical reproduction of photographs aDd process blocks. It is impossible to refer in detail to more than one process. The following description from Mr. J. D. Geddes’ Cantor Lectures on “ Photography as
.applied to Illustration Printing,” recently published in the Society of Arts Journal, gives a very lucid description of Jhe processes involved. This will help you to realise the difficulties with which the papermaker has to contend in the production of paper which will prove itself suitable for the work. It can be readily understood on reading this through that the surface of the paper must be extremely uniform and free from all irregularities. In fact, an ideal art paper should have an absolutely plain surface, so that when viewed under the microscope it should not show any ups and downs at all : —
Mr. Max Levy, of Philadelphia.
“A sheet of the finest plate glass is selected, and is coated with a 'varnish composed of asphalt and wax. The coated glass is placed on the ■bed of an automatic ruling machine of extremely accurate construction, and capable of ruling lines of any degree of fineness up to 500 to the inch. The cutter of the machine is diamond-pointed, and gauged to cut lines •of any desired width. The lines are ruled diagonally at 45^ across the glass, and the Dumber to the inch varies according to the kind of 'work for which the screen is required. For newspaper printing the lines may be 50 or 00 to the inch ; for commercial and catalogue printing, 100 to 130 ; and for finer magazine or book illustration, 150 to 200 to the •inch. When the ruling of the glass is completed, the ruled surface is subjected to the action of the hydrofluoric acid, which eats into or etches the lines laid bare by the diamond, and forms a channel which is filled up with opaqae pigment. This enamel is baked in the lines in an oven, and Then ihe surface is carefully polished until the lines are perfectly level and the spaces represented by clear glass are bright ar.d transparent.
“ Two of these ruled glasses are required for each screen, laid together with the lines crossing at right angles, and cemented with Canada balsam. As may be imagined, the screen gratiDgs are somewhat expensive : a piece measuring 12 inches by 10 inches of 175 lines costs about £25, whilst large ■screens of 24 by 18 are charged at £100 or more. I am glad to state that we have now an English firm (Messrs. J. E. Johnson & Co.) who rule these screens excellently, indeed, there is little to choose between this work and the best American, which is a comforting thing to say in these days when it is the habit of the ever-present pessimist to decry everything that is English and all that the Britisher does.
“ To produce a ha.lf-tone block from a picture, wash drawing, or photograph, this ruled grating is placed in front of the sensitive plate, but not in contact with it. The screen distance from ihe sensitive plate is a j)oint of importance in making the negative, and the skilful operator has to determine this distance according to his expeiience, and to tbe character of the subject which is to be photographed. If it is placed too close the resulting negative will present what is known as a gridiron appearance, if it is too far away, the dotting will be too close in the lights and too small in the shadows. You will understand how necessary it is to keep a nice balance in this matter in the case of a picture which is built up entirely of .an infinity of dots, shadows being represented by grouping of dots close
together, with smallest of spaces between middle and light tones by dots of different graduations in sue, and the highest lights of pin-point dots only. Everything is represented by dots, yet they are so accurately graded in relation to the light and shade of the original, that the eye does not detect them, unless examined closely, and the half-tone picture appears as a practical fac-simile of the original from which it was photographed.
“The method of printing half-tone negatives on metal is similar in most respects to that described for line blocks on zinc, with this difference, that most half-tone blocks are now etched on copper, and the sensitising solution generally employed for this metal is a compound of fish glue, albumen, chromic acid, water, and bichromate of ammonia. The copper is carefully cleaned with Tripoli powder and washed, the sensitising solution is then flowed over it twice or three times and placed on a revolving table, where it is rapidly whirled in order to spread the coating thinly and evenly over the whole surface; the coating is then dried by gentle heat in a yellow lighted room, and the plate is now ready for exposure. Under the half-tone negative, three to ten minutes’ exposure to an electric arc light completes the printing, when the plate is removed to a bath containing cold water, and soaked and washed under a spray of water until the unacted-upon compound is dissolved out, an operation occupying five or six minutes. The imagery on the metal at this stagt: is almost invisible. In order to enable an examination of the film to be made, the plate is dipped into a solution of methyl violet, which dye immediately stains the film, and brings the picture into view. If all has gone well, the surface is dried either by flowing it with methyl¬ ated alcohol or gentle heat. The next operation has an important effect, namely, a hardening of the delicate glue picture into a substance resembling enamel, and this gives the method its name — ‘the enameline process.’
“The plate is simply heated to a high temperature over the flame of a large ‘ Bunsen ’ burner. During the progress of this ‘ burning in ’ or enamelling, the image changes curiously ; the blue picture gets pale, then grey, and eventually vanishes entirely'. After a few seconds, as the plate gets hotter, the image appears as a faint brown and gradually increases in strength until it fully attains a rich chestnut brown tint, when the heat must be withdrawn, and the plate is cooled off. The plate has now a picture fixed upon it, which is formed of a strong, hard, impermeable coating of enamel, and which will bear any reasonable amount of etching without further protection. The etching bath is made up of neutral perchloride of iron dissolved in water and of a strength which registers 35 degrees with a Baumh’s hydrometer. The plate is first subjected to a general etching all over the plate sufficient to give the block a printing depth, that is, to etch away the spaces round the dots forming the picture so that the plate may be inked over with a printer's roller charged with ink, and a first proof of the photo-etched picture pulled in the press. In most plates made by this process a further and local etching must be per¬ formed. The dulling of the general effect caused by the interposition of the necessary screen grating has to be removed as far as possible, and this is done by artists who are specially trained for the work. The parts of the picture which are in shadow and are usually correctly rendered by a properly exposed negative, are covered over with varnish and the next tones are etched again, and these tones are covered up and the high lights are treated until the resulting picture, when proofed, correctly represents the original. The plates are then trimmed by
“The best known in England is the Meisenbach process, which, after having been worked by Messrs. Bullock and Swan for a number of years, was patented by Meisenbach in 1882. The process is thus described : — A transparent plate is etched or stippled in parallel lines. A transparent positive is made of the object, the two plates are joined, preferably face to face, and from the combined plates a definite negative is photographed in the ordinary way. In order to cross-hatch and break the lines of the shading, the hatched or stippled plate may be shifted once or twice during the production of the negative. The photographic negative thus obtained may be applied either directly to a zinc plate, or a lithographic transfer may first be made in the usual manner, and the plate subsequently bitten by acid to form a block in relief.
“The Ives process is a very original one in so far as the reproduction of half-tone is concerned, and its excellent results may be seen in many of the American magazines, which until very recently left our English periodi¬ cals far in the shade as regards their illustrations. Of late, however, the English magazines have been gaining ground very rapidly.
“ In the finer and more artistic forms of photogravure England seems to have been left almost entirely behind — as in so many other departments where exceptional knowledge of technique is required — by the French and the Germans, nearly all the best reproductions of large pictures by photo¬ gravure being done at Baris or Berlin.”
The following are the results of physical tests on some art papers which I undertook for this lecture. They comprise the following publications : The Graphic, The Papermaker, Supple¬ ment to the Graphic, The Sphere, Black and White, The Sketch, Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News: —
The results as shown in these tables are arrived at by means of a special instrument which I have had made, which, together with the use of a micrometer gauge, has enabled me to work out, not only the weight of a given volume of paper expressed in grammes per c.c., but also the weight of the fibre
X 00 X 30 00 05
and ash in grammes per c.c. From these results it is possible by a process of calculation, which I have already referred to in my answer to last years City and Guilds examination questions, to calculate the actual volume percentages. Thus, if we had, for the sake of argument, a cubic inch of paper, by cutting pieces of a square inch area and laying them one on top of each other until they, when pressed down, measured an inch in height, we could say what proportion of this area was occupied by the cellulose or fibre, what proportion was occupied by the clay, and what proportion by the air space or interstices of the paper. I have undertaken these few results purposely for use in this lecture. My colleagues and I are engaged in results of this kind in different classes of paper, on about 90 specimens, with a view of deter¬ mining whether we can devise some better modes of testing and classification than is at present in vogue at the Charlottenburg Government testing station. The results of these investigations will be published in due course when they are completed.* You will notice that the air space or interstices of these papers runs from about 20 to 30 per cent. A shows the breaking strain when pulled in the direction of the web, and B when pulled across the web, in lbs. on a one-inch width. This is calculated into grammes, and finally expressed in li weight length,’ as is done in Germany. The ash of these papers varies from 16 to over 30 per cent., and the heaviest loaded paper shows the least strength and the least loaded is nearly the strongest. From these tables you can arrive at useful data, such as the weight per cubic foot, useful for the purposes of stocktaking, and show the relative amount of bulking, useful to printers in arriving at the weight which a given book will require as well as its thickness. The discs are punched out of such a size that the thickness of ten discs in mm. gives the volume in c.c.
As regards the amount of enamel used I should like to point out that this does not bear any direct relation to the weight of paper coated. For a given purpose a certain thickness of enamel would be required. It is a question therefore of area, not of weight. For every ream of demy we might reckon upon an addition to the weight per ream of 10 lbs. If the uncoated paper weighed 20 lbs. to the ream, the coated would weigh 30. If 60 lbs. the coated would weigh 70. The paper is rolled twice and must be rolled sufficiently on the under side to obliterate the wire
* Since this lecture was delivered the results in question have been published in pamphlet form \see “An Essay towards Establishing a Normal System of Paper Testing, "byCross, Sevan, Beadle, and Sindall. Wood Pulp, Ltd.
mark. It should also be coated more heavily on the under side. The coating should be conducted in such a manner as to ensure absolute evenness and there must be no waviness. When paper is used tor chromo-lithography, the enamelled surface should be perfectly neutral to prevent any action upon the colours. When casein is used and it is desired to obtain a neutral coating, I should recommend the use of ammonia as the alkali for rendering the casein soluble, and I should consider that this mixture in conjunction with formalin would produce the most water-resistant and insoluble surface.
The difficulty urged against casein is the uncertainty of its behaviour and its liability to give a brittle surface. This may largely be due to want of skill in its manipulation. The glue or gelatine used as the adhesive material is not that ordinarily used for the tub-sizing of papers. Tub-sizing gelatine is required of a different nature to gelatine for enamelling purposes, and the one cannot be used for the other with advantage. The amount of gelatine (or casein) in relation to the amount of mineral matter as well as the dilution of the paste must be adjusted to suit requirements. This is only arrived at as a matter of experience. If too little gelatine is used the surface will rub off and lift in contact with the blocks ; if too much is used the surface is of a harsh nature. The enameller desires, of course, to get the result with the least quantity of gelatine or casein on account of the expense of these products. In course of time the enamelled surface is often acted on by contact with air and moisture and bacteria, the result being that the adhesive material is destroyed, leaving the clay easily removable by rubbing. ' It is hardly probable that an enamelled paper will last many years, more especially in a warm damp climate. For chromo-lithography absolute freedom from stretch or expansion in contact with the damp cylinder is an essential quality, otherwise the register will not be true. Formalin acts not only as a substance to render the adhesive material insoluble, but is also a preservative. An art paper, of course, is absolutely useless for writing upon. The ink diffuses in all directions and soaks through the enamel. Printer’s ink as you know is a mixture of drying oil and pigments. The printer’s block merely imparts to the surface of the enamel an extremely thin film of ink which is rendered insoluble by oxidation by contact with the air, but cannot be said to dry in the ordinary sense of the term. The type and blocks, I believe, last longer when art papers are used. This I believe to be due to the enamel wearing the type less than an ordinary sheet of paper
does. An art paper is extremely opaque, due to the large amount of mineral matter it contains. It has a dead or chalky-white appearance. It may be said to bear the same relationship to a sheet of pure fibre paper that earthenware does to porcelain. The very translucency of pure paper gives it a superior and I’efined appearance. In its behaviour towards reflecting light there is this important difference between a glazed sheet of coated, and a glazed sheet of uncoated paper : with a coated paper there is only one plane of reflection which is incident with the surface of the paper. If a ray of light meets the surface at an angle it is reflected en masse at the same angle, so that the angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence as with a mirror. In an uncoated paper, the fibres of wdiich it is composed present to the light innumerable surfaces disposed at every conceivable angle. When a ray of light strikes the surface of such paper, instead of being reflected at the same angle it is reflected at innumerable angles and in all directions, giving to the eye the general impression of whiteness and without glare. For reasons above given art papers are most fatiguing to the eye when used for printed matter, and it is not to be wondered at that so many of the public have raised their voice against its use for this purpose.
I should mention that the paper used for enamelling, although its composition is not very material, should possess certain pro¬ perties. It should be rosin sized, but not hard sized. It should not expand much when wetted by the enamel solution or it is liable to buckle. If too hard sized, the enamel would not penetrate sufficiently to keep. on. The surface should be free from dirt and grit or it will give trouble.
What is known as imitation art paper is generally an esparto paper with a considerable amount of mineral in it and perhaps some wood pulp, and slightly rosin sized, treated by means of the water doctor. This imparts to the paper what is known as the water finish. The water doctor is an attachment to the calenders which holds water and brings the surface of the water in contact with the surface of the paper just before it enters the nip. Paper can be treated in this way either on one or both sides. The water added to the paper in this way has to be extracted by the calenders. A double stack of calenders is needed, and a consider¬ able amount of heat. One disadvantage of this treatment is to very materially reduce the bulk of the paper. This process lays down the surface of the paper and flattens the fibres in such a
way as to produce a somewhat similar effect as enamelling. By squeezing the fibres together it “brings the clay to the surface” and gives the appearance of coating on the surface. With enamelled papers the colour of the paper itself is immaterial — the colouring matter being added to the enamel. Duplex colours can be produced, of course, by means of enamelling. The water doctor can also be made use of for producing duplex colours by placing dyes in the water.
There appears to be some confusion with regard to the name “ Art " paper. I take it that the name originally applied to uncoated papers prepared for lithographic work and art illustration. Such papers were, in the first instance, not enamelled at all. The name has got to be applied now to enamelled papers, and the word “ art ” is now written in inverted commas. What is now known as imitation art paper is paper treated with the water finish.
References.— See Parer and Pull*, December 15th, 1901, and January 1st, 1902: “ Manufacture of Art Papers,” by a Reorder. Read also Paper and Pulp, May 15th, 1902: Photography as applied to Illustration and Printing:. Lecture I., Journal of Society of Arts, September 19th, 1902. “The Story of Photography,” by Alfred T. Story. (George Newnes, Ltd.) See also various articles contributed to the Paper Trade Review in 1896 by R. W. Sindall on “Fillers, and their Compositions.”
BLEACHING.
Peculiarities of ultimate fibres — Relative lengths — Characteristics — Nature of “ chloride of lime ” — As powder — In solution — Table of strengths — Effects of heat and time on the storage of bleaching powder — Change of strength on storage of solution — Chlorine gas — Tumbler bleaching— Bleaching in beater — Effects of carbonic acid gas on bleaching solution — The Thompson process — Eau de Javelles — Relative efficiencies of different solutions.
Some of the students have asked me to describe to them the general characteristics of the chief papermaking fibres. These are described in the various text-books on papermaking, but often in a way which is not intelligible to the uninitiated mind. In my lectures before the Dickinson Institute I endeavoured to present a mental picture of the various fibres used in papermaking. I cannot do better than give you extracts from these lectures.
What is needed in order to obtain a mental grasp of any minute object is a model of this object on a large scale, such as has been so successfully accomplished at the South Kensington Museum in the case of the malarial mosquito and the tsetse fly. These insects have been reproduced about eight inches long, every hair and every detail being shown, and giving an impression of being alive.
If we can have models of papermaking fibres on a magnified scale produced in a similar way, we should be able to form a true mental picture of their various characteristics, far better than we are able to do at present by means of the microscope.
* Cotton fibre is a tube with a fairly large hole or canal through the centre, but through the walls being comparatively thin this tube has collapsed, and through collapsing it has assumed a most curious shape, and it is principally this which adds to its value from a papermaker’s point of view.
corkscrew appearance.
Now, this tube has collapsed, as you see here, and if it is wound round like this, it as near as possible resembles the cotton fibre as we have it in nature; it is really a collapsed tube. The twist is occasioned through the walls being irregular in thickness, as this tube is. This causes it to have a few corkscrew turns in it, even when I do not give it a turn with my hand. A single cotton fibre has anywhere from 15 to 300 twists, counting from end to end.
Now, if it were not for its peculiar corkscrew twists when the fibres interlace one with another, cotton would not bulk paper as it does. Take a number of chair-springs and pack them as close as you can, you cannot prevail upon the wires to go close together, but if you pull the wires out and make them straight they will pack close. iVe may regard the straight wires as linen, and the springs as cotton, and we have some rough idea of the paper from each.
The cotton fibre is immensely strong, and a single tiny fibre is capable of supporting an enormous weight in comparison with its thickness. You must try and realise that the interlacing of the fibres is like clasping the two hands together ; if we clasp hands and pull, we give way because our muscular strength fails ; we can’t hang on until the bones break.
*■ Straw and esparto occupy an entirely different position to cotton and linen. The effect produced by any fibre for the purpose of paper manufacture can always be traced to the form, size, and chemical behaviour of the ultimate fibre itself. There is a reason why a particular fibre gives a particular result, and you can trace the result right back to the form of the fibre as seen under the microscope.
Straw is the shortest of the papermaking fibres ; you would have to put 75 fibres one on the end of the other to equal the length of one cotton fibre ; it is a stumpy fibre as compared with cotton, as it is thick in comparison with its length. Esparto is much longer than straw, although much shorter than cotton : some straw fibres are quite as thick, whilst others have about half the thickness of the cotton fibre.
Dickinson Institute Lecture, November 1st, 1901.
I have a table here which I thought perhaps would give you some idea of the relative lengths of fibres. We take cotton and linen fibres as equal to one inch in length. The table further demonstrates that m ordinary beating the cotton fibre is divided into about 30 pieces. The first column of the table shows the number of fibres to the inch, the second column shows the number of fibres necessary if placed side by side to equal an inch m thickness.
m*igiy.e,this in °rder that you may be able to form some mental picture of the difference in size, &c., in the fibres as they ex!st in the paper You will realise more readily afterwards of paper6 ^ W their peculiar effect upon the properties
About 1
Straw is so short that it is not cut by the beater knives. Jcisparto being somewhat longer is occasionally cut, but two out ot every three fibres escape the cutting of the knives altogether.
In the case of wood it is a different matter. The wood fibres vary so much m character, some are long and some are short • so you cannot give an average of the length of fibre, or estimate the number of pieces into which the fibres are cut by the action ot the beater roll.
^,0'v’ h1, regard to straw, there are certain characteristic vessels by which you can distinguish it from any other paper¬ making material; they are known as the Parenchyma vessels, and are peculiar oval cells, one on the end of the other. There are also a number of curious serrated cells, which are common to both esparto and straw, and I think you will remember the appearance of these cells best if I tell you they are like the edge of a piece of corrugated iron. The esparto fibre is always recognised by its fine hairs, resembling sharp teeth. If you stroke down a small piece ot esparto, as you pass your fingers along you can feel a
help you to distinguish esparto from any other fibres.
That esparto fibre which is really the papermaking fibre has very thick walls and only a small hole through the centre : the ends are solid and rounded, whilst, unlike the cotton fibre, the hole through the centre is so small that it will not allow the tube to collapse. There is something very curious that happens with these fibres when they grow side by side ; they are pressing one another very hard, and instead of being round they often get into a peculiar shape — six-sided, like honeycomb. With many fibres this is the case ; it is due to the fibres whilst growing pressing one upon the other, and producing a six-sided figure.
The straw fibre is smoother on its surface, and more polished than esparto, and is very much more inclined to take up water ; it works wet, and in this respect is somewhat different to esparto in its papermaking qualities, which will be explained presently ; this is one of the great distinguishing features between esparto and straw.
When the wood has been chemically treated the fibres to a large extent lose their characteristics. Sometimes the wood fibre has a number of lattice-work markings on the surface, as in the case of spruce. Spruce is a wood which is used in America, in place of pine, much more extensively than in this country. It is not at all surprising that different kinds of wood yield different qualities of pulp, and produce such a divergence in the qualities of paper ; it is only necessary to glance at the various published diagrams to appreciate this fact. By the judicious choice of wood, and also by modifying both the mechanical and chemical treatment it can be made to produce papers, on the one hand resembling a strong linen bank, to soft papers on the other hand which are made to do service in place of esparto. I am told that it can be made to produce good filter paper.
* Many wood fibres resemble cotton, in that they are collapsed or flattened cells, but the cell walls being thinner in comparison with the diameter, the fibre does not present that curious appearance noticeable in cotton. Being consequently more flattened, like an elongated envelope, when seen in section, it does not present the appearance of having the edges turned up to the extent that cotton has. Occasionally the wood fibre is found to be folded on itself, but from its more flattened nature it
istic of cotton.
The pine wood has on its surface pitted vessels or pores, generally presenting the appearance of one circle within the other. No two kinds of timber present the same appearance under the microscope, and even the time of year at which the timber has been felled affects the general appearance as well as the dimensions of the isolated fibre. I should like to point this out, as it is not generally known. Taking pinewood, for instance, the fibres that are only one year old are shorter than others that have reached their full growth ; when a tree has reached its full development the fibres are much longer.
If you take fibres that are only one year old, you would require 25 fibres lengthwise to make an inch; seventeen years old ten fibres per inch, and fifty years old eight per inch ; at fifty years old they have reached their full length. Pine wood yields long soft fibres. Mechanical wood produced from pine, when magnified, gives perhaps the best idea of the general character¬ istics of wood ; the fibres are ranged side by side as in the form of a raft, and generally shows medullary rays in the form of cross markings, and the pitted vessels are most prominent.
Before attempting to go into the subject of bleaching from a papermaker s standpoint, we must give some idea of the preparation and chemical nature of ^chloride of lime or bleaching powder.
This well-known body was originally considered to be a compound of chlorine and lime. Balard, in 1834, was the first to give an explanation of the constitution of this compound, and his explanation has from that time been generally adopted. According to this view, bleaching powder is a mixture of calcium hypochlorite and calcium chloride Ca(OCl), + CaCL. Another \iew of the constitution of bleaching powder has been taken by Odling. He looks upon this substance as a kind of double salt,
If, however, dry slaked lime be employed, a large proportion of the lime remains unaltered. This fact was formerly explained by the supposition that the calcium chloride produced forms a coating round the particles of lime, which prevents the further action of the chlorine. But even if the mixture be from time to time well rubbed down in a mortar, and then again treated with chlorine, it is not possible to obtain a material containing more than 40 per cent, of available chlorine. Hence this substance would appear to be a mixture of basic salt with chloride of calcium, according to the formula.
In practice it is found that 11 cwt. of caustic lime is required
to form one ton of bleaching powder. In the preliminary slaking and dressing of the lime probably 1-^ cwt. is lost. The lime ready for use contains about 25 per cent, of water, and 1.2 per cent, of carbon dioxide, so that 20 cwt. of bleaching powder would be made up as follows : —
20.0 cwt. B.P.
*Bleaching powder is made into solution by prolonged agitation or stirring with water. Cast iron is a suitable metal for containing the liquid, steel and wrought iron are acted upon. After the sediment has been allowed to settle, the clear liquid is drawn off, and the sediment or grouts further exhausted by agitation with water. The bleach grouts are thrown away.
No. 323.
enable those in the mill to determine at a glance the strength of a bleaching powder solution, expressed in pounds of dry bleaching powder per 10 gallons, after merely gauging it with a Twaddle hydrometer.
Apparently the only basis that papermakers had to go on was the general understanding that a 12° Twaddle solution contained 1 lb. of bleaching powder per gallon.
gallons without calculation.
Chemists have thoroughly studied the keeping properties of the bleaching powder as sent out by the manufacturers. In cold weather the powder may contain 38 per cent, available chlorine, in very hot weather it may be difficult to produce it to contain more than 35 per cent. The powder deteriorates only slowly if stored in a cool dry place. Heat will cause it to lose its chlorine strength, and, if damp, it will deteriorate either in the hot or cold.
chlorine, which equals 5.55 per cent, bleaching powder. It
stood at 7° Twaddle. On the first, second, and third days the solution was found on titration to contain 1.85 per cent, chlorine. On the forty-third day it contained 2.50 per cent, of chlorine, and on the seventy-second day the solution contained 0.202 per cent, chlorine. During the 43 days the solution had increased 35.1 per cent, in chlorine strength it originally contained, and during the 72 days the solution had decreased by 89.2 per cent, of the chlorine it originally contained. This apparent anomaly is due to the fact that to begin with, the evaporation of moisture from the surface was far more rapid than the loss of chlorine.
As to the evaporation. During 40 days a similar solution to that taken had lost weight equal to 15.88 per cent., or at the rate of .397 per cent, per diem. During 53 days the solution had lost weight equal to 29.00 per cent., or at the rate of .547 per cent, per diem. For about 50 days the solution underwent very little change in colour, and it appears that up to a certain stage the loss by weight is almost entirely due to the evaporation of water, which considerably increases the percentage strength of available chlorine. That little or no chlorine is given off is evident from the fact that the loss by weight in 43 days is hardly sufficient to account for the increase in the available chlorine found in the solution. After a certain period, which appears to depend somewhat upon the temperature, the solution undergoes a more rapid change in colour, becoming much paler, with a corresponding diminution in chlorine percentage. The more rapid evaporation during the later periods is probably due to the evolution of chlorine or hypochlorous acid, but more probably the former. There appears to be no harm in storing bleach in tanks for six weeks, except in hot weather, the loss of chlorine being almost inappreciable. Beyond this time a rapid deterioration sets in. There is every reason to believe that there is considerable danger in half emptying a store tank or drawing from a tank, the large bulk of which is allowed to remain at the bottom for the most part undisturbed. The undisturbed portion, if allowed to remain too long, may deteriorate and induce rapid deterioration of fresh quantities run into the tank.
Papermakers and other large consumers of bleach who have the bleaching liquor pumped up to a head and distributed by gravitation through mains to the various parts of their works, should look into this matter very carefully.
about its chemical properties °et us'see0" h'f k“°W sometllillg the way of its ecLomLal ’uttlisati™ • ^ 1;?" SUgges> “ not taoubfeabout -jjp- and .descriptions as gi™ iS
receptacle, of the shape of a' sulphite digester, known as a tumbler, lined with lead, is filled with rags, and a quantity of dilute bleach solution added. To this is added a small quantity of vitriol. The man-hole door is fastened on and the tumbler made to revolve. This is kept in motion for about 24 hours, • and then the liquor is drained off into a tank, and is used again in a new batch. This method of bleaching consumes a large quantity of bleaching agent besides taking a long time. It is necessary that the rags should not be stored for any length of time before being placed in the breaker for washing, as they are liable to become tendered by the presence of the acid. Instead of bleaching the x’ags, the half-stuff is often bleached in the poacher or in a chest into which the poacher discharges. This takes from 10 to 20 hours, and is often accelerated by the addition of a small quantity of acid. The third method of bleaching rag fibre is to add the bleach to the beater, and to allow the bleaching to take place during the beating of the fibre.
I have carefully compared these three methods of bleaching, and have come to the conclusion that, as regards the amount of chlorine actually consumed, the third method is by far the most economical ; hut when we come to take into consideration the fact that, in order to get the bleaching done in the time it is necessary to add about twice the amount of bleaching powder actually consumed, and as it is often impossible to use a washing drum on the bleached stuff the unconsumed half of the bleaching powder has to be neutralised by the addition of an antichlor, we find the method is expensive. The following are two sets of tests.
1 give you here the conditions of some of the trials in the beater. My conclusions are not based upon one or two solitary trials, but upon a large number of a similar nature : —
(1.) Third quality linens in beater. — 224 lbs. dry material, 5.14 lbs. bleaching powder, added in the form of a solution. This equals .802 per cent, of chlorine on dry fibre. Residual liquor after three hours’ action contained .0192 per cent, chlorine. As the beater contained 4,560 lbs. of solution, it contained at finish .875 lb. of chlorine, or about 2\ lbs. of bleaching powder unconsumed. Therefore, the amount actually used up in the bleaching was just about half the amount originally added.
(2.) Third quality cotton rags in beater. — 224 lbs. dry fibre, bleach liquor added equal to 7.2 lbs. of bleaching powder, which equals 2.52 lbs. of chlorine. This equals 1.12 per cent, of
chlorine on the weight of dry fibre. The residual liquor after three hours’ action was found to contain .020 per cent, of chlorine, which is equal to a total weight of .912 lb. of residual chlorine in the engine, which equals .407 per cent, on dry fibre. In this case, 65 per cent, of the total amount of bleaching powder added was used up in the bleaching.
If it is found necessary to hurry the bleaching more, we must add larger quantities of bleach liquor, and the result is that a larger proportion of bleach is left unconsumed. By comparing these and similar results in the engine with tumbler bleaching, I concluded that, for the actual amount of chlorine consumed, bleaching in the beater was much more economical, but on account of the necessity of adding a chemical to neutralise the free chlorine remaining the total cost was greater. The reasons that the actual amount of chlorine consumed in the beater is so much less appear to me to be as follows : — Firstly, the rags are to a large extent cleansed of dirt when washed in the breaker. This dirt would consume some of the bleach. Secondly, the rapid agitation of the beater-roll accelerates the action of the bleach. It is always found more economical to agitate during the bleaching. Thirdly, apart from the actual agitation, the beater-roll aerates the stuff and brings it also in contact with the carbonic acid of the atmosphere. The carbonic acid helps to set free hypochlorous acid, which is more active and economical in its action than when combined, as calcium hypochlorite. The change takes place according to the followingequation.
Powder Dioxide Acid
As, however, the atmosphere only contains about four parts of carbonic gas per 10,000, the action is comparatively slow'. The application of carbonic acid in connection with bleaching powder solution was patented in 1855 by P. F. Didot, and in 1883 Thomson patented a process in which he used carbonic acid to accelerate the action of the bleaching powder solution for the bleaching of fabrics. This, however, was never used successfully, as far as I am aware, for the bleaching of rag stuff. It consisted in exposing the cloth under treatment alternately to the action of the bleaching powder solution and carbonic acid gas. I have seen Thomson’s process applied to rags in a closed chamber by damping rags with weak bleach, placing same into chamber, and passing in C02. If the C02 had been introduced as a slow stream
in front of beater-roll, the process, in my opinion, would have stood a good chance of success. In practice the difficulty which presents itself is the production of C02. This might be accomplished either by using a carboniser such as is used in Archbutt and Deeley’s water-softening plant, or when practicable the furnace gases might be employed. Both gases might need to be washed through water to remove any sulphurous acid, which if allowed to remain would act as an antichlor.
In order to accelerate the action of bleaching powder solution, I have passed carbonic acid through a 2 per cent, solution until the lime was thrown down. I have found this far more rapid in bleaching effect than ordinary bleach solution. A single experiment will demonstrate this.
Ordinary bleaching powder solution of the above strength turns a red litmus paper blue on account of the free lime that it contains, at the same time it only slowly bleaches the litmus. On passing through carbonic acid the solution becomes milky through the formation of carbonate of lime. This turns blue litmus paper red on account of the presence of free hypochlorous acid in solution ; in addition to this the paper is rapidly bleached. The equation is as follows
If, however, the carbonic acid is added in sufficient quantities to re-dissolve the lime, we have a solution containing bicarbonate of lime and hypochlorous acid together. This gives an acid reaction with iitmus, and for some purposes is a safer solution to use for bleaching than the one previously described, and for the following reason. The milky precipitate formed, when only sufficient carbonic acid is added to precipitate all the lime, if allowed to settle, as is the case when the liquid is stored in a tank, leaves a solution containing nothing but hypochlorous acid. When this is used for bleaching, free hydrochloric acid is formed, which by some process or other must be neutralised —
Acid Acid Oxygen
When sufficient carbonic acid is used to redissolve the chalk precipitate, we obtain bicarbonate of lime in solution, which will prevent the formation of hydrochloric acid by the formation of calcium chloride —
CaC03C02 + 2HC10= CaCl2 + 1I20 + 2C02+ O This solution has the advantages of ordinary bleaching powder, without its disadvantages. It is extremely active and economical,
whereas bleaching powder is sluggish and wasteful in its action. Furthermore, it has the advantage over free hypochlorous acid, in that there is no formation of free hydrochloric acid after bleaching.
I do not think that it is generally known that so much depends upon how the hypochlorites are made and used. There is room for immense improvements and very substantial economies, if the knowledge which we now possess is followed up and taken advantage of.
Until the discovery of Hermite’s solution, it was generally supposed that 1 lb. of chlorine would do a definite amount of bleaching. This, however, was disproved when Hermite’s solution was compared with bleaching powder. Hermite’s bleaching solution is produced by electrolising a dilute solution of magnesium chloride, and in his later patent by electrolising a mixture of common salt and magnesium chloride. The bleaching substance formed is magnesium hypochlorite, Mg(C10)2. On taking two solutions, one of bleaching powder and the other produced by Hermite’s process, containing equal amounts of chlorine, the latter was found to bleach wood pulp much more rapidly than the former, and when the action was complete, for every 5 lbs. of chlorine consumed in the former solution, only 3 lbs. were consumed in the latter. These claims were fully set forth by the inventor, and have been verified by Messrs. Cross & Bevan, Professor Pictet, and myself. Cross & Bevan and Pictet made their determinations upon wood. I made a series of experiments in the beater with different qualities of rags. In each case I found the relative efficiencies to be, as near as possible, as above stated — namely, as 3 is to 5. It is not yet known why the chlorine in the two solutions acts differently, but I shall endeavour to give an explanation or a theory that may possibly account for it in my next lecture.
Before the discovery of bleaching powder by Tennant in 1798, Bertholiet found that chlorine could be absorbed by a solution of caustic potash, and the solution possessed the same bleaching properties as the gas. This solution is known to this day as Eau de Javelles. It was extensively used on the Continent for bleaching purposes. The active principle of this solution is potassium hypochlorite. It is, however, too expensive to compete with bleaching powder. A solution somewhat similar in properties to this can be prepared by adding sodium carbonate solution to a solution of bleaching powder. The
Bleaching powder and carbonate of soda gives chalk and sodium hypochlorite. The chalk formed is allowed to settle out. This solution is used in some mills in place of bleaching powder solution. It offers certain advantages which will be pointed out hereafter. Some works, instead of buying bleaching powder and converting it into a solution, generate chlorine gas, which is bubbled through a solution of milk of lime.
By this last-mentioned process calcium hypochlorite is formed. But this solution, although generally considered chemically identical with that obtained from bleaching powder, is very different in bleaching effect. It is generally known that these solutions behave differently from each other as regards their rate of bleaching, and it is supposed that hypo¬ chlorite is much more sluggish in its action than bleaching powder solution.
as previously described.
The available chlorine of each of these solutions was carefully determined, and water was added to each in sufficient quantity to make the strength equal to exactly 5 grammes oi chlorine per litre. I took 5 grammes of unbleached wood pulp and mixed it with 200 c.c. of water, and after thoroughly pumping I added 200 c.c. of solution a. By the side of this I treated solutions b and c in a similar manner.
After 1 9 hours’ action the wood, in each case, was bleached. I withdrew equal quantities of solution from each, and determined the amount of chlorine. As each solution was diluted with its own volume of water, the solution in contact with the pulp was equal at the start to 2| grammes per litre of chlorine.
It will be seen from the above that bleaching powder solution is the least economical of the three. Supposing that with bleaching powder, in order to bleach a certain weight of wood, pulp we consume 100 lbs. weight of chlorine for a milk of lime solution. Satui'ated with chlorine gas we should require only 60 lbs. weight of chlorine, added in the form of a solution of sodium hypochlorite. It will be seen, therefore, that, it is not fair to base the value of a bleaching solution merely on the amount of available chlorine that it contains. It is necessary, in addition to this, to determine what amount of bleaching work the chlorine is capable of doing. It appears that the bleaching effect of chlorine depends largely upon the state of its combination. AVhy this is so nobody, so far, has been able to discover. It has generally been supposed that, as previously explained, the chlorine acts upon water, decomposing it, forming hydrochloric acid and liberating oxygen, and that the oxygen is really the bleaching agent. Ordinary oxygen, such as the greater part of the oxygen contained in the atmosphere, is incapable of bleaching, but ozone, which is obtained by electrifying ordinary oxygen, is a powerful bleaching agent.
If the above theory of bleaching is correct, it may be that the oxygen formed during the bleaching is only in part active. The efficiency then of a bleaching solution would depend upon the proportion of active oxygen formed during the reaction.
A recent investigator has, however, come to the conclusion that bleaching is not dependent upon the formation of oxygen in the case of the hypochlorites. He dissolved hypochlorites in a medium containing no oxygen, and added coloured substances, which he found to be bleached. He came to the conclusion that some of the hydrogen of the substance to be bleached was seized upon by the chlorine, forming hydrochloric acid, and that bleaching was really a process of reduction and not of oxidation. This, however, has by no means been proved in the case of ordinary solutions ; and I do not think there is sufficient reason to warrant us altering our views on the subject. We next have to consider why it is that one solution bleaches so much more rapidly than another. This appears to be closely
connected with the work that the chlorine will do. As a rule, when the chlorine acts rapidly, the amount required to bring the colour up is comparatively small. This has been explained as follows : — That bleaching is effected by a bombardment of the atoms of oxygen. If the bombardment is active, the atoms which compose the molecules of the colouring matter are, as it were, kept in motion. If the bombardment is slow, the atoms are able to return to a state of rest, and before they can be set in motion again a good « deal of work has to be expended by the oxygen molecules to overcome their inertia. This is a somewhat elaborate theory. It will perhaps be better understood by the following illustration: — By the old method of “ pile-driving ” a heavy weight is lifted to a certain height and allowed to drop. Every time the weight falls the pile is driven a small distance into the ground. By the more modern system a machine is used, which in action is something like a steam hammer dealing a succession of rapid blows upon the head of the pile. By the old method a good deal of work is expended in overcoming the inertia, whereas by the latter process the pile is never allowed to come to rest. It is claimed that the economy of the steam piledriver is due to the fact that the pile is always kept in motion. It is possible that a bleaching solution that is rapid in its action is economical also for a similar reason. It is possible, however, that ordinary bleaching powder solution is wasteful, on account of the chlorine being given off into the atmosphere.
Solution a during the bleaching did not smell of chlorine, whereas solution b had a strong smell of chlorine, but c had only a very slight smell. But setting aside all theories, I think that my results, and those of other investigators, are sufficient to show that chlorine as a bleaching agent varies very much according to the state of its combination, and I hope that this will cause others, who have better opportunities than I have, to study the subject much more closely.
In my next lecture we will go further into this interesting subject. I have left you purposely in doubt on one or two points ; 1 hope to give you an explanation, which I believe to be a true one, as to the cause of these differences in “ bleaching efficiencies,” but the extent of the subject renders it impossible for me to cover the ground in one lecture.
THE CHEMISTRY OF BLEACHING.
Early history of bleaching — Sun bleaching — Ozone — The atmosphere — Its bleaching effect — Sunlight — Hermite electrolytic bleaching — “ Still ” — • “Circulating” — Continuous use of bleach liquor — Temperature of bleach
liquor.
*It appears that the Egyptians and the Phoenicians during the early ages were well skilled in the art of bleaching. It is stated in the Encyclopedia Britannica that down to the middle of the eighteenth century the Dutch possessed almost a monopoly of the bleaching trade, although mention is found of bleach works at Southwark, near London, as early as the middle of the seventeenth century. It was customary to send all the brown linen, then largely manufactured in Scotland, to Holland to be bleached. It was sent away in the month of March and not returned till the end of October, being thus out of the hands of the merchant for more than half a year.
The Dutch mode of bleaching, which was mostly conducted in the neighbourhood of Haarlem, was to steep the linen first in a waste lye, and then for about a week in a potash lye, poured over it boiling hot. The cloth, being taken out of this and washed, was next put into wooden vessels containing buttermilk, in which it lay under a pressure for five or six days. After this it was spread upon grass, and kept wet for several months, exposed to the sunshine of the summer.
Since that time these processes have gone through a number of evolutionary changes. A boil in carbonate of soda has taken the place of the above-mentioned alkaline treatment, which was known as “ bucking.” A soak in dilute muriatic acid has taken the place of treatment with buttermilk, and a treatment with a weak solution of bleaching powder, called the “ chemick,”
* The first portion of this Lecture is largely abstracted from an article originally contributed to the Paper-Maker, but now out of print: “Bleaching: The Primitive Methods of our Fore-fathers” (Beadle), September, 1895.
lias superseded wetting and exposure for a long period to the sun’s rays, the latter of which was known as “crofting.” The most recent development is the Mather Patent Open Bleach System, by which the cloth is bleached on large open rolls from grey to white without unwinding in 14 hours. Although the above historical facts appear to have little hearing on the bleaching of paper-stock, a knowledge of the chemical action that takes place in these primitive methods of bleaching will, I believe, throw light upon the whole question of bleaching, and assist us in clearing up certain anomalies that appear to exist in the behaviour of solutions of different hypochlorites when used for bleaching.
This primitive bleaching — in which the sun’s rays were called into requisition — was, and still is, generally known to this day as sun bleaching. It is quite natural that, during the early ages, the sun should be made available for this purpose, as by repeated washing and hanging out to dry in the sun of any unbleached fabric, the same is found to be very much whitened. The chemical changes that take place in sun bleaching, like a large number of other chemical changes, can only be wrought in presence of moisture. There are only certain of the sun’s rays that are able to assist the bleaching. These are known as actinic rays, and are those rays that are able to promote chemical action. The action of the sun’s rays upon the atmosphere through which it shines is to produce two substances which have strong bleaching properties. These two substances are ozone and hydrogen peroxide. Ozone is a condensed form of oxygen, and is being continually formed from the oxygen ever present in our atmosphere. A molecule of oxygen is repre¬ sented as O,, and a molecule of ozone as 0,,.
Three molecules of oxygen become two molecules of ozone.
Now ozone is a much less stable body than oxygen, and its molecules being in a state of unstable equilibrium, as it wei’e, it requires very little toppling over to its much more stable con¬ dition of molecular oxygen. When a coloured substance, such as unbleached cloth, comes in contact with ozone in the atmo¬ sphere, this toppling over is effected, and the ozone is transformed back to oxygen. Ordinary oxygen (molecules of oxygen) is unable to bleach ; but what is knowm as “ nascent ” oxygen — that is, oxygen just freed from its combination and in its free
Ozone becomes ordinary oxygen and nascent oxygen.
Hydrogen peroxide, the other bleaching constituent of our atmosphere, is also an unstable compound, and this, in contact with substance capable of being bleached, liberates nascent oxygen and forms water.
Hydrogen peroxide and ozone tire often formed simul¬ taneously. It was generally believed that ozone was formed by electrical discharges in the atmosphere, but it has been proved that it is invariably formed when water evaporates, and it is to the latter source we would rather look for the ozone that takes an active part in the bleaching of cellulose. Both the above bleaching agents may be expended uselessly when brought in contact with substances to be bleached. Ozone is, however, reduced to ordinary oxygen when in contact with some organic substances. When it is expended usefully, only one-third of the ozone can oxidise the organic colouring matter, the other twothirds going to form ordinary oxygen.
The economy and rapidity of the bleaching depends upon the prevention of the reduction of ozone to ordinary oxygen, and of hydrogen peroxide to water and ordinary oxygen. In short, it is necessary to ensure that the conditions are such that the liberated nascent oxygen is made to enter into com¬ bination with the organic colouring matter, with the formation of colourless oxidised products, instead of being reduced to ordinary oxygen.
Ozone is generally supposed to be more abundant during sunshine, and that the absence of the sun's rays allows of the reduction of ozone to ordinary oxygen, especially in the vicinity of crowded cities, where the issuing organic gases to a large extent assist the reduction of ozone to ordinary oxygen. The
heat rays emanating from the sun may bring about the formation of ozone by the evaporation of water, which is supposed by meteorologists and chemists to be the chief source of ozone in the atmosphere. The actinic rays from the sun may change the molecules of ordinary oxygen into ozone, but this, as far as I am aware, has never been proved. There can be little doubt, however, that the actinic rays from the sun are such as to render the colouring matter of fibres susceptible of attack by nascent oxygen, ozone, or hydrogen peroxide. When a cellulose material, such as unbleached rags, is spread out upon grass and exposed to the sun’s rays during summer, it will be found that the material is gradually bleached ; it will be found also that the bleaching is very much accelerated by periodical damping with water. We must assume, first of all, that hydrogen peroxide and ozone are present in an open space where the sun is shining, and that the evaporation of water used to damp the material gives rise to the formation of further quantities of ozone. The water also being a solvent for both hydrogen peroxide and ozone, the oxidising agents are brought into immediate contact with the material. The production of ozone is promoted by alternations of damp and dry and hot and cold air. The hoar frosts and morning dews also increase the hydroscopic moisture of the cellulose, besides supplying a quantity of surplus moisture which is evaporated on exposure to the sun’s rays. Sun bleaching was never studied at all in a scientific manner, as the use of bleaching powder came in long before the chemistry of sun bleaching began to be understood. To appreciate how precarious this process is, it is necessary to have some knowledge of the intensity of the sun’s rays at different hours of the day and at different seasons of the year. When the sun is perfectly perpendicular, as in equatorial regions, the amount of light intercepted by the atmosphere on a cloudless day amounts to 16 per cent, of the total. When the sun is at an angle of 30 degrees with the horizon it has to shine through the depth of two atmospheres, and only 70 per cent, of the total light reaches the earth. When the angle is 20 degrees only about 60 per cent, reaches the earth. When at an angle of 8 degrees only one-fifth the total rays reach the earth ; and when the sun is about to set only 2 per cent, of the rays reach the earth. We see then from this that the bleaching power of the sun’s rays is greatly diminished as it nears the horizon, and as the sun is nearly always at a considerable angle, we get very far short of the maximum effect of the sun’s rays. Another point in this connection is worthy of notice.
The rays intercepted by the atmosphere are just those that are most active in their bleaching effect, namely, the actinic rays. The other rays are inoperative in so far as they do not affect the colouring matter to be bleached. The heat rays may promote the evaporation of water and so manufacture ozone, but their function is probably small in comparison with the actinic rays. At any period during daylight some actinic rays reach the earth, but these diminish much more rapidly with the angularity of the sun than do the total rays that reach us. To these ever-changing conditions must be added the uncertainty of the weather, which makes sun bleaching more uncertain even than harvesting. It appears that grass or sun bleaching is less destructive than hypochlorite bleaching, and on this account it is still made use of to a limited extent in the textile trade, and, I believe, has been seriously considered recently as a means of bleaching rags for papermaking.
In some old text-books on papermaking I have seen it stated that the bleach-house should be constructed with as much glass roofing as possible, so that the bleaching operations should be assisted by the sun’s rays. As hypochlorite bleaching is so much more rapid than sun bleaching, the latter can be of very little service in conjunction with the former. The old method of rendering raw material white before the introduction of the modern methods of boiling and bleaching may be of interest and throw some light on the subject. This is my onlv reason for describing these obsolete methods. In ancient days the sorted rags were well wetted with water and heaped up for several weeks until they got thoroughly warmed in the centre. They were occasionally turned to prevent superheating and, con¬ sequently, spontaneous combustion, which might subsequently ensue. By means of the above process the non-cellulose, which included resinous matter, oily matter, organic dirt, &c., was more readily oxidised than the cellulose, and consequently converted into soluble products that could be readily removed by subsequent washing. There is much danger of tendering the fibre by con¬ version into oxycellulose, and in the presence of nitrogenous substances such as gelatine this change appears to be much more rapid. Even with fairly pure fibre a mould is very readily formed. With bleached half-stuff that has been allowed to remain in large lumps for a time in a cool, damp place, a black mould is often developed, which, if allowed to spread, does considerable destruction to the cellulose.
After the rags had been submitted to the above process,
which took the place of our modern process of boiling with alkali under pressure, they were, after thorough washing to remove the soluble products, spread out on grass in the sun and occasionally damped with water until they were thought to be sufficiently bleached for what then took the place of our hollander. The beating operation was generally done in a large mortar, into which a large pestle was made to drop by means of a crank. The treatment that the rags here received was equivalent to what might be got by stamping rags to pieces in water with an ordinary pestle and mortar.
As far as I know, there was no washing process during the disintegration of the fibre. The cleansing of the material depended entirely upon the heaping up or tendering process and the sun bleaching and their attendant washings. It appears that a large portion of the cellulose was not affected by the tendering process, although the fabric came to pieces more readily. The papers made befoi’e the introduction of chemicals have stood wonderfully well, and whatever objections may be raised against these primitive processes, the net result was good, and it appears that the rags were purified and converted into paper with a minimum effect upon the cellulose itself. It appears, at any rate, that the cellulose finding its way into the finished paper was remarkably inert to atmospheric influences. This is un¬ doubtedly largely due to the fact that the papers were free from the residue of chemicals which is to be found in all papers the fibres of which have been submitted to chemical treatment. These methods had been greatly improved if they had been studied in a scientific manner by papermakers. In the light of our present knowledge, great advances might yet be made in this direction. The great objection to these processes is the time required. They took as many months as our present methods do hours. With a warm solution of a hypochlorite and a gentle circulation of the liquor, as much bleaching can be effected in one hour as is possible in one month in summer with a good sun. With the discovery of chlorine and its bleaching power, and the subsequent discovery of calcium hypochlorite or bleaching powder as a bleaching agent, sun bleaching was rapidly abandoned. The chemistry of sun bleaching is very closely allied to the chemistry of hypochlorite bleaching : the active principle is the same. I have given a general outline of these antiquated and obsolete methods not because they are likely to be of any particular value in themselves, but because I feel that some knowledge of them is necessary in preparation of what is to follow.
chloride.
As far as I am aware there are no published results of experiments upon the bleaching efficiency of the Hermite bleach¬ ing solution in comparison with that of a solution of bleaching powder upon the bleaching of cotton and linen fibre. All the published results, viz., those of Messrs. Cross & Sevan and Professor Pictet, are, I believe, upon the bleaching of wood pulp.
I have made a series of experiments to determine whether the Hermite solution still gave the same efficiency when used for bleaching cotton and linen rags and rag half-stuff. These results were published in the Chemical News. Eor the purpose of these trials a small beater was used, similar in construction to the papermaker’s hollander.
I took half- stuff produced from second quality linen rags and from second quality cotton rags. Before doing experiments in the small beater, I mixed a known weight of each of the half-stuffs with a carefully ascertained volume of Hermite solution, also with bleaching-powder solution, the chlorine strength of each having been carefully ascertained.
The time required to bleach the materials to a full white was noted, and when the bleaching was complete the available chlorine in the residual liquors was determined, and the amount of chlorine consumed by the fibre calculated.
The efficiency of chlorine in the Hermite liquid as compared with that of chlorine in ordinary bleaching powder is claimed by the inventors to be as 5 is to 3. This has been substantiated by the results of Messrs. Cross & Bevan and Professor Pictet.
: 1 : 1.65
These results, therefore, confirm fairly closely those of other observers. The next two experiments were done with a view of finding how long the Hermite solution took to exhaust itself if the chlorine put in was the exact amount necessary, according to the above experiments, to do the bleaching.
The rate of bleaching was much slower than if the chlorine had been used greatly in excess. After three days, however, the liquid only contained the least possible trace of chlorine, and the fibre appeared to be perfectly bleached.
The preceding experiments were all done with “ still ” liquor. In the following experiments the half-stuff was put into the small beater and the Hermite liquor allowed to flow round the beater, and was washed out again by means of a washing drum, from whence it was delivered to a store tank and then again to the beater. The total amount of liquor was first of all measured both into the beater and into the store tank, from which a sample was taken and tested for chlorine. This experiment was not done under the most favourable circumstances, as the liquor was drawn from the store tank and not from the electrolysing tank whilst the electrolysis was going on, which I think would have made a considerable difference to the results.
My results confirm those of other observers as regards the rapidity of bleaching by the Hermite solution, which I found to bleach very rapidly, doing as much work in thirty minutes as bleaching powder solution of the same strength would do in three hours.
I also found that Hermite solution will bleach in one treatment : in some instances where any amount of bleaching powder will fail to do so without an intermediate acid treatment. The solution can be used either circulating or stored in tanks for use like ordinary bleaching powder solution, but the latter, as we have seen, does not give such good results.
If it were not for practical difficulties in regard to the production of the electrolysed solution, the Hermite liquor might have proved a great success. It was never successfully installed in any mill in this country, although it was in operation in France. The necessity of having to return the liquor from the potcher to the electrolysing tank to be revivified went very much against it. If any electrolysed solution is to become a practical success it must be of such a nature that weak solutions can be completely and economically electrolysed, so that when the bleaching is accomplished the spent liquor can be thrown away without loss. This neither the Hermite nor the Andrioli solu¬ tions were able to fulfil.
of bleaching, we will now go to consider the more practical details.
Boiled rags were formerly bleached in the old-fashioned tumblers, but for many years now some mills have bleached the rags by piling them up in chambers and promoting the circulation of warm bleach through the mass, much on the same principle as that of a vomiting boiler, but taking care that the temperature does not rise above 95° Fahr. The rags are not disturbed during the treatment, but the liquor is in constant circulation through the mass, and the action is very rapid and produces a very good colour. The liquor is immediately drained off. If the rags are at once transferred to the beaters after douching them with cold water there is no fear of injury, but if left piled up in a warm con¬ dition the centre of the mass undergoes a most curious change. On turning the mass over for its removal to the beaters after, say, a fortnight, or even after a few days, we notice a sweet beeswax-like smell. Whilst the rags are being broken in, if you look along the surface of the water after it leaves the back fall, a thin film is often noticed. If much of these rags is used in the breaker the surface of the latter is soon coated with a thin wax-like film, which can easily be scraped off. This film has been submitted to careful examination. It may become a source of constant annoyance by breaking off and finding its way into the paper. Under these conditions of hot bleaching, instead of the bleach converting the cellulose into oxycellulose, it undergoes a fatty degeneration by slow conversion into a waxy substance, which, by treatment with alkali, is easily saponified and converted into a soap. This action occasionally occurs, giving rise to the so-called waxes and rosins, and is certainly a drawback to this form of hot bleaching, and may result also when stuff is bleached hot in the bleacher and allowed to drain without cooling.
The advantages of the above method are its great rapidity as compared with cold bleach ; it is performed with a minimum quantity of liquor, so that the chlorine can be used at its maximum strength ; it can be applied to the rags without their being tumbled about. It Is somewhat difficult to ensure even penetration. The method, I believe, has been in vogue for many years, but it is difficult to maintain a uniform temperature without careful attention.
The liquid which drains away from rag-bleaching should, in my opinion, not be used again on another batch, as it acts upon and tends to exhaust a fresh solution. It is sometimes used again for the purpose of economising, but it is more likely to result in
waste. I cannot say that this remark applies to the bleaching of esparto where the process is carried on continuously, the bleach passing in one direction and the bleached material in the other.
Those of you who are chemists can easily verify my statements by mixing some fresh bleach of known chlorine strength with some spent bleach liquor which has been used several times. You can ascertain the effect of the spent liquor upon the fresh bleach solution by testing it periodically. You will notice a steady falling-off, especially if the solution is kept warm. This fallingoff must take place in a like manner when spent or partly spent liquor is revivified by the addition of more bleach. In the case of esparto it may be different when the bleach solution is kept strong and working continuously. The process has to be conducted quickly and necessitates a strong liquor, and to throw this away still containing a lot of bleach, would be less economical than usingliquor over again, although in the latter case waste is going on through by-products from previous bleacbings destroying the chlorine.
There is one great danger with circulating hot bleach through stationary rags. When an attempt is made to bleach iron mordanted coloured rags, ferric oxide or magnetic oxide of iron is formed in situ. Tinder ordinary circumstances, bleach powder does not act deleteriously upon cellulose, but it is liable to do so when hot. In the presence, however, of oxide of iron, instead of bleaching the colour, the oxide acts as a conveyer of oxygen from the bleach to the cellulose in such a way as to tender it. The oxygen is supplied by the decomposition of the bleach to the ferric oxide, which in turn conveys it to the cellulose and converts it into oxycellulose.
The reduced iron is again oxidised by the bleach, and then the process is repeated, with the result that the rag is tendered instead of being bleached. I have seen iron mordanted rags mixed with other rags, the mordanted ones completely tendered, and the rest bleached but otherwise unaffected, both having undergone the same treatment.
I want you to realise that this method of hot circulation allows the air as well as the bleach to come into direct contact with the material to be bleached ; whereas in the method of circu¬ lation about to be discussed, the bleaching is done by total immersion in the liquid, except at the surface of the stuff.
Let us now consider another set of conditions when liquor in the potcher is circulating whilst the bleaching is being carried on. The circulation is a valuable aid to bleaching, as it promotes the
chemical action in various ways. It reduces the time of treatment, and tends to make the treatment much more uniform than it would otherwise be, such as in the steeping tank bleach.
In the bleaching of some stuffs, such as esparto, where the mass is kept in circulation, and where it is expedient to make the process as rapid and continuous as possible, I venture to think there must be considerable saving of time effected, due to the fact of keeping the stuff in motion. There can be no harm or danger to the material in rapidly agitating it or keeping it in motion during the time the bleach is acting. Such agitation results in economy of bleach as well as saving of time. This I have shown by actual figures to be true of the Hermite solution, but it is equally true of solutions of ordinary bleaching power whether hot or cold. It is necessary to take into consideration the cost of keeping the stuff in motion, which may amount to more than the saving in bleaching powder. Apart from this, time is an important factor, and anything that will help to get the stuff out of hand quickly is to be welcomed.
As will be seen hereafter, agitation not only accelerates the rapidity of the bleaching, but it also in a measure brings into play a somewhat different chemical reaction. The probability is that the nascent oxygen is much more effective, and that less of it is converted into ordinary oxygen or able to act on bleach products already formed.
It is easier and safer to apply heat when the stuff is properly agitated. Of course the temperature is rising from the very com¬ mencement, due to the rapid agitation, but as chemical reactions of this kind are not influenced so much at a low temperature as at a high one, every degree of rise of temperature, say between 80° and 90° Tahr., promotes a greater increase of chemical energy than each degree of rise between 50° and 60° Tahr., consequently the energy of the bleaching due to increased temperature is more marked after the agitation is conducted for some time. There is little or no benefit in warming the stuff through a few degrees only. The real benefit is derived when the stuff is raised to its safe limit, but this safe limit should on no account be exceeded.
It can hardly be claimed that any mechanical cleansing can be effected while the bleaching is actually going on, but extraneous matter and dirt, after the bleach has acted upon it, may become loosened and detached. This loosening may be assisted by mechanical agitation, but the dirt cannot be got away until the bleach is washed out.
We have already referred to the theoretical action of bleach¬ ing powder, and endeavoured to explain it on the assumption that ozone is formed, but there is no reason for supposing that ozone alone or in conjunction with one of the hypochlorites cannot be used to great advantage in the bleaching of paper stock. If ozone is ever to come into commercial use for bleaching, its manufacture will have to be much cheapened and simplified. Of this there seems little prospect in the near future. Ozone by itself is a powerful bleaching agent, and is likely to come into commercial use as such if a cheap enough method can be devised of making it. Ozone, furthermore, accelerates the action of bleaching powder and results in a saving of chlorine. The presence of ozone and peroxide of hydrogen in the air lashed into the stuff by the action of the beater-roll must, in a measure, affect the rapidity as well as the economy of bleaching, but to what extent it is not easy to ascertain. I have heard of cylinders of com¬ pressed oxygen being used in conjunction with bleaching powder in the potcher, but have had no experience of its use.
The presence of direct sunlight in a bleach-house must alsoassist the bleaching, and more so when the stuff is agitated, continually exposing to the sun's rays fresh layers of pulp.
It is most essential when bleaching with hot liquor to avoid over-heating. It is often the practice to have live steam in the potcher to raise the stuff to the necessary temperature.
Care must be taken that where the steam enters the potcher there should not be local heating. This is liable to take place if the potcher circulates slowly. It is an extremely dangerous thing to rely on a man’s judgment as to the temperature. If he passes his hand into the stuff and thinks it is hot enough, he may be misled, because the apparent temperature of the liquid would depend upon the temperature of the air at the time. A solution at say 80° Fahr. would, for example, feel cool in the heat of summer but hot on a winter morning, but the chemical effect would be the same summer or winter. The only way is to use the thermometer. The safest plan is to heat the potcher up to the' required temperature before the addition of any bleaching liquor, and care should be taken that the steam valve does not leak, or the temperature will be further raised. For straw and esparto the maximum should be 100° Fahr., but I would suggest where it is possible 90°-9oo should be the maximum. In the case of wood, 90° only should be made the maximum temperature.
The actual amount of chlorine consumed in bleaching is largely dependent upon the temperature of the stuff. If the temperature is too high the chlorine consumed may be very high also, and the fibre at the same time will probably be injured. The fact is that to do the bleaching in a very limited time in the cold, a greater amount of bleach would have to be present than if the stuff was warmed, on account of the comparative slowness of the cold bleaching. Supposing, for the sake of argument, we required 20 lbs. of bleach to do a given amount of bleaching in two hours in the cold, and 15 lbs. to do the same at 90° Fahr. At the end of the time we might find that the cold liquor contained the equivalent of 10 lbs. unconsumed, and the hot liquor 3 lbs. Although we should have been compelled to add more liquor for the cold bleach, yet the amount actually consumed would be most in the case of the hot bleach. If, however, in the one case we bleached in the hot with such quantity that the whole is con¬ sumed at the end of the bleaching, and in the other case used a cold solution which just exhausted itself, we should find that the hot bleach would consume from 20 to 50 per cent, more bleach¬ ing powder than the cold solution.
In making the above remarks I do not wish to suggest that this rule would hold good in all cases. It is true in some cases, although perhaps not in others.
We shall have to leave a number of questions untouched. To attempt to propound a theory to account for the bleaching action of different liquids is a difficult and dangerous task. I am afraid I have already trespassed too far in this direction. I have purposely omitted all common stock knowledge such as text-books give as far as possible, and have trespassed on more debatable ground in the hope that young papermakers and chemists who take an interest in this subject may be inspired to go further and to test the validity of these remarks for themselves.
Effects of heat — Expansion and contraction of cellulose with change of moisture — “Sensible” moisture — The curling of paper with change of moisture — Testing for “ machine ” and “ cross ” direction by means of clamping — Effects of damping.
It is a matter of common observation with all of us when reading a book in the scorching sun or close to a blazing fire,, that the leaves and often the cover become bent and warped so that the book will not shut properly. If a book is left open in the sun the leaves on either side will curl up and it will be found that the uppermost leaves are the most curled, and often the bottom ones remain quite flat. When the rays of the sun meet the paper it becomes heated on the upper side, and some of the air-dry moisture is driven off by the heat. With almost all substances heat expands them, but with cellulose and like sub¬ stances — which have the power of abstracting the moisture from the atmosphere and giving the same up when heated — heat has the opposite effect. Heat only has this effect by reason of it removing the moisture or dehydrating the cellulose. It is quite possible that if a paper would be -kept bone dry, say, by placing it in an atmosphere over sulphuric acid and gradually raised in temperature when in this condition, that it would show a slight expansion with heat. This is not a practical question, however, for us, as under all ordinary conditions any rise in temperature means loss of moisture and consequent contraction.
Vegetable fibres vary in size according to the amount of moisture they contain. On a dry day the ultimate fibres, say of cotton, are considerably smaller, both in diameter and length, than on a damp day, and when these fibres are immersed in water they become larger. Cotton cellulose in a normal atmosphere will contain about 7 per cent, of water. Supposing we have a paper composed of cotton fibres and expose it to the rays of the sun the moisture will fall from, say, 7 per cent, to 5^ per cent..
or even 4 per cent. . This fall brings about a corresponding shrinkage in the paper. If, now, we take the paper into a cool, shady place, the paper will absorb moisture until it contains 7 per cent, again, and will also return to its former size. Expose it on a damp day and its moisture may rise as high as 9 per cent., or even 10 per cent., when it will feel flimsy and sensibly damp. If we go further and expose it all night to the heavy dew, as some of you no doubt have observed, it will often be covered with beads of moisture when the surrounding objects are comparatively dry. Now take air-dry paper and lay it close to a lire for a few minutes, at a temperature sufficient to scorch the hand, it will be found that the paper has further shrunk, and also that it has lost a great deal of its flexibility. This time the paper has lost nearly the wdiole of its atmospheric or air-dry moisture. It will be noticed that the paper has curled in the direction of the fire. If now the paper be turned round when about half dry the paper will uncurl, and recurl only in the opposite direction. Whilst drying, it will often be noticed that the paper steams and des'elops a dampness. This is due to the air-dry moisture separating from the cellulose before it is able to escape into the air, and remaining on the surface of the fibres as a film of water.
The condition, as regards dampness or dryness, is a matter of everyday observation with the housewife in regard to household linen. Well-aired sheets still contain about 7 per cent, air-dry moisture. The reason that they are safe even with this amount of moisture is that at 7 per cent, the moisture is not “ sensible moisture,” or appreciable to the sense of touch or feel. When the moisture is sufficient to become apparent to the touch, the linen, through the presence of what we may regard as excess of moisture, becomes conductive of heat and conducts the heat away from the body, whereas well-aired linen is an insulator of heat and consequently prevents the heat of the body from escaping. Hence the danger of damp linen and the necessity for well airing. With paper also the moisture only becomes apparent to our senses ( i.e ., feels damp) when it exceeds a certain amount, and this amount would be greater in a wood paper than in a rag paper. Although our senses only reveal the excess moisture, the cellulose or fibres of which the paper is composed is much more sensitive, and in proportion as it yields up moisture below its air-dry state, it becomes more harsh and resistent and even brittle, and loses much of its useful qualities. It is a fortunate provision of nature that the ordinary air-dry state is that state which shows up fibres to their best advantage for papermaking.
Take a sheet of paper and breathe on it, it will have the opposite effect to placing it before the fire. The edges of the paper will have curled away from the surface breathed upon. This is due to the fact that the breath is charged with moisture, which is imparted to the surface breathed upon, which, in consequence, expands and forms the convex surface of the curve. The heat of the fire contracts the surface nearest to it by the removal of water, and in consequence of it being less in area than the unheated surface, forms the concave surface of the curve. It should be noticed, therefore, that most, if not all papers under ordinary atmospheric conditions are susceptible to heat and moisture. If heated they contract and if moistened they expand, and if either of these processes is applied to one surface only, or more to one surface than the other, the paper is bound to curl.
When water is applied rapidly to one surface of a sti'ip of paper with a brush, it often lifts itself up from the surface on which it is placed, forming an arch supported at its two ends. The application of water has the same effect as breathing on the surface, only it is much more intense.
The curve that a strip of a given length makes on being wetted on one surface only depends largely upon the thickness of the paper, and how the paper is supported. It should be noted that this curling does not take place with an unsized paper, except in a mild degree. A hard-sized paper is needed to show the result properly. The reason is that the water so soon permeates an unsized paper, and expands the other surface also.
If the paper is free to move, I have always found the curve to be the arc of a circle. When the paper is thin the curve is the arc of a small circle, and when the paper is thick the curve is the arc of a large circle. The reason for this is not far to seek. When water is applied to the surface of a paper it becomes expanded by a definite amount on the wetted surface. It might be 2 per cent. In other words, if the length of the dry side was represented by 100, the length of the wetted side would be represented by 102. A simple figure on the blackboard can be drawn to show this graphically. The wetted surface is shown as a thick line. If nothing prevented the free expansion of the wetted surface, and the dry surface resisted all expansion, the two surfaces would be represented in section by the arcs of two concentric circles, whose distance from each other is that of the thickness of the paper. By joining the two ends and extending the straight lines inwards, the point at which these bisect is the centre of the circle of which the curved paper is the arc.
The radius of the circle formed can easily be measured by tracing the curves on a piece of paper — drawing two lines at tangents to the curve at any two points, for accuracy’s sake as far apart as the length of curve will stand, and then drawing two lines at right angles to these inwards. The point at which these lines meet is the centre of the circle. It can easily be seen by comparison that the diameter of the circle increases with the thickness of the paper. The expansion of the wetted surface is the same whether the paper be thick or thin, provided that the material of each and degree of wetting is the same. The thickness of the paper, other things being equal, bears a direct ratio to the diameter of the circle. The greater the coefficient of expansion of the paper the smaller the circle for any given thickness.
The lecturer has done a lot of work in order to ascertain whether the curve actually found agrees with the calculated curve, which is easily arrived at when the expansion of the paper is known.
These do not agree very closely, although they do approxi¬ mately. The reason of this is that some of the moisture soon finds its way through the body of the paper and expands that also. If the ratio of the thickness to the circle can be established by experiment, the curves of papers of known thickness may be compared and their coefficient of expansion easily calculated by means of a paper coated on one surface only with a material which will render it impervious to moisture and so prevent expansion on the unwetted side. I hope to be able to determine the coefficient of expansion of a paper on wetting from the arc of the circle produced with a paper of known thickness.
When paper is heated on one surface only, provided the heat be applied evenly and rapidly, the curvature is the same as when wetted, only in the opposite direction.
Paper does not expand equally in all directions. In order to fully understand this it is necessary to have some knowledge of the conditions of its manufacture. The writer advanced a theory, which is based upon certain observations made by Professor Tyndall and the geologist Sorby, in regard to the origin of slaty cleavage. This was published (Chemical News, September 21st, 1894). A portion of this I give in order that we may understand the effects of water in causing expansion and curling of machinemade papers.
“ Slaty cleavage is in no sense due to the stratification of the rock during its formation, as the planes of cleavage stand in most cases at right angles to the bedding. Geologists are satisfied
that it is distinct from crystalline cleavage. Mr. Sorby, the geologist, found that plates of mica are a constituent of slate rock. He found by applying pressure to a mass containing scales of oxide of iron and sand that the scales tended to set themselves at right angles to the pressure exerted, and to allow of cleavage in the direction of the plates.
“ In the process of manufacture of papdr the pulp as it passes on to the endless wire of the machine consists of ultimate vegetable fibres, such as cotton and linen and wood, suspended in a large volume of water. The specific gravity of these fibres is about 1.5. It must be remembered that they differ from plates of mica in that they present no plane surfaces.
“ As the mass passes on to the wire it receives a lateral shake which tends to set the fibres at right angles to the force exerted by the shake. This might be at right angles to the surface of the liquid, or in a plane parallel to it. The latter direction appears to be determined partly by the force of gravity, which first of all carries the fibres through the medium in which they are suspended, and then causes them to press one on the other. The fibres are retained by the wire gauze, but the watery medium filters through. Water unable to filter through is removed by (1) suction boxes, and (2) the press rolls. The water is then removed by forces acting at right angles to the surface of the web, so that we have two sets of forces, one exerted in a direction at right angles to that in which the web is travelling, but in a plane parallel to the surface of the web, and the second in a vertical direction. These two forces acting together cause the fibres to lie in the ' direction in which the web is travelling.”
The articles from which the above extract is taken was written with a view of establishing the theory then propounded by the lecturer, that the formation of paper in the web, or on the band mould, is brought about by the same forces, and in the same manner as slaty cleavage in slate rock. It is here quoted to explain the “ lay ” of the fibres in a sheet of machine-made paper.
With machine-made papers the curvature takes place more readily in one direction, and this fact has been utilised for deter¬ mining the direction the paper has come from the machine. This method is described by Herzberg in bis book on u Paper-Testing,” as follows : —
“ If it is necessary to find which is the machine direction, and when, owing to the sheet being damaged, the direction cannot be distinguished with certainty, a circular piece, about ten centimeters (four inches) in diameter is cut out of the sample
and allowed to float some seconds on water. It is then taken carefully, by the aid of forceps, and laid on the palm of the hand (to which it must not be allowed to stick), when the edges will be bent up until they finally overlap.”
the web of paper on the machine.
Herzberg says : 41 The explanation of this test is this. The side of the paper in contact with the water absorbs moisture, causing the fibres to swell and bend the paper; as the paper expands more in the “ cross ” than in the “ machine ” direction the edges in the first-named rise.”
The above appears to me to be only a partial explanation of the paper’s behaviour, as I think will be made apparent after a more careful examination of the disposition of the fibres in a sheet of machine-made paper.
Mr. Little, in his book on “ The Chemistry of Papermaking,” describes a more simple test for determining the direction of the web in a sheet of machine-made paper. It is as follows: — Two strips are cut from a sheet, each one inch wide by four inches long ; one piece is cut across the sheet and the other in the length of the sheet. They are held together between the finger and thumb at the lower end, and allowed to hang to one side. If they remain together the underneath one is cut in the machine direction. If they remain apart at their loose ends, the upper one has been cut in the direction of the machine or web.
The forces which act on a web of paper as it passes over the machine, as we have already seen, cause the fibres to lie in the direction of the web, giving the sheet greater rigidity in one direction. We know that a blind made of stout cane bound together with thread, is only slightly flexible in the direction of the strips of cane, but rolls up with great ease in the other direction. Now, a sheet of paper wetted on one side expands on the wetted side, and the paper curls in the direction in which there is the least resistance, which is across the web.
I have found it preferable not to float the disc of paper on water, but to wet it by passing it on to a well wetted pad by means of a glass plate or other flat surface. There is no danger of getting the upper side wetted by this method, and the paper is more readily removed.
1 have found it somewhat difficult to obtain the inverse effect by rapidly heating a disc of machine-made paper on one surface only. It is probable that the contraction, after the air-dry stage has been reached, is very slight. It has been remarked early in
this article, that when a sheet of paper is exposed to the rays of the sun, or brought close to a fire, that the paper curls so that the concave surface is pointed towards the source of the rays of heat. If this is not performed under certain conditions, it sometimes happens that the paper is curled in the opposite direction, namely, with the convex surface facing the source of heat. This is noticed sometimes when a sheet of paper that has for some time been exposed to a somewhat damp atmosphere is brought suddenly in contact with a hot metallic surface. The paper quickly begins to curl with the ends uppermost. This is due, in my opinion, chiefly to the fact that the moisture from the heated surface which is in contact with the metal, cannot escape except by passage through the thickness of paper and from the upper surface. Immediately the paper becomes heated throughout its thickness (which takes but a few seconds), moisture begins to escape, leaving the upper surface dryer than the under surface, and so causing the paper to curl with its convex surface facing the source of heat.
An interesting effect is got by bringing a paper of medium thickness, but somewhat damper than air-dry, over a Bunsen flame or over an ordinary gas burner. The hot air from the flame impinging on the under surface of the paper, rapidly dries it, whilst the upper surface still remains damp. This causes the paper to curl down towards the flame. If the paper be retained in this position it curls back to its former shape, in consequence of the moisture leaving the upper surface when the heat has passed right through the paper.
It must be borne in mind that paper acts quite differently to fabrics when wetted. When stiffened pieces of fabric are brushed over their surface with a damp sponge or floated for a moment on water, they commence rapidly to curl, but instead of the wetted side curling outwards, as with paper, it frequently curls inwards. The only cases, so far as I am aware, in which the wetted surface curls outwards, as with paper, are those in which some material is used to dress the fabric which rapidly expands when wetted, and when this expansion is greater than the natural contraction of the fabric itself, the material curls with its wetted side inwards.
The materials used for dressing bookbinders’ cloth and such like are the same as U3ed for sizing paper, such as gelatine, glue, and starch. This leads me to suppose that the sizing materials used in paper are largely responsible for its behaviour towards water.
In the case of paper, the curling influence of the sizing materials cannot very readily be determined, as these materials curl in the same direction as the fibre substance of the paper itself. With cloth, however, the two tend to go in opposite directions, and a lot of information may be obtained by using a stiffened fabric that has been coated with some sizing agent on one surface only. If a piece so prepared be wetted on the fabric side it curls generally with the wetted side inwards, and if coated on the filmed side it curls generally with the wetted side outwards. Sometimes a stiffened fabric when wetted on the uncoated side remains almost flat for some time. This is probably due to the contraction of wetted fabric being so feeble that it is unable to bend the coating. When the dampness has penetrated the coating is expanded and the material begins to curl.
There are important practical issues, as well as theoretical, in relation to this question. Thus there is a lot to be learned about the behaviour of bookbinders' materials when wetted with glue or paste. Bookbinders are obliged to know something about these peculiarities. When a paper is stuck to a board or rigid surface it is damp and consequently somewhat expanded, so that as it dries it draw's right over the surface and takes out all the creases. A strong paper so stuck is capable of exerting enormous force as it dries or contracts by the slow application of heat. I have known a paper under these conditions to tear up a piece of stone. This is merely the effect of contraction or attempted contraction of paper due to the drying of the fibres.
Gelatine or glue — a common constituent of both fabrics and paper — expands readily in water, and if it be of good quality, on immersion in water it swells up sometimes to four times its former volume. Tub-sized papers contain often 5 per cent., and sometimes as much as 8 per cent, of gelatine. The gelatine fills the interstices of the paper. Starch is contained in most papers. It is often found to the extent of 2 per cent., and sometimes as much as 5 per cent. This probably expands on wetting, but to a more limited extent than gelatine. It is difficult to say how far these substances cause paper to curl, but it is probable that they have a lot to do with it. Any substance that is not easily permeated by water added to paper to render it waterproof may increase the curling properties of paper by allowing one surface to get damp whilst the other is unaffected. Rosin has this effect, and it is for this reason that Herzberg recommends its use when it is desired to test a machine-made
the web.
It is very difficult to understand why, on the one hand, paper should expand on being wetted and a fabric should contract. It appears that the greater the expansion of the ultimate fibres themselves the greater the contraction of the cloth or fabric made from the same. This may be exemplified as follows : — When cotton is treated with very strong alkali a process goes on known as mercerisation. The cotton fibres are swollen up and largely increased in size. If a cotton fabric be treated in the same liquid the area becomes very much lessened. Mercer, who discovered this, found a contraction of about 20 per cent. The interstices, however, are largely filled up. When a cotton waterleaf paper is treated in the same way, a large increase in thickness is often noticed. If a strong solution of soda be allowed to fall on a piece of paper a blister is formed by the swelling of the paper at this point. Physically, the action of water when the paper or fabric is wetted may be regarded as the same in kind as a strong solution of caustic soda, but the action is not nearly so intense. Water is not merely taken up by the fibre as a sponge takes up water, but it probably enters into chemical union with the cellulose. There is no doubt that it altogether alters the physical properties of the fibres. It is to this change in physical properties that fibres undergo when acted on by water that we owe their peculiar power of felting into sheets of paper.
It has already been shown that the fibres of a machine-made paper lie for the most part in the direction of the web. It can easily be imagined that such a paper would tear much more readily in the direction of the web than across it.
Machine-made papers are often 25 per cent, stronger in the “ cross” direction than in the “ machine ” direction. With common news I have known several cases where the difference is far greater. The “ cross ” direction is three times the strength of the “machine” direction. Such a difference is almost incredible, but it often occurs in ordinary practice. There are 1 other reasons, however, than the mere fact that the fibres are mostly in one direction. These other reasons I hope to give you later. Paper shrinks very readily in width when on the machine,, and the direction of the fibres probably has a great deal to do with the shrinkage. The paper being kept “taut” lengthwise would prevent its shrinkage in that direction, and cause an. increased shrinkage in the “ cross ” direction. When paper is.
wetted after making it tends to assume its old shape, namely, the shape it had in the wet state when first made. It would be necessary in order to do this that it expands more in the “ cross ” than in the machine direction.
If the paper wetted happens to be a glazed one, the glazed surface is removed and the paper assumes both the surface and thickness it had before glazing. In other words, immersion in water undoes the work of the calender. The same thing takes place only in a milder degree in damp air. One of the causes, perhaps the chief one, for paper going hack in surface after calendering is the dampness in the air causing the paper to become damp.
In order to get the watermark of the paper right in the sheet, it is often necessary to stretch the paper, either in the direction of its length or its width. This stretch probably gives the paper an increased power of curling when the same becomes damped or heated, as already explained.
and should be studied with the view of overcoming it.
In the case of a fabric, the warp and the weft resemble the strands of a piece of twine in that they consist of twisted or spun fibres or filaments. The direction of a fibre in a piece of cloth or twine is that of a helix, whereas the fibres in a piece of paper lie, for the most part, in the direction of its length and in the same plane as the surface. The difficulties already mentioned in regard to the lateral expansion of machine-made paper, which cause a disc of the same to curl in one direction, are experienced in a much less degree with hand-made paper. As we have already seen, that lateral shake of the machine, together with the forces exerted by the suction boxes, press rolls, &c., results in the fibres lying in the direction of the web, or what is known as the “ machine” direction. In the process of the manu¬ facture of paper by hand the mould receives a shake, first in one direction and then in another at right angles to the first. The fibres always try to assert themselves in one direction when shaken. If, then, the shake be exerted equally in each direction, the fibres would have no tendency to lie in any one direction, and we should expect to find them disposed in all directions throughout the sheet.
In practice this is very hard indeed to ensure. When the mould is lifted from the vat by the operator, he gives it a few shakes — say, from side to side — as he is standing. This would tend to make the fibres point in one direction. Next he gives a set of shakes in the opposite direction to the first, namely, to
and from him. This tends to make the fibres lie in a direction at right angles to the first layer. All the time that he is shaking the water is finding its way through the wire and the fibres are subsiding. The effect of the two sets of shakes is to dispose the fibres in layers, the fibres of each layer being different in direction to the one above it. This is a great improvement on machine-made paper, but is by no means perfect, as the paper is disposed in layers instead of consisting of one mass of fibres disposed in all directions. It must be remembered also that it is almost impossible for an operator to so adjust the shakes as to make one set of fibres just compensate for its neighbour, and so produce a paper of equal strength in all directions. I think I am right in saying that even the best hand-made papers are very seldom of uniform strength in all directions. All the same for this, hand-made papers are sufficiently uniform in strength for all practical purposes, and if we could only discover some means of attaining as uniform a result on the Fourdrinier machine, provided it did not, of course, add to the cost of manufacture, a great step in advance would be accomplished in machine-made paper.
The other set of forces corresponding with the suction boxes, couch-rolls, and press-rolls comes into play with hand-made papers when the same are pressed between felts. These forces cause the fibres to lie in the same direction as the surface of the paper, and prevent them from lying in the direction of its section. If it were not for this fact, the expansion of paper when wetted would probably be much more uniform.
We next come to consider the qualifications of an ideal paper. One important qualification should he that the fibres “ lay ” equally in all directions. In a hand-made paper this may, to a certain extent, be accomplished in the aggregate, but when the paper is examined in section it will probably be found that layers exist of fibres disposed in opposite directions ; moreover, the after-pressure of the felts causes the fibres to lie in the same plane as the surface of the paper. In an ideal paper the fibres should not only “lay” in every horizontal direction, but in all directions whether horizontal or vertical.
In spite of the fact that most papers expand when wetted, they can, in a measure, be so prepared, when circumstances demand it, as to expand or contract very little with change of moisture in the air. It is important for some purposes that paper should not alter more than yL in. or ^ in. on a length of 12 inches. With paper used for taking the records of meteoro¬ logical observations this is a question of some moment. With
provided that the expansion is the same in the two directions.
It is quite easy to represent by means of a rough sketch the relative positions of fibres in an ideal paper, showing just how the fibres should be disposed if they could be discriminated by means of a microscope in the paper. It may be taken generally that cellulose expands when wetted. I am not aware that any measurements have been made of the expansion of ultimate vegetable fibres when wetted. It appears that the ultimate fibre, say of cotton, expands more in diameter than in length.
I think there is good reason to believe, also, from the behaviour of ultimate fibre towards certain reagents under the mici’oscope, that the increase is chiefly at the expense of the diameter of the fibre. From this we would infer that when a machine-made paper is thoroughly wetted the percentage increase is least in the “ machine ” direction, most in the direction of the •thickness of the paper, and the percentage increase across the web lies somewhere between these two extremes. The expansion of a paper is so intimately connected with its liability to curling that the latter cannot be fully understood without a full knowledge of the former.
With chromo-lithographic work it is important that the paper should not expand with moisture, as the colours are thrown out of register. The expansion should be slight and as far as possible equal in the two directions. Moisture has a marked and beneficial effect upon some printing papers. Damping has a softening effect, as already explained ; it overcomes a harshness which is objectionable. If the paper has been over-dried as it leaves the machine, damping before printing is often necessary. Damping before calendering is also needed. Paper if too dry will not take kindly to the calendering treatment. On the other hand, too much damping must be avoided. The happy medium must be aimed at, as well as absolutely uniform distribution, such as can now be accomplished by modern systems of damping done by means of a fine spray.
In conclusion, I will briefly refer to the destructive influence of water. In damp atmospheres papers are far more liable to putrefaction and decay than in dry atmospheres, more particularly when the air is both hot and damp. Under such conditions bacterial and putrefying organisms flourish. The Indian climate is destructive to papers, even hard-sized papers, not because of the heat alone, but because of the moisture in conjunction with the beat.
Metallic salts — Purity of ash — Lime salts clue to bleach — Influence of acidity — Discharge of lines — Presence of iron — Reasons for — Amount in raw materials — Chemistry of rusting — Prevention of rusting — Effects of iron in water on paper — Elimination of iron during manufacture — Test for iron — Iron in chemicals — In finished papers — Iron and other metallic
particles.
In these lectures I am adopting what I believe to be a novel expedient. In most of them I am adopting a thesis as it were. I give you a test or subject, or perhaps it would be better to say an aspect of papermaking, for your consideration. The endeavour is made to elaborate on whatever aspect is chosen, and to garner a few at least of the facts bearing on the question at issue. Some of the questions I venture to think are novel, at any rate as forming the subject of a lecture. They tread on more or less debatable grounds, but this we cannot help, because if we avoid debatable grounds we shall make very little progress. If we are to treat only of well-tried and well-tested questions that have been written upon times without number, we might as well, to use a slang expression, shut up shop as far as this course of lectures is concerned. I should then merely draw them to a close by referring you to current literature on the subject. But I am engaged to come here and put before you, to the best of my ability, fresh subject-matter, or. at any rate, fresh aspects of papermaking for your consideration. The extent to which you may profit by it will depend very largely as to whether it does what Carlyle declared to be that which is the greatest help that can be conferred upon a man. It should help you to help your¬ selves. If by these lectures you are better able to acquire further knowledge for yourselves some lasting benefit may accrue, but if you go away and think no more about them, whether they have any
you will be benefited.
I admit that these lectures may be over the heads of some of those who attend, but this is inevitable in a mixed class. It is for this reason that I have decided during the actual delivery of the lectures to give you more elementary details than the text contains, and in many places not to stick to the text at all, in fact, often to branch off into other subjects which may appear more palatable and suitable to the individual members. By this system you have really a twofold advantage, for you have the advantage of hearing me speak upon more elementary details, and joining in a discussion afterwards, and you have the opportunity of reading through copies of the proofs, and discussing them afterwards, should you desire to do so.
The subject of this lecture is perhaps a difficult one, but is important and at the same time fascinating, both to the chemist and to the papermaker. It more particularly interests makers of high-class papers. My attempt is here not so much to give a lot of solid information as to indicate by what little information is herein given a method by which further may be acquired.
It is important, at any rate to the maker of photographic paper, that his paper should contain little or no metallic salts. In order to avoid the introduction of metallic salts he must have a ready means of testing his products during their various stages of preparation.
There is the question of ash in pure paper. If the ash is to be kept down, perhaps for the purpose of complying with some specification, the processes that give rise to the ash should be traced, and when the causes of the introduction or removal of ash are known, the exact quantity, even in pure papers, which are supposed to contain none, can be more or less controlled. I have known a paper to contain 10 percent, of ash, not through the clay or other mineral being added, but through the peculiar power that the said fibre possessed in condensing the lime salts from the bleach solution added to bleach it. This of course is an extreme case.
Then we have the question of the exact condition of the paper as regards so-called acidity or alkalinity, with which I hope to deal in a future lecture. This, again, is a question of chemical residues.
Furthermore, we have the question which has caused so much trouble at different times of papers affecting printers’ inks or printers’ inks affecting papers, so as to give rise to a pungent
smell. This is a difficult and intricate one, and one only upon which some chemist skilled in the detection of very minute chemical residues could form any opinion. While admitting that paper may be prepared so as to overcome this nuisance, it must be admitted that the blame, if any, rests as much with the inkmaker, or the printer who will insist on using a common-made ink, as with the papermaker, because a remedy is as often effected by changing the ink as by changing the paper.
The same question has also been raised in connection with certain well-known makes of writing inks, as being unnecessarily penetrating with tub-sized papers, even with the best makes. It would seem that in this last-mentioned case the inkmaker should do what he can to meet the difficulties of the papermaker; whether he has done so I have no means of judging.
Then we have the qualities of minute chemical residues in papers in their effect upon analine inks. The faint lines ruled upon some foolscap paper appear to fade away fairly rapidly on some common papers. I should have liked to suggest that it is confined to the common paper. It appears to take place more readily when the papers are allowed to get even the least bit damp. The question again arises — Is it the fault of the papers, or is it due to the fugitiveness of the colour used? It may be either or both. We certainly do not want to find after a few years that our press copies of type-written letters have faded away, so that they are no longer legible. Under certain conditions this undoubtedly does take place, both with the copy and the original, whereas, under other conditions, as far as we at present know, they remain permanent, or nearly so. Sometimes the press copies or originals are inclined to bleed or become blurred, and can only be read with great difficulty. The Italian Government have taken a wise precaution in prohibiting the engrossing of legal documents by means of the typewriter. In the United States it is a very common custom to draft legal documents by means of the type¬ writer. It will be interesting to see what attitude they will take now that they meditate the establishment of a State laboratory to go into such matters.
with the life and growth of the animal and vegetable kingdom around us. All the members of the plant world that elaborate for themselves their food from the inorganic constituents of the soil, and from the invisible nourishing gases of the atmosphere, are possessed of a green substance known as “chlorophyll,” which enables them to convert these inorganic lifeless bodies into a part of their own living structure. This wonderful substance “ chlorophyll,” which seems to form a chain between the living and the dead, invariably contains iron salts. Without iron salts plants would be divested of their green colour. A very simple experiment illustrates this. If we take a few grains of Indian corn and place them in water which contains all the necessary ingredients for their growth, with the simple exception of iron, the Indian corn will sprout and grow to a certain degree, but it will be found devoid of colour. If the surface of the leaf be touched with the solution of a salt of iron, or if the solution be added to the water, the leaves will develop the green colour due to the presence of chlorophyll, which will enable the plants to continue their growth. With retted flax and fabrics that are more or less cleansed of chlorophyll, that remaining is easily recognised by the brilliant blue venation when the chemical reagent for iron is applied.
The blood of animals contains a red substance known as haemoglobin, which gives to the blood its characteristic colour. This substance invariably contains iron, which amounts to 0.42 per cent, on the weight of the haemoglobin. Here, again, iron has a most important function to perform.
lecture are soon made manifest.
All substances of animal and vegetable origin are found, as might well be inferred from the above, to contain iron. Paper consists of substances that are mostly of vegetable origin : thus cotton, linen, wood, straw, esparto, and other vegetable fibres, as well as such substances as starch and rosin. It also contains substances of animal origin, the chief of which is gelatine.
ture of paper contain iron.
When an organic substance is burnt the iron remains in the ash, and can be recognised by dissolving in a little nitric acid, adding water, filtering, and adding a few drops of potassium ferrocyanide solution, when a blue coloration is produced due to the formation of Prussian blue. The depth of this coloration is a
known quantity of iron.
The following determinations will be found useful for refer¬ ence. All raw materials are subject to a considerable variation in the amount of iron they contain, but these figures are fairly representative, being the result of a large number of analyses.
hundred thousand.
With flax the extent of the retting and after-treatment would largely determine the amount of iron as a residue. It follows then that with flax or linen, the more the fibres are cleansed of iron cellulose the less the iron. W ith raw materials, such as skins, the more thorough the treatment for the removal of blood and hair the less the iron as a residue.
But rags contain a very considerable quantity on account of the dirt and foreign matter containing iron with which they are contaminated. That this dirt contains a large amount of iron is shown by the very large quantity found in rag dust. We must not look on rag dust as consisting of dirt only, as it contains on an average about 50 per cent, of cellulose. The iron which rags contain due to the dirt is not so difficult of removal as that natural to the fibre. On evaporating down some of the spent liquors from boiling rags, I found considerable quantities of iron, sufficient to account for the loss of iron that. the rags sustain by this treatment.
Iron mordanted rags contain a very large amount of iron, which is very difficult to remove. When these I’ags are boiled in caustic soda, the colouring matter in combination with the iron is mostly removed, but the iron remains firmly embedded in the fibre, and, probably, then exists as magnetic oxide of iron. When these rags are treated with bleach solution, especially when the bleach is used in warm solution, the rags are considerably tendered — sometimes they are quite rotten. The explanation of this tendering action is as follows. Bleaching powder solution, when used with ordinary care, merely acts on the organic colouring matter of the rags, oxidising it into colourless soluble products. The solution has little or no action on the cellulose. When, however, the rags contain oxide of iron the action is different. The oxide is reduced to ferrous oxide, giving up its oxygen to the cellulose, converting it into oxycellulose, which results in the disintegration of the fibre. The ferrous oxide is converted back into ferric oxide by the oxygen supplied to it by the bleaching powder. It then undergoes a similar cycle of changes, being alternately oxidised and reduced, and so merely acts as a bearer of oxygen to the fibre. The importance of the removal of iron before the bleaching operation cannot be over-estimated. This is generally done by souring with muriatic acid, whereby the insoluble ferric oxide is converted into soluble ferric chloride, which is removed by washing. The removal of iron is often effected by souring the rags immediately after boiling. INo doubt a considerable quantity is removed by boiling and washing, but what is left is very hard indeed to remove, even on prolonged souring. By far the best order is to give the rags a good souring before boiling, when the iron is much more readily removed. The material will not only be much less acted on by the bleach solution, but will be a much better colour.
A large amount of the iron found in papers is derived from the iron tanks, boilers, beaters, washers, &c., with which the material comes in contact. As the metallic iron has first to be converted into iron rust before it can be imbedded in, or discolour the pulp, we must next consider, What is rust? How is it formed? and how may it be prevented ?
Iron rust is generally supposed to be ferric oxide (Fe203), and to contain no other oxides of iron. Recent researches, how¬ ever, have revealed the fact that rust also contains a large amount of magnetic oxide (Fe304b Research has also revealed the fact that iron cannot rust in air deprived of carbonic acid gas, neither can it rust in air containing no moisture. It seems also most
probable that iron cannot rust even in pure oxygen. The explanation of this is plain. Iron shares with all other metals the property of condensing on its surface a film of moisture. Carbonic acid gas is very soluble in water, therefore the film of metallic iron contains a considerable quantity of carbonic acid, derived from the atmosphere. Ordinaiy air contains 4 parts of carbonic acid (C02) per 10,000. Carbonic acid in contact with iron becomes reduced to carbonic oxide (CO), at the same time oxidising the iron.
Carbonic oxide on meeting with the oxygen of the atmo¬ sphere is oxidised again to carbonic acid, and so the carbonic acid merely acts as a bearer of oxygen from the atmosphere, and the film of water is the medium through which it is conveyed.
The action is really more complicated than this, for a small quantity of ammonia is formed, due to the combination of the hydrogen of the water with the nitrogen of the atmosphere.
We often notice that a bright surface of iron is some time before it begins to rust, but that when once the action is started it goes on with ever-increasing rapidity. The reason of this is that in course of time we have a layer of magnetic oxide, and a layer of ferric oxide. These two layers set up a galvanic action which results in the more rapid oxidation of the metal.
Now we know the exact conditions which attend the formation of rust we are able to find a remedy. Caustic soda solution has a great affinity for carbonic acid, combining with it to form sodium carbonate. If we have any iron tanks or boilers lying empty, and we wish to prevent the formation of rust, we must fill them with water containing a little caustic soda, which seizes hold of the carbonic acid gas before it has a chance of reaching the iron.
rusting of boilers that are constantly used for alkali boils.
Water used for washing is likely to contain iron derived from the rusting of the tanks in which it is stored, and this is often found to be the case. I found that water of the followingcomposition —
6 grains of sulphate of lime per gallon,
5 parts of iron per ten million of water, on being left in contact with 1 per cent, of its weight of iron for three days, contained at the end of that time 50 parts per 10
containing the water.
The danger of using water contaminated with even traces of iron is that cellulose has a great affinity for iron salts, which it removes even from very dilute solutions. The following experi¬ ment exemplifies this : —
Some pure cellulose was placed in twelve times its weight of water, the water contained 10 parts of iron per 10,000. On taking out and thoroughly washing, the cellulose was found to contain one-third of the iron.
very dilute solution.
Before treatment the paper contained 15 parts of iron per 100,000, after treatment it contained 70 parts per 100,000. A large number of other trials might be cited, but they all show that cellulose has the power of attracting iron even in very dilute solutions.
quantities.
We would expect to find that the iron natural to the fibre is uniformly distributed throughout the whole mass of the fibre. With cotton, which belongs to the seed hairs, this is the case, but with linen this is not so. Let us take a piece of linen fabric and immerse it in water containing 1 per cent, of potassium ferrocyanide and a few drops of nitric acid ; in three hours we shall find that the fibres have developed a blue colour ; some of the filaments will be found to be much bluer than others. The flax fibre has to undergo a process of retting, whereby the green pulpy matter containing the chlorophyll is removed from the fibre. If this process is not complete, some of the iron contained in the chlorophyll may become part and parcel of the fibre, even after the chlorophyll has been destroyed. This is bound to result in an irregular distribution of the iron in the different fibres.
Some lignified fibres contain a large amount of iron, which, however, is readily removed, as it is in combination with sub¬ stances that are removed by the chemical treatment. The following is a typical instance : —
the fibre in the course of manufacture.
Alum and sulphate of alumiua. For a long time these two compounds entered into keen competition. Sulphate of alumina has for many years been cheaper pro rata than alum, but it was not used for high-class papers, as it contained both free acid and a considerable quantity of iron. Many attempts were made to remove the last traces of iron, with the result, now, that sulphate of alumina can be obtained nearly as free from iron as crystal alum, if we except, perhaps, Turkey red alum, which is purified from iron by repeated crystallisation. This is of very great importance, for the greater part of the alum finds its way into the finished paper.
The iron present in starch is so small that it may be neglected.
The question arises, does the paper derive any iron from the various iron fittings of the paper machine ? I endeavoured to solve this question by taking pieces of paper at different stages of manufacture, and have not yet been able to detect any increase in the amount of iron as the paper passes over the machine.
parts of iron per 100,000.
The best method of determining whether tub-sizing increases the amount of iron is to take a piece of the water-leaf and a piece of the paper, after tub-sizing, and determine the amount of iron in each. The difference will represent the amount of iron due to gelatine and alum in the trough.
If we know the amount of iron in the alum and the propor¬ tion of alum we are using, we can soon calculate what is due to the gelatine. The amount of iron in the gelatine varies con¬ siderably with its quality and source.
The iron in finished paper can be shown in a rough-and-ready way by cutting the pieces under examination into strips and immersing them in 1 per cent, solution of potassium ferrocyanide, together with a few drops of nitric acid, in a photograph dish. The dish should be covered over with a glass plate and the samples left in for three hours, at the end of which time they will all have developed a blue colour, in depth equal to the amount of iron present. The samples should be washed and dried. The blue colour thus produced is very permanent, and the samples can be kept for years without fading. This method thus affords us a
means of determining whether the papers made from time to time undergo any change in the amount of iron they contain. The very compound here produced is used in the manufacture of paper for giving it a blue tint. It is well known that papers coloured with Prussian blue fade very rapidly under certain conditions. The Prussian blue is added to the pulp as a precipitate, whereas the trace of Prussian blue formed by adding potassium ferrocyanide to a paper containing a trace of iron is formed in situ. A great deal of iron, undoubtedly, has thoroughly penetrated into the cell wall of the fibre and has become fixed and largely converted into ferric oxide. The Prussian blue is then formed within the cell wall, and so is imprisoned, thus rendering it much less sensitive to light.
For an accurate determination, however, this method cannot be made use of. If the paper under examination is not white, if, for instance, it has a yellow tint, the blue developed is partially neutralised by the yellow, and the paper appears to contain less iron. The iron must then be estimated by taking a weighed quantity of the paper, burning it, and determining the iron either by the colorimetric or gravimetric method.
by the number of analyses.
The samples were taken from among the leading papers. These results show that the better-class papers contain much less iron than the lower class, and this is what we might well expect.
Paper frequently contains metallic particles, and many of these consist of iron. Some of these particles would escape detection, as they are too small to be distinguished. When, however, the paper is immersed in the acidulated potassium ferrocyanide solution, the particles of metallic iron are rendered evident by the production of intensely blue spots.
Often, however, metallic particles are due to the presence of brass derived from the beater knives, and often from the buttons in the rags, in which case the paper on immersion in the same reagent will develop chocolate-coloured spots, showing the presence of copper.
It is important to have a ready means of determining the presence of metallic particles as well as metallic salts. Iron particles sometimes found in papers are objectionable, as they may give rise to iron mould, especially if the paper gets at all damp. This mould may eat away the paper as it does a fabric. Brass is less objectionable in this respect, although it should not be allowed to enter into better-class papers. Zinc is sometimes found on the rims of buttons. I published an easy method for the detection of brass or copper particles in the Chemical News. It merely consisted in placing a bead of water, in which nitrate of silver was dissolved, over the suspected particle, and covering same with a watch glass, and leaving it in a dark place ; if brass or copper were present arborescent crystals of metallic silver soon grew on the spot where the brass particle was, and copper went into solution ; with iron no change took place.
* CHEMICAL RESIDUES IN PAPERS ( continued ). Definition of paper — Contamination of paper from raw materials — Lime boiling — Removal by subsequent washing — Impure caustic — Fixation of lime from water by fibres — Effects of different materials added to the chest — Mode of testing papers — Indicators — Chemical condition of paper — Soluble constituents — Insoluble constituents — Effects of metallic residues at high temperatures — Behaviour of iodide paper — Acidity and alkalinity of different papers.
Paper has been defined by some writer as being an aqueous deposit of any vegetable fibre. Perhaps a more adequate and brief definition could hardly be given. It appears, however, to require a certain limitation in order that the definition may not include certain articles which could not be classed as paper. In order to do this, I should define paper as the aqueous deposit of any vegetable fibre in the form of a web or sheet. To leave out the word vegetable appears to be a mistake. Although woollen and silk rags may be deposited, and also asbestos fibres, they can hardly be classed as forming the basis of paper.
In addition to that which forms the fibrous basis or network, namely, the vegetable fibre deposited from its suspension in water, we have other materials which almost invariably form part of the paper, among which are gelatine, starch, rosin-size, alum, soap, and minerals.
useless.
The resulting material, which consists of some form of cellulose, acts as a magnet to the various chemicals used in its preparation. These are more or less retained by the paper, and play an important part in its after-life and history.
* The Author discussed this subject at some length in the columns of the Paper-Maker as an outcome of his paper on “The Acid Action of Drawing Papers,” which was read before the Chemical Society as a criticism of certain conclusions arrived at by Professor Hartley, FE.S,, in regard to Whatman’s Drawing Papers.
In addition to the above substances, which steal into the finished paper by being hidden and occluded by the cell-wall of the paper, should be mentioned those substances which are added to the pulp, or the unfinished paper, to give it weight, or some new property. The latter often exist in larger quantities than the former, but they are generally associated with the fibre in a different manner, and appear to have a greater external influence, such as upon substances used to coat the paper. Those substances which are embodied in the cell-wall appear to exert a more im¬ portant influence upon the fibre itself.
W e will attempt at first to briefly trace the former substances. Most raw materials are subjected to an alkaline treatment for the removal of (a) in the case of such materials as cotton, linen, rags, &c., foreign matter, with which the fibre is contaminated; (h) in the cases of such substances as wood, straw, and esparto, for the removal of substances that are not foreign to the raw material, but are in combination with it, and form part of the original fibre substance. The cellulose residuum, after the removal of these substances, has a much greater power of absorbing soluble salts and bases than those classed under (a). Jute bagging and un¬ bleached linen rags belong to both classes, as they both contain a large amount of contaminating matter, and also substances in combination with their respective cellulose, but capable of partial removal by the alkaline treatment.
The alkaline treatment above referred to is generally either that of boiling with lime or caustic soda. Lime is seldom used, except when class (a) is under treatment. The lime enters into combination with the foreign matter to form an insoluble soap, and is used in revolving boilers. The compounds formed are insoluble soaps which, being friable, are dislodged from the fibre by the mechanical agitation due to the motion of the boiler. Provided that the after-processes of washing are thorough, very little lime is left in contact with the material ; its removal is always associated with a corresponding loss of those foreign substances with which it has entered into combination.
The caustic soda forms soluble salts, which enter into solution in the boiling liquor at the time of their formation. It, however, contains impurities, unless the highest grades are used, which militate against its beneficial action ; among them may be men¬ tioned iron and alumina. The former is insoluble in caustic soda solution at the strength at which it is used, and can only be associated with the fibrous material as ferric oxide or magnetic oxide.
It may or may not be readily removed by the subsequent mechanical treatment during washing. The latter substance,, alumina, may be contained in the boiling liquor as sodium aluminate. If the caustic liquor is not very strong, and the water used for its mixture and dilution, prior to coming in con¬ tact with the fibre contains a considerable quantity of lime salts, the lime is rendered insoluble, and forms a flocculent precipitate of the hydrate, which, to a large extent, becomes intermingled with the fibre. If the alumina is allowed to gain access to the fibre as sodium alumina, it is absorbed and condensed by the former during the treatment. It is highly probable that sodium aluminate dissociates readily in situ , and produces alumina within the cellwall. This being the case, no amount of chemical treatment or washing will remove it, and therefore it finds its way into the finished paper as an insoluble base. Some papers, even after thorough washing, are found to contain large amounts of bases, which are, for the most part, insoluble fixed bases incapable of removal by treatment in water alone, and not by any means easy to remove by treatment with acids.
Low grade caustic sodas contain impurities which militate against the chemical action of the free caustic. This has been referred to in a previous lecture. It should be pointed out, however, that when, say, 60 per cent, caustic is dissolved up in a copper, and diluted to, say, 16° Twaddle with hard water, and pumped to a store tank, as is often the case in practice, much of the impurity is removed as scum or sediment, so that the clear liquor as drawn from the store tank is considerably purified. Where low grade caustic is used this modus operandi should certainly be resorted to, as it adds considerably to the purity of the alkali, and as a consequence to the economy of boiling.
When the unbleached but boiled material is subjected to the action of bleaching powder, the lime salts are readily condensed in some cases. Notice that lime salts are condensed by cellulose residues, such as in the case of bleaching with calcium hypo¬ chlorite, whereas the lime salts are not condensed in a lime boil, but enter instead into combination with the encrusting matter, for subsequent removal in an insoluble form by washing. The lime absorbed by the fibre, if in contact with the atmosphere, is con¬ verted into carbonate of lime, which is nearly insoluble. I have found by comparing the ash before and after bleaching, a very large increase, due to the formation of carbonate of lime with some fibres containing low yields of cellulose With materials belonging to class (a), little or no increase is noticed, but in class
(6), where the residuum often contains considerable quantities of oxycellulose, the gain is very marked. I have found where the bleach consumed in one case amounted to about 30 per cent, on the raw fibre, a gain of per cent, in the ash after bleaching. With the purest form of cotton and linen rags the ash is found to be considerably above the normal of raw cotton. The power that cellulose has of retaining soluble salts is shown when stuff containing a considerable excess of bleaching powder is copiously washed in the beater or breaker. If the stuff, and also the solution that it contains, be frequently tested with a solution containing soluble starch and potassium iodide. At a point where the water no louger gives the reaction, the stuff will still be found to yield the blue colour, and this, after the washing has been continued ■for a considerable time, and even after the stuff has had ample opportunity of assimilating with the water. If the washing be stopped for some time, the water after a bit is found to contain •some of the lime salts. It happens sometimes that the washing is too rapidly done to remove the whole of the bleach, in which -case it is retained by the fibre. It is not long before the stuff fails to give the blue coloration with starch and potassium iodide, due to the fact that the whole of the free chloride present has expended itself.
The lime salts are readily fixed in the fibre by the bicarbonate of lime present in the water used for washing. When stuff containing bleaching powder, no matter whether the free chloride has been expended or not, comes in contact with hard water con¬ taining bicarbonate of lime,' the free lime contained in the cellwall of the fibre is converted into carbonate of lime in situ by abstracting carbonic acid from the water. The formation of calcium carbonate in situ is attended by the formation of a corre¬ sponding quantity of calcium carbonate as a precipitate in the solution, provided there be no free carbonic acid in the water. Thus : —
With regard to the bleaching powder itself (Ca(C10)2), the free carbonic acid, and probably that combined to form calcium bicarbonate, combines with the calcium to form the carbonate, and liberates hypochlorous acid. Thus : —
It is doubtful to what extent the bicarbonate of lime will yield up carbonic acid to bring about this change, but it appears to do it, to a large extent, with some waters.
The explanation of the assimilation of lime salts by pulp whilst bleaching and washing may be summarised as follows : — The cellulose absorbs the so-called calcium hypochlorite from its solu¬ tion. On contact with hard water whilst washing, these salts, before their removal can be effected, are converted into insoluble calcium carbonate by the carbonic acid in the water. That which passes away is often found to be, for the most part, hypochlorous acid. This action is also assisted by the carbonic acid contained in the air, especially when the material is agitated during the treatment.
If the bleach in the beater is neutralised with an antichlor, it generally adds to the alkalinity of the pulp. Thus, for instance, when sodium sulphite is used — the commercial salt itself being an alkaline substance — the alkalinity is increased. To reduce the alkalinity sodium bisulphite may be usel. This salt oxidises to sodium sulphate and sulphuric acid, thus : —
bases present.
When rosin size is used the resulting compounds are theo¬ retically neutral ; but it seldom happens that the rosin soap and alum are used in equivalent quantities. According to the equa¬ tion, sodium aluminate should be formed. The latter substance is hardly likely to be formed, as the hard water present would bring about the precipitation of alumina. The chemical changes which take place in the chest are exceedingly complicated, and vary enormously according to conditions.
The treatment of paper stock from the beginning is almost entirely basic, and the only substance likely to overcome this basicity is the alum or sulphate of alumina.
far the basic and acid substances are balanced.
The following case is one in which bisulphite of soda was used as an antichlor, and the bleaching done in the beater. The chest contained 32 cwts. of dry stuff.
of alumina.
(2) Sulphate of alumina to neutralise rosin size. Seven gallons of rosin size = 70 lbs. at 10 per cent., sodium carbonate = 7 lbs. of carbonate, which = 8 lbs. of sulphate of alumina.
Nos. (1) and (2) above together consumed 33 lbs. The amount of alum we should expect to find in excess would be 154- 33 = 121 lbs. free alum. Therefore, back-water might con¬ tain 121 in 90,000 = .134 per cent, sulphate alumina, equal to
73 per cent, water.
The wet paper was found ta contain alum equal to 0.26 per cent, of sulphuric acid on the dry weight of fibre, or equal to .07 per cent, on the water contained therein.
It is probable that the back-water contained less alum than the above figures, as cellulose has a considerable affinity for it, which it abstracts from the back-water.
The quantity of sulphate of alumina added to the size can be fairly well determined by taking the acidity of the paper before and after sizing. It must be borne in mind that the alum added to the animal size when tub-sizing is resorted to all enters the paper, whereas that added to the chest or to stuff before it passes into the machine is diluted with the water in which the fibres are suspended, and its retention is due to two causes, (1) the con¬ densing power that cellulose has upon alum in solution, (2) the moisture contained in the stuff after it passes the second press. In the case of the above-cited fibre, we find that the water was exhausted by .0269 per cent., due to this cause.
With regard to the latter cause, provided that the dilution in the chest and the amount of water contained in the paper after passing the second press be known, and providing no wTater is added to the back-water other than that derived from the chest, we can readily calculate the amount of alum retained, and the acidity of the paper due to this cause.
Supposing we have in the chest 1 part of dry fibre to 25 of water, as above, and that the paper also contains 27 per cent, dry fibre and 73 per cent, water; after the second press, taking the amount of alum we find in excess in the chest, 101 lbs. to 19,600 lbs. of dry fibre, the calculation is simply as follows: —
In this particular case, then, by far the greater part of the acidity of the paper is due to the sulphate of alumina added tO' the gelatine for tub-sizing, although this only formed a minor part of the total quantity of the sulphate of alumina used altogether.
The balance is partly made up in neutralising the bases in the pulp, but there was a sufficient amount of sulphate of alumina remaining to give the water-leaf an acid reaction.
The unconsumed sulphate in this case can hardly be said to be wasted, since it is necessary to have an excess to ensure complete precipitation of the rosin, and a rosin-sized paper should always be finished slightly acid to get the maximum sizing effect.
Most papermakers would be surprised to hear that it is a matter of the most careful adjustment to ensure that a paper does not give either an acid or an alkaline reaction. With paper that is used for a great many purposes it is a matter of indifference whether it be neutral or not, but with some paper a little care in this respect would add largely to its value and utility. I desire merely in this article to draw attention to this matter, and to show as far as possible what influence the various processes to which the raw materials are subjected and the various ingredients used in the course of manufacture have upon the finished product. I shall attempt also to give some ready means for the examination of papers, and to show their behaviour with certain indicators.
Some word is wanting which should express the relationship of a paper to indicators, such as litmus and methyl orange — in short, that will express the three conditions at once — (1) acidity, (2) neutrality, (3) alkalinity. It might be called chemical condition, but even this would by no means properly define the condition wanted.
separately.
If we find that a certain paper, when placing on a drop of weak neutral litmus, turns the same red, are we right in saying that the paper is acid because acids turn litmus red ? We immerse the same paper in a carefully neutralised solution of Congo red, and we find that the latter will go the same colour that it would if an alkali was added to it. It would appear, then, that the paper was alkaline.
We try the same with methyl orange, and this also indicates that the paper is alkaline. Shall we call the paper acid or alkaline ? This is a question that has never been closely studied. The truth is that acidity or alkalinity is only a matter of degree, as heat and cold. One acid is stronger than another and is capable of replacing it. Also one alkali or base is stronger than another. It may be said that the stronger acid is more acid than the weaker, also that the stronger base is more alkaline than the weaker base. In paper we have certain substances always present, which consist of a mixture of an acid and a base. The same substance may play the part of an acid or a base, according as the substance with which it is in combination is more acid or basic thau itself. Alumina is dissolved by soda to form sodium aluminate, when it acts the part of an acid substance. If sulphuric acid is added to this, which is a much more powerful acid substance than alumina, the alumina is first of all turned out by the sulphuric acid, and if further acid be added it turns over and becomes the base, and enters into combination with the sulphuric acid to form sulphate of alumina. There is a substance known as normal alumina sulphate. When these two substances are compared the former is strongly alkaline to the latter, or the latter acid is compared with the former. The former substance is neutral to litmus and the latter to congo red. Cross and Bevan found that the neutral point with methyl orange is reached when there is present two molecules of alumina to five of sulphuric acid. With congo red the ratio is two of the former to six of the latter. With a paper like the one described, if alumina and sulphates be present (to which there is seldom an exception), the difference in the action of the three indicators is easily explained. And by the use of these three indicators on the same paper, a very fair idea is obtained as to what I am forced to call, for want of a better name, “ the chemical condition of the paper.” The paper being alkaline to congo red shows that no free acid is present, the paper being alkaline to methyl orange shows that there must be less sulphuric acid in combination with alumina than is expressed by the ratio 2A12035S03. The fact that the paper is acid to litmus points to the probability of the paper containing a low sulphate of alumina, although, if the whole of the alumina were free, or even some of it in combination with soda, the paper might still give an acid reaction with litmus. Our ultimate object in thoroughly understanding the behaviour of paper in regard to various indicators is to throw light upon the action of the paper in regard to different colours and inks. It must be borne in mind,
also, that a knowledge of the constitution of the chemicals in the paper will be of help to us in ascertaining whether any chemical change is likely to take place in the paper itself which may result in the paper becoming discoloured and rotten when kept for a great length of time.
When congo red is added to a solution of alum or sulphate of alumina it does not give the acid reaction unless there be free acid present. The same holds good with a paper. If a drop of congo red be placed on a paper and it turns blue, the paper contains free acid ; if it is alkaline to methyl orange but acid to litmus it probably contains a basic sulphate of alumina ; if it is basic to litmus, which is often the case, but is found to contain both sulphate and alumina, there is no basic sulphate of alumina present. Alumina may be present in the free state, and the sulphuric acid in combination with lime salts as sulphate. When a soluble base is added to sulphate of alumina, such as caustic soda, the neutral point with litmus is reached, just when the whole of the sulphuric acid is combined with soda and the alumina precipitated. Thus : —
Substituting, say, lime as a base for caustic or carbonate of soda, we get the whole of the alumina precipitated until we come to the neutral point as before, but an excess of lime is incapable of dissolving, and- therefore combining with the alumina. We then get a paper containing free bases, that is, basic to litmus.
The most ready means of testing paper is to get the three indicators, litmus, methyl orange, and congo red, and prepare perfectly neutral and very dilute solutions of each with recently boiled and rapidly cooled distilled water. A bottle of each of these is kept from contact with the atmosphere. A stirringrod is dipped, say, into the methyl orange, and a small bead from this allowed to fall upon the paper to be examined. At equal intervals drops of the same indicator are placed side by side so as to form a row of drops. The time that each drop has been in contact with the paper is known, and its rate of change can be noted by comparison with its neighbour. The rate at which the change takes place can be taken as a fair indication of its chemical condition. To guard against any disturbances due to impurities in the atmosphere, the strips of paper should be covered with watch glasses.
A better way, perhaps, but one requiring more time, is to take equal weights of the papers under examination and place them, after tearing up, into equal volumes of a dilute solution of the indicator. This is best done in ordinary thin tumblers, and a piece of glass placed over each to prevent contamination with the atmosphere. After allowing to soak for three hours, the fragments of paper are pushed out of the liquid, and the change of colour of the solution noted against an equal volume of the standard solution under similar conditions.
The two above-mentioned methods are only qualitative, and may mislead us without other tests. Only those substances, whether acid or alkaline, that are soluble in water affect the indicator, so that we only get an idea of the soluble constituents.
The following is a ready method of determining the amount of basicity or acidity of the soluble constituents. Four grammes of the paper are placed in a beaker and digested with boiling distilled water. This is kept in an air bath to digest at about 140° Fahr. for three hours. The hot water is run off, and the paper twice digested with hot distilled water. Care should be taken that water is free from carbonic acid. To the aqueous extract is added a drop of neutral litmus, and the titration is per¬ formed with decinormal sulphuric acid, if the extract be basic, and if acid, with decinormal sodium carbonate. In the latter case the solution must be boiled to expel the carbonic acid, and if by any chance too much of the sodium carbonate has been added,
the solution must be titrated back with H.2S04. The writer,
after careful trials, abandoned the other two indicators, methyl orange and phenol-phthlein, as the presence of substances such as gelatine seemed to mask their true end reaction.
It is advisable always to express the chemical condition of the paper, whether it be acid or basic, in terms of sulphuric acid, in order that the results with both kinds of paper may be capable of comparisons.
It is most important to determine the chemical condition of the paper as to its insoluble constituents. This is not done with the same amount of accuracy as the soluble. It can be got at by determining the total constituents and the soluble consti¬ tuents, and taking the difference as being the insoluble.
Supposing the paper, upon superficial examination, gives an alkaline reaction with litmus, and that the amount of alkalinity of the constituents is determined with litmus, a fresh quantity of paper is taken and digested with hot distilled water containing
three times the quantity of acid required for the soluble con¬ stituents. It is twice exhausted with distilled water as before. To the extract is added litmus ; it is then titrated back to the neutral tint with sodium carbonate. The difference between the two titrations gives us the alkalinity of the total bases. The risk that we run here is of some of the acid being condensed by the cellulose, and also the cellulose and starch being acted upon by the acid. The after-washings with distilled water, if carefully done, overcome the former, and we think that, in regard to the latter, very little action takes place if the temperature is kept at 130° Tahr. It is important, furthermore, in this case, to use only litmus as indicator.
The lecturer has pointed out the important part played by iron salts in the degradation of papers. Iron salts, like salts of alumina, are withdrawn from solution by the fibre. They both, we believe, readily undergo dissociation into acid and base in the fibre.
There is conclusive evidence of this in the ease of iron salts, and it is extremely probable in the case of alumina. Both the bases formed, namely, ferric oxide and alumina, are insoluble, but the dissociated acid may enter into solution and be removed by washing, leaving the pulp basic. The iron base has the power of oxidising and weakening the fibre by abstracting oxygen from the atmosphere and giving it up to the fibre. It is probable that alumina has this power also, but in a much less degree. This action takes place most readily when the material is slightly moistened and exposed to the atmosphere.
The effects of iron and copper salts upon cellulose at higher temperatures can easily be illustrated, especially the former. An ordinary india-rubber stamp if moistened by pressing upon a pad impregnated with a solution containing one part of ferrous sul¬ phate per 1,000 of water, and then pressed upon a sheet of paper, leaves no discoloration when the same is allowed to dry. If, however, the paper is placed at some distance from a flame, so as to allow it to get hot without charring, the device imprinted on the paper quickly develops up in sharp outline. The heat appears to disengage an almost infinitesimal quantity of ferric oxide, which, in its extremely finely divided state, acts as a conveyer of oxygen to the paper and chars it wherever the salt has been allowed to come in contact. The same experiment should be tried with a copper salt and with acetate of alumina.
papers considerably in hot climates. It appears also probable that in a very damp climate salts of these bases act as bearers of oxygen and in some cases the bases themselves.
The above-described methods for the determination of the basicity of a paper give no indication as to what bases are present. The iron salts are more liable to dissociation than the salts of alumina, and are more to be feared hi large quantities on account of their destructive action.
The presence of such bases as these have an important influence upon a paper’s qualities for taking different colouring matters. Many colouring matters form an insoluble lake with alumina; this in all probability adds to the fastness and per¬ manence of the colour, but often considerably alters its shade from that of the original. Some aniline colours also will not stand the presence of bases, whilst others will not stand acid constituents.
A great deal of trouble is often experienced with printing inks and some kind of paper, which can be traced to these con¬ stituents, which, although present often in minute quantities only, are sometimes capable of exerting a very powerful and destructive influence.
I have seen it stated, in some cases, that chlorides are destructive wdien present even as a chemical residue in papers. I believe that some chlorides are, such as chlorides of alumina, and that their destructive action is due to dissociation, which takes place within t he fibre, but I should hardly think that chloride of sodium, or common salt, is destructive, at least as a residue. This is a question, however, on which we have very little knowledge.
We will now deal with the potassium iodide test in its appli¬ cation to paper, and you will see, I think, if you follow my arguments, that any inferences and deductions can only be arrived at after a thorough knowledge of all the conditions and of the chemical changes that take place when the conditions are varied.
Mr. E. Hughes, in a paper on “ Water as a Catalyst” (Phil. Mag. (v.), 35, 531-534), remarked that paper, when moistened with potassium iodide solution and exposed to the light, assumes a brownish-violet tint. As the staining varies very greatly with different kinds of paper, being greatest with highest glazed notepaper, he attributes it to the presence of chlorine in the paper. Hughes studied this reaction from the point of view of the moisture acting in some way as a promoter of chemical change. We desire to regard it solely from the point of view of the paper itself.
There are several other explanations of this peculiar reaction which appear to be far more probable than that given above. The potassium iodide may contain potassium iodate, and free iodine may be liberated by the action of the alum contained in the paper in these substances. As paper almost invariably con¬ tains starch, we should expect to find that the colour produced was more of a deep blue, due to the action of the free iodine in the starch of the paper. If, however, paper containing starch be dipped into a weak iodine solution, so as to produce a deep blue colour, this, on exposure to bright sunlight, is very rapidly dis¬ charged. In this case there appears to be very little doubt that the iodine, in combination with the starch, is converted by the action of moisture contained in the paper into hydriodic acid, and that oxygen is liberated.
In the case of paper moistened with potassium iodide, the production of a colour seems rather to indicate that iodine is in some way liberated, but that it is not converted into visible hydri¬ odic acid as the moisture is evaporated from the surface before there is time for this action to take place. Free iodine cannot be formed by the action of an acid upon potassium iodide unless it also contain iodate. It is possible that some iodate is formed by the oxidation of the atmosphere, and that if the paper is of an acid nature free iodine may then be liberated. Supposing this to be true, in what way would the character of the paper used affect this change? Hughes found that the stain produced is greatest with highly -glazed notepaper. It seems hardly probable that the explanation last given can account for the staining, since highly-glazed notepaper is about the least likely to give an acid reaction. There are good grounds for this statement. For many months the lecturer examined daily about ten samples of writing paper quantitatively for chemical condition, of which a record was kept, together with particulars of chemicals added to furnish. Out of the whole lot of papers examined there is not a single instance of paper containing free acid. Although many of the papers gave an acid reaction to litmus, none were acid to methyl orange, showing that the alum is always in a basic con¬ dition. Many of them are alkaline even to litmus, especially those which are tub-sized only and made in districts where the water is hard.
I am doubtful whether alum alone would liberate iodine ; it might do, the conditions being peculiar. Highly-glazed notepaper being most liable to staining under these conditions seems to imply quite a different cause than that given above. With papers
of this description, when moistened with potassium-iodide solution, it appears that the air in contact with the paper would have its maximum effect, since most of the solution is on the outside of the paper, as it were. AVith a soft paper, the solution would be absorbed more into its body, and if the alum promoted this change, we should expect it to do so more rapidly in the latter. If, on the other hand, wre assume that chlorine in the paper is the cause, we would expect the latter to be more stained, since it is more thoroughly permeated by the liquid. It is impossible, in my opinion, for chlorine or hypochlorites to be present in the paper, as they are quickly oxidised by the atmosphere ; nor is it possible for the chlorine present in the paper, in the form of chloride, to liberate the iodine from potassium iodide.
Although it cannot at present be proved, the only explanation of this staining appears to me to be as follows : — The atmosphere contains both ozone and hydrogen peroxide, both of which have the power of liberating iodine from a solution of potassium iodide. So long as moisture is present this liberation can be effected, and is probably greatly accentuated when using paper as a medium. The action is greater in the light, as those substances are more abundant in the light. The iodine so liberated may enter into combination with the starch, and when the paper is dry no further action takes place. This appears at first sight not to agree with the statement that the iodine-starch colour is discharged on placing the paper in bright sunlight. But I think there is no difficulty in explaining this on the same assumption. Ozone may complete the change. It probably takes place according to the following equation : —
As a proof that this change does not depend upon the composition of the paper itself or anything contained in the paper, starch alone, after treating with iodine to produce this blue colour, fades similarly under the action of bright sunlight.
Iodine has been used in paper as potassium iodide, together with starch, as a means of estimating the amount of ozone in the atmosphere, by noting the amount of colour produced for a given time of exposure. It has proved itself to be altogether unreliable, as might well be inferred from what has been above stated. The presence of nitric acid in the air also tends to
a very mixed reaction.
Paper containing starch and immersed in a dilute solution of iodine changes to a blue colour in proportion to the amount of starch present. If this paper be half immersed in the solution, it will be found that that portion still kept damp, but exposed to the air, loses its colour much more readily than the immersed portion. In fact, the latter does not become white again until the solution has lost its free iodine by contact with the atmosphere.
Some of the questions raised in this lecture are rather abstruse, at any rate for the ordinary student, but they are worthy of careful consideration by the paper mill chemist. I can hardly expect many to assimilate all that is here set forth. I have given it partly because it should prove of some value to those who have to prepare papers for special purposes, such as drawing and pei’haps photograph papers, and such papers that have to stand some of our fugitive inks. I have, however, another object in bringing this matter forward, and that is to show those who are in the habit of applying rough-and-ready tests to papers and drawing hasty conclusions that a little knowledge is dangerous. And I do this not without some reason, because cases have come under my notice more than once of absurd tests having been applied, and still more absurd conditions having been imposed, in contracts which are thought to be a safeguard as to composition of paper, but in effect prove to be vexatious impositions and devoid of all reason. If those stationers and printers who wish to make conditions in their contracts for the purpose of safeguarding themselves against any chemical residues which might prove harmful either to the paper itself or to the inks used upon it would consult some authority who has made a study of the subject, both from the maker’s and the printer’s point of view, some satisfactory and practical test might be devised, which, besides being effective, might in no way prove vexatious to either party.
OF A WEB OF PAPER.
Effects of water on fibres — Flexibility — Felting qualities — Elasticity — Shrinkage on drying — Removal of water — Influence of temperature when hydraulic pressing — Capillarity— Brittleness — Effects of rosin — Beating — Calendering — Physical properties of fibres.
In a previous lecture an attempt has been made to show that water has a very important duty to perform in the felting of fibres for the production of a sheet of paper. An early writer, who described paper as being an aqueous deposit of a fibre, gave a somewhat inadequate definition, and only partially revealed its real nature. It would be better perhaps, and for reasons that will be more evident when the real functions of water are correctly stated, to define paper as an aqueous deposit of any vegetable fibre. As far, at any rate, as this lecture is concerned, we will accept this definition, as my remarks can only be said to apply to paper of vegetable origin.
When an ordinary waterleaf is wetted, it not only expands, but becomes also very much weakened, so that it will often fall to pieces when held between the fingers. This change in strength that paper undergoes on assimilation of water is the result of the action of the water upon the ultimate fibres of which the paper is composed, and it will be necessary to investigate, this, y,ery, c,arefully ill. ordhfr thqt .we may understand the chief , part that water plays in(its iormatiop.
I shall endeavour to show that the effect of water upon cellulpse .fibres is- £<? • give them ipcrea^dnfiexibrl'ity^.Vhich allows of the; fihsefe. being .dravtn alpart. wi'cH f.drrtpaVative- ease when
unsized waterleafed paper is wetted. Conversely, in the pro¬ duction of paper, the fibres at the start exhibit their greatest flexibility and pliability as they are suspended in a watery medium. In the process of the formation of the web they are first of all deposited so as to interlace one with the other, and, in course of treatment, become more stubborn and resistant by the removal of water until, when air-dry, the paper has gained its maximum strength.
It is, so far as I know, impossible to examine the ultimate fibres, say, of cotton, linen, or of wood, for varying degrees of flexibility under the influence of moisture, but it is possible to obtain a mass of amorphous cellulose, we have every reason to believe, closely allied in general physical properties to that which constitutes the cell-wall of the ultimate fibres, and from the physical behaviour of such amorphous cellulose the general deportment of fibres under similar treatment may be inferred.
Sheets of amorphous cellulose, possessing in the aggregate the properties of the cotton fibre, may be obtained by heating down to dryness on a glass plate a solution of cellulose thiocarbonate. After washing, a flexible sheet of cellulose is obtained which can be examined for flexibility under varying conditions of moisture. The film itself varies in properties according to its mode of preparation. This fact seems to indicate that ultimate fibres vary in the same way according to their mode of elaboration. The property which concerns us most is that of flexibility, and this can be made to vary at will by altering the conditions of setting the cellulose from its compounds in solution. From this “ elastic ” property of cellulose the difference in the elasticity of various ultimate vegetable fibres may be inferred by which an explanation is afforded of their great differences in felting power.
Cellulose films may be obtained as above described that are tough and rigid when in a dry atmosphere; but when placed in a damp atmosphere they become remarkably flexible, and on immersion in water possess the pliability of a sheet of rubber. Films, on the other hand, may be obtained, by altering the conditions of preparation, that exhibit only a slightly increased flexibility on exposure to a damp atmosphere or immersion in water. A film may also be obtained that when dry is extremely brittle, so much so that it will fly to pieces spontaneously, or when slightly scratched on the surface. It is cellulose of this nature that exhibits the greatest range of flexibility when acted on by moisture. It appears from the study of amorphous cellulose towards absorption in water that the particles have,
as it were, a certain elasticity, and the removal of water by heat causes the particles to come close together, and that whilst in close contact, due to the removal of water by heat and such means, the particles are in a state of tension. This appears to account for the brittle nature of the material when the water is removed by heat. When this is brought in contact with water it expands to a certain degree, taking up water and recovering its elasticity. It appears, then, that the greater the tension in the dry substance the greater its affinity for water, and hence the most brittle substance when dry is most pliable when wTet.
If the water be removed from tbe substance by compression in the first instance, the particles are brought permanently into close contact, and being free from tension they have no desire to take up water. The material partakes of this nature in pro¬ portion to the compression. Material so prepared is tough and rigid when dry, and preserves this property in a measure when wetted. It neither expands nor assimilates moisture when wetted to anything like the degree of the former preparation. The cell-wall of an ultimate fibre consists of cellulose which is more closely allied to one or other of the above, according to the conditions of its elaboration. Some fibres, it will be noticed, produce a very strong paper, which shrinks enormously on drying. The strength of a paper cannot, however, be taken as a measure of the felting properties of the constituent fibres, as the length of the fibres has a lot to do with the strength of the paper. A small amount of moisture is often sufficient to materially affect the strength. Paper, when put in a testing machine, and under a moderate amount of strain, easily breaks asunder if the finger is moistened and drawn across it. The strength is materially lessened even by breathing on the surface when under strain.
We see then that it is altogether a mistake to assume that water acts merely as a medium in which the fibres are suspended. The fibres expand by taking up water, and the amount that they take up is dependent upon the moistness of their surroundings. Their flexibility is in proportion to their expansion, and therefore to the amount of water present.
In the form of pulp the fibres contain their maximum of water, and therefore exhibit their maximum flexibility. The first part of the water is removed by gravitation ; this cannot affect the flexibility of the fibres. The next portion of water is removed by pressure ; this is probably insufficient to affect the flexibility, but makes the web somewhat stronger by causing the fibres to lay closer. The water removed by these two processes is the surplus
water in which the fibres have been suspended. The amount of water really assimilated by the fibres themselves, by which their volume is augmented, is relatively only a very small quantity of that used m the pulp, probably only about one-fortieth and sometimes very much less. The fibi’es, on immersion, in some cases may expand to double their dry volume. In doing so, they would absorb about three-fourths their weight of water. The web, after passing the second press-rolls, contains on an average about four times its weight of water, or more than five times the water necessary for the hydration of the cellulose. As the web passes on to the drying cylinders the surplus water passes off, first being converted into steam. As this goes on, the cellulose becomes dehydrated by giving up its water. This appears at first as sensible moisture, merely separating from the cellulose ; it, however, quickly becomes vaporised by the heat, but produces the sense of dampness to the web so long as it is being emitted.
Here we touch upon another question, namely, that of the effect of water of different temperatures upon the flexibility and expansion of cellulose. This question has an important bearing upon that of the stuff working “wet” or “free” on the machine, also one closely allied to this — the removal of water from paper stock by hydraulic pressure. We have to appeal again to the properties of amorphous cellulose sheets or blocks under similar conditions. Supposing we put into co^l water a mass of the cellulose material beforementioned that has been previously dried by heat, and wait till it has taken up as much water as it will, we weigh it and find it has doubled in weight. If we then put it into warm water and allow it to remain for some time, it will contract and be found to weigh less. It will weigh less and contract more the higher the temperature of the water. There is every reason to believe that ultimate fibres behave in a similar way. In hydraulic pressing paper stock with well-beaten ragstuff by the application of 300 lbs. per square inch for the pro¬ duction of cakes 15 inches in diameter by 5 inches deep, if cold water be used the moisture after pressing contains about 50 per cent, of water and 50 per cent, of air-dry fibre. It is well known that it requires a very great increase of pressure to obtain a mixture perceptibly drier than this. It appears that this amount of water is fairly bound by the fibre itself. Supposing, now, that the paper pulp is pressed whilst very hot, the water is found to drain away with much greater ease, and a moisture is easily obtained containing 40 per cent, water and 60 per cent.
air-dry fibre. Notice this confirms my former statement, namely, that fibres absorb about three-fourths their weight of water, which is taken up by the cell-wall and gives the fibres their increased bulk and flexibility on immersion. I would put it this way : the fibres in a watery medium take up 100 per cent, in the cold or 67 per cent, when the liquid is hot. This affords an explanation of the difference in the behaviour of stuff on the machine when heated. Also it helps to explain why heat tends to make “ wet ” stuff work free, and it merely comes to this — heat tends to dehydrate cellulose.
This difference cannot be due to the expansion of the water as water ; there is only a difference of 5 per cent, between cold and boiling water ; this would only make a difference of 2 per cent, in the composition of the pressed mass. The only true explanation appears to be that the fibres contract in the hot water, and therefore retain a less quantity of water than when cold.
The cellulose is converted into cellulose hydrate by beating. The hydrate is higher when the beating is prolonged. On raising the temperature of the stuff the cellulose is dehydrated, and the extent to which it is dehydrated is dependent upon the tempera¬ ture through which it is raised. The surplus water that is not in chemical union as hydrate is easily removed by pressure ; greater pressure is required to dehydrate. It follows, then, that on a paper machine, only that portion of the water that is not combined with the cellulose is removed by pressure, the combined water being removed by heat in the drying cylinders.
With regard to the working of the stuff on the endless wire of the paper machine, the problem is very much more complex. The contraction of the fibres per ,ie cannot account for the readiness with which the water leaves the wire. The difference in the temperature is only a matter of 40° Fahr. at the outside, and the water retained in either case is tenfold that assimilated by the fibre itself. It appears rather that what is known as the capillarity of the fibre is decreased. By capillarity is meant the power of taking up a liquid as a wick soaks up oil. The decreased volume of the fibre is accompanied by a decreased power of soaking up the liquid, it therefore runs off, like water off a duck’s back, having less affinity. Bodies of the nature of alkali retain surplus water in proportion as they become softened and hydrated by the assimilation of water. Nitro-celluloses, such as gun-cotton, retain little water after draining; this is largely due to the fact that their fibres are rigid, and have lost that pliability by which
of the escape of water.
As the fibres are rendered more rigid and inflexible by the increase in temperature of the water medium, they lay one upon the other in the web, more like a number of sticks or bavins than a mass of flexible fibres.
It is easy to see that such a mass would allow of the escape of water with much greater freedom. This, probably, is of valuable aid to us in manipulating the stuff on the “wet-end” of the machine. By regulating the temperature, the stuff may be made to work “ free ” or “ wet ” at will.
We next come to consider why the stuff is caused to work wet by being left long in the chest or in the engine. The effect of water upon cellulose is far from being instantaneous. The cellulose composing the cell-wall of a fibre cannot be regarded as being uniform in constitution. It consists of an exterior that is much more resistant to all sorts of chemical attack than the interior. If the unbroken ultimate fibres be suspended in water, their softening and expansion is much more gradual than if the same had been cut into several pieces by the action of the beater roll. In the latter case, all parts of the fibre are exposed to the action of the water. This appears to account for stuff working very wet when kept long in the beater. If kept very long in the chest, the long-continued action of the water penetrates the outer covering, and more thoroughly expands and softens the fibre.
When paper is hard-dried by exposure to a temperature of 220° Fahr.. which is sufficient to drive off all the hygroscopic moisture, it often is found to be quite brittle. This is probably due to the fact that the cellulose composing the cell- wall of the fibres is in a state of tension, due to the removal of water ; as with the film of amorphous cellulose the strength is restored when it regains moisture, unless the qualities of the cellulose are permanently impaired by oxidation at this temperature.
The surface of a glazed paper is soon removed by moistening. This is due to the expansion of the fibres. When the fibres are dry, although often brittle, they partake somewhat of the nature of metal, and admit of a bright polished surface by the application of pressure or friction. On wetting, the fibres first of all regain a certain amount of elasticity which they had lost when very dry. They stand up and come apart to a certain extent, and undo the effects of the pressure. Paper can be smoothed on its surface, but not highly glazed when damp, for this reason ; also paper, on
be crushed under the action of the glazing rolls.
With rosin-sized papers, the ease with which they part, when re-wetted, is no measure of the pliability of the fibres, as they are cemented together with rosin, which is not affected by the water. The cementing by the rosin is done as the paper passes over the drying cylinders. The re-wetted paper, therefore, is much stronger than the paper with the same degree of moisture before the same has passed over the drying cylinders.
We have already seen that dry amorphous cellulose may so be prepared as to fly to pieces when the surface is merely scratched. When this is brought into contact with water, it expands to a certain degree, taking up water, and recovei’s its elasticity, and is no longer brittle. If, however, the moisture is removed by forcing the particles together under high pressures, the cellulose is not brittle and expands less on immersion. It appears probable that similar stresses are set up in the ultimate fibre, and that these vary according to the conditions under which the cellulose has been elaborated in the living plant. These are stresses set up when the cell is deprived of moisture, and only relieved when the moisture is allowed to re-enter. In the case of an amorphous film of cellulose, prepared so that it is capable of considerable expansion when wetted, the water appears to enter into some sort of chemical union with the cellulose, or to be dissolved or solidified by it. The hygroscopic moisture appears to bear some direct relationship with the absorption of water on immersion. That water is essential to these change's is apparent when we use any other liquid. We are all surprised to find, for instance, that paper retains its dry feel when immersed in very strong alcohol. It also retains its strength, as there is no water present to produce any flexibility of the fibres. It is possible that the firmness of a paper is actually increased under absolute alcohol, as the liquid has the power of withdrawing even the hygroscopic moisture of the paper, just as though it had been placed in an air-bath. The behaviour of vegetable fibres suspended in a medium of strong alcohol demonstrates that they have lost their felting power. Other liquids may be used, such as ether or carbon bisulphide, with similar results. The felting power of the fibres in presence of water is not then due to the fact that they are in presence of an inert liquid medium, but that they are suspended in a medium which has a powerful influence upon their physical and chemical constitution. The only liquid, as far as I am aware, that could exercise this influence is water.
The question as to whether fibres stick together on drying in contact is worthy of consideration. Is it possible that there can be some substance of a glutinous nature affected by water that causes the fibres to adhere when dry ? I think there is every reason to believe that no such substance can exist. If such substance existed, it would probably be capable of separation from the cellulose of the fibre. Prom the manner in which dry paper tears, it appears rather that the interlacing of the fibres is responsible for the strength, than that it can be due to any glutinous materials.
The views above expressed as to the function of water in the formation of a web of paper agree closely with what is noticed in practice. Pibres which have a tendency to work “ wet ” are generally those which have the greatest shrinkage, and result in the production of the strongest papers.
The effect of long beating or long standing in the chest is to produce wet stuff with an increased shrinkage in the web. Heat applied to the stuff before passing on to the wire tends to make the stuff work “ free.” The shrinkage in the web is found to be greater when the stuff has laid for a long time in the chest, as on Monday morning.
Por the production of very strong papers, such as “banks,” it is customary to leave the stuff for a long time in the engine. One object of this is to brush the stuff out, so as to leave the fibres intact. The effect that it also has, however, is to cause the stuff to work wet by the increased assimilation of water by the fibres, which results in their increased flexibility.
shrinkage, and is stronger.
Many fibres after bleaching are condemned, entirely on account of the stuff working too wet to be run on the machine. In the case of one fibre which I found to work very “ wet,” I obtained a sheet which showed a shrinkage of 30 per cent, in one direction on drying. The paper obtained was exceedingly hard and tough, but, in spite of the good qualities of the paper produced, the raw material was condemned as being impossible to run over the machine at a sufficient rate to make it pay.
The condition of a fibre in this respect is largely dependent upon the way it is beaten. Beating has become quite a fine art, also the construction of beaters suitable for the production of stuff adapted to any specific purpose. Some years ago it was thought that a certain paper possessing certain qualifications would have to be made from certain raw materials. It is now
becoming widely recognised that the manipulation of the stuff in the beating and in the other mechanical processes is an everincreasing factor. Wood may be made to partake somewhat of the nature of cotton, and cotton, in a less measure, perhaps, of the nature of wood. Wood may also be made to replace either linen, for the manufacture of strong banks, or it may be made soft and spongy suitable for illustrated papers and litho work. It must not be forgotten, however, that the chemical treatment preparatory to the beating has a wonderful influence upon the condition of the fibres ; but this, again, leaves the fibres with more or less affinity for water.
It stands to reason that it is more difficult to make a short fibre partake of the nature of a long fibre than a long fibre that of a short fibre. You cannot make a fibre longer, but you can always make it shorter by beating. A fibre that has a tendency to work free can be treated in such a way as to cause it to work wet. Vice versa , a fibre that has a natural tendency to work wet can be so treated as to cause it to work comparatively free. A long fibre can also be so treated as to possess some of the characteristics of a short fibre. It may be flattened by the action of the beater-roll or bruised or cut sharply.
It has been above-stated that amorphous cellulose fibres, when subjected to high pressure for the removal of water, are toughened and do not exhibit the same affinity for water as when the same are dried by heat.
When papers are calendered they lose some weight, which, . 1 believe, is generally acknowledged not to be restored on exposure to air. It appears, therefore, that pressure is responsible for this by bringing the particles more closely into contact. A film of amorphous cellulose differs from a sheet of paper, in that the former is homogeneous in structure, whilst the latter is composed of a mass or network of fibres. It does not follow that pressure will add to the strength of paper, as when carried to excess it may so affect the fibres as to reduce their felting power. In this respect, then, the two appear to differ.
it results often in the production of a more or less brittle paper.
Hygroscopic moisture is that moisture that a fibre retains when allowed to dry in an ordinary atmosphere. When wood retains 10 per cent., cotton and linen will be found to retain about 7 per cent. The figures in a measure represent, we believe, other things being equal, the relative flexibilities of these fibres
confirmation, as there is by no means sufficient data to go upon.
The chief function of water in the production of a sheet of paper is to render the fibres which are suspended in it as a medium flexible and expanded. By the gradual removal of water, which results in the production of inflexible fibres, we see that the paper is formed.
The subordinate function of water is to provide a medium in which the fibres are first of all unravelled and often disintegrated. The medium also enables the fibres to be held in suspension and introduced in a suitable form to the wire of the paper machine. This suspension of the fibres also allows of the free action of the shake of the machine, which causes the fibres to interlace and build up one upon the other.
The first action is primary, and the second entirely subordinate ; as no other fluid would so act on the cellulose as to render it flexible and capable of felting, no other liquid medium could be made to answer the purpose.
"We have seen how this action of water upon cellulose throws light upon the working of various fibres on the machine, and the behaviour of paper under the influence of moisture. We have seen, also, how the abstraction of moisture affects the properties of paper, and how the affinity of paper for water on immersion may be explained. It affords also an explanation of what is known as working “ free ” or working “ wet,” and of the changes of beaten stuff in this respect after long keeping. It appears to point to the possibility of largely modifying the physical properties of any one class of fibre to produce a range of papers that could be only otherwise produced by using different raw materials. It appears pi’obable, also, when supplies run short, or for other economic reasons, that one class of fibres may, within certain limits, be supplied by another. Much is already being done in this direction, and the same has been aided largely by improvements in the art of beating and in chemical treatment. In my humble opinion, one great problem of the future will be, not the discovery or the utilisation of special fibrous raw materials for the production of papers for which they are considered specially adapted, but, given certain cheap and abundant supplies of raw material, how best to treat and modify the material, both mechanically and chemically, so as to adapt it to as many classes as possible. The processes must be both cheap and effective, and no great progress can be expected without the aid of the strictest scientific methods. The physical properties of the material should
be carefully studied, because, after all, the difference between one paper and another is chiefly a physical difference, which can be largely wrought by mechanical means. I think it must be admitted that one great study in this connection is that of the behaviour of cellulose towards water, which has such a powerful modifying effect upon its physical properties. The action that water has upon cellulose is largely influenced by the mechanical treatment that the cellulose receives when in contact with water.
It appears, therefore, that the problems of the future will be as much mechanical as chemical, and that we must accept the inevitable by abandoning one class of raw material in favour of a cheaper, if it is by mechanical or chemical means capable of replacing the same and fulfilling a like purpose.
References. — The foregoing lecture is largely abstracted from a series of articles upon “The Function of Water in the Formation of a Web of Paper,” scattered over several numbers of the Paper-Maker, but now out of print. For a more scientific explanation of t)ie hydration of cellulose see the various publications of Cross and Bevan, also my own communications to the Chemical News and the Journal of the Franklin Institute.
The permanence of paper — The cause of deterioration— Early attempts at preservation — The effects of the fibre — Sizing— Clay — The atmosphere — Sunshine — Temperature and moisture — Discoloration — Fading of water colours — Organisms — Moisture — Fermentation — N itrogenous matter — Methods of examination for — Liability to decay.
Theke are two sets of causes to which the destruction of papers are chiefly due: destruction by minute organisms and insects, and destruction by deterioration, due chiefly to oxidation. The former may be considered as purely physiological and the latter as purely chemical. The public of the present day care little about the permanence of a paper : in fact, there is no reason for them to care, as far as the greater part of our literature is concerned. With the ancients it was quite different : their paper was exceedingly costly, and was frequently used for the preservation of valuable records that were kept for centuries without destruction. They made a close study of the permanence of papers.
According to Pliny, they used to preserve their paper and books from moths by washing them over with cedar or citron oil. The oil gave to the books an agreeable scent, and they were known as libri cedrati. Pliny attributes the preservation of the books found in the grave of Numa solely to this precaution. He states that a certain writer named Terentius, when digging a piece of land on Mount Janiculum, found in a stone box the book of Numa, written on Egyptian paper (papyrus), which was quite preserved, in. spite of the fact that it had been buried 350 years in the earth, because it had been steeped in oil of cedar. Koops says that there were found, according to Count Cavlus, sometimes in the boxes containing Egyptian mummies, very neat
of print.
characters written on linen. Koops imagines that the linen must have been dipped in size or gum, or the ink w'ould have blotted. I mention this, as I believe that the early use of size, or something which the size contained, played an important part in the preservation of papers, and fabrics which were once made to answer the requirements of paper. In consequence of the liability of linen to become mouldy, skins were used as a writing material.
The Eoyal Society of Sciences, at Gottingen, in 1773, offered a premium to anybody who could answer the following questions : How many insects are found that are detrimental to records and books? Which of the materials, as pap, glue, leather, wood, thread, paper, &c., are attacked by each kind ? And which is the best and most approved remedy, either to preserve records and books against insects, or to destroy the iosects ? Dr. Herman, of Strasburg, obtained the premium.
There were five insects that were proven to be truly destructive. There were nine insects that are generally credited with doing harm that were proved to be without mischief. There were six that appeared doubtful; among them may be mentioned the book-louse or paper-louse. To preserve the books against insects and to destroy the latter, there were many recom¬ mendations. Among the most important of them, as far as we are concerned, is to recommend the bookbinder to use glue mixed with alum in place of paste.
Koops tells us that the paper of his time in North America was speedily destroyed by dampness and insects. In consequence of this, Mr. Francis, of Neufchatel, induced the Society of Sciences, of Philadephia, in 1785, to offer a premium for the best answer on the following question: —
The Society also offered another premium of 25 moidores for the best method of making paper for St. Domingo which would resist insects, and requested to have samples to prove its quality. Several answers and samples were received, but all, so Koops tells us, recommended to mix the size or sizing agent with sharp and bitter or other ingredients which might kill the insects. Among the substances mentioned we find vinegar, alum, vitriol, salt, turpentine, extract of aloes, tobacco, wormwood, camphor, and arsenic. The use of vitriol would, undoubtedly, be absurd, on account of its action upon the paper. Arsenic is a good germicide, but might be found objectionable on account of its poisonous character. The one substance that appears to have been used from the earliest ages up to the present time is alum.
measure lost sight of.
Koops tells us “to prepare paper for preservation against insects, is likewise an object to which some of the proprietors of the new manufactory now building at Millbank have paid particular attention; and they flatter themselves they will likewise be able to bring to sale, and to lay before the examination of scientific men and the public at large, paper, in this view much superior to any heretofore manufactured.”
beginning of the last century, been almost entirely neglected.
It is only within the last few years that Germany has, through its Government Testing Station at Berlin, shown to the world the importance of looking more to the future. The public are now slowly beginning to consider whether a paper has durability or not. Public opinion seems to have retrograded since the introduction of cheap paper, and is at last making an effort to reconsider those questions to which so much careful attention was paid during the latter half of the eighteenth century.
In this lecture we are considering the permanence, or rather the want of permanence, in papers, largely from the point of view of destruction by living organisms, but with the assistance of outside agencies. It is necessary that we should fully appreciate the conditions under which organisms are capable of flourishing and exercising destructive influences upon paper.
Under B we have the question of oxidation brought about by free exposure to the air. This is most intense when the sheets are fully exposed and hung up, and the liability to destruction is greatest in an atmosphere such as that of London, where the impurities from combustion, &c., exercise a destructive influence.
The action is very much reduced when the paper is stored in the form of reams, or when it is contained in libraries, &c., where the air can get at it very little, but, nevertheless, paper even in
the leaves of books shut up in libraries is perpetually in contact with air, although the air has not free access. Under such conditions the action of the air is reduced to a minimum, and the action of light or sunshine is practically nil, except on the edges, and to a distance of about one inch inwards.
Paper is less acted upon in air when it is used for purposes of illustration and covered over with glass. Under such conditions the light which gets to it has a greater influence than the air.
As regards C, the sunshine has little or no effect when the paper is stored away. Under sunshine we would include any light other than artificial illumination, as all the light which reaches us emanates from the sun. There is a certain amount of action even in an ordinary room when diffused light alone is allowed to enter, but the effect of light is much intensified when the paper is exposed directly to sunshine, especially in summer time, no matter whether the sunlight traverses a glass window or not. Paper such as common “ news,” if left in the sun for some days, will have become discoloured, and will in fact have undergone as much change as a paper would if left in a dark place for one year. Qua light, artificial lights such as gas, candle light, and electric light have much less effect than sunlight, either direct or diffused, but, of course, gas is highly objectionable where permanent records are stored, on account of the products of combustion being destructive. It should be remembered, that the kind of light which destroys papei’s is just that kind which must affect a photographic plate, and consequently those sources of light are the most active which contain the greatest amount of actinic or chemical rays. Sunlight is far more active than the rest for this very reason.
The question of fading is distinct from, although closely allied to, the question of deterioration of paper. I would define fading as being a change, not in the paper itself, but in the material used to colour the paper. As the fading of a paper may result in a deterioration, at any rate, from a commercial point of view, the question may very well be considered here. As far as I am aware, there is no publication presented to the paper trade dealing with this aspect of the subject, but. nevertheless, it has been most carefully investigated from the point of view of the permanency of colours used for water-colour drawings. Such work, however, does not cover the whole of the ground, because water-colours are only superficially applied to the paper after manufacture, whex-eas ordinary papers are coloured in the course
of manufacture, and the colour, whether pigment or dye, is dissem¬ inated through the body of the paper. Moreover, there is another distinction — water colours are only used on papers of a particular class, and prepared especially for the purpose — i.e. drawing papers; whereas most tinted and coloured papers, especially those of very pronounced and brilliant colours, are generally made of common and cheap materials. In our consideration of this matter we will exclude enamelled papers.
The researches conducted by Captain Abney and Dr. Russell throw light on the whole subject, and their conclusions should prove instructive to paper makers and stationers, as the conditions which affect the fading of water colours apply also, and in a like degree, to the fading of tinted papers, and it will readily be seen that the kind of light which is most destructive and the conditions which give rise to the most rapid discharge of colour are such as also affect the fibre to the greatest extent. It therefore very often happens that when a tinted paper fades, not only is the colour discharged, but the fibre is at the same time disintegrated, discoloured, and destroyed, and the paper instead of merely losing its colour and showing a white background, especially in the case of mechanical wood, gives rise, when acted upon, to a brown and dirty coloration.
* “ But another point, and a very important point for the critics to take hold of, is this. It is all very well to say that light alone causes fading, but how about light and heat together ? Would not the heat aid the light? This possible criticism was combated, I hope, in a , successful way. A certain series of pigments, washed on paper, were taken and exposed on a vessel containing boiling water ; similar papers were exposed to the sunlight free, that is to say, without the presence of boiling water. In some cases the fading was rather more rapid, in others less, and you will readily see why in some cases it was rather less rapid. You require moisture }jlus air in order to cause fading, and if you heat paper, of course you take away part of the moisture, one of the agencies which are conducive to fading. But the difference between those exposed on boiling water and those exposed without was so small that you might take the action of light plus heat as equivalent to the action of light alone.”
and Colour, delivered in 1888, by Captain Abney, F.R.S.
order to ascertain what kind of light had the most effect, the authors exposed papers coated with different pigments under coloured glasses, so as to shut off different portions of light. It was found that under the red and green glasses the fading of the few pigments that succumbed was so small that it required a practised eye to distinguish it. but under blue glass the fading was almost identical with the fading under white glass. Now the red waves of light are the longest and the blue waves are the shortest, therefore it is the waves of light of the quickest oscilla¬ tion which bring about the fading. It was furthermore found that every pigment (with a few exceptions which we need not trouble ourselves about) is permanent when exposed to light in vacuo. This indicates that light alone without the presence of air and moisture will not fade papers. It was furthermore found, that when a paper is tinted with two colours one of which is fast and the other is fugitive, the fugitive colour is destroyed, and the fast colour is left unimpaired by exposure to light. It was established that moisture and oxygen were essential for the fading of colours in paper ; the question remained whether they would fade without light. A stream of oxygen was passed through a tube containing some papers coated with pigments. Half of each paper was damped and the other half left dry. When this was connected with an ozone generator, “ a great many are bleached entirely, thus proving, if you have ozone and moisture together, you get a bleaching without the presence of light at all.” This action is very rapid. These are conditions that prevail at seaside places. “We come then to the conclusion that oxygen and moisture are sufficient for the fading of water-colour pigments, and that it is not absolutely necessary that there should be light present in order that this fading may take place.” It will readily be seen that the conditions here favouring the fading of colours are on all fours with the conditions which are found to bring about the destruction of the fibre itself. Erfurt’s book on the dyeing of paper pulp does not deal with this aspect of the subject.
Then apart from the above, we have the question D or temperature and moisture. As previously explained, when paper contains sizing material in a moist atmosphere and within certain limits of temperature, the deterioration or destruction of the sizing material is extremely rapid. If, however, the temperature is fairly high, i.e., high enough to prevent the growth of organisms, the deterioration of the paper itself would not be so rapid, although the gelatine size would undoubtedly be destroyed.
When paper is totally immersed in water the fibres are not
so liable to decay as when the paper is hung up or exposed to the atmosphere charged with moisture. These various details will be considered more particularly further on.
There are other conditions which will affect the permanence of papers. We can take an extreme case such as ordinary soil. Even a pure cellulose paper when buried in the ground or covered over with ordinary earth will be completely disintegrated, and even dissolve away in a very short period of time, due to the “ humic ” and “ ulmic ” substances contained in the soil, which have a rapid solvent effect even upon pure cellulose.
We will now consider paper as a medium for the cultivation and growth of bacteria and minute organisms, because by so doing we shall be better able to form a mental grasp of the conditions which favour the growth of these organisms, in the course of which they bring about the destruction of the paper.
It may be taken generally that any organism which is capable of development or cultivation on gelatine is also capable of development on all papers that contain animal size. Further¬ more, all those oi’ganisms, moulds, yeasts, &c., which are capable of developing and acting on starch in one or other of its forms, are also capable of developing and growing in papers which have been sized with starch, provided, of course, that such papers are exposed under such conditions as will favour the growth of these organisms. Rosin size, however, is not affected by organisms, but on the other hand it is the most susceptible of all the sizing materials to the action of light.
Some years ago I made use of a process called the “ fermen¬ tation process,” which was used for the destruction of gelatine and starch, and other sizing materials used in papers, before the papers were reduced to pulp. The process was an extremely simple one. Papers were taken in bags or bales and immersed in water for a few minutes so as to thoroughly wet them through. These bales were then placed in a damp place, not too cold or too hot, and allowed to remain in the bales in a damp condition, or placed in tubs, and were kept away from exposure to the atmosphere and in the dark. After a time a change took place in the appearance of the papers. They developed a musty smell. They also developed brilliant spots, red and blue and different colours, showing the formation and development of organisms producing pigments.
These organisms preyed upon the sizing material and destroyed it, some of them converting the size into colouring matter, whilst other organisms known as the liquefying organisms,
altogether and rendered it soluble.
After this treatment had been allowed to develop to the extent of destroying the sizing material, and before it had any chance of acting on the cellulose itself, the papers were pulped in the usual way, and the fermentation process could be arrested entirely in the process of pulping by the addition of a small quantity of antiseptic, which entirely destroyed the organism.
It may interest you to know what the organisms are which are capable of acting in this way upon the nitrogenous and farinaceous matters contained in papers. I will give you some idea of a few of them : —
colour.
On certain forms of starch the Bacterium prodigiosum produces a cloudy red growth, which gradually acquires a brownish colour, and in doing so it breaks down the starch.
produces a greyish spot on the surface of starch.
Mr. C. !F. Cross, in his article on “Paper and Paper Standards,” which originally appeared in Science Progress, drew attention to this matter. He gives an easy and simple way of arriving at the relative durabilities of different papers by a few simple experiments, which I give in his own words : —
“1. Place the specimens each in a stoppered bottle containing a few c.c. of water. Set aside in a ‘ warm corner,’ and after 10 or 14 days note what has happened. Papers of Class L* will have proved themselves an excellent nidus for micro-organisms of all types. Colonies of these will have established themselves after their manner, and gorgeous effects in crimson, yellow7, and blue will reward the observer. The filter paper (which by the way must not be allowed to come in actual contact with the water) will not show any such effects. They are obviously due to the nitrogenous colloid, the gelatine used in sizing the paper, for, as regards the cellulose fibres of which they are composed, the two papers may be considered as identical. Probably also the papers of Classes II.+ and IH.j
will not have grown any organisms. In other words, the pure celluloses are not susceptible to the direct attack of organisms. But, given a supply of the necessary nitrogenous and saline nutriments, they yield more or less readily in the inverse order of our classification. They yield, by undergoing hydrolysis, to soluble products allied to tbe starch sugar series, capable of assimilation by living organisms. The celluloses of the cereals and of esparto are very readily so attacked, and for this reason the tissue constituents of the straws are considerably digested in their passage through the digestive tract of the herbivora. Precisely for this reason the celluloses of straw or esparto rank very much below the normal or typical cotton cellulose as paper¬ making materials. The wood celluloses are intermediate.”
The plan of suspending strips of paper of known composition in a stoppered bottle with water at the bottom but out of direct contact with the paper is very easy and very instructive. All paper may be said to contain the germs of putrefaction in a latent state, and the air is always teeming with them. When paper is brought into an atmosphere of this kind, and provided it contains sizing material upon which the organisms can start their growth, a change soon takes place. This test is a thoroughly practical one, and helps us to distinguish between different papers and their relative liability to mouldiness in such climates as prevail in parts of India and South America.
It may readily be seen that this subject is an important one to the stationer as well as the papermaker, as he should certainly know under what conditions papers are liable to destruction by organisms and other agencies.
It happens sometimes that papers are used under conditions which would give rise to the growth and development of these organisms, and under such circumstances, substances should be added to the paper in the form of antiseptics to prevent such growth if possible, but, better still where practicable, an attempt should be made to use papers which do not contain sizing material liable to putrefaction.
As regards modern means of applying antiseptics to paper, this subject belongs to the domains of the bacteriologist and the chemist. Thanks to the brilliant researches of some of our leading scientists, the power of many substances to arrest putrefaction has been largely, if not exhaustively, investigated. As many of these substances are, if not carefully applied, not safe to handle, I should hardly like to prescribe how and under what conditions such substances should be used, although I have
had considerable experience with many of them. Chemists who have studied the matter can prescribe when the specific require¬ ments are made known. There are many different treatments. For instance, we may want to treat a tub-sized paper so that it will stand the Indian climate, or we may want to go further and treat a paper so that it may be used as an antiseptic bandage, and not only be sterile in itself, but have the power of arresting or destroying the perishable matter with which it comes in contact. The questions naturally arise : How and where is the substance to be applied to the paper or stuff? What stuff and ingredients should be used ? What antiseptic should be used, and in what quantity to give the desired result?
SUNDRY PHYSICAL QUALITIES OF PAPER.
The Society of Arts Committee — Their decision — The acid action of drawing papers — Influence of rosin and gelatine sizing on strength — Deterioration due to mechanical wood — The lasting qualities of other fibres— Composition of blottings — Effects of moisture and heat upon expansion — Discoloration of papers by sunlight.
The chief information we have on the subject of deterioration is contained in a report issued by the committee appointed by the Society of Arts to consider the question. This committee made a thorough examination of various papers used in this country with a view to adopting certain standards of quality and making certain recommendations not only to papermakers but also to those who are responsible for the uses to which paper is put, namely, the stationers, printers, publishers, the learned societies, and last of all, the general public. In- passing I would briefly refer to the responsibility that rests chiefly with the publishers and printers of literature required to be of a lasting nature. With literature “ which to-day is and to-morrow is cast into the oven ” there is no responsibility beyond the exigencies of the moment, but it is important if not essential that the users of paper especially should know something of the transient nature of our modern and cheap papers ; they should also know what papers will last and under what conditions such paper will stand the test of time. The information on this subject is at present very incomplete, but I shall do what little I can to give information bearing on this point within the short space of this lecture which would be of service. The report of the committee of the Society of Arts was published in 1898, and since that date other facts have come to light which might have modified the committee’s opinion. There are, however, various points which deserve our serious consideration, and to which I will briefly refer.
It is pointed out that actual disintegration has been proved to exist in papers of all grades, from rag papers to those of the lowest quality, but it is a question not only of material but also of conditions under which the papers are exposed. There are certain destructive influences at work apart from the ordinary wear and tear.
A great deal of the damage to papers is the result of exposure to an atmosphere where gas is used. The products arising from the gas give off sulphur, first of all in the form of sulphurous acid, which is afterwards oxidised to sulphuric acid. This, in contact with the paper, may bring about disintegration, even in the finest qualities. Then we have the question of a discoloration, which takes various forms, but is largely due to contact with air and exposure to light. In the case of papers containing such products as mechanical wood, this produces oxidation, and results in a darkening, especially in the edges of a book, which are more exposed to the atmosphere.
oxidation.
The committee suggest that as rosin is the cause of the deterioration, as little rosin should be used for the purpose of printings as is practicable, and that it should not exceed 2 per cent. It is a well-known fact that bodies of the nature of rosin, if contained in large quantities in a paper, will bring about its disintegration, even if the fibres consist of pure cellulose. This- is exemplified particularly in paper such as tracing paper, which contains a large proportion of substances of a resinous nature.
Then the question of what is known as acidity is an important one. It is a question whether papers may be finished with a slight excess of alum, which gives to the paper an acid reaction with litmus but is neutral to methyl orange.
The question of the so-called acidity of papers came to the fore when Professor Hartley announced to the Chemical Society that the acid reaction of litmus in Whatman’s drawing was due to the presence of sulphuric acid as a residue from souring in the course of manufacture.
After this I studied the question and tested these drawing papers most carefully with different indicators, and contributed a paper to the Chemical Society, showing that the so-called acidity of these papers was not due to the presence of free acid at all, but that papers such as Whatman's gave, necessarily, a red coloration with litmus, that this red coloration is not the result of free acid.
previous lecture, so that further reference is not needed here.
It is important that the papers should not contain an appreciative quantity of chlorides. Some chlorides appear to be harmless, but others are liable to decomposition and do a considerable amount of harm. The committee also draw attention to the question of colour. There is great danger when materials are over-bleached, as the bleaching action has the effect of rendering the material susceptible to change by atmospheric influences. Eag might be rendered as susceptible to atmospheric influence by bleaching as esparto is in the ordinary course.
After careful consideration, the committee came to the conclusion that 10 per cent, should be the maximum quantity of mineral used in papers and publications that are required for permanent use.
They were, no doubt, justified in this recommendation, which certainly ought to be acted upon, because it is now an acknowledged fact that mineral matter in excess reduces the life of papers.
The findings of the committee are as follows — First, normal standard of quality for book papers required for publications of permanent value. For such papers they would specify as follows—
matter.
After the committee’s report are given a number of abstracts from papers bearing on the subject of deterioration and allied subjects. These are mostly contributions by Herzberg. I will briefly allude to one or two of the more important conclusions, arrived at, which, I think, in the main will be of interest both to papermakers and to stationers.
One important point is the influence of gelatine sizing on the strength of papers. A number of papers consisting of linen, hemp, and cotton fibres with 1.5 per cent, of rosin sizing were coated with one, two, and three coats of gelatine respectively. The results show that the breaking length and elasticity w'ere noticeably increased by repeated sizing.
la a further series it was found that the breaking strain was increased by successive sizing up to four treatments. Beyond this number it remained slightly below its maximum. The paper at the fourth treatment with size was 1.7 times the strength of the unsized paper. The elasticity reached the maximum of 1.39 times the elasticity of the unsized paper with the first sizing.
Of course, one must not draw the inference from this that paper tub-sized in the web gains in strength to the same extent, nor is it conclusive that all the additional strength is due to the gelatine. Much wetting with water alone repeatedly and loft¬ drying would tend to improve the strength of a paper.
The same water-leaf paper was also treated with size and starch ancl the results shown were very similar to those shown with the gelatine-sized paper. It seems fairly conclusive, there¬ fore, that all papers are increased in strength as well as in their elasticity by tub-sizing, and I think this is a general experience of the practical papermakers. The starch trials have not much practical value, as starch is applied not to the web but to the pulp.
With rosin sizing, on the other hand, the results obtained by Martens show a very different result. They all show a lower breaking strain than the papers of similar composition, but without the rosin. It is concluded, therefore, that rosin sizing diminishes the strength and elasticity of mechanical wood papers. I believe that Hoffman, in his treatise on papermaking, also makes the same statement.
In order to test this treatment I made a series of tests with mechanical wood containing different portions of rosin, and instead of basing my conclusions on one or two samples, I prepared 30 or 40 mixtures and carefully tested them all, and compared them with a number of mixtures made without the addition of any rosin size. These results were published in the Paper-Maker. It is needless to refer to them in detail, but at first sight they do not appear to confirm the results, or rather the conclusions, of other observers. But I was working on paper containing 100 per cent, of mechanical wood. I think it is not difficult to explain the difference in the two sets of results. If the paper is very weak, rosin is capable of giving it additional strength, and the additional strength that rosin can give is partly dependent upon the amount used, but, unless the paper is very weak the rosin has no power of adding to its strength. Martens’ statement that rosin sizing thus diminishes the strength and •elasticity of mechanical wood pulp papers requires to be qualified. With certain papers, as for instance the mixture of mechanical
wood and with a small amount of sulphite, the rosin may exert no influence, either one way or the other, upon the strength, but if the stock is further strengthened by the addition of more sulphite, the rosin is found to have a retarding effect upon the strength. Martens’ statement that a certain paper when sized with gelatine shows a marked increase in strength with increased percentage of mechanical wood, but the elasticity diminishes, rather confirms my view that both rosin and gelatine have strength-giving qualities. Gelatine, being much the stronger of the two, would exert a much greater influence on mechanical wood paper than rosin would.
and of the sizing material.
It comes to this, therefore, that the strength of the paper is the mean strength of its ingredients. If you add gelatine to the paper and the strength-giving qualities of the gelatine are greater than that of the fibres of which it is composed, the ultimate strength of the sized paper will be somewhat greater than the waterleaf. If the waterleaf is composed of material which is very weak in the first instance, it is natural that the effect of gelatine should have an enormous increase upon its strength. Eosin, as we know, has much less strength-giving qualities than gelatine, and consequently when rosin is added to size papers composed almost wholly of mechanical wood, there is only a slight increase in strength, but when the furnish contains more sulphite fibre there is a slight diminution in strength with rosin, although an increase with gelatine. This explains the apparent contradiction between my own and Herzberg’s conclu¬ sions. I do not wish to doubt his figures, only his general conclusions.
Martens gives some very interesting figures with reference to the effects of glazing on the strength of papers. His figures show that there is an increase of from 8 to 9 per cent, in the strength of the paper after glazing, and that this increase takes place in a similar manner whether across or in the direction of the web. and that there is very little difference between heavy and light glazed papers in this respect, but instead of an increase of elasticity as a result of glazing, there is an actual diminution of from 8 to 11 per cent. This is what one might expect on a paper that has been compacted by glazing.
elasticity than one which is very much compressed. He does not
state what kind of glazed surface he used. The effect of plate glazing, especially when the material has been crushed by over¬ pressure, is very well known to papermakers. It materially reduces the folding qualities, so much so that when a sheet is sharply folded it very often cracks. This, of course, must be avoided, especially for papers manufactured for the making of envelopes. This is generally the result of over-pressure being applied to the glazing rolls, or the passing of the stack too many times between the rolls.
The Society of Arts committee do not appear to have drawn any attention to the effect which glazing or over-glazing have upon the ink-bearing qualities of the papers. Some papers are, I believe, often very much lessened in their ink-bearing qualities after glazing.
Martens states that in discussing the durability of printing paper in the present day, it has been proved that the daily papers have been printed on paper which rapidly becomes yellow, and he attributes this to the use of mechanical wood pulp. He furthermore asserts that three other new materials used in paper manufacture — wood, straw cellulose, and esparto— are believed to possess similarly bad characteristics, but states that they have been in use too short a time for any certainty to exist as to their durability. Anybody who has had the experience with straw and esparto will know that they are nothing like so perishable as mechanical wood pulp, although they are more perishable than chemical wood pulp.
The fact is that they are practically speaking oxy-cellulose, and behave towards atmospheric influences much as over-bleached cotton pulp would do. The durability, as far as we know, might be stated as follows : — Mechanical wood pulp, straw, esparto, chemical wood pulp, linen, cotton, cceteris paribus , mechanical wood being the least and cotton and linen the most durable.
We have now a proof that chemical wood pulp, if carefully prepared, is a material not far short in durability to cotton an linen, but no paper has been made a sufficient length of time for us to state with any degree of certainty how chemical wood pulp will stand the test of long storage and use, say over 200 years.
Herzberg’s examination of papers made from sulphide cellulose showed that in ten months the paper possessed a slightly higher tearing strength, but that it had lost considerably in elasticity. Martens further emphasises the fact that for all publications of permanent value cotton and linen fibres alone should be used.
Herzberg gives some interesting figures in regard to the strength and elasticity of samples taken from different parts of the same sheet. He shows that there is specially a variation in the case of paper made with long fibres, and with heavily loaded papers, but all the variations are found to obey no law, and to be purely accidental in occurrence. With strong papers made with long fibres he found about 6 per cent, variation in the elasticity test and about 3 per cent, in the tearing test.
An interesting account is given by Herzberg in 1893 of a wood pulp paper made in 1852. From his statement it would appear that so long as the paper was kept away out of the action of air and light it remained to all appearances unchanged. But although it appeared to be unchanged, it might be said potentially to have changed in some way, because strips of paper exposed to direct sunlight for a period of 20 hours showed a decided change in colour. This would hardly have occurred with chemical wood pulp freshly made.
In 1894, Herzberg gave particulars of English, German, and French blotting papers, and the mode of testing them for their bibulous properties, as proposed by Winkler. This is based upon the height to which water will be drawn up by a strip of paper in a definite period of time, when the paper is suspended vertically, with its bottom edge just touching the surface of the water. The strips were 15 mm. broad, and the time allowed was ten minutes. He divides the paper into two classes. Those which draw up over 100 mm. and those which draw up over 60 mm. At that date the English' blotting papers showed very much the best results, the German and French being much inferior in bibulous qualities.
As regards the presence of mineral matter, this seems to be less important than it was commonly supposed in its effect upon the absorbent qualities of blottings, although the best qualities of all contain little or none.
alone.
A further examination of blotting paper was made in 1896 of a much larger number. The mode of testing was the same, althought the I’esults were expressed somewhat differently. In this series the English makers did not show up to the same relative advantage. The tests showed a great improvement in foreign makes, as compared with the English, and a change in the composition of the blotting papers made. Out of 89 papers, 42
were made of cotton fibres alone, whilst the remaining 47 contained in their composition more or less of the following : linen, wool. wood. In one case mechanical wood pulp was noted.
It appears now from recent samples which have been submitted to me that papers of most excellent bibulous quahties can be produced from linen alone, and also from a certain class of wood pulp, if the same are carefully and suitably treated.
alterations in papers by heat and moisture.
The question was studied by G. Dalen. The conclusions to be drawn from his tests are as follows : — That for percentages of moisture between 0 per cent, and 80 per cent, of saturation, paper increase in length in direct proportion to the amount of moisture present. But when the degree of moisture ranges between 80 per cent, and 100 per cent, the expansion is somewhat over proportion. The longitudinal is less than the transverse expansion.
The effect of temperature is less than that of moisture, favouring expansion when associated with percentages up to 65 of saturation, but retarding it beyond that degree.
Furthermore, there appears to be no permanent linear alteration in air containing less than 80 per cent, saturation. Under ordinary conditions the question of temperature for all practical purposes is by no means an important one, because we only use paper up to a temperature of say 90° Fahr. in the English climate. The results with higher temperatures, therefore, are of scientific rather than practical value. With moisture, however, it is different, as we often have very moist atmospheres, and near the point of complete saturation.
Next we come to the question of the effect of sunlight on the size contained in paper. This has a direct practical tearing, but I venture to think that we must accept the statements made by investigators on this subject with a good deal of reserve. I will, however, give you Herzberg's opinions which he expressed in 1896: — He exposed papers, both rosin and gelatine sized, to the action of sunlight, covering certain portions. At the end of the experiment the covered parts of the rosin-sized paper proved to have kept their size, whilst that exposed had lost it. Both the covered and uncovered parts of the animal-sized papers had deteriorated. This proves, he says, that in the case of rosin-sized papers it is light which causes the deterioration, but with animalsized papers it is some other destructive agent. He finds no loss of size either with gelatine or rosin papers on exposure to a
length of time to disintegrate the fibres.
It is supposed that the rosin on exposure to the sun is either destroyed or converted into something else. It certainly is not extractable by ordinary chemical solvents. Rosin size, even when sealed up, I know from long experience, changes entirely on exposure, and becomes insoluble. A lump of rosin will become pulverised. Added to this we have the fact that the rosin has a deleterious and weakening effect upon even rag paper on exposure, which shows rosin to be a very fickle substance under such conditions.
Herr O, Winkler, of the Leipsic Paper Testing establishment, has made a study of the action of air and sunlight on printing papers free from wood, the results of which were published in 1893.
He made cuttings of the cellulose and cellulose papers and exposed them for some days during the month of May to direct sunlight. Other cuttings were hung for 24 hours in the vapour of nitric acid and then treated with ammonia.
Winkler employed this method for some years to ascertain the tendency of paper to change colour and become brown on exposure. A more or less pronounced change takes place in the whiteness of papers free from wood after they are saturated with rosin size and submitted to this chemical treatment. The presence of the size seems to degrade the colour. It has been established that atmospheric air has no influence on the colour of pure cellulose paper unsized and free from wood.
H.M. Stationery Office contracts — National Physical Laboratory — Work in Italy — Banknotes — Work in United States and Sweden — Climatic and local conditions affecting requirements — Drawing papers — Improvement on storage of papers — Effects of time on stretch, and strength — Question of bulk — Influence of glazing on bulk — Effects of mineral constituents on bulk — Influence of glazing on appearance — Action of light on papers — Transparency — Opacity — Methods for determining opacity — Necessity for a uniform method.
I am indebted to Mr. E. Stallybrass, assistant examiner of paper to H.M. Stationery Office, for information in regard to the requirements of the Stationery Office for certain classes of paper.
The method adopted by the Stationery Office, although very different to the recommendations made by either the committee of the Society of Arts appointed in London or the Government testing stations at Charlottenbnrg, appear to me thoroughly practical, if not scientific.
With class 2 of the “ schedule of papers required for stock,” which are “ writings, air dried,” the mean breaking strain and mean stretch required are given for each paper. The figures represent the mean results obtained for both directions of the sheet, and are calculated on a strip of paper five-eighths of an inch wide , and having a free length of seven inches between the strips. By specifying the mean breaking strain as well as the mean stretch required on a given width, with a given distance between the clips for this class, the Stationery Office can ensure having papers answering to these special requirements, at any rate the conditions of the test, a specific which is more than can be said of the German method.
Class 3 are ordinary writings, machine made, animal tub-sized, but there are no special requirements as regards strength and breaking strain specified, except with tobacco band paper, where it is stated that, this paper being required for printing from the
stretch when used for colour lithography.
Class 9. — Brown papers, air-dried. Specification, air-dried, machine made. For this class the mean breaking strain and mean stretch required are given for each paper. The figures represent the mean of the results obtained for both directions of the sheet, and are calculated on a strip of paper tivo inches i vide, and having a free length of seven inches between the strips. In case of papers indicating a higher breaking strain than the minimum required, a proportionate increase in the stretch must be shown.
case and the previous one cited.
I am informed that the reason for insisting upon a strip of two-inch width here is that it is found by experience that for the coarser kinds of paper, such as browns, which always contain thin spots, a five-eighth inch strip is not wide enough to get a failidea of the general strength. The result is that a narrow strip will only indicate the strength of the thin spots, which is by no means a fair criterion of the general strength of the paper. It is not thought that within certain limits these thin papers, when surrounded by thicker portions, materially detract from the strength of the paper when in actual use. These considerations have led H.M. Stationery Office to take a wider strip for this class of paper.
Class 10. — Brown papers, cylinder-dried. General specifi¬ cation, machine .made. As regards the length and width of strip for taking the breaking strain, this is the same as for class 9 ; but note that it differs from that class in that no “ mean stretch ” is specified, and for this reason it is found that the stretch of a paper is to a great extent an index to the amount of handling it will stand. One paper may show a much greater breaking strain than another, and yet may not stand nearly so much handling. This would be due to the latter being more elastic. As class 9 papers are required to be practically durable, it has been found advisable to specify the stretch. Class 10 papers are used when
necessary to specify the stretch.
For fine papers, on the other hand, such as class 2 above referred to, it is considered necessary to have a uniform thickness all over the sheet, and thin spots are a decided drawback, hence it is that narrower strips are specified for the strength test.
Chemical wood must not be used in the manufacture of any papers with the exception of engine-sized coloured printings and buff papers, where an addition up to 25 per cent, will be allowed. All animal tub-sized papers are required to be as far as possible free from earthy matter, and, except where specially stated, the amount of loading added to other papers must not exceed 6 per cent.
When sulphite or soda wood are used either separately or conjointly in the manufacture, the quality of neither material shall separately exceed 50 per cent.
I am furthermore informed that for documents which are required to last as long as possible, such as certificates of births, deaths, and marriages, &c., the Stationery Office adhere to hand¬ made paper.
For Blue Books ordinary printings are used, which, however, are required to be free from chemical wood, and not to contain more than 15 per cent of loading.
The Stationery Office have a particularly strong hand-made loan paper which is used for documents which are subjected to a good deal of handling, such as tickets of leave.
The “ National Physical Laboratory ” has recently been established at Bushey House, Teddington, by His Majesty's Government for standardising and verifying instruments, for testing materials, and for the determination of physical constants. The laboratory is intended, like the Riechsanstalt in Berlin, to have the authority of a national institution, and does not seek to interfere with local institutions.
1 am indebted to the director, Dr. B. T. Gflazebrook, F.R.S., for information as to what is contemplated as far as paper is concerned. In the physical department the testing work includes, among other experiments, No. VIII., “ Chemical and Microscopic Tests of Papers and Similar Materials.”
I am informed that the National Physical Laboratory are making arrangements for the ordinary chemical and microscopical examination of papers of a good class, and this will be extended
tests will be undertaken for a fixed fee.
An interesting series of articles has recently been translated from the Italian and published in the Paper Trade Beview, dealing with the preservation of Italian State papers, and giving the official tests, by Dr. Scavia in Beyista Tecnica.*
He states that, notwithstanding the remarkable progress made during the last 30 years in the machinery and chemistry of the paper industry, there has been a general decline in the articles manufactured, especially from the point of view of durability. With this remark I think most people will agree. He quotes Professor Loevinson : — “ Lamentable experience demonstrates continuously that light of too great intensity or humidity, cold, and insects, in addition to the use of inferior qualities of size and materials for bindings, are the most inveterate enemies of those printed and written documents which should resist as long as possible the injurious action of time.”
Dr. Scavia states that “ The continuous deterioration of printed and written documents, the consequence of utilising such a quality of paper, which can also be demonstrated by chemical tests, would necessarily lead to complete and irreparable decay at a more or less distant time.”
An account is given of the work aided by the Turin Chamber of Commerce, working for the object to which it owes its existence — for analysing and testing different kinds of paper, raw materials, &c. — and it is stated that in addition to a description of the different appliances used for testing, a small plant was installed for experimental and educational work to make hand-made paper.
“ It is not a question of adopting normal types of papers bearing appropriate figures and water-marks like a normal ‘papier’ in Prussia, t We must not place useless difficulties in the ivay of industry, nor suddenly shaclde it by a regular disciplinarian system. It is merely requisite to study the various current types of paper employed by various administrations, examine their defects from the point of view of durability and resistance, and fix a technical data with which the new paper should comply, within certain limits, in tests at the government laboratory.”
This is somewhat awkardly expressed, but the meaning is very clear. I think we must agree that the German system is far too rigid, or shall I say impracticable ? It does not appear that normal papers are required so much as a practical system of
t The italics are mine.
testing. His Majesty’s Stationery Office have adopted a practical system (as above described) in a few instances, but the system needs to be extended. These tests should not hamper the papermaker, but merely be the means of compelling him, or I would rather put it, aiding him in keeping up a certain standard of quality, sufficient merely for the purpose for which the paper is used, and as a safeguard to the stationer and printer, who have a right to know something of the composition and physical properties of the paper they purchase.
In the table communicated by Dr. Scavia, showing the various papers used for particular purposes and their compositions, the rag papers certainly show the best results, not only as regards breaking strain, but also as regards resistance to compres¬ sion. It is pointed out that the effects of such tests would be that the Government would buy an article on such tests and not on the system of manufacture. It certainly does seem that what should concern the buyers most is the quality of the paper and not the system of manufacture.
As regards the conditions for drawing papers, it is stated that the paper must not have an alkaline reaction ; but a very slight acid reaction with blue litmus can be tolerated, provided that this is due not to acids but to neutral salts which change the colour of litmus. Elongation must not be more than 6 per cent.
The same translation in discussing the special methods and qualifications of banknotes in different countries, and the means adopted to prevent fraud, states : “ Amongst nations and
institutes which give, so to speak, equal importance to printing and paper, Bussia is the chief. The Eussian type of banknote may be regarded as the most perfect in existence.”
From experiments made with various kinds of notes, it is considered that, with due regard to what has been said, a good type can be obtained, especially small notes, when the following conditions are fulfilled : —
Percentage of ash . . . . 2.43
As regards what the various countries are doing for the establishment of tests there is not much information available. Germany we know all about. I have already referred to what little is being and has been done in this country, and we have just spoken of Italy.
It is not unlikely that the United States will give us a lead. It is reported from Washington, D.C., that the Bureau of Forestry has established a testing office in co-operation with the Bureau of Chemistry. Particular attention will be given to the study of woods ; also a study has been planned of the composition and physical characteristics of the various papers containing either mechanical or chemical wood pulp which are found on the American market. The ultimate object of this work is the establishment of a paper-testing laboratory similar to that now being operated by the German Government . at Berlin. The necessity of such a laboratory is apparent when it is considered that practically all official publications are now printed on such paper, and that the life of wood pulp papers is, in general, very brief. The importance of certain standards is self-evident, and it is hoped to establish and enforce these for American papers, at least where they are furnished to the Government.
I have it on good authority from a large firm in Sweden that there will be in the neav future new regulations with regard to the manufacture of paper for the Swedish Government. The promised new regulations are to a great extent in accordance with the old German standards, and allow the use of mechanical and rosin¬ sized paper even for documents that ought to be of unlimited durability. I have been engaged on behalf of a large firm in Sweden to report upon the whole subject. It is to be hoped that the Swedish Government will safeguard themselves against inferior qualities for permanent documents.
The question of paper standards or standard methods for the examination and testing of papers for different countries requires a knowledge of special circumstances and conditions. The question is affected by climatic conditions. In a hot and humid climate it is absolutely necessary that something should be added to the paper to prevent its putrefaction. In England this can hardly be said to be the case. Papers have to be specially prepared for the Indian market. Then, of course, the question of the individual requirements of the country have to be taken into consideration.
reverse is the effect in certain instances. Some papers are very much improved by keeping. A more exact knowledge of these improvements, as well as conditions which effect changes in papers resulting in improvement, should be very helpful to the buyers and sellers of papers. This subject was discussed in the columns of Papee aki) Pulp, in the correspondence class which I conducted this year.
The leading water-colour artists know what they want in the way of paper, but they find that they do not always get what they want. Some years ago when this controversy was going on about the so-called acid action of drawing papers, I was invited to the Savage Club to meet one or two well-known men who volunteered to give me their experiences and state their requirements, with a view of influencing papermakers to produce what they wanted.
It is a well-known fact that certain drawing papers of certain dates by a well-known maker are very much prized by artists. A well-known artist informed me that this improvement is in what is technically called the “ tooth ” of the paper and is the result of ageing. In this case we have an improvement in the surface of the paper which is brought about by ageing or stocking, but it is evident that papers even of similar composition age differently, because the makes of some years improve on ageing, whereas the makes of other years do not, at any rate to the same extent. This appears to be an uncertain quantity, very much like the ageing of wine.
Gelatine papers, especially those which are dried hastily, are also improved considerably in many instances by keeping in stock, during which time the gelatine, which should finally contain about 17 per cent, of air-dried moisture, resumes its atmospheric condition. This improvement can be better realised by noting the effect of moisture upon a sheet of gelatine. The gelatine in a dry air or if placed in the sun is liable to become very brittle, but on removing it to an ordinary atmosphere in the cool it resumes its strength and toughness. The same undoubtedly takes place, in a measure at any rate, in regard to the microscopic films of gelatine in tub-sized papers.
Many papers, such as “ browns, v improve both in feel and strength and general qualities when kept in stock. I believe it is not an uncommon thing for a buyer of paper to reject browns and return them to the mill as not being up to sample, but on the same parcel being tendered to him a few months later, he has been known to accept the paper and find it perfectly satisfactory. This is the result of a change which has taken place in the paper
itself, partly due to the paper becoming restored to its natural condition as regards moisture, but especially owing to the fibres settling thenselves down and a certain amount of expansion or contraction taking place in the paper itself, as it settles down to its normal condition, resulting in the final production of a more natural sheet. This is by no means an easy question to explain, but from general experience it has become a well-known fact.
I would suggest that the following conveys a better idea of what change or changes take place under such conditions. A machine-made cylinder-dried brown is essentially, as the name conveys, an artificial paper, i.e., the felting, stretching, and drying are done under conditions that are not at all natural to the felting and drying of the fibre. It results from this that the fibres of paper so produced are in a state of tension, and attempt to resume their natural shape and position. On storing, this paper takes up moisture and the fibres by slow degrees draw into their natural positions. The result is that the paper is often much improved in strength, feel, and surface, although common experience seems to indicate that the stretch is often diminished with some printing papers.
The following results .quoted by one of those who entered the correspondence class instituted by Paper asd Pulp show an improvement in the breaking strain due to storing for 10 months, accompanied by an increase in weight of 3 per cent., although it shows a diminution in the breaking tension. This confirms the opinion of a previous investigator.
“ I once tested a tub-sized paper for strength and then carefully rolled the sheets and laid them on a high shelf where air, but diffused light only, could reach them. Ten months later I again tested them. The following are the figures : —
“ On the other hand, M.F. papers, if kept long in stock, especially in a cool room, will go back in finish owing to the fibres being expanded. [In this connection I might say soft-sized papers will lose their finish quicker than hard-sized, and printings quicker
than writings, the presence of the size, especially if it be rosin, preventing an undue amount of moisture from being absorbed. The colour also will fade, and the sheet will have a “ dulness ” which newer ones do not have. The colour will fade more rapidly in seaside places, due, I suppose, to the larger quantity of oxygen in the air acting in conjunction with moisture.]
“ All papers on absorbing moisture stretch a little in both directions, i.e., along the direction of the web and across, but principally across. Therefore if a paper is lithographed without being properly matured it runs a great chance of stretching during the interval between the impressions, throwing the final impressions out of register.
behaviour.
Envelope papers are improved by lying in stock, as this cures the tendency to “curl,” which causes great annoyance to the envelope manufacturers when feeding the dies into the folding and gumming machines. The curling is due to the moisture from the air getting in at the edges of the sheets ; if exposed a sufficient time the sheets will absorb the moisture uniformly all over the sheet and curling is remedied.
Newspapers and common printings are well known to improve by keeping for a short time, the paper working much better and taking the ink from the type easier, so as to produce a well-printed sheet. The reason for this is that the paper often leaves the maclune too dry, and when in contact with the atmosphere for some time the paper becomes air-dried, or damper than when it left the machine, and damp paper always prints better than dry, absorbing the ink better.
The question of bulking, as affected by composition and treatment of fibres, is outside the scope of this lecture, but the question of reduction of bulk as affected by glazing might be briefly referred to as belonging rather to the domains of the finished paper. I give some results supplied during the corre¬ spondence class, as giving some idea of the reduction in bulk with different finishes. These figures would of course vary considerably with different finishes and compositions ; they give some idea, however, of the effects of compression upon paper. The following are the results of four papers tested for bulk,
Other factors being equal.
The presence of clay affects the question of bulk. Mineral does not, at any rate as a rule, add to the bulk of a paper. If, therefore, you have two papers containing each, say, 10 per cent, of mineral, A 10 per cent, of clay, B 10 per cent, of baryta, each of them contains 90 per cent, of fibrous material, and if this fibrous material is the same for the two papers in every respect, the bulking of these two papers will be the same. Neither the clay nor the baryta add to the bulk, but simply tend to fill the interstices. The clay being of lower specific gravity than the baryta, and consequently occupying a greater space for a given weight, will fill the paper to a greater extent than the baryta, but neither will bulk the paper. I do not wish to assert that papers containing a very large proportion of mineral matter are not increased in bulk thereby, but within reasonable limits the mineral simply fills the paper and diminishes the air-spaces. Of course when you come to a paper heavily loaded, the air-space of which is largely closed by the mineral matter, it will not diminish in bulk to the same extent at the super-calenders as an unloaded one. This stands to reason from what has been already stated. Furthermore, it stands to reason that two papers, A containing 25 per cent, of clay and B containing 25 per cent, of baryta, B could be reduced in thickness more on super-calendering than A. All these points are of interest and of some practical moment, and a. thorough mental grasp is a desideratum.
The behaviour of paper towards light demands special study. All papers may be said to be translucent, that is, they are neither completely transparent nor completely opaque, some tend in one direction whilst others tend in the other direction. This property of partly transmitting and partly reflecting light is characteristic of all papers. The character of the surface imparted to the paper would affect the question considerably. Supposing you plateglaze a paper and crush it, you certainly would not get the same result as regards transparency as if you super-calendered it, or as if you friction-glazed it on one surface only. Each of these papers would be differently affected as regards the question of trans¬ parency. Some kinds of glazing may be said to affect only the
said to affect the whole of the fibres.
Let us deal with the subject from the point of view of opacity, and endeavour to obtain an optical explanation of opacity of paper and see how it can be measured.
The fact that colour fades more quickly at seaside places may be due to the fact that there is a greater amount of ozone (not oxygen) in the air, combined with a greater amount of moisture. The amount of oxygen in the air, whether at the seaside or any other place, is practically constant, but the amount of ozone varies, and is greatest at seaside places, and as ozone is an active bleaching agent and requires a certain amount of moisture to give it its greatest activity, it is highly probable that the fading of papers at seaside places is due to this cause.
of rosin they contain.
Discoloration. — The discoloration of “ self-colour ” papers is generally brought about by oxidation of the non-cellulose portion of the material, but with some rag papers where this was formerly thought to be the case it has been due to the excessive quantity of rosin used. This is acted on by sunlight, and a brown, sandy colour is produced. The formation of sulphides is a most objectionable feature with ultramarine coloured papers, and this combined with the action of alum causes the colour to fade.
You want some slight knowledge of the science of colour and optics. To gain the necessary knowledge you could not do better than read the little book by A. H. Church, on “Colour '’ (Cassell & Co.), also the little book on “ Colour Measurement and Mixture,” by Capt. Abney, published by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, but if you find even these two books too much foryou to understand, you need not be discouraged, because, although they are of very great value to a proper understanding of the subject, you can advance your knowledge considerably without them. There are one or two references in Church’s book to the subject of paper. “ When the rays of parallel light from the sun strike upon a rough, that is, an unpolished surface, say, of a piece of white paper, they are incident at all imaginable angles, with minute surfaces of the hollows and ridges which make up the reflecting substance, and such of them as are reflected obey the law, but are reflected in a countless number of different directions.” This reflection of light in a countless number of different directions by the small fibres which compose the paper
is the real cause both of the whiteness and opacity of papers. The greater these countless reflections the greater the opacity — the less the transparency. “ The numerous small reflections which occur from and between the surfaces of the felted fibres in a piece of white paper may be greatly lessened by wetting or oiling the the paper, when it becomes less opaque, and at the same time greyer and clearer ; to this cause the transparency of tracing paper and tracing cloth is due.”
It is by no means the best way of testing the transparency of paper to hold it up to the light. Of course, if we hold two papers up to the light, the one which appears the lighter of the two is the more transparent. Wbat we want, however, is some simple mode of expressing the relative transparencies of different papers, and some simple and rapid way of making the tests. I will briefly describe the method which I have made use of for this puipose. It is simple and does not require any scientific knowledge, and I think you would all have no difficulty in making use of it.
If you take two papers, one of which is transparent and the other opaque, the letters will be more easily read through the transparent than the opaque paper. This method of comparison is of course different to holding paper up to the light. In the method I am describing, the light has to pass through the paper and illuminate it sufficiently so that the background is discernible. The light has to pass twice through the paper, first to illuminate the background and back again from the background to the eye. Now, suppose I take a number of papers of the same composition exactly, but of different weights per ream. Suppose for the sake of argument they are fairly thin and transparent papers. It is merely necessary to fold each a sufficient number of times so that it just renders the background invisible. Let us assume that A requires to be folded five times, B seven, and C eight. The one which is folded the greatest number of times is the most trans¬ parent, and relatively speaking we may compare the transparencies of these papers by stating the number of folds. The relative transparencies of these papers would therefore be five, seven, and eight respectively.
equal thickness, and desire to know their relative transparencies.
We take a case in point. A is a linen bank and B is a sheet of tracing paper of equal thickness. We have to fold A five times and B nine times before we obliterate the image at the back. We are able to state that, thickness for thickness, the trans¬ parency of A is to B as five is to nine. If we desire another comparison, we can take papers of different compositions but of equal weights (demy). Now, of course, it does not follow at all that these papers will bulk equally, but a stationer may require to substitute one paper for another at so many lbs. demy. He may require a greater capacity. Now, we must assume again that these papers are fairly thin. A requires to be folded twice and B three times. From this we conclude that, weight for weight, the transparency of A is to B as two is to three.
Now we come to a further mode of treating the subject, and one which will enable you to come to very useful and definite conclusions from a papermaker’s standpoint and throw a lot of light on the question we have been discussing, We have, for the sake of example, a number of papers of different compositions but made under known conditions. Let us assume that we wish to determine the influence of china clay on the question of opacity in an esparto paper. We know the ashes of the different papers ; from this we can calculate the percentage compositions of esparto and clay. It is not necessary that these papers should be of equal thickness. We take each of them in turn and place them over the background as before, and then, by means of a micrometer, we measure the thickness of each paper necessary to extinguish the background. The one which measures the thickest is, of course, the one which is most transparent, and the one which measures the thinnest is the least transparent, thickness for thickness with the others. The micrometer readings expressed either in thousandths of an inch or in millimetres will express the relative transparencies of these different papers, thickness for thickness ; and by comparing the compositions with these figures it will be very easy to arrive quickly at some definite conclusion. The same modus opercindi can be used with regard to other mixtures and compositions. If the work is always conducted in a light room, but not in direct sunlight, one series of operations can be compared with the other on this basis. Such figures would undoubtedly be of great value in some mills where the question of transparency and opacity is of considerable moment.
urination of the opaqueness of printing papers, which is very similar, although not identical with that which I employ. I am glad to see that Winkler thinks there should be some standard method of determining the opacity of paper, to be agreed upon by the buyers and sellers. The method such as he and I have made use of might very well be employed in ordinary commercial practice. Apart, however, from the employment of such a method by buyers and sellers, it would be of the utmost value to many manufacturers for making comparison of their different makes. The difference revealed to them by their different makes and compositions would assist them in determining in which direction to work both for opaque or transparent papers. Much of the difficulty now experienced by manufacturers is due to the roughness and looseness of their methods of comparison giving too much scope for individual bias, and introduces an uncertain and undesirable factor which chemists generally call the “ personal equation.” All tests for commercial purposes should be such as to eliminate, as far as possible, the ‘‘ personal equation.”
In concluding this lecture I should like to add that this branch of the subject concerns the papermaker and stationer alike, but has not yet received much attention. The information is fragmentary and scattered. In some cases the conclusions arrived at by different investigators are contradictory. The information at present savours too much of the scientist and too little of the practical man. What is wanted is systematic study and daily records, which in course of time will become yearly records. The records must be accurate, and care must be taken that conclusions must be arrived at only after plenty of records have been accumulated and carefully examined. The subject does not concern the present so much as the future. It is a subject which might well occupy the attention of the National Physical Laboratory, but I venture to think the large stationers and pub¬ lishers of this country would do well to put someone to carry out a systematic series of researches, with a view all the time to attaining some practical object, and with a view to finding out exactly “ where they are ” with the papers that pass through their hands into those of the general public, and further with the view of ascertaining in each case the most suitable paper for each of the multifarious purposes to which paper is put.
Elasticity
Electrolytic bleaching, Hermite ... Elimination of iron during manufacture “Encyclopaedia Britannica” reference ...
R. W. SlNDALL.
“ The special' subject discussed has very important practical bearings, since the buying and selling of papers must be more and more regulated by standards of quality such as can be expressed in terms of physical and chemical measurements or estimations.” — Vide Preface.
2 BRONZE MEDALS.
MOTORS for Electric Lighting, Pumping, and all Purposes where powers up to 35 h.p. are required, and simplicity and economy of space are objects.
that when the rope is not under the tension of power exerted.
No cumbersome parts to lift or lower when stopping or starting any section of the machine, the stopping or starting of each section being effected without any skidding of a pulley on a belt.
Does double and four times the work of stones, but does not shorten, affect, crease, or wet the Fibre in any way, nor change the colour or the Sizing. Can also be used for Kneading Clay and other Fillers, as well as for Kneading Dry Bleaching-powders, instead of the Bleaching Mill,
| 72,705 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | chaptersonpaperm00bead | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0004.json.gz:3479 | https://archive.org/download/chaptersonpaperm00bead/chaptersonpaperm00bead_djvu.txt |
J7AxiutM7-xliyU8 | The story of the stars : a descriptive astronomy / by Joel Dorman Steele. | PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
~r~\URING the past few years great advances -■-^ have been effected in astronomical science. Physics has come to the help of Mathematics, and, not content with the old question, where the heavenly bodies are, has sought to find out what they are. Valuable discoveries have been made concerning Meteors, Shooting Stars, the Constitution of the Sun, the Motion of the Heavenly Bodies, &c. The investigations connected with Spectrum Analysis have been especially suggestive. On every hand the facts of the New Astronomy have been accumulating. Until recently, however, they were scattered through many expensive books, and were consequently beyond the reach of the most of our schools. It has been the aim to collect in this little volume the most interesting features of the larger works.
Believing that Natural Science is full of fascination, the author has sought to weave the story of those far-distant worlds into a form that may attract the attention and kindle the enthusiasm of the pupil.
tude of figures which no memory could retain.
Mathematical tables and data, Questions for Review, a very valuable Guide to the Constellations, and an Apparatus for Illustrating Precession, are given in the Appendix, where they may be useful for reference.
Those persons having a small telescope will find valuable assistance in the '' List of interesting Objects for a common Telescope." The Index contains the pronunciation of many difficult names.
Particular attention is called to the method of classifying the measurements of Space, and the practical treatment of the subjects of Parallax, Harvest Moon, Eclipses, the Seasons, Phases of the Moon, Time, Nebular Hypothesis, Spectrum Analysis, and Precession.
To teachers hitherto compelled to use a cumbersome set of charts, it is hoped that the star maps here offered will present a welcome substitute. The geometrical figures, showing the actual appearance of the constellations, will relieve the mind confused with the idea of numberless rivers, serpents, and classical heroes. Only the brightest stars are given, since in practice it is found that pupils remember the general outlines alone, while the details are soon forgotten.
ASTRONOMY. vil
for much valuable material is hereby made to this excellent work, and also to "Chambers's Astronomy," "Newcomb's Astronomy," and Young's "The Sun."
Finally, the author commits this little work to the hands of the young, to whose instruction he has consecrated the energies of his life, in the earnest hope that, loving Nature in all her varied phases, they may come to understand somewhat of the wisdom, power, beneficence, and grandeur displayed in the Divine harmony of the Universe.
READING REFERENCES.
Chambers's Astronomy. — Young's The Sun.— Ball's Elements of Astronomy.— Newcomb's Popular Astronomy. — Lockyer's Spectrum Analysis. — Proctor's Other Wbrlds than Ours, Saturn, The Moon, Poetry of Astronomy, &c. — Delaunay's Cours D'Astronomie. — Haughton's Manual of Astronomy. — Newcomb and Holden's Astronomy.— Lockyer's Elements of Astronomy. — Norton's Spherical and Physical Astronomy. — Herschel's Outlines of Astronomy. — Robinson's Astronomy, — Mitchell's Popular Astronomy. — Arago's Popular Astronomy. — Airy's Lectures on Astronomy. — Hind's Solar System, and Introduction to Astronomy. — Lockyer's Elementary Lessons in Astronomy.— Proctor's Star Atlas. — Heis's Star Atlas. — Peck's Popular Astronom}-. — Gillet and Rolfe's Astronomy.- Sharpless and Phillips's Astronomy.— Peabody's Elements of Astronomy. — Schellen's Spectrum Analysis. — Winchell's World-Life (excellent reading in connection with the Nebular Hypothesis).—Flammarion's Wonders of the Heavens.— Guillemin's The Heavens, revised by Proctor. — Loomis's Elements of Astronomy. — Proctor's Easy Star Lessons. — Olmstead's Letters on Astronomy. — Routledge's Historj' of Science. — Buckley's History of Natural Science. — Williamson's Problems on the Globes. — The Popular Science Monthly (1872-1884;. — Rambosson's Histoire Des .Astres.
SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS.
^l"^HIS work is designed to be recited in the topical method. On hearing the title of a paragraph, the pupil should be able to draw upon the blackboard the diagram, and to state the substance of what is contained in the book. It will be noticed that the order of topics, in treating of the planets and also of the constellations, is uniform. If, each day, a portion of the class write their topics in full upon the blackboard, it will be found a valuable exercise in spelling, punctuation, and composition. Every point which can be illustrated in the heavens should be shown to the class. No description or apparatus can equal the reality in the sky. After a constellation has been traced, the pupil should be practised in star-map drawing.
The article on "Celestial Measurements," near the close of the work, should be constantly referred to during the term. In the figures, and especially in the star-maps, it should be remembered that the right-hand side represents the west ; and the left-hand, the east. To obtain this idea correctly, the book should, in general, be held up toward the southern sky.
For the purpose of more easily finding the heavenly bodies at any time, Whitall's Movable Planisphere is of great service. It may be procured of the publishers of this work. A tellurian is invaluable in explaining Precession of the Equinoxes, Eclipses, Phases of the Moon, etc. Messrs. A. S. Barnes & Co. , New York City, furnish a good instrument at a low price. A small telescope, or even ah opera-glass, will be useful. A good star-map, and as many advanced works upon Astronomy as can be secured, should be included in the teacher's outfit.
The pupil should, at the outset, get a distinct idea of the circles and planes of the celestial sphere. The subject of angular measurements can easily be made clear in this relation. A circle contains 360° ; 90" reach from horizon to zenith ; 180" produce opposition ; while smaller distances can be shown in the sky (see pp. 216, 228).
Never let a pupU recite a lesson, nor answer a question, except it be a mere definition, in the language of the book. The text is designed to interest and instruct the pupil ; the recitation should afford him an opportunity of expressing what he has learned, in his own style and words.
Teachers desiring additional information are advised to read " Newcomb's Astronomy," Young's "The Sun," Proctor's Works, "Chambers's Astronomy," and Ball's " Elements of Astronomy."
A STROif OM Y (astron, a star ; nomos, a law) treats of the /-\ Heavenly Bodies — the sun, moon, planets, stars, etc., and, as our globe is a planet, of the earth also. It is, above all others, a science that cultivates the imagination. Yet its theories and distances are based upon rigorous matliematical demonstrations. Thus the study has at once the beauty of poetry and the exactness of Geometry.
The great dome of the sky, lilled with glittering stars, is one of the most sublime spectacles in nature. To enjoy this fully, a night must be chosen when the air is clear, and the moon is absent. We then gaze upon a deep blue, an immense expanse studded with stars of varied color and brilliancy. Some shine with a vivid light, perpetually changing and twinkling ; others, more constant, beam tranquilly and softly upon us ; while many just tremble into our sight, like a wave that, struggling to reach some far-off land, dies as it touches the shore.
In the presence of such weird and wondrous beauty, the tenderest sentiments of the heart are aroused. A feeling of awe and reverence, of softened melancholy mingled with a thought of God, comes over us, and awakens the better nature within us. Those far-off lights seem full of meaning to us, could Ave but read their message ; they become real and sentient, and, like the soft Cj es in pictures, look lovingly and inquiringlj'^ upon us. "We come into communion with another life, and the soul asserts its immortality more strongly than ever before. We are humbled as we gaze upon the infinity of suns, and strive to comprehend
* This Introduction is designed merely to furnish su{;gestive material for conversation at the first lesson, preparatory to beginning the study. It is not intended for committal. Other topics may he found in the Questions given in the Appendix.
2 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.
their enormous distances, and their magnificent retinue of worlds. The powers of the mind are aroused, and eager questionings crowd upon us. What are those glittering fires 1 WTiat is their distance 1 Are they worlds like our own ? Do living, thinking beings dwell upon them ? Are they promiscuously scattered tlirough space, or is there a system in the universe ? Can we ever hope to fathom those mysterious depths, or are they closed to us forever 1
Some of these problems have been solved ; others yet await the astronomer whose eye shall be keen enough to read the mysterious scroll of the heavens. Two hundred generations of study have revealed to us such startling facts, that we Avonder how man in liis feebleness can grasp so much, see so far, and penetrate so deeply into the mysteries of the universe. Astronomy has measured the distance of a few stars, and of all the planets ; computed the mass, size, days, years, seasons, and many physical features of the planets ; made a map of the moon ; tracked many of the comets in their immense sidereal journeys ; and, at last, analyzed the structure of the sun and stars, and announced the very elements of wliich they are composed.
Observing for several evenings those stars which shine with a clear, steady light, we notice that they change their position with respect to the others. They are therefore called planets (literally wanderers). Others remain immovable, and shine with a shifting, twinkling light. They are termed the fixed stars, although it is now knoAvn that they also are in motion — the most rapid of any known even to Astronomy — but through such immense orbits that they seem to us to be stationary. Then, too, diagonally girdling the heavens, is a whitish, vapory belt — the Milhy Wmj. This is composed of multitudes of millions of suns — of which our OAvn sun itself is one — so far removed from us that their light mingles, and makes only a fleecy whiteness.
Astronomy is the most ancient of the sciences. The study of the stars is doubtless as old as man himself, and hence many of its discoveries date back of authentic records, amid the mysteries of tradition. In tracing its history, we shall speak only of those
progress and glorious achievements.
The Chinese boast much of their astronomical discoveries. Indeed, their emperor claims a celestial ancestry, and styles himself the Son of the Sun. They possess an account of a conjunction of four planets and the moon, which occurred in the 25th century before Christ. They have also the first record of an eclipse of the sun (b.c. 2128) ; and one of their emperors put to death the chief astronomers Ho and Hi for failing to announce the solar eclipse of 2169 B.C.
The Chaldeans. — The Chaldean shepherds, watching their flocks by night under a sky famed for its clearness and brilliancy, could not fail to become familiar with many of the movements of the heavenly bodies. Their priests were astronomers ; and their temples, observatories. When Alexander took Babylon (b.c. 331), he found a record of their observations reaching back nineteen centuries.* The Chaldeans divided the day into hours, invented the sun-dial, and discovered the Saros, or Chaldean Period— the length of time in which eclipses of the sun and the moon repeat themselves in the same order.
The Grecians. — Though the Asiatics were patient observers, they did not classify their knowledge, and lay the basis of a science. This became the work of the western mind.
* Many astronomical inscriptions have been found in the ruins of Nineveh. In the public library of that city there was a series of about se^'enty-two A'olunies, called the Observations of Bel. One book treated of the polar star (then Alpha of the Dragon), another of Venus, and a third of Mars. Tlie earliest of these records are thought tO date back as fiw as 2540 b.c. (See Kecords of the Past, Vol. I.)
THE GRECIANS. 7
Greece, has been styled the Father of Astronomy. He taught that the earth is round, and that the moon receives her light from the sun. He determined when the equinoxes and the solstices occur, and also predicted an eclipse of the sun that is famous for having terminated a war between the Medes and the Lydians. These nations were engaged in a fierce battle, but the awe produced by the darkening of the sun was so great, that both sides threw down their arms and made peace.
Pythagoras (b.c. 570-500) founded a celebrated astronomical school at Crotona, Italy, where were educated hundreds of enthusiastic pupils. * He was emphatically a dreamer. He conceived a system of the universe, in many respects correct ; yet he advanced no proof, made few converts to his views, and they were soon well-nigh forgotten.
He held that the sun is the center of the solar system, the planets revolving about it in circular orbits ; that the earth rotates daily on its axis, and revolves yearly round the sun ; that Venus is both morning and evening star ; that the planets are placed at intervals corresponding to the scale in music, and that they move in harmony, making the '* music of the spheres," but that this celestial concert is heard only by the gods, — the ears of man being too gross for such divine melody. He also believed that the planets are inhabited, and he even attempted to calculate the size of the animals in the moon.
8 THE HISTORY.
Anaxagoras (B.C. 500-428) taught that there is but one God, and that the sun is only a fiery globe, and should not be worshipped. He attempted to explain eclipses and other celestial phenomena by natural causes, saying that there is no such thing as chance or accident, these being only names for unknown laws. For his audacity and impiety, as his countrymen considered it, he and his family were doomed to perpetual banishment.
EuDOXUS, who lived in the fourth century B.C., invented the theory of the Crystalline Spheres. He held that the heavenly bodies are set, like gems, in hollow, transparent, crystal globes, which are so pure that they do not obstruct our view, while they all revolve around the earth ; and that the planets are placed in one globe, but have a power of moving themselves, under the guidance — as Aristotle taught — of a tutelary genius, who resides in each, and rules over it as the mind rules over the body.
HiPPARCHUS, who flourished in the second century B.C., has been called the Newton of Antiquity. He was the most celebrated of the Greek astronomers. He calculated the length of the year to within six minutes, discovered the precession of the equinoxes, and made the first catalogue of the stars — 1080 in number.
The Egyptians. — Egypt, as well as Chaldea, was noted for its knowledge of the sciences long before they were cultivated in Greece. It was the practice of the Greek philosophers, before aspiring to the rank of teacher, to travel for years through these countries, and gather wisdom at its fountain-head. Pythagoras spent thirty years in this kind of study.
Two hundred years after Pythagoras, the celebrated school of Alexandria was established.* Here were concentrated in vast libraries and princely halls nearly all the wisdom and learning of the world. Here flourished the sciences and arts, under the patronage of munificent kings.
At this school, Ptolemy (a.d. 70), a Grecian, wrote his great work, the Almagest, which for fourteen centuries was the text-book of astronomers. In this work was given what is known as the Ptolemaic System. It was founded largely upon the materials gathered by previous astronomers, such as Hipparchus, whom we have already mentioned, and Eratosthenes, who computed the size of the earth by the means even now considered the best — the measurement of an arc of the meridian.
Ptolemaic System. — To the early astronomers, the movements of the planets seemed extremely complex. Venus, for instance, was sometimes seen as evening star in the west, and then again as morning star in the east. Sometimes she appeared to be moving in the same direction as the sun, then, going apparently behind the sun, she seemed to pass on again in a course directly opposite. At one time, she would recede from the sun more and more slowly and coyly, until she would appear to be entirely stationary ; then she would retrace her steps, and seem to meet the sun.
epicycles,*' as it is called.* The advocates of this theory assumed that every planet revolves in a circle, and that the earth is the fixed center around which the sun and the heavenly bodies move. They then conceived that a bar, or something equivalent, is connected at one end with the earth ; that at some part of this bar the sun is attached ; while between that and the earth, Venus is fastened — not to the bar directly, but to a sort of crank : and further on, Mer cury is hitched on in the same way.
In Fig. 3, let A be the earth : S, the sun : A B D F, the bar (real or imaginary) ; B C, the short bar or crank to which Venus is tied ; D E, another bar for Mercury ; F G, a fourth bar. with still another short crank, at the end of which, H, Mars is attached.
The Ptolemaic System,
Thus they had a complete system. They did not exactly understand the nature of these bars — whether they were real or only imaginary — but they did comprehend their action, as they thought ; and
THE SARACENS. ll
SO they supposed the bar revolved, carrying the sun and planets along in a large circle about the earth ; while all the short cranks kept flying around, thus sweeping each planet through a smaller circle.
By this theory, we can see that the planets would sometimes go in front of the sun and sometimes behind ; and their places were so accurately predicted, that the error could not be detected by the rude instruments then in use. As soon as a new motion of one of the heavenly bodies was discovered, a new crank, and of course a new circle, was added to account for the fact. Thus the system became more and more complicated, until, at last, a coip.bination of five cranks and circles was necessary to make the planet Mars keep pace with the Ptolemaic theory. No wonder that Alfonso, of Castile, a celebrated patron of Astronomy, revolted at the cumbersome machinery, and cried out, " If I had been consulted at the Creation, I could have done the thing better than that."
The Saracens. — After the destruction of the library at Alexandria, learning found a home among the Mohammedans. Bagdad on the Tigris, and Cordova on the Guadalquiver became centers of science, literature, and art. The treasures of Grecian knowledge were eagerly gathered by the Caliphs, and we are told that it was not uncommon to see, entering the gates of Bagdad, a whole train of camels loaded with Greek manuscripts. Gerbert, afterward Pope Sylvester II., learned the elements of astronomy at the University of Cordova, going, after the custom of the time, to Spain for instruc-
Fig. U.
tion, as, formerlY, philosophers had gone to Egypt In the Moorish schools, geography was already taught by the use of the globe. The first observatory in Europe was erected at Seville (1196). The fragments of Saracenic learning that have come down to us show that the Arabs had constructed astronomical tables, and endeavored to perfect them by means of systematic observation of the
ASTROLOGY. 13
Astrology. — During all these centuries, astronomy owed its development quite as much to a desire of foretelling the future, as to a love for science. It was the prevalent belief that the stars rule the destinies of men. The Chaldeans scanned the heavens for purposes of divination, so that Chaldean and astrologer became synonymous. Tiberius, Emperor of Rome, practised astrology. Hippocrates himself, the Father of Medicine (b.c. 470), ranked this among the most important branches of knowledge for the physician. The mysterious study possessed a peculiar fascination for the Arabians, and they cultivated it assiduously. The Moorish astronomers were astrologers as well, and popularized the art in western Europe. This superstition reached the height of its influence during the Middle Ages.
The issue of any important undertaking and the fortunes of an individual were foretold by the astrologer, who drew up a Horoscope representing the position of the sun, moon, and planets at the beginning of the enterprise, or at the birth of the person. It was a complete and complicated system, and contained regular rules, which guided the interpretation, and which were so abstruse as to require years for their mastery. Venus foretold love ; Mars, war ; the Pleiades (Ple'-ya-dez), storms at sea.
Lord Bacon believed in it most
firmly. Kepler, by casting nativities, eked out his miserable pittance as royal astronomer. So late even as the reign of Charles II., Lilly, a famous astrologer, was called before a committee of the House of
of some enterprise then under consideration.
However foolish the system of Astrology may have been, it preserved the science of Astronomy during the Dark Ages, and prompted to accurate observation and diligent study of the heavens.
The Copemican System.^About the commencement of the sixteenth century. Copernicus, breaking away from the theory of Ptolemy, that was still taught in the institutions of learning in Europe, revived the theory of Pythagoras. He saw how beautifully simple is the idea of considering the sun the grand center about which revolve the earth and the planets. He noticed how constantly, when we are riding swiftly, we forget our own motion, and think that the trees and fences are gliding by us in the contrary direction. He applied this thought to the movements of the heavenly bodies, and maintained that, instead of all the starry host revolving about the earth once in twenty-four hours, the earth simply turns on its own axis, and thus produces the apparent daily revolution of the sun and stars ; while the yearly motion of the earth about the sun, transferred in the same manner, would account for the solar movements.
Though Copernicus thus simplified the Ptolemaic theory, he yet found that the idea of circular orbits for the planets would not explain all the phenomena, and therefore retained the "cycles and epicycles" Alfonso had so heartily condemned. For forty years, this illustrious astronomer carried on his observations in the upper part of a humble, dilapidated
farm-house, through the roof of which he had an unobstructed view of the sky. The work containing his theory was published just in time to be laid upon his death-bed.
Tycho Brahe, a celebrated Danish astronomer, next propounded a modification of the Copernican system. He rejected the idea of cycles and epicycles, but, influenced by certain passages of Scripture, maintained, with Ptolemy, that the earth is the center, and that all the heavenly bodies daily revolve about it in circular orbits. Brahe was a nobleman of wealth, and, in addition, received large sums of money from the government. He erected a magnificent observatory, and made many beautiful and rare instruments. Clad in his robes of state, he watched the heavens with the intelligence of a philosopher and the splendor of a king. His indefatigable industry and zeal resulted in the accumulation of a vast fund of astronomical knowledge, which, however, he lacked the ability to apply to any further advance in science.
His pupil, Kepler, saw these facts, and in his fruitful mind they germinated into three great truths, called Kepler's laws. These form one of the most precious conquests of the human mind. They are the three arches of the bridge over which Astronomy crossed the gulf between the Ptolemaic and Copernican systems.
Kepler's Laws. — Kepler, taking the investigations of his master, Tycho Brahe, determined to find what is the exact shape of the orbits of the planets. He adopted the Copernican theory — that the sun is the
center of the system. At that time, all believed the orbits to be circular. They reasoned thus : the circle is perfect ; it is the most beautiful figure in nature ; it has neither beginning nor ending ; therefore, it is the only form worthy of God, and He must have used it for the orbits of the worlds He has made.
Imbued with this romantic view, Kepler commenced with a rigorous comparison of the places of the planet Mars as observed by Brahe, with the places as stated by the best tables that could be computed on the circular theory. For a time, they agreed, but in certain portions of the orbit the observations of Brahe would not fit the computed place by eight minutes of a degree. Believing that so good an astronomer could not be mistaken as to the facts, Kepler exclaimed. " Out of these eight minutes we will construct a new theory that will explain the movements of all planets."
He resumed his work, and for eight years continued to imagine every conceivable hypothesis, and then patiently to test it — "hunt it down," as he called it. Each in turn proved false, until nineteen had been tried. He then determined to abandon the circle and to adopt another form. The ellipse suggested itself to his mind. Let us see how this figure is made.
Attach a thread to two pins, as at FF in the figure ; next, move a pencil along with the thread, the latter being kept tightly stretched, and the point will mark a curve, flattened in proportion to the length of the string, — the longer the string, the nearer a circle will the figure become. This figure is the ellipse.
KEPLER S LAWS.
The two points F F are called the foci (singular, focus). We can now understand Kepler's attempt, and the triumph which crowned his seventeen years of unflagging toil.
Fifl. a.
First Law. — With this figure he constructed an orbit having the sun at the center, and again followed the planet Mars in its course. But very soon there was as great a discrepancy between the observed and computed places as before. Undismayed by this failure, Kepler assumed another hypothesis, and determined to place the sun at one of the foci of the ellipse. Once more he "hunted down" the theory. For a whole year he traced the planet along the imaginary orbit, and it did not diverge. The truth was disciovered at last, and Kepler (1609) announced his first great law —
Second Law. — Kepler knew that the planets do not move with equal velocity in the different parts of their orbits. He next set about establishing some law by which this speed could be determined, and the place of the planet computed. He drew an ellipse, and once more marked the various positions of the planet Mars. He soon found that when at its perihelion (point nearest the sun) its motion is fastest, but when at its aphelion (point furthest from the sun) its motion is slowest. Again he "hunted down" various hypotheses, until, at last.
he discovered that though, in going from B to A, the planet moves more slowly, and from D to C more rapidly, yet the space inclosed between the lines SB and SA is equal to that inclosed between SD and SC. Hence the second law —
times.
Third Law. — Kepler, not satisfied with the discovery of these laws, now determined to ascertain if there were not some relation existing between the
GALILEO. 19
times of the revolutions of the planets about the sun and their distances from that body. With the same wonderful patience, he took the figures of Tycho Brahe, and began to compare them. He tried them in every imaginable relation. Next he took their squares, then he attempted their cubes. Here was the secret ; but he toiled around it, made a blunder, and waited for months, until, once more, his patience triumphed, and he reached (1618) the third law —
In rapture over the discovery of these three laws, so marked by that Divine simplicity which pervades all the laws of nature, Kepler exclaimed, ''Nothing holds me. The die is cast. The book is written, to be read now or by posterity, I care not which. It may well wait a century for a reader, since God has waited six thousand years for an observer, f
Galileo. — Contemporary with Kepler was the great Florentine philosopher, Galileo. He discovered the laws of the pendulum and of falling bodies, as we have already learned in Physics. He was, however, educated in and believed the Ptolemaic system. A disciple of the Copernican theory happening to come to Pisa, where Galileo was teaching as professor in
* For example : Tlie square of Jupiter's period is to the square of Mars's period, as the cube of Jupiter's distance is to the cube of Mars's distance ; or, representing the earth's time of revolution by P, and her distance from the sun by p, then letting D and d represent the same in another planet, we have the proportion P» : D' : : p' : d'.
t Kepler, strangely enough, believed in the " Music of the Spheres." He made Saturn and Jupiter take the bass, Mars the tenor, Earth and Venus the counter, and Mercury the treble. This shows what a streak of folly or superstition may run through the cliaracter of the noblest man. However, as Johnson says, a mass of metal may be gold, though there be in it & littlo vein of tiu.
the University, drew his attention to its simplicity and beauty. His clear, discriminating mind perceived its perfection, and he henceforth advocated it with all the ardor of his unconquerable zeal. Soon after, he learned that one Jansen, a Dutch watchmaker, had invented a contrivance for making distant objects appear near. With his profound knowledge of optics and philosophical instruments, Galileo caught the idea, and soon had a telescope completed. It was a very simple affair — only a piece of lead pipe with a lens set at each end ; but it was destined to overthrow the old Ptolemaic theory, and revolutionize the science of Astronomy.
Discoveries made with the Telescope. — Galileo now examined the moon. He saw her mountains and valleys, and watched the dense shadows upon her plains. On January 8, 1610, he turned the telescope toward Jupiter. Near it he saw three bright stars, as he considered them, which were invisible to the naked eye. The next night he noticed that they had changed their relative positions. Astonished and perplexed, he waited three days for a fair night in which to resume his observations. The fourth night was favorable, and he found the three stars had again shifted. Night after night he watched them, discovered a fourth star, and finally found that they were rapidly revolving around Jupiter, each in its elliptical orbit, with its own rate of motion, and all accompanying the planet in its journey around the sun. Here was a miniature Copernican system, hung up in the sky for every one to see and examine for liimself.
NEWTON. 21
Reception of the Discoveries. — Galileo met with the most bitter opposition. Many refused to look through the telescope lest they might become victims of the philosopher's magic. Some prated of the wickedness of digging out valleys in the fair face of the moon. Others doggedly clung to the theory they had held from their youth.* But the truth of the Copernican system was now fully established. Philosophers gradually adopted this view, and the Ptolemaic theory became a relic of the past.
Newton, a young man of twenty-four years, was spending the summer of 1666 in the country, on account of the plague which prevailed at Cambridge, his place of residence. One day, while sitting in a garden, an apple chanced to fall to the ground near him. Reflecting upon the strange power that causes all bodies thus to descend to the earth, and remembering that this force continues, even when we ascend to the tops of high mountains, the thought occurred to his mind, "May not this same force extend to a great distance out in space ? Does it not reach the moon ? "
Laws of Motion. — To understand the reasoning that now occupied the mind of Newton, let us apply the laws of motion as we have learned them in
* As a specimen of the arguments adduced against the new system, the following l>y Sizzi is a fair instance. " There are seven windows in the head, through which the air is admitted to the body, to enlighten, to warm, and to nourish it,— two nostrils, two eyes, two ears, and one mouth. So in the heavens there are two favorable stars, Jupiter and Venus ; two unpropitious. Mars and Saturn ; two luminaries, the Sun and Moon ; and Mercury alone, undecided and indifferent. From which, and from many other phenomena in Nature, such as the seven metals, etc., we gather that the number of planets is necessarily seven. Moreover, the satellites are invisible to the naked eye, can exercise no influence over the earth, and would be useless, and therefore do not exist, liesides, the week is divided into seven days, which are named from the seven planets. Now, if we increase the number of planets, this whole system falls to the ground."
Physics. "When a body is set in motion, it will continue to move forever in a straight line, unless another force is applied. As there is no friction in space, the planets do not lose any of their original velocity, but move now with the same speed which they received at the beginning. But this would make them all pass along straight lines, and not circular orbits. What causes the curve ? Obviously, another force. For example : I throw a stone into the air. It does not move in a straight line, but in a curve, because the earth constantly bends it downward.
Application. — Just so the moon is moving around the earth, not in a straight line, but in a curve. Can it not be that the earth bends it downward, just as it does the stone ? Newton knew that a stone falls toward the earth sixteen feet the first second. He conceived, after a careful study of Kepler's laws, that the attraction of the earth diminishes according to the square of the distance. He supposed (according to the measurement then received) that a body on the surface of the earth is exactly four thousand miles from the center. He now applied this imaginary law. Suppose the body is removed four thousand miles from the surface of the earth, or eight thousand miles from the center. Then, as it is twice as far from the center, its weight will be diminished 2^, or 4 times. If it were placed 3, 4, 5, 10 times further away, its weight would then decrease 9, 16, 25, 100 times. If, then, the stone at the surface of the earth (four thousand miles from the center) falls sixteen feet the first second, at eight thousand miles
it would fall only four feet ; at 240,000 miles, or the distance of the moon, it would fall only about one.twentieth of an inch (exactly .053).
Next the question arose, "How far does the moon fall toward the earth, i. e., bend from a straight line, every second ? " For sixteen years, with a patience rivaling Kepler's, this philosopher sought to solve the problem. He toiled over interminable columns of figures, to find how much the moon's path curves each second. At last, he reached a result, which was nearly, but not quite, exact. Disappointed, he laid aside his calculations. Repeatedly he reviewed them, but could not find a mistake. At length, while in London, he learned of a new and more accurate measurement of the distance from the circumference to the center of the earth. He hastened home, inserted this new value in his calculations, and soon found that the result would be correct. Overpowered by the thought of the grand truth just before him, his hand faltered, and he called upon a friend to complete the computation.
From the moon, Newton passed on to the other heavenly bodies, calculating and testing their orbits. Finally, he turned his attention to the sun, and, by reasoning equally conclusive, proved that the attraction of that great central orb compels all the planets to revolve about it in elliptical orbits, and holds them with an irresistible power in their appointed paths.*
* " Do not understand me at all as saying there is no mystery about the planets' motion. There is just one single mystery,— gravitation ; and it is a very profound one. How it is that an atom of matter can attract another atom, no matter how great the distance, no matter what intervening substance there may be ; how it will act upon it, or at least behave as if it acted upon it,— I do not know, I cannot tell. Whether they
At last, he announced this grand Law of Gravitation : Every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other particle of matter with a force directly proportional to its quantity of matter, and decreasing as the square of the distance increases.
We now in imagination pass into space, whichstretches out in every direction, without bounds or measures. We look up to the heavens, and try to locate some object among the mazes of the stars. Bewildered, we feel the necessity of some system of measurement. Let us try to understand the one adopted by astronomers.
The Celestial Sphere. — The blue arch of the sky, as it appears to be spread over us, is termed the Celestial Sphere. There are two points to be noticed here.
First, that so far distant is this imaginary arch from us, that if any two parallel lines from different parts of the earth were drawn to this Sphere, they would apparently intersect. Of course, this could not be the fact ; but the distance is so immense, that we are unable to distinguish the little difference of
are puslied together l)y means of an intervening ether, or what is the action, I cannot und(T.stand. It stands with me along with the fact, that, when I will my arm to rise, it rises. It is inscrutable. All the explanations that have been given of it seem to me merely to darken counsel with words and no understanding. They do not remove the difficulty at all. If I were to say what I really believe, it would be, that the motion of the spheres of the material universe stand in some such relation to Him in whom all things exist, the ever-present and omnipotent God, as the motions of my body do to my will : I do not know bow, and never expect to know."— Pro/. Young.
SPACE. 25
four or even eight thousand miles, and the two lines would seem to unite : so we must consider this great earth as a mere speck or point at the center of the Celestial Sphere.
Second, that we must neglect the entire diameter of the earth's orbit, so that if we should draw two parallel lines, one from each end of the earth's orbit, to the Celestial Sphere, although these lines would be nearly 186,000,000 miles apart, yet they would appear to pierce the Sphere at the same point ; which is to say, that, at that enormous distance, 186,000,000 miles shrink to a point. Consequently, in all parts of the earth, and in every part of the earth's orbit, we see the fixed stars in the same place.
This sphere of stars surrounds the earth on every side. In the daytime, we cannot see the stars because of the superior light of the sun ; but, with a telescope, they can be traced, and an astronomer will find certain stars as well at noon as at midnight.
One half of the sphere is constantly visible to us ; and so far distant are the stars, that we see just as much of the sphere as we should if the upper part of the earth were removed, and we were to stand four thousand miles further away, or at the center of the earth, where our view would be bounded by a great circle of the earth.
On the concave surface of the Celestial Sphere, there are imagined to be drawn three systems of circles : the Horizon, the Equinoctial, and the Ecliptic System. Each of these has (1) its Principal Circle, (2) its Suhordinate Circles, (3) its Points, and (4) its Measurements.
1. THE HORIZON SYSTEM.
(a) The Principal Circle is the Rational Horizon. This is the great circle whose plane, passing through the center of the earth, separates the visible from the invisible heavens. The Sensible Horizon is the small circle where the earth and the sky seem to meet : it is parallel to the rational horizon, but distant from it the semi-diameter of the earth. No two places have the same sensible horizon : any two, on opposite sides of the earth, have the same rational horizon.
Zenith, the Nadir, and the
K, S., E., and W. points. The Zenith is the point directly overhead, and the Nadir, the one directly underfoot. They are also the poles of the horizon — i. e., the points where the axis of the horizon pierces the Celestial Sphere. The N., S., E., and W. points are familiar.
(a) The Principal Circle is the Equinoctial. This is the Celestial Equator^ or the earth's equator extended to the Celestial Sphere. At all places between the equator and the pole, the celestial equator is inclined to the horizon at an angle equal to the distance of the zenith of the place from the pole. *
Declination Parallels.
* Tlie latitude of a place is its distance from the equator, and this equals the distance of the zenith of the place from the equinoctial. Hence, having given the latitude of a place, to find the height of the celestial equator above its horizon, subtract the latitude from 90°, and the remainder is the required angular distance. In like manner, the latitude subtracted from 90° gives the co-latitude of the place— the complement of the latitude.
28 SPACE.
The Hour Circles are thus located. The Equinoctial is divided into 360°, equal to twenty-four hours of motion — thus making 15 equal to one hour of motion. Through these divisions run twenty-four meridians, each constituting an hour of motion (time) or 15^ of space. The Hour Circles may be conceived as meridians of terrestrial longitude (15" apart) extended to the Celestial Sphere.
The Colures are two principal meridians ; the Equinoctial Cohire is the meridian passing through the equinoxes ; the Solstitial Colure is the meridian passing through the solstitial points.
The Declination Parallels are small circles parallel to the Equinoctial ; or they may be conceived as the parallels of terrestrial latitude extended to the Celestial Sphere.
Equinoxes.
The Celestial Poles are the points where the axis of the earth extended pierces the Celestial Sphere, and are the extremities of the celestial axis, as the poles of the earth are the extremities of the earth's axis. The North Pole is marked very nearly by the Xorth Star, and every direction from that is reckoned south, and every direction toward that is reckoned north, however it may conflict with our ideas of the points of the compass.
THE EQUINOCTIAL SYSTEM. S9
Right Ascension is distance from the Vernal Equinox, measured on the equinoctial eastward to the meridian which passes through the body. R. A. corresponds to terrestrial longitude, and may extend to 360° East, instead of 180'' as on the earth. R. A. is never measured westward. The starting point is the meridian passing through the vernal equinox, as the meridian passing through Greenwich is the point from which terrestrial longitude is measured.
Declination is distance from the equinoctial, measured on any Hour Circle or meridian north or south. It corresponds to terrestrial latitude.
Hour Circle.
The Equinoctial System is largely used by modern astronomers, and accompanies the Equatorial Telescope, Sidereal Clock, and Chronographs of the best Observatories.
(a) The Principal Circle is the Ecliptic. This is the apparent path of the sun in the heavens. It is inclined to the equinoctial 23^° (23° 27' 15", Jan. 1, 1884), which measures the inclination of the Earth's Equator to its orbit, and is called the obliquity of the ecliptic. (See p. 58.)
The inclination of the ecliptic to the horizon, unlike that of the equinoctial, varies at different times of the year. The angle that the ecliptic makes with the horizon is greatest when the vernal equinox is
on the western horizon and the autumnal on the eastern ; it is least when the vernal equinox is on the eastern horizon and the autumnal on the western.*
Longitude, and Parallels of Celestial Latitude.
The Circles of Celestial, Longitude are now seldom employed. They are measured on the Ecliptic, as circles of Right Ascension (R. A.) are measured on the Equinoctial.
The Parallels of Celestial Latitude are little used. They are small circles drawn parallel to the ecliptic, as parallels of declination are drawn parallel to the equinoctial.
The Equinoxes are the points where the ecliptic intersects the equinoctial. The place where the sun crosses the equinoctial f in going north, which occurs about the 21st of March, is called the Vernal Equinox. The place where the sun crosses the equinoctial in going south, which occurs about the 21st of September, is called the Autumnal Equinox. The Solstices are the two points of the ecliptic most distant from the Equator ; or they may be considered to mark the sun's furthest declination north and south of the equinoctial. The Summer Solstice occurs about the
* In the former instance, the angle is eqnal to the co-latitude, plus 23J° (the inclination of the ecliptic to the equinoctial) ; and, in the latter, the co-latitude minus 2;U°. Thus, at the latitude of New York, it varies from 90° — 41* + ■2:i\ ° = 72J " ; to 90° — 41° — 231* = 25J'. In the one case, the summer solstice ia on the meridian of the place, and, in the other, the winter.
THE ZODIAC.
A belt of the Celestial Sphere, 8° on each side of the ecliptic, is styled the Zodiac. This is of veryhigh antiquity, having been in use among the ancient Hindoos and Egyptians. The Zodiac is divided into twelve equal parts — of 30° each — called Signs, to each of which a fanciful name is given. The following are the names of the
Virgo nj
" The first, nn, indicates the horns of the Ram ; the second, « , the head and horns of the Bull ; the barb attached to a sort of letter, "1 , designates the Scorpion ; the arrow, i , sufficiently points to Sagittarius ; V? is formed from the Greek letters, rp, the two first letters of rpdyog, a goat. Finally, a balance, the flowing of water, and two fishes, tied by a string, may be imagined in ^, ^, and X, the signs of Libra, Aquarius, and Pisces." (See pp. 210, 295.)
5. Jupiter revolves around the sun in 12 of our years. Assuming the earth's distance from the sun to be 93,000,000 miles, compute Jupiter's distance by applying Kepler's third law.
1 7. What is the amount of the obliquity of the ecliptic 1
18. Define Zenith. Xadir. Azimuth. Altitude. Equinoctial. Right Ascension. Declination. Equinox. Ecliptic. Colure. Solstice. Polar distance. Zenith distance. The Zodiac.
" This world was once a Jluid haze of light, Till toward the center set the starry tides And eddied into sttns, that wheeling cast The planets." — Tennyson.
7. The Zodiacal Light.
How we are to imagine the solar system to ourselves.— We are to think of it as suspended in space ; being held up, not by any visible object, but in accordance with the law of Universal Gravitation discovered by Newton, whereby each planet attracts every other planet and is in turn attracted by all.
First, the Sun, a great central globe, so vast as to overcome the attraction of all the planets, and compel them to circle around him; next, the planets,
each turning on its axis while it flies around the sun
in an elliptical orbit : then, accompanying these, the satellites, each revolving about its own planet, while all whirl in a dizzy waltz about the central orb ; next, the comets, rushing across the planetary orbits at irregular intervals of time and space ; and finally, shooting-stars and meteors darting hither and thither, interweaving all in apparently inextricable confusion.
To make the picture more wonderful still, every member is flying with an inconceivable velocity, and yet with such accuracy that the solar system is the most perfect timepiece known.
Distance. — The sun's average distance from the earth is nearly 93,000,000 miles.* Since the earth's orbit is elliptical, and the sun is situated at one of its foci, the earth is 3,000,000 miles further from the sun in aphelion than in perihelion.
* The sun's distance from the earth is determined, as we shall learn hereafter (see Celestial Measurements), by means of the solar parallax. In the former editions of this work, the parallax of S".94 — deduced principally ftr)m observations upon the planet Mars in 18'32— was accepted. This gave a solar distance of about 91| million miles, and has been in general use among astronomers until recently. The obsen-ations of the last few years have, however, shown that the true parallax is smaller, and that the sun is a little further off than was supposed. Astronomers are not fully agreed upon the exact Xtarallax that should be adopted, but there seems to be a general converging of opinion toward 8".S0 as being, if not the exact parallax, at least as near it as we are able at present to come. This new determination of the solar parallax renders necessary a corresponding change in the planetarj- distances, etc, as the sun's distance is the unit used by astronomers in making all celestial measurements. In this chapter, the author has followed the data given by Prof. Young in his work upon the Sun, as being the most recent and authoritative view. (See p. 280.)
THE SUN. 37
As we attempt to locate the heavenly bodies in space, we are startled by the enormous figures employed. The first number, 93,000,000 miles, is far beyond our grasp. Let us, however, try to comprehend it. * If there were air to convey a sound from the sun to the earth, and a noise could be made loud enough to pass that distance, it would require over fourteen years for it to come to us. Supi)Ose a raifroad could be built to the sun. An express-train, traveling day and night, at the rate of thirty miles an hour, would require 353 years to reach its destination. Ten generations would be born and would die ; the young men would become gray -haired, and their great-grandchildren would forget the story of the beginning of that wonderful journey, and would read it in history, as we now read of Queen Elizabeth or of Shakspere ; the eleventh generation* would see the solar station at the end of the route. Yet this enormous distance of 93,000,000 miles is used as the unit for expressing celestial distances, — as the foot-rule for measuring space ; and astronomers speak of so many times the sun's distance as we speak of so many feet or inches.
The Light of the Sun is equal to 5,563 wax-candles held at a distance of one foot from the eye. It would require 600,000 full-moons to produce a day as brilliant as one of cloudless sunshine, f
* If a babe were born with an arm long enougli to reach the sun, and should touch that fiery globe, the infant would grow to manhood and to old age and finally die, before the sensation could traverse the nerve to his brain, and he feel the burn.
t According to Langley, the sun is blue, and to the inhabitants of other worlds may shine as a bluer star than Vega. Tlie light from dill'erent parts of the solar disk, however, varies in color : while that from the center has a decidedly-blue tint, that from the gd^e is of a chocolate hue. This difference is probably owing to the fact that the latter
38 THE SOLAR SYSTEM.
The Heat of the Sun. — The amount of heat we receive annually is sufficient to melt a layer of ice 110 feet thick, extending over the whole earth.* Yet the sunbeam is only ^o o/o oo P^r^ ^s intense as it is at the surface of the sun. Moreover, the heat and light stream off into space equally in every direction. Of this vast flood, only one twenty-three-hundredmillionth part reaches the earth.
If the heat of the sun were produced by the burning of coal, it would require a layer sixteen feet in thickness, extending over its whole surface, to feed the flame a single hour. Were the sun a solid body of coal, it would burn up at this rate in forty-six centuries. Sir John Herschel says that if a solid cylinder of ice 45 miles in diameter and 200,000 miles long were plunged, end first, into the sun, it would melt in a second of time.
Apparent Size. — The sun appears to be a little over half a degree in diameter, so that 337 solar disks, laid side by side, would make a half-circle of the celestial sphere. It seems a trifle larger to us in winter than in summer, as we are 3,000,000 miles nearer it. If we represent the luminous surface of the sun when at its average (mean) distance by 1,000, the same surface will be represented when in aphelion (July) by 967, and when in perihelion (January) by 1,034.
Let us try to understand this amount by comparison.
A mountain upon the surface of the sun, to bear the same proportion to the globe itself as the loftiest peak of the Himalayas does to the earth, would need to be about 600 miles high.
beyond.
Its volume is 1,300,000 times that of the earth — i. e., it would take 1,300,000 earths to make a globe the size of the sun. Its mass is 750 times that of all the planets and moons in the solar system, and 330,000 times that of the earth. Its weight may be expressed in tons, thus :
The Density of the sun is only about one-fourth that of the earth, or 1.41 that of water, so that the weight of a body transferred from the earth to the sun would not be increased in proportion to the comparative size of the two. On account also of the vast size of the sun, its surface is so far from its center that the attraction is largely diminished, since that decreases, we remember, as the square of the distance. However, a man weighing at the earth's equator 150 lbs., at the sun's equator would weigh about two tons, — a force of attraction that would instantly crush him. At the earth's equator, a stone falls 16 feet the first second ; at the sun's equator, it would fall 144 feet, f
Telescopic Appearance of the Sun : Sun Spots. — We may sometimes examine the sun at early morning or late in the afternoon with the naked eye, and
* This number is meaningless to our imagination, but yet it represents a force of attraction that holds our own earth and all the planets steadily in their places; while it fills the mind with an indescribable awe as we think of that Being who "made the sun, and holds it in the very palm of His hand."
t A singular consequence of this has been suggested. "A cannon-ball could be thrown only a short distance, since it would pass through a path of great curvature, 9n^ lyould fall to the sun within a few yards of the gun."
THE StfN.
at midday by using a smoked glass. The disk will appear distinct and circular, and with no spot to dim its brightness. If we use a telescope of moderate
The Swn seen through a Telescope.
power, taking the precai^tion to shield the eye with a colored eye-piece, we shall find the surface of the sun sprinkled with irregular spots (Fig. 9).*
• Tlie natural purity of the sun seems to have been formerly an article of faith among astronomers, and therefore on no account to be called in question. Seheiner, it is said, having reported to his superior that he had seen spots on the sun's face, was abruptly dismissed with these remarks : " I have read ^Vristotle's WTitings from end to end many times, and I assure you I do not find anything in them similar to that which you mention.
Discovery of the Solar Spots.— The solar spots seem to have been noticed as early as 807 a.d., although the telescope was not invented until 1610, and Galileo is considered to have discovered them in the following year. *
Number and Location. — Sometimes, but rarely, the sun's disk is clear. During a period of ten years, observations were made on 1982 days, on 372 of which there were no spots seen. As many as two hundred spots have been noticed at one time. They are mostly found in two belts, one on each side of the equator, within not less than 10" nor more than SO'' of latitude. They seem to herd together, — the length of the straggling group being generally parallel to the equator.
Size of the Spots. — It is not uncommon to find a spot with a surface larger than that of the earth. Schroter measured one more than 29,000 miles in diameter. Sir J. W. Herschel calculated that one which he saw was 50,000 miles in diameter. In 1843, one was seen which was 75,000 miles across, and was visible to the naked eye for an entire week, f On the day of the eclipse in 1858, a spot over 108,000 miles broad was distinctly seen, and attracted general attention in this country. In 1839, Captain Davis saw one which he computed was 180,000 miles long, and had an area of twenty-four billion square miles.
penumbra,andvice
versa. The umbra itself has generally a dense black center, called the nucleus. Besides this, the umbra is sometimes divided by luminous bridges.
Spots are in Motion. — The spots change from day to day ; but all have a common movement. About fourteen days are required for a spot to pass across the disk of the sun from the eastern side, or limb, to the western ; in fourteen days, it reappears, changed in form perhaps, but generally recognizable.
center ; it then slowly loses its rapidity, and finally disappears on the western limb. The diagram illustrates the apparent change which takes place in the form. Suppose at first the spot is of an oval shape ; as it approaches the center it apparently widens and becomes circular. Having passed that point, it becomes more and more oval until it disappears.
Change in Spots as they Cross the Disk.
This change in the Spots proves the Sun's Rotation ON ITS Axis. — These changes can be accounted for only on the supposition that the sun rotates on its axis : indeed, they are the precise effects which the laws of perspective demand in that case. About twenty-seven days elapse from the appearance of a spot on the eastern limb before it is seen a second time. During this period the earth has gone forward in its orbit, so that the location of the observer is changed ; allowing for this, the sun's time of rotation at the equator is about twenty-five days (25 d., 8 h., 10 m. : Langier),
Curiously enough, the equatorial regions move more rapidly, and complete a rotation in less time, than the rest of the siin. While a spot near the equator performs a rotation in twenty-seven days, one situated half-
Synodic and Sidereal Revolutions.
position again, requires about twenty-seven days. But, during this time, the earth has passed on from T to T'. The spot has not only traveled around to a again, but also beyond that to a', or the distance from a to a' more than an entire revolution. To do this, requires about two days. A revolution from a around to a' is called a synodic, and one from a around to a again is called a sidereal, revolution.
March. June. September.
sometimes toward the south, as in the figure. This can be explained only on the supposition that the sun's axis is inclined to the ecliptic (7"" 15').
Spots have a motion of their own. — Besides the motion already named as assigned to the sun's rotation, nearly every spot seems to have an individual motion. Some spots circle about in small elliptical paths, often quite regularly for weeks and even months. Immense cyclones occasionally pass over the surface with fearful rapidity, producing rotation and sudden changes in the spots. At other times, however, the spots seem "to set sail and move across the disk of the sun like gondolas over a silver sea."
Spots change their real form. — Spots break out and then disappear under the eye of the astronomer. WoUaston saw one that seemed to be shattered like a fragment of ice when it is thrown on a frozen surface, breaking into pieces, and sliding off in every direction. Sometimes one divides itself into several nuclei, while again several nuclei combine
into a single nucleus. Occasionally a spot will remain for six or eight rotations, while often it will last scarcely half an hour. Sir W. Herschel relates
it was gone.
Appearance of the spots is periodical.* — It is a remarkable fact that the number of spots increases and diminishes through a regular interval of about 11.11 years. These periodic variations are closely connected with similar variations in the aurora and magnetic earth-currents which interfere with the telegraph.
* The regular increase and diminution in the number of the spots was discovered by Schwabe of Prussia, who watched the sun so carefully that it is said "for thirty years the sun never appeared above the horizon without being confronted by his imperturbable telescope."
Many astronomers of high standing believe that the solar spots are especially sensitive to the approach of Mercury and Venus, on account of their nearness, and of Jupiter, because of its size ; that the area of the spots exposed to view from the earth is uniformly greatest when any two of the larger planets come into line with the sun ; and that when both Venus and Jupiter are on the side of the sun opposite to us, the spots are much larger than when Venus alone is in that position. Most authorities, however, doubt the accuracy of these observations, and deny this planetary influence altogether.
Spots do not influence fruitfulness of the SEASON. — Herschel first advanced the idea that years of abundant spots would be years also of plentiful harvest. This is not now generally received. What two years could be more dissimilar than 1859 and 1860 ? Both abounded in solar spots, yet, in Europe, one was a fruitful year and the other one of almost famine. Whether the spots influence the weather is still a mooted question.
Spots are cooler than the surrounding surface.— It seems that the breaking out of a spot sensibly diminishes the temperature of that portion of the sun's disk. The faculae, on the other hand, do not increase the temperature {Secchi).
Spots are depressions. — Careful observations show that, in general, the " floor," so to speak, of the umbra is sunk from two to six thousand miles below the level of the luminous surface {Young).
ance not unlike that of an orange skin. But, under favorable circumstances and with a telescope of high power, the solar disk is found to be covered with small, intensely bright bodies irregularly distributed.
These are now known as rice-grains.'*' They are often apparently crowded together in luminous ridges, or streaks, termed faculce {facula, a torch) ; while the rice-grains themselves, according to Prof. Langley, are composed of granules. Minute as a
* Various obsen-ers describe the solar surface differently. A peculiar, elongated, leaf-shaped appearance of the rice-grains, called the willow-leaf structure, is shown in Fig. 17, as seen by Nasmyth. Newcomb compares the sun's appearance to that of a plate of rice-soup. Young says it frequently resembles bits of straw lying parallel to one another— the '• thatched-straw formation,"
of, at least, 100 miles.
Physical Constitution of the Sun.* — Of the constitution of the sun, and the cause of the solar spots, very little is definitely known.
Wilson's Theory supposed that the sun is composed of a solid, dark globe, surrounded by three atmospheres. The first, nearest the black body of the sun, is a dense, cloudy covering, possessing high reflecting power. The second is called the photosphere. It consists of an incandescent gas, and is the seat of the light and heat of the sun, being the sun that we see. The third, or * outer one, is transparent— very like our atmosphere.
According to this theory, the spots are to be explained in the following manner. They are simply openings in these atmospheres made by powerful upward currents. At the bottom of these chasms, we see the dark sun as a nucleus at the center, and around this the cloudy atmosphere — the penumhra. This explains a black spot with its penumbra. Sometimes the opening in the photosphere may be smaller than that in the inner or cloudy atmosphere ; in that case there will be a black spot without a penumbra.
It will be natural to suppose that when the heated gas of the photosphere, or second atmosphere, is violently rent asunder by an eruption or current from below, luminous ridges will be formed by the heaped-up gas on every side of the opening. This would account for the faculce surrounding the sun-
spots. It will be natural, also, to suppose that sometimes the cloudy atmosphere below will close up first over the dark surface of the sun, leaving only an opening through the photosphere, disclosing at the bottom a grayish surface of penumbra. We can
readily see, also, how, as the sun revolving on its axis brings a spot nearer and nearer to the center, thus giving us a more direct view of the opening, we can see more and more of the dark body. Then as it passes by the center the nucleus will disappear,
the penumbra, which, in its turn, will vanish.
The Present Theory* is deduced from the results of Spectrum Analysis, of which we shall hereafter speak. It is constantly being modified by new discoveries. But we may, in general, believe the sun to be a vast, fiery body, surrounded by an atmosphere of substances volatilized by the intense heat. Among these, we recognize familiar elements, as iron, copper, &c.
The different portions of the sun are thought to be arranged thus : (1). The nucleus, probably gaseous ; \ (2). The photosphere, an envelope several thousand miles thick, which constitutes the visible part of the sun ; (3). The chromosphere, composed of luminous gas, mostly hydrogen, and the seat of enormous protuberances, tongues of fire, which dart forth, sometimes at the rate of 150 miles per second, and to a distance of over 100,000 miles ; (^). The corona,X an outer appendage of faint, pearly light, consisting of streamers reaching out often several hundred thousand miles. Of these solar constituents, the eye and the telescope ordinarily reveal only the photosphere ; the rest are seen during a total eclipse or by means of the spectroscope.
theory, it is often called after him.
t The interior of the sun, if gaseous, must be powerfully condensed, because of the tremendous pressure of the atmosphere. The high temperature, however, prevents the gas from liquefying. Tlie rain-.storms on the sun, if such ever occur, consist of drops of molten iron, copper, zinc, &c., vaporized by the enormous heat ; and often a tempest would drive before it this white-hot, metallic blast, with a speed of 100 miles per second.
light, and, becoming cooler, sinks ; the hotter matter in the interior then risQS to take its place, and thus convection currents are established (Physics, p. 193). The cooler, descending currents are darker, and the hotter, ascending ones are lighter ; this gives rise to the mottled look of the sun. At times, this occurs on a grand scale, and the heated, up-rushing masses form the faculse, and the cooler, down-rushing ones produce the solar spots.
The Heat of the Sun is generally considered to be produced by condensation, whereby the size of the sun is constantly decreasing, and its potential energy thus converted into kinetic. The dynamic theory accounts for the heat and the solar spots by assuming that there are vast numbers of meteors revolving around the sun, and that these constantly rain down upon the surface of that luminary. * Their motion, thus stopped, is changed to heat, and feeds this great central fire. Were Mercury to strike the sun in this way, it would generate sufficient heat to compensate the loss by radiation for seven years.
Doubtless, the solar heat is gradually diminishing, and will ultimately be exhausted. In time, the sun will cease to shine, as the earth did long since. Newcomb says that in 5,000,000 years, at the present rate, the sun will have shrunk to half its present size, and that it cannot sustain life on the earth more than 10,000,000 years longer. Of this we may be assured, there is enough to support life on our globe for millions of years yet to come.
* Tlic heat of the sun could be maintained by an annual contraction of 220 feet in its diameter, a decrease so insignificant as to be imperceptible with the best instruments ; or by the annual impact of meteors equal in amount to y the mass of Mercury.
INTRODUCTION.
The Planets will be described in regular order, passing outward from the sun. In this journey, we shall examine each planet in turn, noticing its distance, size, length of year, duration of day and night, temperature, climate, number of moons, and other interesting facts, showing how much we can know of its world-life in spite of its wonderful distance. We shall encounter the earth in our imaginary wanderings through space, and shall explain many celestial phenomena already partially familiar to us.
In all these worlds, we shall find traces of the same Divine hand, molding and directing in conformity to one universal plan. We shall discover that the laws of light and heat are invariable, and that the force of gravity, which causes a stone to fall to the ground, acts similarly upon the most distant planet. Even the elements of which the planets are composed will be familiar to us, so that a book of natural science published here might, in its general features, answer for use in a school on Mars or Jupiter.
not differing much from circles.
3. Their orbits are more or less inclined to the ecliptic, and intersect it in two points — the nodes, — one-half of the orbit lying north, and the other south of the earth's path.
the light they receive from the sun.
5. They rotate upon their axes in the same way as the earth. Tliis we know by telescopic observation to be the case with many planets, and by analogy the rule may be extended to all. Hence, they have the alternation of day and night.
6. Agreeably to the principles of gravitation, their velocity is greatest at that part of their orbit nearest the sun, and least at that part most distant from it ; in other words, they move quickest in perihelion, and slowest in aphelion.
Comparison cf the two G-roups of the Major Planets. [Chambers.) — Separating the major planets into two groups, if we take Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and Mars as belonging to the interior, and Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune to the exterior group, we shall find that they differ in the following respects :
1. The interior planets, with the exception of the Earth and Mars, are not attended by any satellite, while all the exterior planets have satellites.
ratio being 5:1.
3. The mean duration of the axial rotations, or the mean length of the day of the interior planets, is much longer than that of the exterior ; the average in the former case being about twenty-four hours, but in the latter only about ten hours.
Properties of the Ellipse. — In Fig. 20, S and S' are the foci of the ellipse ; A C is the major axis ; B D, the minor or conjugate axis; O, the center: or, astronomically, O A is the semi-axis-major or mean
An Ellipse.
distance, O B the semi-axis-minor : the ratio of O S to O A is the eccentricity ; the least distance, S A, is the perilielion distance ; the greatest distance, S C, the aphelion distance.
Characteristics of a Planetary Orbit. — It will not be difficult to follow in the mind the additional characteristics of a planet's orbit. Take two hoops, and bind them into an oval shape. Incline one
slightly to the other, as shown in Fig. 21. Let the horizontal hoop represent the ecliptic. Imagine a planet following the inclined hoop, or ellipse ; at a certain point it rises above the level of the ecliptic : * this point is called the ascending node, and the opFig. SI.
Planetary Orbits.
posite point of intersection is termed the descending node. A line connecting the two nodes is the line of the nodes. The longitude of the node is its distance from the first point of Aries, measured on the ecliptic, eastward.
Comparative Size of Planets (Chambers). — The following scheme will assist in obtaining some notion of the magnitude of the planetary system. Choose a level field or common ; on it place a globe two feet in diameter for the Snn : Vulcan will then be represented by a small pin's head, at a distance of about twenty-seven feet from the center of the ideal sun ; Mercury by a mustard-seed, at a distance of eighty-two feet ; Venus by a pea, at a distance of 142 feet ; the Earth, also, by a pea, at a distance of 215 feet ; Mars by a small pepper-corn, at a distance of 327 feet ; the minor planets by grains of sand, at distances varying from 500 to 600 feet. If space wiU permit, we may place a moderate-sized
* Lockyer beautifully says : " We may imagine the earth floating aroiind the sun on a boundless ocean, both sun and earth being half immersed in it. This level, this plane, the plane of the ecliptic (because all eclipses occur in it), is used by astronomers as we use the sea-level. We say a mountain is so far above the level of the sea. The astronomer says the star is so high above the level of the ecliptic
THE PLANETS.
orange nearly one-quarter of a mile distant from the starting point to represent Jupiter ; a small orange two-fifths of a mUe for Saturn ; a full-sized cherry three-quarters of a mile distant for Uranus ; and lastly, a plum 1| miles off for Neptune, the most distant planet yet known. Extending
Comparative Size of the rUinets.
this scheme, we should find that the aphelion distance of Encke's comet would be at 880 feet ; the ajjhelion distance of Donati's comet of 1858 at six miles ; and the nearest fixed star at 7,500 miles.
According to this scale, the daily motion of Vulcan in its orbit would be 4| feet; of Mercury, 3 feet ; of Venus, 2 feet ; of the Earth, 1| feet ; of Mars, 1^ feet ; of Jupiter, 10| inches ; of Saturn, 7^ inches ; of Uranus, 5 inches ; and of Neptune, 4 inches. This illustrates the fact that the orbital velocity of a planet decreases as its distance from the sun increases. *
Conjunction of Planets. — The grouping together of two or more planets within a limited area of the heavens is a rare event. The earliest record we have is the one of Chinese origin (p. G), stating that a conjunction of Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Mercury
occurred in the reign of the Emperor Chuenhio. Astronomers tell us that this took place Feb. 28, 244G B. c, between 10° and 18^ of Pisces. There is a very general impression, however, that this conjunction was afterward calculated and chronicled in their records. In 1725, Venus, Mercury, Jupiter, and
♦ If we accept the Xelmlar Hj-pothesis (p. 255), we can easily understand the reason of this; the exterior planets, being made earlier, had the motion of the nebula during its earlier stage. The rotation-velocity of the nebula kept increasing, and so, of course, each planet Dossessed a higher rate of orbital speed than the preceding one-
Mars appeared in the same field of the telescope. In 1859, Venus and Jupiter came so near each other that they appeared to the naked eye as one object.
Are the Planets Inhabited? — This question is one which very naturally arises, when we think of the planets as worlds in so many respects similar to our own. We can give no satisfactory answer. Many think that the only object God can have in making a world is to form an abode for man. Our own earth was evidently fitted up, although perhaps not created, for this express purpose. Everywhere about us we find proofs of special forethought and adaptation. Coal and oil in the earth for fuel and light, forests for timber, metals in the mountains for machinery, rivers for navigation, and level plains for corn. The human body, the air, light, and heat are all fitted to one another with exquisite nicety.
When we turn to the planets, we do not know but God has other races of intelligent beings who inhabit them, or even entirely different ends to attain. Of this, however, we are assured, that, if inhabited, the conditions on which life is supported vary much from those familiar to us. When we come to speak of the different planets, we shall see (1) how they differ in light and heat, from seven times our usual temperature to less than -^^^^ ; (2) in the intensity of the force of gravity, from 2^ times that of the earth to less than | ; (3) in the constitution of the planet itself, from a density ^ heavier than that of the earth to one nearly that of cork.
through a scale of 2,000° in passing from Mercury to Neptune. No human being could reside on the former, while we cannot conceive of any polar inhab-
itaat who could endure the intense cold of the latter. At the sun, one of our pounds would weigh over 27 pounds ; on our moon, the pound weight would be-
Come only about two ounces ; while on Vesta, one of the planetoids, a man could easily spring sixty feet in the air and sustain no shock in falling. Yet, while we speak of these peculiarities, we do not know what modification of the atmosphere or physical features may exist on Mercury to temper the heat, or on Neptune to reduce the cold.
With all these diversities, we must, however, admit the power of an all-wise Creator to form beings adapted to the life and the land, however different from our own. The Power that prepared a world for us, could as easily and perfectly prepare one for other races. May it not be that the same love of diversity, that will not make two leaves after the same pattern nor two pebbles of the same size, delights in worlds peopled by races as diverse ? *
While, then, we cannot affirm that the planets are inhabited, analogy would lead us to think that they are, and that the most distant star that shines in the arch of heaven may give light and heat to living beings under the care and government of Him who enlivens the densest forest with the hum of insects, and populates even a drop of water with its teemingmillions of animalcules.
Divisions of the Planets. — The planets are divided into two classes : (1). Inferior, or those whose orbits are within that of the earth — viz., Mercurj^, Venus ; (2). Superior, or those whose orbits are beyond that
* Astronomers conceive the universe to contain worlds in every possible stage of development, from the primary, gaseous nebula, to a worn-out, dead globe, like the moon. At a certain period in its existence, each world may be fitted to support life. Millions may now be in that condition ; others may be approaching, while others liave passed it.
Neptune.
Motions of a Planet as seen from the Sun. — Could we stand at the sun and watch the movements of the planets, they would all be seen revolving with different velocities in the order of the zodiacal signs. But to us, standing on one of the planets, itself in motion, the effect is changed. To an observer at the sun all the motions would be real, while to us many are only apparent. The position of a planet, as seen from the center of the sun, is called its heliocentric place ; as seen from the center of the earth, its geocentric place. When Venus is at inferior conjunction, an observer at the sun would see it in the opposite part of the heavens from that in which it would appear to him if viewed from the earth.
Motions of an Inferior Planet — An inferior planet is never seen by us in any part of the sky opposite to the sun at the time of observation. It cannot recede from him as much as 90°, or \ the circumference, since it moves in an orbit entirely enclosed by the orbit of the earth. Twice in every revolution it is in conjunction ( 6 ) with the sun, — an inferior conjunction (A) wlien it comes between the earth and the sun, and a superior conjunction (B) when the sun lies between it and the earth.
its greatest elongation.
When passing from B to A it is east of the sun, and from A to B it is west of the sun. When east of the sun, it sets later than the sun, and hence is
evening star : when west of the sun, it rises earlier than the sun, and hence is morning star. An inferior ■planet is never visible when in superior conjunction, as its light is then lost in the greater brilliancy of the sun. When in inferior conjunction, it some-
Now, while the earth is passing to F, the planet will pass to D, — the arc AF being shorter than BD, because the nearer a planet is to the sun the greater its velocity. While the planet is at B, we locate it at C on the ecliptic, in Gemini ; but at D, it appears to us to be at G, in Taurus. So that the planet has
Betroffrade Motion.
retrograded through an entire sign on the ecliptic, while its course all the while has been directly forward in the order of the signs ; and to an observer at the sun, such would have been its motion.
Phases of an Inferior Planet. — An inferior planet presents all the phases of the moon. At superior conjunction, the whole illumined disk is turned toward us ; but the planet is lost in the sun's rays :
therefore neither Mercury nor Venus ever presents a complete circular appearance, like the full moon. A little before or after superior conjunction, an inferior planet may be seen with a telescope ; but the whole of the light side is not turned, toward us, and so the planet appears gihhous, like the moon between the first quarter and full. At its greatest elongation, the planet shows us only one-half its illumined disk ; this decreases, becoming more and more crescent toward inferior conjunction, at which time the unillumined side is toward us.
Phases of an Inferior Planet.
Motions of a Superior Planet.— The superior planet moves in an orbit which entirely surrounds that of the earth. When the earth is at E (Fig. 28), the planet at L is said to be in opposition to the sun ( S ). It is then at its greatest distance from him— 180°. The planet is on the meridian at midnight, while the sun is on the corresponding meridian on the opposite side of the earth ; or the planet may be rising, when the sun is just setting. When the planet is at N, it is in
conjunction, and being lost in the sun's rays is invisible to us. When 90^ east or west of the sun, the planet is said to be in quadrature (□).
Retrograde Motion of a Superior Planet. — Suppose the earth to be at E and the planet at L, and that we move on to G while the planet passes on to
Retrogrnde Motion ofaSujKrior Planet.
O— the distance EG being longer than LO, the reverse of what takes place in the movements of the inferior planets ; at E, we should locate the planet at P on the ecliptic, in the sign Cancer ; but at G, it would appear to us at Q, in the sign Gemini, having
apparently retrograded on the ecliptic the distance PQ, while it was all the time moving on in the direct order of the signs. Now, suppose the earth passes on to I and the planet to U, we should then see it at the point W, further on in the ecliptic than Q, which indicates direct motion again, and at some point near Q the planet must have appeared without motion.
After this, it will continue direct until the earth has completed a large portion of her orbit, as we can easily see by imagining various positions of the earth and planet, and then drawing lines as we have just done, noticing whether they indicate direct or retrograde motion. The greater the distance of a planet the less it will retrograde, as we can perceive by drawing another orbit outside the one represented in the cut, and making the same suppositions concerning it as those we have already explained.
Sidereal and Synodic Revolution, — The interval of time required by a planet to perform a revolution from one fixed star back to it again, is termed a sidereal revolution {sidus, a star).
1, The interval of time between two similar conjunctions of an inferior planet with the earth and the sun is termed a synodic revolution. Were the earth at rest, there would be no difference between a sidereal and a synodic revolution, and the planet would come into conjunction twice in each revolution. Since, however, the earth is in motion, it follows that, after the planet has completed its sidereal revolution, it must overtake the earth before they can both come again into the same position with
regard to the sun. The faster a planet moves, the sooner it can do this. Mercury, traveling at a greater speed and on an inner orbit, accomplishes it much more quickly than Venus. The synodic period always exceeds the sidereal,
2. The interval between two successive conjunctions or oppositions of a superior planet is also termed a synodic j^e volution. Since the earth moves so much faster than anj' superior planet, it follows that, after it has completed a sidereal revolution, it must overtake the planet before they can again come into the same position with regard to the sun. The slower the planet, the sooner this can be done. Uranus, making a sidereal revolution in eighty-four years, can be overtaken more quickly than Mars, which makes one in less than two years. It consequently requires over a second revolution for the earth to catch up with Mars, only ^ of a second one to overtake Jupiter, and but little over ^hi of a second one to come up with Uranus.
Planets as Evening and Morning Stars. — The inferior planets are evening stars from superior to inferior conjunction : and the superior planets, from opposition to conjunction. During the other part of their revolutions, they are morning stars.
Supposed. Discovery. — Le Vcrrier, having detected an error in tho assumed motion of Mercury, suggested, in the autumn of 1859, that there might be an interior planet, which was the cause of this disturbance. On this being made public, M. Lescarbault, a French physician and au amateur astronomer, stated that on Mai-ch 26 of that year lie had seen a dark body pass across the sun's disk, which might have been the unknown planet. Le Verrier visited him, and found his instruments rough and home-made, but singularly accurate. His clock was a .simple pendulum, consisting of an ivory ball hanging from a nail by a silk thread. His observations were on prescription paper, covered with grease and laudanum. His calculations were chalked on a board, which he planed olf to make room for fresh ones. Le Verrier became satisfied that a new planet had been discovered by this enthusiastic observer, and congratulated liim upon his deserved success.
On March 20, 1862, Mr. Lummis, of Manchester, England, noticed a rapidly-moving, dark spot, apparently the transit of an inner planet. During the total eclipse of July 29, 1878, Professor Watson, of Ann Arlior Observatory, and Dr. Lewis Swift, of Rochester, claimed to liave seen two Intra-Mercurial planets. As yet, however, the existence of the planet is not generally conceded. The name Vulcan and the sign of a hammer have been given to it. Its distance from the .sun has been estimated at 13,000,000 miles, and its periodic time (its year) at twenty days.
The fleetest of the gods. Sign, s , his wand.
Description. — Mercury is nearest to the sun of any of the definitely-known planets. When the sky is very clear, we maj sometimes see it, just after sunset, as a bright, sparkling star, near the western jiorizpn. Its elevation increase's evening hj evening,
but never exceeds 28°.* If we watch it closely, we shall find that the planet again approaches the sun and becomes lost in his rays. Some days afterward, just before sunrise, we can see the same planet in the east, rising higher each morning, until its greatest elevation equals that which it before attained in the west. Thus the planet appears slowly but steadily to oscillate like a pendulum, to and fro, from one side to the other of the sun. The ancients, deceived by this puzzling movement, failed to discover the identity of the two stars, and called the morning star Apollo, the god of day, and the evening star Mercury, the god of thieves, who walk to and fro in the night-time seeking plunder, f
On account of the nearness of Mercury to the sun, it is difficult to be detected. | It is said that Copernicus, an old man of seventy, lamented in his last moments that, much as he had tried, he had never been able to see it. In our latitude and climate, we. can generally easily find it if we watch for it at the time of its greatest elongation, as commonly given in the almanac.
t The Greeks gave to Mercury the additional name of "The Sparkling One." The astrologists looked upon it as the malignant jilanet. The chemists, because of its extreme swiftness, applied the name to quicksilver. The most ancient account that we have of this planet is given by Ptolemy, in his Almagest ; he states its location on the 15th of November, 205 b. c. The Chinese also state that on June 9, llS a. d., it was near the Beehive, a cluster of stars in Cancer. Astronomers tell us tliat, according to the best calculations, it was at that date witliin less than 1° of that group.
Mercury. 73
orbit is the most eccentric (flattened) of any among the eight principal planets, so that, although when in perihelion it approaches to within about 28,000,000 miles, in aphelion it speeds away 15,000,000 miles further, or to the distance of over 43,000,000 miles. Being so near the sun, its motion in its orbit is correspondingly rapid, — viz., thirty miles per second.*
The Mercurial year comprises only about eightyeight days, or nearly three of our months. Mercury is thought to rotate upon its axis in about the same time as the earth, so that the length of the Mercurial day is nearly the same as that of the terrestrial one.
Though Mercury thus completes a sidereal revolution around the sun in eighty-eight days, yet to pass from one inferior or superior conjunction to the next (a synodic revolution) requires IIG days. The reason of this is, that when Mercury comes around again to the point of its last conjunction, the earth has gone forward, and it requires twenty-eight days for the planet to overtake us.
The Distance from the Earth varies still more than the distance from the sun. At inferior conjunction, Mercury is between the earth and the sun, and its distance from us is the difference between the distance of the earth and of the planet from the sun : at superior conjunction, it is the stun of these distances. Its apparent diameter in these different positions varies in the same proportion as the distance, or nearly three to one. The greatest and least
Dimensions. — Mercury is about 3,000 miles in diameter. Its volume is about ^V that of the earth — 1. e., it would require twenty globes as large as Mercury to make one the size of the earth, or 25,000,000 to equal the sun. It is \ denser than the earth, its mass is nearly ^V that of the earth, and a stone let drop upon its surface would fall 7^ feet the first second. Its specific gravity is not far from that of tin. A pound weight removed to Mercury would weigh only about seven ounces.
Seasons. — As Mercury's axis is much inclined from a perpendicular (perhaps 70°), its seasons are peculiar. There are no distinct frigid zones ; but large regions near the poles have six weeks of continuous day and torrid heat, alternating with a night of equal length and arctic cold. The sun shines perpendicularly upon the torrid zone only at the equinoxes, while he sinks far toward the southern horizon at one solstice, and as far toward the northern horizon at the other, t The equatorial regions, therefore, during each revolution, are modified in their temperature from torrid to temperate, and the tropical heat is experienced alternately toward the north and the south of what we call the temperate zones.
but each zone changes its character twice during the
* If at inferior conjunction Mercury is in aphelion and the earth in perihelion, its distance from us is only 91,500,000 — 43,000,000 = 48,500,000 miles. If at superior conjunction Mercury is in ai>helion and the earth in aphelion also, its distance from us is 94,500,000 + 4:i,000,000= 137,500,000 miles.
Mercurial year, or eight times during the terrestrial one. An inhabitant of Mercury must be accustomed to sudden and violent vicissitudes of temperature. At one time, the sun not only thus pours down its vertical rays, and in a few weeks after sinks far toward the horizon, but, on account of Mercury's
Orhit and Seasons of Mermiry.
elliptical orbit, when in perihelion the planet approaches so near the sun that the heat and light are ten times as great as ours, while in aphelion it recedes so as to reduce the amount to four and a half times. The average heat is about seven times that of the earth, — a temperature sufficient to turn water into steam, and even to melt zinc.
The relative length of the days and nights is much more variable than with us. The sun, apparently seven times as large as it seems to us, must be a magnificent spectacle, and illumine every object with insufferable brilliancy. The evening sky is, however, lighted by no moon.
Telescopic Features. — Through the telescope, Mercury presents all the phases of the moon, from a slender crescent to gibbous, after which its light is lost in that of the sun. These phases prove that Mercury is spherical, and shines by the light reflected from the sun. Being an inferior planet, we never see it when full, and hence the brightest, nor when nearest the earth, as then its dark side is turned toward us.
t)wing to the dazzling light, and the vapors almost always hanging around our horizon, this planet has not of late received much attention ; the data here given are mainly based upon the observations of the older astronomers, and are, therefore, not universally accepted. Mercury is thought by some to have a dense, cloudy atmosphere, that materially diminishes the intensity of its heat and, perhaps, makes it habitable, though others assert that the atmosphere is too insignificant to be detected. Some dark bands about the planet's equator indicate, perhaps, an equatorial zone. There are, also, lofty heights which intercept the light of the sun. and deep valleys plunged in shade. One mountain is claimed to be over eleven miles high, or about ^ the diameter of the planet.*
Description. — Venus, the next in order to Mercury, is the most brilliant of the planets.* She presents the same appearances as Mercury. Owing, however, to the larger size of her orbit, her greatest apparent oscillations are nearly 48° east and west of the sun,t or about 20^ more than those of Mercury. She is therefore seen much earlier in the morning and much later at night. She is morning star from inferior to superior conjunction, and evening star from superior to inferior conjunction.
Venus is the most brilliant about five weeks before and after inferior conjunction, at which time the planet is bright enough to cast a shadow at night. If, in addition, at this time of greatest brilliancy, Venus is at or near her highest north latitude, she may be seen with the naked eye in full daylight. ;}: This occurs once in eight years — the interval required for the earth and planet to return to the same situation in their orbits ; eight complete revolutions of the
orbit.
J Arago relates that Buonaparte, upon repairing to the Luxembourg, when the Directory was about to give him a fete, was much surprised at seeing the multitude paying more attention to the heavens above the palace than to him or his brilliant staff. Upon inquiry, he learned that these curious persons were observing with astonisliment a star which they supposed to be that of the Conqueror of Italy. The emperor himself was not inditfiirent when his piercing eye caught the clear lustre of Venus smiling upon him at midday.
as thirteen of Venus.
Motion in Space. — Venus has an orbit the most nearly circular of any of the principal planets. Her mean distance from the sun is about 67,000,000 miles, which varies at aphelion and perihelion 1,000,000 miles, — a contrast to Mercury, which varies 15,000,000 miles.
Venus makes a complete revolution around the sun in about 225 days, at the mean rate of twentytwo miles per second ; hence her year is equal to about seven and one-half of our months. This is a sidereal revolution, as it would appear to an observer at the sun ; a sijuodic re »'olution requires 584 days.
I\iercury, we remember, catches up with the earth in twenty-eignt days after it reaches the point where it left the earth at the last inferjr>r conjunction. But it takes Venus nearly two and a half revolutions to overtake the earth anu eome into the same conjunction again. This grows out of the fact that she has a longer orbit than Mercury, and moves only about one-sixth faster than the earth, while Mercury travels nearly twice as fast as our planet. Venus rotates upon her axis in about twenty-four hours ; so the length of her day does not differ essentially from ours.
Distance from the Earth. — Like that of Mercury, the distance of Venus from the earth, when in inferior conjunction, is the difference between the distances of the two planets from the sun ; when in superior conjunction, the sum of these distances.
miles away.
Figure 30 represents her apparent dimensions at the extreme, mean, and least distances from us. The variation is nearly as the numbers 10, 18, and 65. It would be natural to think that the planet is the brightest when the nearest, and thus the largest, but
we should remember that then the bright side is toward the sun, and the unillumined side toward us. Indeed, at the period of greatest brilliancy, of which we have spoken, only about one-fourth of her light is visible. At this time, however, observers have noticed the entire contour of the- planet to be of a dull gray hue, as seen in the cut.
Dimensions. — Venus is about 7, GOO miles in diameter. The volume and density of the planet are each about nine-tenths that of the earth. A stone let fall upon her surface would fall fourteen feet in the first
second : a pound weight removed to her equator would weigh about fourteen ounces. From this we see that the force of gravity does not decrease exactly in proportion to the size of the planet, any more than it increases with the size of the sun. The reason is, that the body is brought nearer the mass of the small planet, and so feels its attraction more fully than when far out upon the circumference of a large body, — the attraction increasing as the square of the distance from the particles decreases.
to those of Mercury. The torrid and temperate zones overlap each other, and the polar regions have, alternately, at one solstice a torrid temperature, and at the other a prolonged arctic cold. The inequality of the nights is very marked. The heat and light are
seasons.
If the inclination of her axis is 75°, as some astronomers hold, her tropics must be 75° from the equator, and her polar circles 75° from the poles. The torrid zone is, therefore, 150° in width. The torrid and frigid zones interlap through a space of 60", midway between the equator and the poles.
ring of light surrounded the black disk of the planet.
* This was discovered by Galileo, and was among the first achievements of his telescopic observations. It had been argued against the Copeniican system that, if true, Venus should wax and wane like the moon. Indeed, Copernicus himself boldly declared that, if means of seeing the jdanets more distinctly were ever invented, Venus would be found to present such phases. Galileo, with his telescope, proved this feet, ^pd thus vindicated the Copemican theory.
attending her crescent shape.
1. The luminous part does not end abruptly ; on the contrary, the light diminishes gradually. This diminution can be explained by a twilight caused by an atmosphere which diffuses the rays of light into regions of the planet where the sun is already set. Thus, on Venus, as on the earth, the evenings are lighted by twilight, and the mornings by dawn.
2. The edge of the enlightened portion of the planet is uneven and irregular. This appearance is doubtless the effect of shadows cast by mountains.
Spots have been noticed on her disk which are considered to be traceable to clouds. Herschel thinks that we never see the body of the planet, but only her atmosphere loaded with vapors, which may mitigate the glare of the intense sunshine.
The Earth is the next planet we meet in passing outward from the sun. To the beginner, it seems strange enough to class our world among the heavenly bodies. They are brilliant, while it is dark and opaque ; they appear light and airy, while it is solid 9,nd firm ,: we see in it no motion, while they ar^
THE EARTH.
constantly changing their position ; they seem mere points in the sky, while it is vast and extended. Yet, at the very beginning, we are to consider the
We are to learn that it is in motion, flying througli its orbit with inconceivable velocity ; that it is not fixed, but hangs in space, held by an invisible power of gravitation which it cannot evade ; * that it is small and insignificant beside the mighty globes that so gently shine upon us in the far-off sky ; that, in fact, it is only one atom in a universe of worlds, all firm and solid, and all, perhaps, equally fitted to be the abode of life.
Dimensions. — The earth is not "round like a ball," but flattened at the poles. Its form is that of an oblate spheroid. Its polar diameter is about 7,899 miles, and its equatorial about 7,925|. The compression is, therefore, 26| miles. (See table in Appendix.) If we represent the earth by a globe one yard in diameter, the polar diameter would be one-tenth of an inch too long. The circumference of the earth is nearly 25,000 miles. Its density is about 5 1 times that of water. Its weight is 6,069,000,000,000,000,000,000 tons.
The inequalities of the earth's surface, arising from valleys, mountains, etc., have been likened to the roughness on the rind of an orange. On a globe sixteen inches in diameter, the land, to be in proportion, should be represented by the thinnest writing paper, the hills by very fine grains of sand, and elevated ranges by thick drawing-paper. To represent the deepest wells or mines, a scratch should be made tha,t would be invisible except with a glass.
* Were the sun's attractive force upon the earth replaced by the largest steel telegraph wire, it would require nine wires for each square inch of the sunward side gf our plobe, to hold the earth in her orbit.
The Rotundity of the Earth is proved in various ways : (1) By the fact that vessels have sailed around the earth ; * (2) when a ship is coming into port, we see the masts first ; (3) the shadow of the earth on the moon is circular ; (4) the polar star seems higher in the heavens as we pass north ; and (5) th^ horizon expands as we ascend an eminence, f If we climb to the top of a hill, we can see further than when on the plain at its foot. Our eyesight is not improved ; it is only because ordinarily the curvature of the earth shuts off the view of distant objects, but when we ascend to a higher point, we can see further over the side of the earth. The curvature is eight inches per mile, 2^ x 8'"- = 32 inches for two miles, 3^ x 8'"- for three miles, etc. An object of these respective heights would be just hidden at these distances.
Apparent and Real Motion. — In endeavoring to understand the various appearances of the heavenly bodies, it is well to remember how in daily life we
* It is curious, in connection with this well-known fact, to recall the arguments urged by the Spanisli pliilosophers against the reasoning of Columbus, wlien he assured them that he could arrive at Asia just as certainly by sailing west as east. " How," they asl<ed, " can the earth be round ? If it were, then on the opposite side the min would fall upward, trees would grow with their brandies down, and everything would be topsy-turvy. Every object on its surface would certainly fall off, and if a ship by sailing west should get around there, it would never be able to climb up the side of the earth and get back again. How can a ship sail up hill ? "
t " The history of aeronautic adventure affords a curious illustration of this same principle. The late Mr. Sadler, the celebrated aeronaut, ascended on one occasion in a balloon from Dublin, and was wafted across the Irish Channel, when, on his approach to the Welsh coast, the balloon descended nearly to the surface of the sea. By this time the sun was set, and the shades of evening began to close in. He threw out nearly all his ballast, and suddenly sprang upward to a great height, and by so doing brought his horizon to dip below the sun, producing tlie whole phenomenon of a western sunrise. Subsequently descending in Wales, he, of course, witnessed a second sunset on the sa:ue avening."
transfer motion. On the cars, when in rapid movement, the fences and the trees seem to gUde by us, ■while we sit still and see them pass. On a bridge, when we are at rest, we watch the undulations of the waves, until at last we come to think that they are stationary and we are sweeping up the stream.
' ' In the cabin of a large Tcssel going smoothly before the ^vind on still water, or drawn along a canal, not the smallest indication acquaints us with the ' way it is making. ' We read, sit, walk, as if we were on land. If we throw a ball into the air, it falls back into our hand ; if we drop it, it alights at our feet. Insects buzz around us as in the free air, and smoke ascends in the same manner as it would do in an apartment on shore. If, indeed, we come on deck, the case is in some respects different ; the air, not being carried along with us, drifts away smoke and other light bodies, such as feathers cast upon it, apparently in the opposite direction to that of the ship's progress ; but in reality they remain at rest, and we leave them behind in the air. And what is the earth itself but the good ship we are sailing in tlirough the universe, bound round the sun ; and as we sit here in one of the ' berths,' we are unconscious of there being any ' way ' at all upon the vessel. On deck, too, out in the open air, it's aU the same so long as we keep our eyes on the ship ; but immediately we look over the sides — and the horizon is but the ' gunwale ' of our vessel — we see the blue tide of the great ocean around us go drifting by the ship, and sparkling with its million stars as the waters of the sea itself sparkle at night between the tropics."
Diurnal Rotation of the Earth aroimd its Axis. — The earth, in constantly turning from west to east, elevates our hcirizon above the stars on the west, and depresses it below the stars on the east. As the horizon appears to us to be stationary, we assign the motion to the stars, thinking those on the west, which it passes over and hides, to have sunk below it, or set J and imagining those on the east, below which
it has dropped, to have moved above it, or risen. So, also, the horizon is depressed below the sun, and we call it sunrise ; it is elevated above the sun, and we call it sunset.
We thus see that the diurnal movement of the sun by day and the stars by night is an optical illusion, — that here as elsewhere we simply transfer motion. This seems easy enough for us to understand ; but it was the "stone of stumbling" to ancient astronomers for thousands of years. Copernicus himself, it is said, first thought of the true solution while riding on a vessel and noticing how he insensibly transferred the movement of the ship to the objects on the shore. How much grander the beautiful simplicity of this system than the cumbersome complexity of the old Ptolemaic belief !
Diurnal Motion of the Sun. — The explanation just given illustrates the apparent motion of the sun, and the cause of day and night. Suppose S to be the sun. The earth, E, turning upon its axis EF from
west to east, has only half its surface illuminated at one time by the sun. To a person at D, the sun is in the horizon and day commences, that luminary ap-
pearing to rise higher and higher, with a westerly motion, as the observer is carried forward easterly by the earth's diurnal rotation to A, where he has the sun in his meridian, and it is consequently noon. The sun then begins to decline in the sky until the spectator arrives at B. where it sets, or is again in the horizon on the west side, and night begins. He moves on to C, which marks his position at midnight, the sun being then on the meridian of places on the opposite part of the earth, and he is brought round again to D, the point of sunrise, when another day commences.
Unequal Rate of Diurnal Motion. — Different points upon the surface of the earth revolve with different velocities. At the poles the speed of rotation is nothing, while at the equator it is greatest, or over 1,000 miles per hour. At Quito, the circle of latitude is much longer than the one at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, and the velocities vary in the same proportion. The former place moves at the rate of about 1,038 miles per hour : the latter, 682 miles. In our latitude (41°) the speed is about 780 miles per hour. We do not perceive this wonderful velocity with which we are flying through the ether, because the atmosphere moves with us.*
terrible shock would, without doubt, destroy the
* " An ingenious inventor once suggested that we should utilize the earth's rotation, as the most simple and economical, as well as rapid mode of locomotion that could be conceived. This was to be accomplished by rising in a balloon to a height inaccessible to aerial currents. The balloon, remaining immovable in this calm region, would simply await the moment when the earth, rotating underneath, should present the place of destination to the eyes of travelers who would then descend. A well-regulated watch and an exact knowledge of longitude would thus render traveling jiossible fh^m
entire race of man ; while we, with houses, trees, rocks, and even the oceans, would be hurled, in one confused mass, headlong into space. On the other hand, were the rate of rotation to increase, the length of the day would be proportionately shortened, and the weight of all bodies decreased by the centrifugal force thus produced. If the rotary movement should become swift enough to reduce the day to eighty-four minutes, the force of gravity would be overcome, and, at the equator, all bodies would be without weight; if the speed were still further increased, loose bodies would fly off from the earth like water from a swiftly-turned grindstone, while we should be compelled constantly to "hold on" to avoid sharing the same fate.* But against such a catastrophe we are assured by the immutability of God's laws. " He is the same yesterday, to-day, / and forever."
Unequal Diurnal Orbits of the Stars. — In figure 35, let O represent our position on the earth's surface ; E Z B, our meridian ; E I B K, our horizon ; P and P', the north and south poles ; Z, the zenith ;
east to west, all voyages north or south being interdicted. Tliis suggestion has only one fault ; it supposes that the atmospherio strata do not revolve with the earth. Upon tliat hypothesis, since we rotate (at London) with the velocity of 8:33 yards in a second, there would result a wind in the contrary direction ten times more violent than the most terrible hurricane. Is not the absence of such a state of things a convincing proof of the participation of the atmospheric envelope in the general movement?" —
GUILLEMIN.
* Laplace concluded in 1709 that the inequalities of the earth's rotation were too insignificant for measurement. But, more recently. Delaunay has shown from the moon's acceleration that a minute change, caused by the friction of the sea and atmosphere upon the earth's surface, has taken place, producing a variation in the length of the day.
The acceleration of the moon in its path, is, however, only seven feet per century, or less than an inch per annum, and the time of the earth's rotation has increased but xHeo of ^ second in 2,400 years.— B.ill.
Z . the nadir : aud G I C K the celestial equator. Now P B, it will be seen, is the elevation of the north pole above the horizon, or the latitude of the place.
Suppose we should see a star at A, on the meridian below the pole. The earth revolves in the direction G I C ; the star will therefore move along A L to Z, when it is on the meridian above the pole. It continues its course along the dotted line around to A again, when it is on the meridian below the pole, having made a complete circuit around the pole, but not having descended below our horizon.
A star rising at B would just touch the horizon ; one at I would move on the celestial equator, and would be above the horizon as long a time as it is below, — twelve hours in each case : a star rising at M would come just above the horizon and set again at N.
Unequal Diurnal Velocities of the Stars. — The stars appear to us to be set in a concave shell which revolves daily about the earth. As different parts of the earth really rotate with varying velocities, so the stars appear to revolve at different rates of speed. Those near the pole, having a small orbit, revolve very slowly, while those near the celestial equator move at the greatest speed.
Appearance of the Stars at Different Places ON the Earth. — Were we placed at the north pole, Polaris would be directly overhead, and the stars would seem to pass around us in circles parallel to the horizon, and increasing in diameter from the upper to the lower ones. Were we placed at the equator, the pole-star would be at the horizon, and the stars would move in circles perpendicular to the horizon, and decreasing in diameter, north and south from those in the zenith, while we could see one half of the path of each star. Were we placed in the southern hemisphere, the circumpolar stars would revolve about the south pole, and the others in circles resembling those in our sky, only the points of direction would be reversed to correspond with the pole. Were we placed at the south pole, the appearance would be the same as at the north pole, except that no star is there to mark the direction of the earth's axis.
Motion of the Earth in Space about the Sun. — The earth revolves in an elliptical path about the sun at a mean distance of 93,000,000 miles.
To^FFo per century. The orbit would, therefore, finally become circular, were it not that, after the lapse of some thousands of years, the eccentricity will begin to increase again, and will thus vary through all time within definite, although yet undetermined limits. The circumference is nearl}" 600,000,000 miles, and the earth pursues this wonderful journey at the rate of over eighteen miles per second.
proceed to speak.
1. Change in the Appearance of the Heavens IN Different Months. — In Fig. 36, suppose A B C D to be the orbit of the earth, and E F G H the sphere of the fixed stars, surrounding the sun in every direction. When our globe is at A, the stars about E are on the meridian at midnight. Being seen from the earth in the quarter opposite to the sun, they are favorably placed for observation. The stars at G, on the contrary, will be invisible, for the sun intervenes between them and the earth : they are on the meridian of the spectator about the same time as the sun, and are hidden in his rays.
In three months, the earth has passed over onefourth of its orbit, and has arrived at B. Stars about F now appear on the meridian at midnight ; those at E, which previously occupied their places, have descended toward the west ; while those about G are just coming into sight in the east.
stars at E are on the meridian at noon, and consequently hidden in daylight ; and those about H are just making their appearance in the east. One revolution of the earth will bring the same stars again on the meridian at midnight.
2. Yearly Path of the Sun Through the Heavens. — We have spoken of the diurnal motion of the sun. We shall now speak of its second apparent motion, its yearly path among the stars, — the ecliptic* If we look at Fig. 37, we can see how the motion of the earth in its orbit is transferred to the sun, and causes him to appear to travel in a fixed path through the heavens. When the earth is in any part of its orbit, the sun seems to us to be in the point directly opposite. For example, when the earth is in Libra (=^)t — autumnal equinox — the sun is in Aries (T) — vernal equinox; when the sun enters the next sign, Taurus (d), the earth has passed on to Scorpio (m). Thus, as the earth moves through her orbit, the sun seems to pass along the opposite side of the ecliptic, making the circuit of the heavens in a year, and returning, at the end of that time, to the same place among the stars. The ecliptic crosses the celestial equator at two points, called the equinoxes. (See page 30).
* Tliis yearly movement of the sun among the fixed stars is not so apparent to us as his daily motion, because his superior light blots out the stars. But if we notice a star at the western horizon just at sunset, we can tell what constellation the sun is in : then wait two or three nights, and we shall find that this star has set, and others have taken its jilace. Thus we can trace the sun through the year in his path among the fixed stars in the horizon.
t When we say " the earth is in Libra," we mean that a spectator placed at the sun would see the earth in that part of the heavens which is occupied by the sign Libra, while a spectator on the earth would see the sun, at the same time, in that part of the heavens which is occupied by the sign Aries. Just so, on June 21st, the earth enters Capricorn, and the sun, Cancer. It is customary, however, having reference solely to the sun's place, to locate the vernal equinox in Aries, and the autumnal equinox in Libra ; the summer solstice in Cancer, and the winter solstice in Capricorn. In figure 37, the terms "summer solstice," "autumnal equinox," etc., refer to the season upon the earth, and to the location of the sun in the ecliptic, but are not the names of those points on tlie earth's orbit. The zodiacal signs are inserted for convenience of illustration, to show where the earth would be located by a solar spectator : the pupil should remember, however, that the signs belong to the ecliptic— which is the projection of the plane of the earth's orbit upon the celestial sphere, and not to the earth's path.
3. Apparent Movement of the Sun, North and HouTH. — Having now spoken of the apparent diurnal and annual motions of the sun, tliere yet remains a third motion. In summer, at midday, the sun is high in the heavens ; in winter, he is low, near the southern horizon. In summer, he is a long time above the horizon ; in winter, a short time. In summer, he rises and sets north of the east and west points ; in winter, south of the east and west points. This subject is so intimately connected with the next, that we shall understand it best when taken in connection with that topic.
4. Change of the Seasons. Variation in Length OP Day and Night.— By studying Fig. 37, and imagining the various positions of the earth in its orbit, let us try to understand the following points :
I. Obliquity of the ecliptic. — The axis of the earth is inclined 23^° from a perpendicular to its orbit. This angle is called the obliquity of the ecliptic.
II. Parallelism of the axis. — In all parts of the orbit, the axis of the earth is parallel to itself, and points almost exactly toward the North Star (p. 217).
Nature reveals to us nothing more permanent than the axis of rotation in anything that is rapidly turned. It is its rotation that keeps a boy's hoop from falling. For the same reason, a quoit retains its direction when whirled, and stays in the same plane at whatever angle it may be thrown. A man slating a roof wishes to throw a slate to the ground ; he whirls it perpendicularly, and it will strike on the edge without breaking. So long as a top spins there
is no danger of its falling, since its tendency to keep its axis of rotation parallel is greater than the attraction of the earth. This wonderful law would lead us to think that the axis of the earth always points in the same direction, even if we did not know it from direct observation,
III. The rays of the sun strike the various portions of the earth, when in any position, at different angles. — When the earth is in Libra, and also when in Aries, the sun's rays strike vertically at the equator, and more and more obliquely in the northern and southern hemispheres, as the distance from the equator increases, until at the poles they strike almost horizontally.
This variation in the direction of the rays produces a corresponding variation in the intensity of the sun's heat and light at different places, and accounts for the difference between the torrid and polar regions.
IV. As the earth changes its position the angle at which the rays strike any portion is varied. — Take the earth when it is in Capricornus (V5) and the sun in Cancer (s). He is now overhead, 23|° iiorth of the equator. His rays strike less obliquely in the northern hemisphere than when the earth was in Libra, Let six months elapse : the earth is now in Cancer and the sun in Capricornus ; and he is overhead, 23J° south of the equator. His rays strike less obliquely in the southern hemisphere than before, but in the northern hemisphere more obliquely. These six months have changed the direction of the sun's rays on every part of the earth's surface. This
\V. Equinoxes. — At the equinoxes, one half of each hemispht3re is illuminated : hence the name Equinox {cequtis, equal ; and 7iox, night). At these points of the orbit, the days and nights are equal over the entire earth, f each being twelve hours in length.
VI. Xorthern and soiitheiii hemispheres unequally illuminated. — While one-half of the earth is constantly illuminated, the proportion of the northern or the southern hemisphere that is in daylight or darkness varies at all times, except at the equinoxes. When more than half of a hemisphere is in the light, its days are longer than the nights, and vice versa.
VII. The seasons and the comparative length of the days and nights in the South Temperate Zone, at any time, are the reverse of those in the North Temperate Zone, except at the Equinoxes, ichen the days and nights are of equal length.
VIII. Tlie Summer Solstice. — At the time of the summer solstice, which occurs about the 21st of June, the sun is overhead 23V" north of the equator, and if his vertical rays could leave a golden line on the surface of the earth as it rotates, they would mark the Tropic of Cancer, The sun is at its furthest northern declination ; he ascends the highest he is ever seen above our horizon, and rises and sets north of the east and west points. He seems now to stand still in his northern and southern course.
♦ The long nights and short days of winter, and the sliort nights and long days of summer, are also important factors in producing this difference of temperature, t Except a small space at each pole.
and hence the name Solstice {sol, the sun ; sto, I stand). The days in the north temperate zone are longer than the nights. It is our summer, and the 21st of June is the longest day of the year.
In the south temperate zone it is winter, and the shortest day of the year. The circle that separates day from night extends 23|° beyond the north pole, and if the sun's rays could in like manner leave a golden line on that day, they would trace on the earth the Arctic Circle. It is the noon of the long six-months polar day. The reverse is true at the Antarctic Circle, and it is there the midnight of the long six-months polar night (p. 117).
IX. The Autumnal Equinox. — The earth crosses the aphelion point about the 1st of July. It is then at its furthest distance from the sun, which each day rises and sets a trifle further toward the south, passing through a lower circuit in the heavens. At the time of the autumnal equinox,* the 22nd of September, he is on the equinoctial, and if his vertical rays could leave a line of golden light, they would mark on the earth the circle of the equator. It is autumn in the north temperate zone and spring in the south temperate zone. The days and nights are equal over the whole earth, the sun rising at 6 A.M. and setting at G p.m., exactly in the east and the west, where the equinoctial intersects the horizon.
X. TJie Winter Solstice. — The sun after passing the equinoctial — "crossing the line" — sinks lower toward the southern horizon each day. At the
time of the winter solstice, about the 21st of December, the sun is directly overhead 23|^° south of the equator, and if his vertical rays could leave a line of golden light, they would mark on the earth's surface the Tropic of Capricorn. He is at his furthest southern declination, and rises and sets south of the east and west points. It is our winter, and the 21st of December is the shortest day of the year.
In the south temperate zone it is summer, and the longest day of the year. The circle that separates day from night extends 23^° beyond the south pole, and if the sun's rays in like manner could leave a line of golden light, they would mark the Antarctic Circle. It is there the noon of the long six-months polar day. At the Arctic Circle the reverse is true ; the rays fall 23|^° short of the north pole, and it is there the midnight of the long six-months polar night. Here again the sun appears to us to stand still a day or two before retracing his course, and it is therefore called the Winter Solstice.
XI, The Vernal Equinox. — The earth reaches its perihelion about the 31st of December. It is then nearest the sun, which rises and sets each day further and further north, and climbs up higher in the heavens at midday. Our days gradually increase in length, and our nights shorten in the same proportion. About the 21st of March the sun reaches the equinoctial, at the vernal equinox. He is overhead at the equator, and the days and nights are again equal. It is our spring, but in the south temperate zone it is autumn.
its orbit through the spring and the summer months. The sun continues his northerly course, ascending each day higher in the heavens, and his rays becoming less and less oblique. About the 21st of June, he again reaches his furthest northern declination, and is at the summer solstice.
We have thus traced the yearly path, and noticed the course of the changing seasons, with the length of the days and nights. The same series has been repeated through the ages of the past, and will be through the future till time shall be no more.
XIII. Distance of the earth from the sun varies. — We notice, from what we have just seen, that we are nearer the sun in winter than in summer by 3,000,000 miles. The obliqueness with which the rays strike the north temperate zone at that time prevents our receiving any special benefit from this favorable position of the earth.
XIV. Southern summer. — The inhabitants of the south temperate zone have their summer while the earth is in perihelion, and the sun's rays are about ^V warmer than when in aphelion, our summer-time. This will perhaps partly account for the extreme heat of their season.* The southern winters, for a similar reason, are colder ; and this makes the average yearly temperature about the same as ours.
XV. Extremes of heat and cold not at the solstices. — We do not have our greatest heat at the time of the summer solstice, nor our greatest cold at the winter
* Captain Sturt, in speaking of tlie extreme heat of Australia, says tliat niatclies accidentally dropped on the ground were ignited. A recent official rejicrt states that, in South Australia, January. 188:1, the heat, in the sun, was 180°— only 32° below the boiling-point-
solstice. After the 21st of June, the earth, already warmed by the genial spring days, continues to receive more heat from the sun by day than it radiates by night : thus its temperature still increases. On the other hand, after the 21st of December, the earth continues to become colder, because it loses more heat during the night than it receives during the day.
XVI. Summer longer than icinter. — As the sun is not in the center of the earth's orbit, but at one of its foci, the earth, from the time of the vernal to that of the autumnal equinox, passes through more than one-half of its orbit. The summer is, therefore, longer than the winter. The difference is enhanced by the variation in the earth's velocity at aphelion and at perihelion.
XVII. Varying velocity of earth. — From the time of the vernal equinox until the earth passes its aphelion, the solar attraction tends to check its speed ; thence until the time of the autumnal equinox, the attraction is partly in the direction of its motion, and so increases its velocity. The same principle applies when going to and from perihelion.
XYIII. Curious appearance of the smi at the north jxilc. — " To a person standing at the north pole, the sun appears to sweep horizontally around the sky every twenty-four hours, witliout any perceptible variation in its distance from the horizon. It is, however, slowly lising, until, on the 21st of June, it is t\\'enty-three degrees and twenty-eight minutes above the horizon, a little more than one-fourth of the distance to the zenith. This is the highest point it ever reaches. From this altitude, it slowly descends, its track being represented by a spiral or screw with a very fine thread ; and in the course of three months it worms its way down to the horizon, which it reaches on the 22nd of September. On this day it slowly sweej^
around the sky, with its face half hidden below the icy sea. It still continues to descend, and after it has entirely disappeared it is still so near the horizon that it carries a bright twilight around the heavens in its daily circuit. As the sun sinks lower and lower, this twilight grows gradually fainter, till it fades away. December 21st, the sun is 23^° below the horizon, and this is the midnight of the dark polar winter. From this date, the sun begins to ascend, and after a time it is heralded by a faint dawn, which circles slowly around tlie horizon, completing its circuit every twenty-four hours. This dawn grows gradually brighter, and on the 22nd of March the peaks of ice are gilded with the first level rays of the sixmonths day. The bringer of this long day continues to wind his spiral way upward, till he reaches his highest place on the 21st of June, and his annual course is completed."
XIX. Results, if the axis of the earth were perpendicular to the ecliptic. — The sun would then always appear to move through the equinoctial. He would rise and set every day at the same points on the horizon, and pass through the same circle in the heavens, while the days and nights would be equal the year round. There Avould be near the equator a fierce torrid heat, while north and south the climate would change into temperate spring, and, lastly, into the rigors of a perpetual winter.
XX. Results, if the equator of the earth ivere perpendicular to the ecliptic. — Were this the case, to a spectator at the equator, as the sun leaves the vernal equinox, he would each day pass through a smaller circle, until at the summer solstice he would reach the north pole, when he would halt for a time, and then slowly return in an inverse manner.
past the north pole further and further, until we were included in the region of perpetual day, when he would seem to wind in a spiral course up to the north pole, and then return in a descending curve to the equator.
Precession of the Equinoxes. — We have spoken of the equinoxes as if they were stationary. Over two thousand years ago, Hipparchus (see page 8) found that they are slowly falling back along the ecliptic. Modern astronomers fix the rate at about 50" of space annually. If we mark either point in the ecliptic where the days and nights are equal over the earth — at which time the plane of the earth's equator passes exactly through the center of the sun— we shall find the sun comes back to that position the next year, 50" (50 m. 20 s. of time) earlier. This remarkable effect is called the Precession of the Equinoxes, because the position of the equinoxes in any year precedes that which they occupied the year before. Since the circle of the ecliptic is divided into 360^, it follows that the time occupied by the equinoctial points in making a complete revolution at the rate of 50".2 per year is 25,817 years.
Results of the Precession of the Equinoxes. — In Fig. 37, we see that the plane of the earth's equator is inclined to that of the ecliptic. In order that the plane of the terrestrial equator should pass through the sun's center 50" earlier, it is necessary that the plane itself should slightly change its place. The axis of the earth is always perpendicular to this plane, hence it follows that the axis is not rigorously parallel to itself. It varies in direction^ so that;
To illustrate this, let us suppose that, after a series of years, the position of the earth's equator has changed from efh to g Kl (Fig. 38). The inclination of the axis of the earth, CP, to CQ, the pole of the ecliptic, remains unchanged ; but as it must kirn
with the equator, its position is moved from CP to CP', and the pole of the earth slowly traces the portion of a circle, PP'. The direction of this motion is the same as that of the hands of a watch, or the reverse of the revolution of the earth. The position of the north pole in the heavens is gradually but almost insensibly changing. It is now distant from the north polar star about 1\°. It will continue to approach it
until they are not more than half a degree apart. In 12,000 years, Lyra will be our polar star : 4,500 years ago the polar star was the bright star Alpha in the constellation Draco. (See p. 217).
As the right ascension of the stars is reckoned eastward from the vernal equinox along the equinoctial, the precession of the equinoxes increases the R. A. of the stars 50" per year. On this account, star maps should be accompanied by the date of their calculation, that they may be corrected to correspond Avith this annual variation.
The constellations of the zodiac (see p. 31) are fixed in the heavens, while the signs are simply abstract divisions which move with the equinox. When named, the sun was in both the sign and the constellation Aries, at the time of the vernal equinox ; but since then the equinoxes liave retrograded nearly a whole sign, so that now, while the vernal equinox is in the»sign Aries, this sign corresponds to the constellation Pisces, which is therefore the first constellation in the zodiac (Fig. 86).
Causes of the Precession of the Equinoxes.— Before commencing the explanation of this phenomenon, it is necessary to impress upon the mind a few facts. (1.) The earth is n^)t a perfect sphere, but is swollen at the equator. It is like a sphere covered with padding, increasing in thickness from the poles to the equator ; this gives it a turnip-like shape. (2.) The attraction of the sun is greater the nearer a body is to it. (3.) The attraction is not for the earth as a mass, but for each particle separately.
of the winter solstice is represented. P is the north pole ; a b, the plane of the ecliptic ; C, the center of the earth ; C Q, a line perpendicular to the ecliptic ; the angle Q C P, the obliquity of the ecliptic. In this position, the equatorial padding of which we have spoken — the ring of matter about the equator — is not turned exactly toward the sun, but is elevated above it. Now the attraction of the sun pulls the part D more strongly than the center ; the tendency of this
is to bring D down to a, and to lift I toward b. The attraction for C is greater than for I, so it tends to draw C away from I, and, as at the same time D tends toward a, to pull I up toward b. The effect of this, one would think, would be to change the inclination of the axis C P toward C Q, and make it more nearly perpendicular to the ecliptic. This would be the result if the earth were not rotating upon its axis.
Let us consider the case of a mountain near the equator. This, if the sun did not act upon it, would pass through the curve H D E in the course of a semi-rotation of the earth. But, it is nearer the sun
than is the center C ; the attraction therefore tends to pull the mountain downward and tilt the earth over, as we have just described ; so the mountain will pass through the curve H/g, and, instead of crossing the ecliptic at E, will cross at g, a little sooner than it otherwise would. The same influence, though in a less degree, obtains on the opposite side of the earth. The mountain passes around the earth in a curve nearer to h, and crosses the ecliptic a little earlier.
The same reasoning will apply to each mountain and to all the jjrotuberant mass near the equatorial regions. The final effect is slightly to turn the earth's equator so that it intersects the ecliptic sooner than it would were, it not for this attraction. At the summer solstice, the same tilting motion is produced. At the equinoxes, the plane of the earth's equator passes through the center of the sun, and therefore there is no tendency to change of position. As the axis C P must move with the equator, it slowly revolves, keeping its inclination unchanged, around C Q, the pole of the ecliptic, describing, in about 2G,000 years, a small circle twice 23^° in diameter.
Precession illustrated in the spinning of a top. — This motion of the earth's axis is singularly illustrated in the spinning of a top, and the more so because the forces are of an opposite character to those which act on the earth, and thus produce an opposite effect. We have seen that, if the earth had no rotation, the sun's attraction on the "padding" at the equator would bring C P nearer to C Q, but
that, in consequence of this rotation, the effect really produced, is that C P, the earth's axis, slowly revolves around C Q, the pole of the heavens, in a direction opposite to that of rotation.
tarded by friction), and so C P slowly revolves around C Q in the same direction as that of rotation. -^Nutation {nutatio, a nodding). — We have noticed the sun as producing precession ; the moon has, however, treble his influence ; for although her mass is not ^-^.ooV.o-ro part that of the sun, yet she is 400 times nearer and her effect correspondingly greater.* The moon's orbit does not lie parallel to the ecliptic, but is inclined to it. Now the sun attracts the moon, and disturbs its path, as he would that of the mountain we have supposed, and the effect is the same. The intersections of the moon's orbit with the ecliptic travel backward, completing a revolution in about 18 years.
During half of this time, the moon's orbit is inclined to the ecliptic in the same way as the earth's equator ; during the other half, it is inclined in the opposite way. In the former state, the moon's attractive tendency to tilt the earth is very small, and the precession is slow ; in the latter, the tendency is great, and precession goes on
ecliptic, which we consider 23| (23° 27' 15", Jan. 1, 1884. See p. 29), is the mean of the irregularly curved line and is represented by the dotted circle.
Periodical change in the obliquity of the ECLIPTIC. — Although it is sufficiently near for all general purposes to consider the obliquity of the ecliptic invariable, yet this is not strictly the case. It is subject to a small but appreciable variation of about 46" per century. This is caused by a slow change of the position of the earth's orbit, due to the attraction of the planets. The effect of this movement is gradually to diminish the inclination of the earth's equator to the ecliptic (the obliquity of the ecliptic). This will continue for a time, when the angle will as gradually increase ; the extreme limit of change being only 1° 21'. The orbit of the earth
requiring a period of 10,000 years.
The change is so intimately blended, in its effect upon the obliquity of the ecliptic, with that caused by precession and nutation, that they are separable only in theory ; in fact, they all combine to produce the waving motion we have already described. As a consequence of this variation in the obliquity of the ecliptic, the sun does not now come so far north nor decline so far south as formerly ; while the position of all the terrestrial circles — the Troj)ics of Cancer, Capricorn, etc. — is constantly but slowly changing. As the result of this variation in the position of the orbit, some stars which were once just south of the ecliptic are now north of it, and others that were just north are now a little further north ; thus the latitude of these stars is gradually changing.
Change in the major axis (line of apsides) of THE earth's orbit. — Besides all the changes in the position of the earth in its orbit due to precession, etc., the line connecting the aphelion and perihelion points of the orbit itself is slowly revolving. The consequence of this is a variation in the length of the seasons at different periods of time.
In the year 3958 b.c, the earth was in perihelion at the time of the autumnal equinox, so that the summer and autumn seasons were of equal length, but shorter than the winter and spring seasons, which were also equal. *
* Tliere is much (liscreiiancy in the views held concerning tlie Great Year of llie a.stnmomers, as it is often called. (See Steele's Geology, pp. 272-3, note.) The statement made in the text is that held by Loekyer, Hind, and others. The dates are those given hy Chambers in his Descriptive Astronomy (3rd Edition), where the subject is fully described.
In the year 1267 A.D., the earth was in j^erihelion at the time o^ the winter solstice, December 21, instead of January 1st, as now ; the spring quarter was therefore equal to the summer one, and the autumn quarter to the winter one, the former being the longer. In the year 6493 A. D. , the earth will be in perihelion at the time of the vernal equinox ; summer will then be equal to autumn and winter to spring, the former seasons being the longer. In the year 11719 A.D., the earth will be in perihelion at the time of the summer solstice : finally, in 16945 A.D., the cycle will be completed.and the autumnal equinox will again coincide with the earth's perihelion.
Permanence in the Midst of Change. — We thus see that the ecliptic is constantly modifying its elliptical shape ; that the orbit of the earth slowly oscillates upward and downward : that the north pole steadily turns its long index-finger over a dial that marks 26.000 years ; that the earth, accurately poised in space, gently nods and bows to the attraction of sun, moon, and planets. * Thus changes are taking place that would ultimately entirely reverse the order of nature. But each of these variations has its bounds, beyond which it cannot pass. The promise made to man is that, ''while the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease." The modern discoveries of astronomy prove conclusively that the seasons are to be permanent ; that the Creator, amid all these transitions, has ordained the means of carrying out His promise through all time.
♦ These oscillations extend throughout the whole planetary system, the j^erioda varjing from 50,000 to 2,000,000 years. " Great clocks of eternity, which beat ages as ours beat seconds." — Kewcomb's Astronomy, page 95.
Befraction.
exceedingly rare. The rays of light from the heavenly bodies passing through these different layers are turned downward toward a perpendicular more and more as the density increases. According to a well-known law of optics (Physics, p. 150), if the ray of light from a star were bent in fifty directions before entering the eye, the star would nevertheless appear to be in the line of the one nearest the eye. The effect of this is, that the apparent place of a heavenly body is higher than the true place. The sun at S (Fig. 42), were it not for the atmosphere, would send a direct ray to L. Instead, the ray at A is refracted downward, and would then enter the eye at N ; passing, however, through a layer of a (iif-
ferent density at B, it is again bent, and meets the eye of the observer at C. He sees the sun, not in the direction of the curved line C B A S, but in that of the straight line C B SI
The amount of refraction varies with the temperature, moisture, and other conditions of the atmosphere. It is zero for a body in the zenith, and increases gradually toward the horizon (as the thickness of the intervening atmosphere increases), where it is sometimes as much as 35'.
Change of Place and Appearance of the Sun AND. THE Moon. — The sun may be really below the horizon, and yet seem to be above it. For example, on April 20, 1837, the moon was eclipsed before the sun had set. The mean diameter of both the sun and the moon being about half a degree, it follows that when we see the lower edge of either of these luminaries apparently just touching the horizon, in
reality the whole disk is beloiv it, and would be hidden were it not for the refraction. The day is consequently materially lengthened.
Dejonnation qf tlie, Sun near tJie Horizon.
The sun and the moon often ai^^^ear flattened when near the horizon. The rays from the lower edge pass through a denser layer of the atmosphere, and are therefore refracted more than those from the upper edge : the effect of this is to make the vertical diameter appear less than the horizontal, and so to distort the figure of the disk into an oval shape.
The dim and hazy appearance of the heavenly bodies when near the horizon is caused not only by the rays of light having to pass a greater distance through the atmosphere, but also by their traversing the denser part. The intensity of the solar light is so greatly diminished by going through the lower strata, that we are then enabled to look upon the s\in without being dazzled by his brilliant beams.
Twilight. — The glow of light after sunset and before sunrise, which we term twilight, is caused by the refraction and the reflection of the sun's rays by the atmosphere. For a time after the sun has really set, the refracted rays continue to reach the earth ; but when these have ceased, he still illuminates the clouds and upper strata of the air, just as he may be seen shining on the summits of lofty mountains long after he has disappeared from the view of the inhabitants of the plains below. The air and clouds thus illuminated reflect back a part of the light to the earth. As the sun sinks lower, less light reaches us, until reflection ceases and night ensues. The same thing occurs before sunrise, only in reverse order.
Twilight is usually reckoned to last until the depression of the sun below the horizon amounts to 18° ; this, however, varies with the latitude,* seasons, and condition of the atmosphere. In the latitude of New York, twilight lasts from 1| to 2 hours, the shortest twilight being in winter, and the longest in summer. Strictly speaking, in the latitude of Greenwich there is no true night for a month before and after the summer solstice, but constant twilight from sunset to sunrise. The sun is then near the Tropic of Cancer, and does not descend so much as 18° below the horizon during the entire nigi>t. At the equator the length of the evening twilight is about 1^ hours, and remains almost con-
* When the sun's patli is very oblique to the horizon, a longer time is required for the sun to descend or ascend the requisite vertical distance of IS" from the horizon j and a shorter time, when his path is niore nearly perpendicular.
stant the entire year. The twilight is longest toward the poles, where the night of six months is shortened by an evening twilight of about fifty days and a morning one of equal length.
Diffused Light, — The diffused light of day is produced in the same manner as that of twilight. The atmosphere reflects and scatters the sunlight in every direction. Were it not for this, no object would be visible to us out of direct sunshine ; every shadow of a passing cloud would be pitchy darkness ; the stars would be visible all day ; no window would admit light except as the sun shone directly through it, and a man would require a lantern to go around his house at noon.
The blue light reflected to our eyes from the atmosphere above us, or, more correctly, from the vapor in the air, produces the optical illusion we call the sky. Were it not for this, every time we cast our eyes upward we should feel like one gazing over a dizzy precipice ; while now the crystal dome of blue smiles down upon us so lovingly and beautifully that we call it heaven.
Aberration of Light. — We have seen that the places of the heavenly bodies are apparently changed by refraction. Besides this, there is another change due to the motion of light combined with the motion of the earth in its orbit. For example : the mean distance of the earth from the sun is about 93,000,000 miles, and since light travels a little over 186,000 miles per second, it follows that the time occupied by a ray of light in reaching us from the sun is about 8^ min. (8 min. 18 sec.) ; so that, in fact,
(1), we do not see the sun as it is, but as it was 8| minutes ago. And since, during this time, the earth has moved in its orbit about 20|" (2), we do not see that luminary in the exact place it occupies at the time of observation.
Illustration. — Suppose a ball let fall from a point P, above the horizontal line A B, and a tube, of which A is the lower extremity, placed to receive it.
AberrcUion of Light.
If the tube were fixed, the ball would strike it on the lower side ; but if the tube were carried forward in the direction A B, with a velocity properly adjusted at every instant to that of the ball, while preserving its inclination to the horizon, so that when the ball, in its natural descent, reached B, the tube would have been carried into the position B Q, it is evident that the ball throughout its whole descent would be found in the tube ; and a spectator referring to the
tube the motion of the ball, and carried along with the former, unconscious of its motion, would think that the ball had been moving in an inclined direction, and had come from Q.
A very common illustration may be seen almost any rainy day. Choose a time when the air is quiet, and the drops large. Then, if you stand still, you will see that the drops fall vertically ; but if you walk forward, you will see the drops fall as if they were meeting you. We thus see that the drops have an apparent as well as a real motion.
The general effect of aberration is to cause each star apparently to describe in the course of a year a minute ellipse, the central point of which is the place thes star would actually occupy were our globe at rest.
Parallax is the difference in the direction of an object as seen from two different places. Upon looking at it with the left eye only, you will locate your finger at some point on the window ; on looking with the right eye only, you will locate it at an entirely different point. Use your eyes alternately and quickly, and you will be astonished to see how your finger will seem to change its place. Now, the difference in the direction of your finger as seen from the two eyes is its parallax.
In astronomical calculations, the position of a body as seen from the earth's surface is called its apparent place, while that in which it would be seen
from tke center of the earth is called its true place. Thus, in Fig. 46, a star is seen by the observer at 0 in the direction OP; if it could be viewed from the center R, its direction would be in the line RQ. It is therefore seen from O at a point in the heavens below its position in reference to R. From looking at the cut, we can see (1)^ that
Parallax.
the parallax of a star near the horizon is greatest, while it decreases gradually until it disappears altogether at the zenith, since an observer at O, as well as one at R, would see the star Z directly overhead ; and (2), that the nearer a body is to the earth the greater its parallax becomes.
them to their true places as seen from the center of the earth. Tables of parallax are constructed for this purpose. The question of parallax is also of great importance, because as soon as the parallax of a body is accurately known, its distance, diameter, etc., can be determined. (See Celestial Measurements.)
Horizontal Parallax is the parallax of a body when at the horizon. It is, in fact, the ea?'th's semidiameter as seen from the body. In Fig. 4G, the parallax of the star S is the angle O S R, which is measured by the line O R — the semi-diameter of the earth. The su7i's horizontal parallax is the angle subtended (measured) by the earth's semi-diameter as seen from that luminary. As the moon is nearest the earth, its horizontal parallax is greater than that of any other heavenly body.
Annual Parallax. — The fixed stars are so distant from the earth that they exhibit no change of place when seen from different parts of the earth. The lines O S and R S are so long that they are apparently parallel. Astronomers, therefore, instead of taking the earth's semi-diameter, or 4,000 miles, as the measuring tape, observe the position of the fixed stars at opposite points in the earth's orbit. ' This gives a change in place of 186,000,000 miles. The variation of position which the stars undergo at these remote points is called their annual parallax.
Motion in Space. — The orbit of the moon, considering the earth as fixed, is an ellipse of which our planet occupies one of the foci. Her distance from
the earth, therefore, varies incessantly. At perigee (peri, near ; ge, the earth), she is 26,000 miles nearer than in apogee {ajm, from ; ge, the earth) : the mean distance is about 239,000 miles. To reach the moon.
THE MOON. 123
would require a chain of thirty globes equal in size to the earth. An ordinary express-train would take about a year to accomplish the journey.
The moon completes her revolution {sidereal) around the earth in about 27| days ; but, as the earth is constantly passing on in its orbit around the sun, it requires over two days longer before the moon comes into the same position with respect to the sun and the earth, thus completing a synodic revolution, or lunar month (29^ days).
The real path of the moon is the result of her own motion and the onward movement of the earth. The two combined produce a wave-like curve that crosses the earth's path twice each month ; this, owing to its small diameter compared with that of the earth's orbit, is always concave toward the sun. As the moon constantly keeps the same side turned toward us, it follows that she must rotate on her axis once each month.
Dimensions. — The moon's diameter is about 2,160 miles. To equal the earth, would require fifty globes the size of the moon. The apparent size varies with the distance ; the mean is, however, about one-half a degree, nearly the same as that of the sun. The moon always appears larger than she really is, on account of her brightness. This is the effect of what is termed in optics Irradiation.'^ For the same reason it is often noticed that the crescent moon seems to be a part of a larger circle than the rest of
* To illustrate this principle, cut two circular pieces of the same size, one of black and the other of white paper. The white circle, wheu held in a bright light, will appear much larger than the black cue.
the moon. The moon appears larger on the horizon than when high in the sky. This, however, is a mere illusion. * By an examination of the cut, it is easily seen that the moon is 4,000 miles nearer when on the zenith than when at the horizon.
The Distance of the Moon at fhe Horizon and at the Zenith.
amusement may be had in a large party or class by a comparison of her apparent magnitude. The estimates will differ from a small saucer to a wash-tub.
Librations {lihrans, swinging). — Though the moon presents the same hemisphere to us, there are three causes which enable us to see, in all, about 7^(10 of her entire surface.
1. The axis of the moon is inclined a little to her orbit, as also her orbit is inclined to the earth's orbit ; so, when her north pole leans alternately toward and
• At the horizon we compare her with various terrestrial objects which lie between her and us, while aloft we have no association to guide us in judging of her distance, and we are led to underrate her size. If we look at her when near the horizon, through a roll of paper, or the hands held tube-wise, this illusion will vanish.
tion in latitude.
2. The moon's rotation on her axis is always performed in the same time, while her movement along her orbit is variable ; hence we occasionally see a little further around each limh (outer edge) than at other times. This is called libratioti in longitude.
3. The size of the earth is so much greater than that of the moon, that an observer, by the rotation of the earth, or by going north or south, can see further around the limbs.
Light and Heat. — If the whole sky were covered with full moons, they would scarcely make daylight, since the brilliancy of the moon does not exceed ¥00^0-00 that of the sun. That portion of the moon's surface which is directly exposed to the sun has been thought to be highly heated, possibly to the degree of boiling water,* but this is now considered very improbable.
Whether or not the moon radiates any heat to the earth has long been a mooted question. The best authorities, at present, estimate the average heat of the moonbeam at about -sso}^-^ that we receive from the sun, or sufficient to raise the temperature of a sensitive black-bulb thermometer j,-^q of a degree.
* Prof. Langley is now engaged in an exhaustive series of experiments upon this subject, using his famous "bolometer" — an instrument capable of detecting a difference of .00001° C. The result of his observations upon Mount Whitney (18«1) showed that " mercury would remain a solid under the vertical rays of a tropical sun were radiation into space wholly unchecked, and that the temperature of a planet may, and not improlably does, depend far less upon its neighborhood tf), or remoteness from, the sun, than upon the constitution of its atmosphere." As the moon has no air-blanket, it is therefore very doubtful whether its surface ever reaches a temperature of —100° F.
weather.
Center of Gravity. — It is thought that possibly the center of gravity of the moon is not exactly at her center of magnitude, but about thirty-three miles beyond, the lighter half being toward us. If that be so, this side is equivalent to a mountain of that enormous height ; and if water and air exist upon the moon, they cannot remain on this hemisphere, but must be confined to the side which is forever hidden from our view.
Atmosphere of the Moon. — The existence of an atmosphere upon our satellite is at present an open question. If there be any, it must be extremely rarefied, perhaps as much so as that in the vacuum obtained in the receiver of our best air-pumps. Appearance of the Earth to Lunarians. — If there
the regions from whence it is visible, to behold this wonderful spectacle. Those living near the limbs of the disk might, however, on account of the lihrations, get occasional glimpses of it near their horizon.
The Earth-Shine. — For a few days before and after new moon, we may distinguish the outline of the unillumined portion of the moon. In England, it is popularly known as "the old moon in the new moon's arms." This reflection of the earth's rays must serve to keep the lunar nights quite light, even in new earth.
Phases of the Moon. — The phases of the moon show conclusively that it is a dark body, which shines by reflecting the light it receives from the sun. Let us compare its various appearances with the positions indicated in the figure.
(1.) We see the moon as a delicate crescent in the west just after sunset, as she emerges from the sun's rays at conjunction. She soon sets below the horizon. Half of the surface is illumined, but only a slender edge with the horns turned from the sun is visible to us. Each night the crescent broadens, the moon recedes about l'S° further from the sun, and sets correspondingly later, until at quadrature half of the enlightened hemisphere is turned toward us, and the moon is said to be in her first quarter.
(2.) The moon, continuing her eastern progress round the earth, becomes gibbous* in form, and, about the fifteenth day from new moon, reaches the point in the heavens directly opposite to that which
the sun occupies. She is then in opposition, the whole of the illumined side is turned toward us, and we have a full moon. She is on the meridian at mid-
(3.) The moon, passing on in her orbit from opposition, presents phases reversed from those of the second quarter. The proportion of the illumined side visible to us gradually decreases ; she becomes gibbous again ; rises nearly an hour later each evening, and in the morning lingers high in the western sky after sunrise. She now comes into quadrature, and is in her third quarter.
(4). From the third quarter, the moon turns her enlightened side from us and decreases to the crescent form again ; as, however, the bright hemisphere constantly faces the sun, the horns are pointed toward the west. She is now seen as a bright crescent in the eastern sky just before sunrise. At last, the illumined side is completely turned from us, and the moon herself, coming into conjunction with the sun, is lost in his rays. To accomplish this journey through her orbit from new moon to new moon again, has required 29|^ days — a lunar month.
Moon Runs High or Low. — All have, doubtless, noticed that, in the long nights of winter, the full moon is high in the heavens, and continues a long time above the horizon ; while in midsummer she is low, and remains a much shorter time above the horizon. This is a wise plan of the Creator, which is seen yet more clearly in the arctic regions. There, the moon, during the long summer day of six months, is above the horizon only her first and fourth quarters, when her light is least ; but during the tedious winter night of equal length, she is continually above the horizon for lier second and third
night.
We can easily understand these phenomena when we remember that the new moon is in the same quarter with, and the full moon is in the opposite quarter from, the sun. AVhen, therefore, the sun sinks low in the southern sky the full moon rises high, and when the sun rises high the full moon sinks low.
Harvest Moon. — While the moon rises, on the average, 50 m. later each night, the exact time varies from less than half an hour to a full hour. Near the time of the autumnal equinox the moon, at her full, rises about sunset for a number of nights in succession. This produces a series of brilliant moonlight evenings. It is the time of harvest in England, and hence has there received the name of the Harvest Moon. In the following month (October), the same occurence takes place ; it is then termed the Hunter's Moon.
The cause of this phenomenon lies in the fact that the moon's path is variously inclined to the horizon at different seasons of the year.* When, at the time of rising, the full moon is near the vernal equinox, the angle her path makes with the horizon is least, and when she is near the autumnal equinox it is greatest. In the former case, the moon, moving eastward each day about 13°, will descend but little below the horizon, and so for several successive
evenings will rise at about the same hour. In the
latter, she will descend much further each day and thus will rise much later each night. The least possible variation in the hour of rising is 17 minutes, — the greatest is 1 hour and 16 minutes.
In Figure 51, let S represent the sun ; E, the earth ; M, the moon ; C F, the moon's path around the earth when the autumnal equinox is in the eastern horizon ; E D, when the vernal equinox is in the eastern horizon ; A M B S, the horizon ; and M cZ =M & = 13°, the distance the moon
case, the horizon
must be depressed the distance a b, and in the latter only c d ; and the moon will rise each evening correspondingly later in the one and earlier in the other.
Cause of "Dry Moon," and "Wet Moon." — At new moon, when the bright crescent lies nearly perpendicular to the horizon, the moon is popularly called a wet moon, and when it is almost horizontal, the
moon is termed a dry moon. The cause of this change in the crescent is astronomical, and not meteorological. The form of the crescent has therefore no connection with the weather. A little reflection will show us that the horns, or cusps, of the new moon must point from the sun. As the ecliptic (from which the moon's path varies but slightly) is differently inclined to the horizon at various times of the year, this will give the crescent a different position with reference to the horizon (p. 29).
Nodes. — The orbit of the moon is inclined to the ecliptic about 5°, the points where her path crosses it being termed nodes. The ascending node ( 8 ) is the place where the moon crosses in coming above the ecliptic, or toward the north star ; the descendingnode ( 3 ) is where it passes below the ecliptic. The imaginary line connecting these two points is called the ''line of the nodes."
Occultation. — The moon, in the course of her monthly journey round the earth, frequently passes in front of the stars or planets, which disappear on one side of her disk and reappear on the other. This is termed an occultation, and is of practical use in determining the difference of longitude between various places on the earth.
Lunar Seasons; Day and Night, Etc. — As the moon's axis is so nearly perpendicular to her orbit, she cannot have any change of seasons. During nearly fifteen of our days, the sun pours down his rays unmitigated by any atmosphere to temper them. To this long, torrid day succeeds a night of equal length and polar cold.
How strange the lunar appearance would be to us ! The disk of the sun seems sharp and distinct. The sky is black and overspread with stars even at midday. There is no twilight, for the sun bursts instantly into day, and, after a fortnight's glare, as suddenly gives place to night ; no air to conduct sound ; no clouds ; no winds ; no rainbow ; no blue sky ; no gorgeous tinting of the heavens at sunrise and sunset ; no delicate shading ; no soft blending of colors, but only sharp outlines of sun and shade. *
The nights of the visible hemisphere must be brilliantly illuminated by the earth, whose phases "serve well as a clock — a dial all but fixed in the same part of the heavens, like an immense lamp, behind which the stars slowly defile along the black sky."
Telescopic Features. — Even with the naked eye, we see on the moon's surface bright spots (the summits of lofty mountains, gilded by the first rays of the sun), and darker portions — Ioav plains yet lying in comparative shadow. The telescope reveals to us a region torn and shattered by fearful though now ext"^ctt volcanic action. Everywhere the
* The moon is a fossil world, an ancient cinder, a ruined habitation perpetuated only to admonish the earth of her own impending fate, and to teach her occupants that another home must be provided, whicli frost and decay can never invade. The moon was once the seat of all the varied and intense activities that now characterize the surface of our earth. At one time its physical condition was like that of tlie parent eartli from which it had just been seiiarated : but, being smaller, it cooled faster, and its geologic periods were coiTcsjiondingly shorter. Its life-age was perhaps reached while the earth was yet glowing.— Read Wini-hell's Geology of tlie Stars.
t Several distinguished astronomers assert, however, that the crater Linnx-us lias undergone noticeable transformations. Its sides seem to liave fallen in, and the interior to have become filled up, as if by a new eruption. It is said to present an appearance similar to that of the Sea of Serenity. Other marked changes are said to have been discovered from time to time, on the moon's surface^ but they are not generally ac^
undergone.
Mountains. — The heights of more than 1,000 of the lunar mountains have been measured, some of which exceed 25,000 feet. When the sun's rays strike one of these mountains obliquely, the shadow is as distinctly perceived as that of an upright staff when placed opposite the sun. Some of the elevations are insulated peaks that shoot up from the center of circular plains ; others are mountain ranges extend-
CopenUtug.
ing hundreds of miles. Most of the lunar heights have received names of men distinguished in science. Thus we find Plato, Aristarchus, Copernicus,* Kepler,
* This is one of the grandest of the lunar craters. It is situated on the tip of the nose of the " Man in the Moon." Its diameter is forty-six miles, and its encircling rampart rises 12,000 feet above the interior plateau, in tjie midst of which $t^nds a group ci fpnps, one 2,400 feet in heighj.
nines, Carpathians, etc.
Gray Plains, or Seas. — These are analogous to our prairies. They were formerly supposed to be sheets of water, but they exhibit the uneven appearance of a plain, instead of the regular curve of a sea. The former names have been retained, and we find on lunar maps the Sea of Tranquillity, the Sea of Nectar, Sea of Serenity, etc.
Rills, Luminous Bands. — The latter are long, bright streaks, irregular in outline and extent, which radiate in every direction from Tycho, Kepler, and other mountains ; the former are similar, but are sunken, and have sloping sides, and were at first thought to be ancient river-beds. Their nature is a mystery.
Craters constitute the most curious feature of the lunar landscape. They are of volcanic origin, and usually consist of a cup-like basin, with a conical elevation in the center. Some of the craters have a diameter of over 100 miles, and are great walled plains, sunk so far behind huge, volcanic ramparts that the lofty wall surrounding an observer at the center would be beyond his horizon. Other craters are deep and narrow, — as Newton, which is said to be about four miles in depth, — so that neither earth nor sun is ever visible from a great part of the bottom. The appearance of these craters is strikingly shown in the accompanying view (Fig. 53) of the region to the southeast of Tycho.
Eclipse of the Sun. — If the moon should pass through either node at or near the time of conjunction, or new moon, she would necessarily come between the earth and the sun, for the three bodies are then in the same straight line. This would cause
Theory of a Total and a Partial Eclipse of the Sun.
an eclipse of the sun. If the moon's orbit were in the same plane as the ecliptic, an eclipse of the sun would occur at every new moon ; but as the orbit is inclined, it can occur only at or near a node.
ECLIPSES. 139
of the moon falls on the earth and obscures the entire body of the sun. To the persons within that region, there is a total eclipse; the breadth of this space is not large, averaging only 140 miles. Beyond this umbra, there is a lighter shadow, penumbra, {pene, almost; umbra, a shadow), where only a portion of the sun's disk is obscured. Within this region, there is a partial eclipse. To those persons living north of the equator and of the umbra, the eclipse passes over the lower limb of the sun ; to those south of the umbra, it passes over the upper limb.'"' When the eclipse occurs exactly at the node, it is said to be centixil. If the eclipse takes place when the moon is at apogee, her apparent diameter is less than that of the sun ; as a consequence, her disk does not cover the disk of the sun, and the visible portions of that luminary appear in the form of a ring (annulus) ; hence there is an annular eclipse in all those places comprised within the limits of the cone of shadow prolonged to the earth.
the sun himself is invisible.
(6.) An eclipse is not visible over the whole illumined side of the earth. As the moon's diameter is less than that of the earth, her cone of shadow is too small to enshroud the entire globe, so that the region in which it is total cannot exceed 180 miles in breadth. As, however, the earth is constantly rotating on its axis during the duration of the eclipse, the shadow may travel over a large surface.
across the south polar regions : if, when nearing her descending node, it will graze the earth near the north pole. The nearer a node a conjunction occurs, the nearer the equatorial regions the shadow will strike.
(8.) At the equator, the longest possible duration of a total solar eclipse is about eight minutes ; of an annular, twelve minutes. One reason of the greater length of the latter is, that then the moon is in apogee, when she always moves slower than in perigee. The duration of total obscuration is greatest when the moon is in perigee and the sun in apogee ; for then the apparent size of the moon is greatest, and that of the sun is least.
(9.) There cannot be more than five nor less than two solar eclipses per year. A total or an annular eclipse, in its recurrence at any place^ is exceedingly rare. There has been (according to Halley) only one total eclipse visible at London since 1140.
edge of the sun, and passes off on the eastern.
(11.) The disk of the sun is divided into twelve digits, and the amount of the eclipse is estimated by the number of digits which it covers. Thus an eclipse of six digits is one in which half the diameter of the disk is concealed.
Fid. 50.
are of a peculiarly impressive character. The darkness is so dense that the brighter stars and planets are seen, birds cease their songs and fly to their nests, flowers close, and the face of nature assumes an unearthly, cadaverous hue, while a sudden fall
ings of indescribable terror, as an indication of the anger of an offended Deity, or the presage of some impending calamity.* Even now, when the causes
* William of Malinesbury thus connects tlie eclipse of August '2, 1133, with Henrj- I., who left England on that day, never to return alive : " Tlie elements manifested their sorrows at this great man's last departure. For the sun on that day, at the Oth hour, shrouded his glorious face, as the poets say, in hideous darkness, agitating the hearts of men by an eclipse : and on the 6th day of the week, early in the morning, there was so great an earthriuake that the ground appeared suddenly to sink down ; an horrid noise beiiiR first heard beneath the surface."
The same writer, sjieaking of the total eclipse of March 20, 1140, says : " During this year, in Lent, on the 13th of the kalends of April, at the Oth honr of the 4th day of the week, there was an eclipse, tliroughout England, as I have heard. With us, indeed, and with all our neighbours, the obscuration of the Sun also was so remarkable, that i)ersons sitting at table, as it then happened almost every where, for it was Lent, at first feared
be predicted within the fraction of a second, the
that Chaos was come again : afterwards learning the cause, they went out and beheld the stars around the Sun. It was thought and said by many, not untruly, that the king (Steplien) would not continue a year in the government."
Columbus made use of an approacliing eclipse of tlic moon, which took place March 1, 1504, to relieve his fleet, tljen in great distress from want of supplies. As a punishment to the islanders of Jamaica, who refused to assist him, he threatened to deprive them of the light of the moon. At first they were indifferent to his threats, but " when the eclipse actually commenced, tlie barbarians vied with each othur in the production of the necessary supplies for the Spanish fleet."
Among the Hindoos a singular custom is said to exist. When, during a solar eclipse, the black disk of our satellite begins slowly to advance over the sun, the natives believe that some terrific monster is gradually devouring it. Thereupon they lieat gongs, and rend the air with screams of terror and shouts of vengeance. For a time their frantic
change from broad daylight to almost instantaneous gloom is overwhelming, and inspires with awe even the most careless observer. (See note, p. 303.)
The Saros. — The nodes of the moon's orbit are constantly moving backward. They complete a revolution around the ecliptic in about 18^ years. Now the moon makes 2-23 synodic revolutions in 18 years and 10 days ; the sun makes 19 revolutions with regard to the lunar nodes in about the same time. Hence, in that period, the sun, the moon, and the nodes will be in nearly the same relative position. If, then, we :qeckon 18 years and 10 days from any eclipse, we shall find the time of its repetition.
This method was discovered, it is said, by the Chaldeans. The ancients were enabled, by this means, to predict eclipses, but it is considered too inaccurate by modern astronomers.
Metonic Cycle. — The Metonic Cycle (sometimes confounded with the Saros) was not used for foretelling eclipses, but for ascertaining the age of the moon at a given period. It consists of nineteen tropical years,* during which time there are 235 new moons ; so that, at the end of this period, the new moons will recur at seasons of the year corresponding to those of the preceding cycle. By registering, therefore, the exact days of any cycle at which the
efforts seem futile and the eclipse still progresses. At length, however, the increasing uproar reaches the voracious monster ; he appears to pause, and then, like a fish rejecting a nearly swallowed bait, gradually disgorges the fiery mouthful. Wlien the sun is quite clear of the great dragon's mouth, a shout of joy is raised, and the poor natives disperse, delighted to think that they have so successfully relieved their deity from his impending peril.
cycles.
Since the appointment of games, feasts, and fasts has been made very extensively, both in ancient and modern times, according to new or full moons, such a calendar becomes very convenient for finding the day on which the required new or full moon takes place. Thus, if a festival were decreed to be held in any given year on the day of the first full moon after the vernal equinox : find what year it is of the lunar cycle, then refer to the corresponding year of the preceding cycle, and the day will be the same. The Golden Number, a term still used in our almanacs, denotes the year of the lunar cycle. Four is the golden number for 1884.
Ecli2Jse oftlie Moon.
An Eclipse of the Moon is caused by the passing of the moon into the shadow of the earth, and hence can take place only at full moon — opposition. As the moon's orbit is inclined to the ecliptic, her path is partly above and partly below the earth's shadow ; thus an eclipse of the moon can take place only at or near one of the nodes. In Fig. 63, the umbra is represented by the space between the lines IS, c and
I b ; outside of this is the penumbra, where the earth cuts off the light of only a portion of the sun. The moon enters the penumbra of the earth at a, — this is termed her first contact ivith the penumbra ; next she encounters the dark shadow of the earth at b, — this is called the first contact ivith the umbra j she then emerges from the umbra at c, — the second contact tcith the umbra; finally, she touches the outer edge of the penumbra at d, — the second contact tcith the penumbra. Since the earth is so much larger than the moon, the eclipse can never be annular; as, however, the eclipse may occur a little above or below the node, the moon may only partly enter the earth's shadow, either on its upper or lower limb. From the first to the last contact with the penumbra, five hours and a half may elapse.
Total eclipses of the moon are rarer events than those of the sun, since the lunar ecliptic limit is only about 12° ; yet they are more frequently seen by us, (1) because each one is visible over the entire unillumined hemisphere of the earth, and also (2) because by the diurnal rotation during the long duration of the eclipse, large areas may be brought within its limits. So it will happen that while the inhabitants of one district witness the eclipse throughout its continuance, those of other regions merely see its beginning, and others only its termination.
The moon does not completely disappear even in total eclipses. The cause of this lies in the refraction of the solar rays in traversing the lower strata of the earth's atmosphere : they are analyzed, and purple our moon with the tints of sunset, The
THE TIDES.
Description. — Twice a day, at intervals of about twelve hours and twenty-five minutes, the water begins to set in from the ocean, beating the pebbles and the foot of the rocky shore, and dashing its spray high in air. For about six hours, it climbs far up on the beach, flooding the low lands and transforming creeks into rivers. The instant of high-water or flood-tide being reached, the water begins to descend, and the ehh succeeds the flow. The water, however, falls somewhat slower than it rises.
Spring Tide.
The Tides are Caused by a great wave, which, raised by the moon's attraction, follows her in her course around the earth.* The sun, also, aids some-
* Prof. Ball, Royal Astronomer of Ireland, elainis that once the moon was nearer the earth than now ; the day and the month were equal, eacli three hours long. At 40,000 miles distance, the moon was a greater tide iiroducer l>y 216 times. As the moon receded from the earth, both revolved more slowly. At the ju'csont time, 27 eartli rotations equal one moon rotation. This lias remained, and will remain, sensibly tnie, for thousands of years. But the friction of tlie tides will, in the far future, lengthen the day to pqual 57 of our present days, — a condition tliat will then last for ages,
As the waters. are free to yield to the attraction of the moon, she draws them away from C and D and they become heaped up at A. The earth, being nearer the moon than the waters on the opposite side, is more strongly attracted, and so, being drawn away from them, they are left heaped up at B. As the result, high-water is produced at A by the water Doing pulled from the earth, and at B by the earth being pulled from the water.
The influence of the moon requires a little time to produce its full effect ; hence high- water does not occur at any place when the moon is on the meridian, but a few hours after. As the moon rises about fifty minutes later each day, there is a corresponding difference in the time of high-water. While, however, the lunar tide-wave thus lags about fifty minutes every day, the solar tide occurs uniformly at the same time. They therefore steadily separate from each other. At one time, they coincide, and high-water is the sum of the lunar and solar tides ; at other times, high-water of the solar tide and low-water of the lunar tide occur simultaneously, and high-water is then the difference between the lunar and solar tides, f
* The whole attraction of the moon is only tJo that of the sun : yet her influence in producing the tides and precession is greater, because tliat depends not upon the entire attraction either exerts, but upon the difference between their attraction upon the earth's center and upon the earth's nearest surface. For the moon, on account of her nearness, the proportion of the distance of these parts is treble that of the sun, and hence her greater eflect.
Causes that modify the tides. — At new and at full moon (the syzygies) the sun acts with the moon (Fig. 63) in elevating the waters ; this produces the highest, or Spring-tide. In quadrature (Fig. 64), the sun tends to diminish the height of the water : this is called Neap-tide. When the moon is in perigee, her attraction is stronger ; hence the flood-tide is higher, and the ebb-tide is lower than at other times.
Neap Tide.
This remark applies also to the sun. The height of the tide also varies with the declination of the sun and the moon, — the highest or equinoctial tides taking place at the equinoxes, if, when the sun is over the equator, the moon also happens to be very near it : the lowest occur at the solstices. The force and the direction of the winds, the shape of the coast, and the depth of the sea greatly complicate the explanati'on of local tides.
Height of the tide at different places. — In the open sea, the tide is hardly noticeable, the water sometimes rising not higher than a foot ; but where the wave breaks on the shore, or is forced up into
bays or narrow channels, it is very conspicuous. The difference between ebb and flood neap-tide at New York is over three feet, and that of spring-tide over five feet ; while at Boston it is nearly double this amount. A headland jutting out into the ocean will diminish the tide ; as, for instance, off Cape Florida, where the average height is only one and a half feet. A deep bay opening up into the land like a funnel will converge the wave, as at the Bay of Fundy, where it rolls in, a great, roaring wall of water sixty feet high, frequently overtaking and sweeping off men and animals.* The tide sets up against the current of rivers, and often entirely changes their character ; for example, the Avon at Bristol is a shallow ditch, but at flood-tide it becomes a deep channel navigable by the largest Indiamen.
The god of war. Sign, S , shield and spear.
Description. — Passing outward in our survey of the solar system, we next meet with Mars. This is the first of the superior planets, and the one most like the earth. It appears to the naked eye as a bright red star, rarely scintillating, and shining with a steady light, which distinguishes it from the fixed
stars.* At conjunction its apparent diameter is only about 4"; but once in about two years it conies into opposition with the sun, when its diameter may increase to 30". At intervals of nearly 15 years, this occurs when the planet is in perihelion and the earth in aphelion. Mars then shines with a brilliancy rivalling that of Jupiter himself, f
Motion in Space. — Mars revolves around the Sun at a mean distance of about 141,000,000 miles. Its orbit is sufficiently flattened to bring it at perihelion 26,000,000 miles nearer that luminary than when in aphelion. Its motion varies in different portions of its orbit, but the average velocity is about fifteen miles per second. The Martian day is 37 min. longer than ours, and the year contains about 608 Martian days, equal to 087 terrestrial days (nearly two years).
distance of Mars is (like that of all the superior planets) the difference between the distance of the planet and that of the earth from the Sun : at conjunction, it is the sum of these distances. If the orbits were circular, these distances would be the same at every revolution. The elliptical figure, however, occasions much variation. Thus, if Mars, at opposition, be in perihelion while the earth is in aphelion, it is removed from us about 34,000,000 miles.
Dimensions. — The diameter of Mars is nearly 4,200 miles. * Its volume is about 1 and its density i that of the earth. A stone let fall on its surface would fall six feet the first second. It is somewhat flattened at the poles, and bulged at the equator, like our globe.
Seasons. — The light and heat of the sun at Mars are less than one-half that which we enjoy. Its axis is inclined about 27', therefore its zones and seasons do not differ materially from our own : its days, also, as we have seen, are of nearly the same length. Since, however, its year is equal to nearly two of our years, the seasons are lengthened in proportion.
There must be a considerable difference between the temperature of its northern and southern hemispheres, as the former has its summer when 20,000,000 miles further from the sun than the latter : an increased length of 76 days may, however, be sufficient
* Some autliors place the diameter of Mars at about 5,000 miles. There is, also, a discrepancy as to the other data of this planet. Prof. Hall, as the result of his observations, gives the density = .770 ; force of gravity = .37 ; fall of a body, 1st sec. = 0 feet. With the discovery of the satellites we have now the means of securing exact results. The difficulty of observation, however, is shown from the fact that " the light which falls upon the earth from one of these moons is about what a man's hand on which the sun sliines at Washington would reflect to Boston."
loaded with clouds.
Mars has two moons. * Our earth and its moon present in the Martian evening sky a beautiful pair of planets, constantly remaining in close proximity to each other, and exhibiting
ish tint, are considered to
be bodies of water. The proportion of land to water on the earth is reversed in Mars. '^^ Here every continent is an island ; there every sea is a lake : but
w vj Mar
* Tlie satellites of Mars were discovered in August, 1S77, by Prof. Hall of the Nava) Observatory, Washington. The outer one revolves about the planet in 30 hr. 18 min., at a distance of about 12,300 miles ; and the inner one in 7 hr. 40 min., at a distance of 3,600 miles (less than that of remote cities on our own continent). The inner moon moves so much faster than the rotation of Mars that to an inhabitant of that planet, the moon would seem to rise in the west and set in the east, passing through all the phases of our moon during a single night. The moons have been named Deimos and Phobus, or Dread and Terror— the sons of Mars. The diameter of tliese little globes is probably less than 15 miles. For an amusing description of such a world, read " Living in Dread and Terror," a chapter in Proctor's " Poetry of Astronomy."
t So carefully has the surface of this planet been studied, that a globe of Mars has been prei)ared which is said to be in some respects more perfect than any globe of the earth. The different bodies of land and water have been named after distinguished astronomers. A characteristic feature of the seas is the long, narrow cliannels. Schiaparelli, the Italian astronomer, claims to have discovered a number of singular dark lines, now known as " canals." They seem to connect different bodies of water, and, though without sufficient reason, have been by some considered as the work of the Martian inhabitants.
these, like our own continents, are chiefly confined to one hemisphere, so that the habitable area of the two globes may not differ so much as the size of the planets."
The ruddy color is thought by Herschel to be due to an ochery tinge in the soil ; by others it is attributed to peculiarities of the atmosphere and clouds. Lambert suggests that the color of the vegetation on Mars may be red instead of green. There are constant changes going on in the brightness of the disk, owing, it is supposed, to the variation of the clouds of vapor in its atmosphere. No mountains have yet been discovered.
In the vicinity of the poles are brilliant white spots, which are considered to be masses of snow. The " snoiv zoiies" apparently melt and recede with the return of summer in each hemisphere, and increase on the approach of winter. We can thus from the earth watch the formation of polar ice and the fall of snow, — in fact, the changes of the seasons — on the surface of a neighboring planet.
VI. THE MINOR PLANETS.
Discovery.— Beyond Mars there is a wide interval that was not filled until the present century. The bold, imaginative Kepler conjectured that there was a planet in this space. This supposition was corroborated by Titius's discovery of what has since been known as
THE Minor planets, or asteroids. 155
96, 192, 384, each of which, after the second, is double the preceding one. If we add 4 to each of these numbers, we form a new series ;
4, 7, 10, 16, 28, 52, 100, 196, 388.
A.t the time this law was discovered, these numbers represented very nearly the proportionate distance from the sun of the planets then known, taking the earth's distance as ten, except that there was a blank opposite 28. This naturally led to inquiry, and a systematic effort to solve the mystery. *
On the 1st day of January, 1801, the nineteenth century was inaugurated by Piazzi's discovery of the small planet Ceres, at almost the exact distance necessary to fill the gap in Bode's series. The announcement of other new planets soon followed, until now (1885) there are two hundred and fortyseven, with a probability of more being found. Indeed, Leverrier has calculated that there may be perhaps 150,000 in all.
Description. — These minor worlds, or "pocket planets," as Herschel styled them, are diminutive indeed. The largest of them is Vesta, which shines at times as a star of the 6th magnitude, and can then be seen with the naked eye. f Those recently discov-
* It is a curious fact that the discovery of Ceres sliould have been made by an outsider, as Piazzi did not belong to the society of 24 astronomers tlien searching for the planet. The publication of Bode's law had little to do with the result. In fact, the direct cause was an error of the press in putting an extra star in Wollaston's Catalogue, and while Piazzi was looking for this star he found Ceres.
t The small size of the disks of the minor planets defies exact measurement. Newcomb makes Ceres and Vesta the largest of the group, with diameters between 200 and 400 miles. Echo has been assigned a diameter of 17 miles, or not far from the size of the miniature moons of Mars. S.n'eral of these little worlds have been found but to be lost again ; while the mere labor of tracing the movements of so many tiny globes already surpasses the probable worth of the results.
ered are so small that it is difficult to decide which
is the smallest. A good walker could easily m.ake the tour of one in a day ; a prairie farmer would need to pre-empt a whole such world for a cornfield. *'A man placed on one of these tiny globes could leap 60 feet high, and, in his descent, would sustain no greater shock than he does on the earth from jumping or leaping a yard. *" These planets revolve around the sun in regular orbits, comprising a zone about 100,000,000 miles in width. Their paths are variously inclined to the ecliptic; Massalia's is only 41, while that of Pallas rises 34".
Origin. — A conjecture concerning the origin of these bodies is, that they are the fragments of a large planet that, in a remote antiquity, was shivered to pieces by some terrible catastrophe. " One fact seems above all others to confirm the idea of an intimate relation between these planets. It is this : if their orbits consisted of solid rings, they would be found so entangled that it would be possible, by taking up any one at random, to lift all the rest." The more probable view is given under the " Nebular Hypothesis."
Names and Signs.— Ceres, the first discovered, received the symbol 9 , a sickle, as that goddess was supposed to preside over harvests. Pallas, the second, named from the goddess of wisdom and scientific warfare, obtained the sign $ , the head of a spear. Of late, a simple circle with the number inclosed has been adopted ; thus O represents Ceres, ® is the sign of Pallas.
Description. — From the smallest members of the solar system we now pass to the largest planet — the colossal Jupiter. Its peculiar splendor and brilliancy distinguish it from the fixed stars, and vie even with the lustre of Venus. It is one of the five planets discovered in primitive ages.*
Motion in Space. — Jupiter revolves about the sun at a mean distance of about 483,000,000 miles. His movement among the fixed stars is slow and majestic, comporting well with his vast dimensions and the dignity conferred by four attendant worlds. He advances through the zodiac at the rate of one sign yearly ; so that if we locate the planet now, a year hence we shall find it equally advanced in^he next sign. Yet slowly as he seems to travel through the heavens, he is bowling along through space at the enormous speed of nearly 500 miles per minute. The Jovian day is equal to only about ten of our hours, while the year is lengthened to about 12 of our years, comprising near 10,000 of his days.
Distance from. Earth. — Once in thirteen months Jupiter is in opposition, and his distance from the earth is measured by the difference of the distances of the two bodies from the sun. At the expiration
' In tliose early times, Jupiter was supposed to be the cause of storm and tempest Pliny thought that lightning owed its origin to this planet. An old almanac of 1368, foretelling the harmless condition of Jupiter for a certain month, says, " Jubit es hote and moyste and does weel til al thyiiges and noyes nothing."
whereby a particle on
the equator revolves with a velocity of 473 miles per minute against the earth's 17 miles per minute, must produce a powerful centrifugal force which materially diminishes the weight of objects near its equator. Consequently, a stone let fall on Jupiter would pass through only about -42 feet the first second. As a result of this rapid rotation, the planet is one of the most flattened of any in the solar system, the equatorial diameter exceeding the polar by 5,000 miles.
Seasons. — As the axis of Jupiter is but slightly inclined from a perpendicular to the plane of . its orbit, there is little difference in the length of his days and
JUPITER. 159
nights, which are each of about five-hours duration. At the poles, the sun is visible for nearly six years, and then remains set for the same length of time. The seasons are but slightly varied. Summer reigns near the equator, while the temperate regions enjoy perpetual spring. The light and heat of the sun are only 2r of what we receive ; yet peculiarities of soil or atmosphere may compensate this difference. The evening sky on Jupiter must be magnificent ; besides the glittering stars which adorn our heavens, four moons, waxing and waning, each with its diverse phase, illuminate his night. All the starry exhibition sweeps through the sky in five hours.
Telescopic Features. — Jupiter's Moons. — Through the telescope* Jupiter presents a beautiful Copernican system in miniature. Four small stars — moons — accompany him in his twelve-yearly revolutions. From hour to hour their positions vary, and they seem to oscillate from one side to the other of the planet. At one time, there will be two on each side ; and again, three on one side, while the remaining star is left alone. They are also frequently found to disappear, one, two, or even three at a time, and, more rarely, all four at once.
These moons are called by the ordinal numbers, reckoning outward from the planet. With an ordinary glass, there is nothing to distinguish them from small stars. The Illrd., being the largest and
* There are well-authenticated instances on record of their having been seen by the naked eye. Among others, the follo\i'ing singular case is mentioned. Wrangle, the celebrated Russian traveler, states that, when in Siberia, he once met a hutiter, who said, pointing to Jupiter, " I have just seen that star swallow a small one and then vomit it up again."
brightest, will generally be identified the most easily. The 1st. satellite appears to the inhabitants of the planet almost as large as our moon to us ; the Ilnd., and Illrd., about half as large.
19 16 32
It is noticeable that here are four satellites revolving about Jupiter, one of them larger than the planet Mercury, and each surpassing in size the minor planets between Mars and Jupiter. The moons are not only distinguised by their various dimensions, but also by the variety of their color. The 1st. and Ilnd. have a bluish tint, the Illrd. a yellow, and the IVth, a reddish shade. The space occupied by this miniature system is about two and a half million miles in diameter.
Eclipse of the Moons. — Jupiter, like all celestial bodies not self-luminous, casts into space a cone of shade. The 1st., Ilnd., and Illrd. satellites revolve in orbits but very little inclined to the plane of the planet's orbit. During each revolution, they pass between the Sun and Jupiter, producing a solar eclipse ; and also, by passing through the shadow of the planet itself, cause to themselves an eclipse of the sun, and to Jupiter an eclipse of a moon. The IVth. moon passes through a path more inclined, and therefore its eclipses are less frequent ;
instead of being fully eclipsed, it sometimes just grazes the shadow. Through a telescope, we can distinctly watch the disappearance, or immersion, of the
satellites in the planet's shadow, their reappearance, or emersion, and also the transits of their shadows as round black dots moving across the disk of Jupiter.
In Fig. 68, we see various positions of the moons : the 1st. is eclipsed ; the Ilnd. is passing across the disk of the planet on which its shadow is also thrown ; the Illrd. is just behind the planet, and so occulted or concealed, while it has not yet entered the shadow; the IVth. is in view from the earth.
These satellites revolve with great rapidity, as is necessary in order to overcome the superior attraction of the planet and prevent their being drawn to its surface. The 1st. goes through all its phases in If days: the IVth., in less than twenty days. A spectator on Jupiter might witness, during the Jovian year, 4,500 eclipses of the moon (moons), and about the same nimiber of the sun.
Velocity of Light — By an attentive examination of the eclipses of Jupiter's moons. Romer (a Danish astronomer), in 1617, discovered that the motion of
light is not instantaneous, as was then believed. He noticed that the observed times of the eclipses were sometimes earlier and sometimes later than the calculated times, according as Jupiter was nearest or furthest from the earth. In Fig. 69, let J represent Jupiter ; e, one of the moons : S, the sun ; and T and t, different positions of the earth in its orbit. When
the earth is at T, the eclipse occurs 16 min. and 36 sec. earlier than at t. That interval of time is required for the light to travel across the earth's orbit, giving a velocity of about 186,000 miles per second.
Jupiter's Belts are dusky streaks of varying breadth and number, lying more or less parallel to the planet's equator. A brighter, often rose-colored, space marks the equatorial regions. The belts are not permanent, but change sometimes in the course of a few hours. Occasionally, only two or three broad belts are visible ; at other times, a dozen narrow ones appear. Often, spots are seen that are more lasting than the dark stripes.* It is now supposed that the planet is enveloped in dense clouds, through which light cannot penetrate, and that the globe itself is heated to a high degree, and gives off vapors, t The parallel appearance is doubtless due to strong equatorial currents, analogous to our tradewinds.
* In 1878, a "Great Red Spot" appeared in the southern hemisphere of Jupiter. Its length was estimated at 8,000 miles, and its breadth at 2,000 miles. This curious phenomenon is still visible, but much diminished in brightness (1884).
t Jupiter and Satimi are older planets than the earth and Mars, but, being so large, they have cooled more slowly, and are yet only partially solidified, so that Jupiter, at least, still shines with much of its primeval flre. Mars tyiiifies the middle age ; Saturn and Jupiter, the youth; and Uranus and Xeptune, the infancy of planetary existence. In the case of Saturn and Jupiter, we never see the real planets, but only the outline of their atmospheres. If this theory be true, Jupiter and Saturn now rejiresent the condition in which our earth existed ages ago, before a solid crust had beeu formed upon its surface. — (Geology, p. 17.)
Description. — We now reach, in our outward journey from the sun, the most remote world known to the ancients. It shines with a steady pale yellow light, which distinguishes it from the fixed stars. Its orbit is so vast that its movement among the constellations may be easily traced through one's lifetime. It requires two and a half years to pass through a single sign of the zodiac ;* hence, when once known, it may be readily found again. The earth leaves it at conjunction, makes a yearly revolution about the sun, comes to its starting point, and overtakes Saturn in about thirteen days thereafter.! It is smaller than Jupiter, but more gorgeously attended. Besides a retinue of eight satellites, it is surrounded by a system of rings, some shining with a golden light, and others transparept, — a spectacle as wonderful as it is unique.
Motion in Space. — Saturn revolves about the sun at a mean distance of nearly 886,000,000 miles. The eccentricity of its orbit is a trifle more than that of Jupiter, so that while it may, at perihelion, come fifty million miles nearer than its mean distance, at aphelion it swings off as much beyond. We can form some estimate of the size of its immense orbit, when we remember that it is moving 22,000 miles
found in the same
manner as that of the other superior planets, being least in opposition and greatest in conjunction. According as the earth and Saturn occupy different portions of their orbits, the distances between them at different times may vary nearly 300,000,000 miles.
Dimensions. — The diameter of Saturn is about 73,000 miles. Its volume is 700 times that of the earth. Its density is about f that of water, or a little more than that of pine wood. The Saturnian force of gravity is therefore scarcely greater than the terrestrial, so that a stone would fall toward the surface of that immense globe only about seventeen feet the first second.
Seasons, — The light and heat of the sun at Saturn are only .-jJjt that which we receive. The axis of Saturn is inclined from a perpendicular to the plane of its orbit about 3V.* The seasons therefore are
similar to those of the earth, but on a larger scale. The sun climbs in summer about 8° higher above the horizon, and sinks corresponding!}^ lower in winter. The tropics are 16° further apart, and the arctic and antarctic circles 8° further from the poles. Each of Saturn's seasons lasts more than seven of our years. There is an interval of fifteen years between the autumn and spring equinoxes, and between the summer and winter solstices. For fifteen years, the sun shines On the north pole, and a night of the same length envelopes the south pole. The atmosphere is doubtless very dense, as the belts seem to indicate.
Telescopic Features. — Saturn's Rings. — Galileo first noticed something peculiar in the shape of Saturn. Through his imperfect telescope it seemed to have on each side a small planet, like a supporter, to help old Saturn on his way. Galileo therefore announced to his friend Kepler the curious discovery, that '' Saturn is threefold." As the planet, however, approached its equinoxes, these attendants vanished from his instrument. This was a great perplexity to the philosopher, and he never solved the mystery. When the rings were afterward seen, their real form was not known. They were supposed to be a kind of handle attached to the planet.
Description of the Rings. — The series consists of three rings of unequal breadth, surrounding the planet at the equator. The exterior ring is separated from the middle one by a distinct break, while the interior ring seems joined to the middle one. They differ in their brightness ; the exterior ring is of a grayish tint ; the middle one is the most brilliant^
SATURN. 167
being more luminous than Saturn itself ; the interior one is darker and has a purple tinge. The two outer rings are known as the bright rings, and the inner one is called the dusky ring. The exterior and middle rings are both opaque and cast on the planet a distinct shadow ; while the interior one is so transparent that it appears upon the globe of Saturn as a dark band through which the surface of the planet is readily seen.
Thickness of rings, less than 100
Rotation.— T[\Q rings revolve around Saturn in about 10| hours, in the same direction as the planet rotates on its axis. The globe of Saturn is not exactly at the center of the rings. This fact, combined with the rotary motion, is essential to the stability of the rings, preventing them from being precipitated upon the planet.
Phases of the Rings. — The plane of the rings is inclined about 28° to the ecliptic. In its revolution about the sun, the axis of Saturn remaining parallel to itself, the sun sometimes illumines the northern and sometimes the southern face of the rings. At JSaturn's equinoxes, only the edge receives the light,
and the rings are invisible to us, except with the most powerful telescopes, and then only as a line of light. The body of the planet constantly cuts off the sun's rays from a portion of the rings, and also serves to conceal from our view some of the lumin-
ous part. By a careful study of the cut, these various positions of the planet and rings, with the favorable times for observation, may be understood.
Composition of the Rings. — It is now generally believed that the rings consist of a cloud of tiny satellites, — too small to be seen with the telescope, — revolving about the planet (see Nebular Hypothesis).
dusky belts of a fstr less distinct and definite appearance than those upon Jupiter. The equatorial regions are more strongly marked than the other parts of the disk.
Composition of the Planet.— It is quite probable that Saturn, like Jupiter, has no solid crust, but consists of molten matter surrounded by vapor that continually rises from the heated interior (note, p. 163).
79. to
Titan is the largest, and in size exceeds Mercury. Enceladus and Mimas are the faintest of twinklers, and can be seen only with a powerful telescope. They were first detected by Herschel, ''threading like pearls the silver line of light," to which the ring, then seen edgewise, was reduced, — advancing off it at either end, returning, and then hiding themselves behind the planet. The first three of these moons are nearer to Saturn than our moon is to the earth, but Japetus is nearly ten times as distant : so that the diameter of the Saturnian system is nearly four and a half million miles.
scenery upon Saturn must surpass anything with which we are famihar. In the cut, is given an ideal view of a landscape located upon the planet at a latitude of about 28°, taken at midniglit. The rings form an immense arch, which spans the sky and sheds a
Ideal Landscape on Saturn, supposing a solid crust to exist.
soft radiance around ; while, to add to the strange beauty of the night, eight moons in all their different phases — full, new, crescent, or gibbous — light up the starry vault.
URANUS. 171
with his great telescope some stars in the constellation Gemini. A small star attracting his attention, he observed it with a higher magnifying power, when, unlike the fixed stars, its disk widened. Watching it for several nights, he detected its motion in space ; but, mistaking its true character, he V announced the discovery of a new comet. A fewmonths examination revealed the error, and the new ^ body — new to us, but older perhaps than our own ^ world* — was admitted to be a member of the solar system.
Uranus may be seen in a dark sky, by a person of strong eyesight, if he previously knows its exact position among the stars. Its faintness is due to its great., distance from the earth. Were it as near as the sun, it would appear twice as large as Jupiter.
Motion in Space. — Uranus revolves about the sun at a mean distance of nearly 1,782,000,000 miles. Its year exceeds eighty-four of ours.
Dimensions. — Its diameter is about 33,000 miles. Its density is about equal to that of the water from the Dead Sea. The force of gravity upon the surface of the planet is ^^ that upon the earth.
Seasons. — We know little of the seasons of Uranus. If its axis lies in the plane of its orbit, the sun must wind in a spiral form around the planet. The light and heat are less than x.^xttt of that which we
* It is now known that Uranus had been previously observed by other astronomers. Le Monier at Paris had watched it for twelve successive nights, but pronounced it a fixed star. He had also seen it on previous occasions, and had he been an orderly observer, he would doubtless have detected its planetary character ; but he was extremely careless, as may be inferred from the fact related by Arago, that he had been shown one of Le Monier's observations of this planet written on a paper bag which originally contaiued hair-powder puivliased at a perfumer's.
receive; the light has been estimated to be about the quantity that would be afforded by three hundred full moons. The inhabitants of Uranus, if any such exist, can see Saturn, and perhaps Jupiter, but none of the planets \vithin the orbit of the latter.
Telescopic Features. — Xo spots or belts have been discovered. The time of rotation and the other features so familiar to us in the nearer planets are therefore unknown with regard to Uranus.
Satellites. — Uranus has four moons, of which little is known except the curious fact that their orbits are nearly perpendicular to the plane of the planet's orbit, and that their movements are apparently retrograde — /. e., in the same direction as the hands of a watch.
Description- — Xeptune is the far-off sentinel at the outpost of the solar system, being the most distant planet of which we have any knowledge. It is invisible to the naked eye, and appears in the telescope as a star of the sixth magnitude.
Discovery. — For many years, the motions of Uranus had been such as to baffle the most perfect calculations. While far-distant Saturn, after his journey of thirty years, came around to his place true to the minute, Uranus defied arithmetic, and refused to conform to the time set down for him on the heavenly dial.
KEPTUNjbi. 173
At length it was suggested that there was another planet exterior to Uranus, whose attraction produced these perturbations. So marked was this impression with Herschel, that he writes : " We see it as Columbus saw America from the shores of Spain. Its movements have been felt trembling along the farreaching line of our analysis with a certainty not far inferior to ocular demonstration."
Finally, two young mathematicians, Leverrier, of Paris, and Adams, of Cambridge, England, each unknown to the other, set about the task of finding the place of this new planet. The problem was this : Given the disturbances produced by the attraction oj the unknown planet, to find its orbit and its place in the orbit.
Adams, after assiduous labor for nearly two years, completed his calculations and submitted them to Prof. Airy, the Astronomer Royal, in 1845. In the summer of 184G, Leverrier laid a paper before the Academy of Sciences in Paris, announcing the position of the unknown planet. Prof. Airy, hearing of this, was so impressed with the value of Adams's calculations, that he wrote to Prof. Challis, of Cambridge, to search that quarter of the heavens. Prof. Challis did as requested, and saw a star which afterward proved to be the planet so anxiously sought for, although at that time he failed to ascertain its true character. In September, of the same year, Leverrier wrote to Berlin, asking for assistance in searching for the planet. Dr. Galle, on receiving the request, turned the large telescope of the Observatory to the place indicated, and almost im-
mediately detected a bright star not laid down in the maps. This proved to be the predicted planet, found within less than a degree of the spot described by Leverrier.
Such is the history of one of the grandest achievements of the human mind. It stands as an ever fresh and assuring proof of the exactness of astronomical calculations, and the power of the intellect to understand the laws of the God of Nature.
Motion in Space. — Neptune revolves about the sun at a mean distance of about 2,790,000,000 of miles. The Neptunian year is equal to nearly 165 terrestrial ones. Its motion in its orbit is the slowest of any of the planets, since it is the most remote from the sun. The velocity decreases from Mercury, which moves at the rate of about 105,000 miles per hour, to Neptune, whose rate is only 12,000 miles.
Dimensions. — Neptune's diameter is about 37,000 miles. Its volume is nearly 100 times that of the earth. Its density is a little less than that of Uranus.
Seasons. — As the inclination of its axis is unknown, nothing can be ascertained concerning its seasons. The sun gives to Neptune but xio^ the light and heat which we receive.
Though Neptune is at the extreme of the solar system, 2,790,000,000 miles beyond us, the same heavens bend above, the Milky Way is no nearer to the eye, and the fixed stars shine no more brightly. The planets, however, are all too near the sun to be seen, except Saturn and Uranus. The Neptunian astronomers, if there be any, are well situated for measuring the annual parallax of the stars, since
METEOfiS AND SHOOTING STaHS. 175
NeptuDe has an orbit of 5,580,000,000 miles in diameter, and hence the angle must be thirty times as great as that which the terrestrial orbit affords.
Telescopic Features. — On account of the recent discovery of this planet and its immense distance, nothing is known of its rotation or physical features.
Satellites. — Neptune has one moon, at nearly the same distance from it as our own moon is from the earth. The revolution of this body about the planet, which is accomplished in about six days, has furnished the materials for calculating the mass of Neptune.
STARS.
Description. — All are familiar with those luminous bodies that flash through our atmosphere as if the stars were indeed falling from heaven. Different names have been applied to them, although the distinction is not very definite.
which descend to the earth.
(2) Meteors are luminous bodies which have a sensible diameter and a spherical form. They frequently pass over a great extent of country, and are seen for some seconds. Many leave behind them a train of glowing sparks ; others explode with reports like the discharge of artillery,— the pieces either continuing their course, or falling to the earth as
aerolites. Some meteors pass on into space ; some are vaporized ; while others are burned, and the ashes and fragments fall to the ground. (3) Shooting Stars are those evanescent, brilliant
A Meteor vriih its Train.
points that suddenly dart through the higher regions of the air, leaving a fiery train behind. 1. Aerolites. — The fall of aerolites is frequently men-
tioned and well authenticated. Chinese records tell of one as long ago as 616 B.C., that, in its fall, broke several chariots and killed ten men. A block of stone, equal to a full wagon-load, fell in the Hellespont, B.C. 465. By the ancients, these stones were held in great repute. The Emperor Jehangire, it is related, had a sword forged from a mass of meteoric iron which fell in the Punjab in 1620. In 1795, amass was seen, by a ploughman, to descend not far from where he was standing. It threw up the soil on every side, and penetrated some distance into the solid rock beneath. In 1807, there was a shower of stones, one weighing 200 lbs., at Weston, Connecticut. A mass once fell in South America, that was estimated to weigh fifteen tons. When first discovered, it was so hot as to prevent all approach. Upon its cooling, many efforts were made, by some travelers who were present, to detach specimens, but its hardness was too great for the tools that they possessed. In Yale College cabinet, there is a mass of meteoric iron, weighing 1,635 lbs.
Aerolites consist of elements which are familiar. The analysis of these stellar objects gives us names as commonplace as if they had known a far less romantic origin, — iron, tin, copper, nickel, cobalt, lime, magnesia, oxygen, sulphur, phosphorus ; in all, about twenty elements have been found. This fact is interesting as revealing something of the chemistry of the region of space, concerning which we otherwise know little. The compounds, however, are so peculiar as to distinguish an aerolite ITOQi other substances. For example, meteoric iron,
has never been found in terrestrial minerals.
2. Meteors. — The records of meteors are even more wonderful than those of aerolites. It is related that at Crema, Italy, one day in the loth century, the sky at noonday became dark, — a cloud of appalling blackness overspreading the heavens. Upon this cloud, appeared the semblance of a great peacock of fire
flying over the town. This suddenly changed to a huge pyramid, that rapidly traversed the sky. Thence arose awful lightnings and thunderings, amid which there fell upon the plain rocks, some of which weighed 100 lbs. In 1803, a brilliant fireball was seen traversing Normandy with great velocity, and some moments after, frightful explosions, like the noise of cannon, were heard coming from a black cloud hanging in the clear sky; they
were prolonged for five or six minutes. These discharges were followed by a shower of heated stones, some weighing over 24 lbs. In 1819, a meteor was witnessed in Massacb.usetts and Maryland, the diameter of which was estimated at half a mile. In July, 1860, a brilliant fireball passed over the State of New York, from west to east, and was last seen far out at sea. On the evening of Feb. 12th, 1875, a magnificent meteor " illumined the entire State of Iowa, and parts of Missouri, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. The aerolites that have been collected show its weight to have been fully 5,000 lbs."
3. Shooting Stars. — One of the earliest accounts of star-showers is that which relates how, in 472, the sky at Constantinople appeared to be alive with flying stars and meteors. In some Eastern annals we are told that in October, 1202, "the stars appeared like waves upon the sky. They flew about like grasshoppers, and were dispersed from left to right." It is recorded that in the time of King William II. there occurred in England a wonderful shower of stars, which "seemed to fall like rain from heaven. An eye-witness, seeing where an aerolite fell, cast water upon it, which was raised in steam, with a great noise of boiling." *
Showers of 1799 and 1833.— The most remarkable accounts are those of the showers of November 12th, 1799, and November 13th, 1833. Humboldt, in describing the former, says the sky was covered
* Rastel says concerning it : " By the report of the common people in this kynge's time, diverse great wonders were seene, and tlierefore the kynge was told by diverse pjf his familiars that God was not content with his lyvyng."
with innumerable fiery trails, which incessantly traversed the sky. From the beginning of the phenomenon, there was not a space in the heavens three times the diameter of the moon that was not filled every instant with the celestial fireworks, — large meteors blending constantly their dazzling brilliancy with the long phosphorescent paths of the shooting stars. (See notes, p. 305.)
The latter shower was most brilliant on this continent, and was visible from the lakes to the equator. Phosphoric lines swept over the sky like the flakes of a snow-storm. Large meteors darted across the heavens, leaving luminous trains behind them that were visible sometimes for half an hour : they generally shed a soft white light : occasionally, however, yellow, green, and other colors varied the scene. Irregular fireballs, almost stationary, glared in the sky ; one especially, larger than the moon, hung in mid-air over Niagara Falls, and mingled its light with the foam and mist of the cataract. In many sections, the people were terror-stricken by the awful spectacle, and supposed that the end of the world had come.
Inferior showers were seen in 1831, and 1832, and in the succeeding years, until 1839. These did not compare in brilliancy with the remarkable phenomenon of 1833. There was an interval of about 3-4 years between the great showers of 1799 and 1833 ; this seemed to indicate another shower in 1866 or 1867.
In November, 1866, the people of both hemispheres were literally awake to the subject. Newspapers aroused the mpst sluggish imagination with thrilling
accounts of the scenes presented in 1790 and 1833. Extempore observatories were established at every convenient point. Watchmen were stationed, and the city bells were to be rung on the appearance of the first wandering celestial visitor. The exact night was not definitely known, but, for fear of a mistake, the 11th, 12th, and 13th were generally observed. The anxious vigils, the fruitless scannings of the sky, the disappointment, the meteors that were dimly thought to be seen, — all these were recorded in the memory of the temporary astronomers of that year.
While, however, the people of America were thus disappointed, there was enacted in England a display brilliant indeed, though inferior to the one of 1833. The staff at Greenwich Observatory counted about 8,000 meteors.
In November, 1867, the long-expected shower was seen in this country, but it failed to satisfy the public anticipation. The sky was, however, illumined with shooting stars and meteers, some of which exceeded Jupiter or Venus in brilliancy.
Number of Meteors and Shooting Stars. — Prof, Newton estimates that the average number of meteors that traverse the atmosphere daily, and which are large enough to be visible to the eye on a dark, clear night, is 7,500,000 ; and if to these the telescopic meteors be added, the number would be increased to 400,000,000. In the space traversed by the earth, there are, on the average, in each volume the size of our globe (including its atmosphere), as many as 13,000 small bodies, each one capable of
circumstances to the naked eye.
Annual Periodicity of the Star-Showers. — On almost any clear night,, from five to seven shooting stars may be seen per hour, but in certain months they are much more abundant. Arago names the following principal dates :
Origin. — Aerolites, meteors, and falling stars are produced by small bodies — planets in miniature — revolving, like our earth, about the sun. Their orbits intersect the orbit of the earth, and if, at any time, they reach the point of crossing exactly with the earth, there is a collision. Their mass is so small, that the earth is not jarred any more than a railway train would be by a pebble thrown against it.
These small bodies may come near the earth and be drawn to its surface by the power of attraction ; or they may sweep through the higher regions of the atmosphere, and then escape its grasp : or, finally, they may, under certain conditions, be compelled to revolve many times around the earth as satellites.
The November " meteoroids " (as these bodies are called before igniting) move at the rate of 26 miles per second in a direction nearly opposite that of the earth. They, therefore, meet our atmosphere with a relative velocity of 44 miles per second. As they sweep through the air, the friction partly arrests
their motion, and converts it into heat and light. The body thus becomes visible to us. Its size and direction determine its appearance. If very small, it is consumed in the upper regions, and leaves only the luminous trail of a shooting star. If of large size, it may sweep along at a high elevation, or plunge directly toward the ground. Becoming highly heated in its course, it sheds a vivid light, while, unequally expanding, it explodes, throwing off large fragments which fall to the earth as aerolites, or continue their separate course as meteors. The cinders of the consumed portion rain down on us as fine meteoric dust. *
Meteoric Rings. — These little bodies, it is thought, do not generally revolve individually about the sun, but myriads of them are collected in a ring. "When the earth passes through one of these floating girdles, a star-shower follows. This would account for their regular appearance at certain seasons of the year. The November meteoroids are not, like the August ones, uniformly distributed through the ring, but are principally collected in a swarm that has a period of 33^ years ; hence the August shower occurs quite regularly each summer, while the great November one happens only three times in a century. The orbit of the November stream extends beyond that of Uranus. The point where it crosses the earth's orbit moves forward about 50" per annum, and thus that star-shower occurs about a day later at each return. It takes three or four years for this
known or unknown comet.
Radiant Point. — The meteoroids are, of course, moving in parallel lines, but, by an optical illusion, they seem to radiate in all directions, the radiant point being in that part of the heavens which the earth is then approaching. * A star (m) in the blade of the sickle is the point from which the stars in the November shower radiate, while one in Perseus (y) is the radiant point of the August shower.
Height. — Herschel estimates the average height of shooting stars above the earth to be seventy-three miles at their appearance, and fifty -two at their disappearance.
IV. COMETS.
We come now to notice a class of bodies the most fascinating, perhaps, of any in astronomy. The suddenness with which comets flame out in the sky, the enormous dimensions of their fiery trains, the swiftness of their flight, the strange and mysterious forms they assume, their departure as unheralded as their advent, — all seem to bid defiance to law, and partake of the marvellous. Superstitious
* The same illusion is seen if, looking upward, we watch snow-flakes falling during a calm. Those coming directly toward our eyes seem to be motionless, and the rest to separate from them in diverging lines. This is the effect of perspective, and the " radiant point" is really the "vanishing point" of the parallel lines through which the meteors are moving. See Newcomb's Astronomy, p. 399.
they have been looked upon in every age as
" Threatening the world with famine, plague, and war ; To princes, death ; to kingdoms, many curses ; To all estates, inentable losses ; To herdsmen, rot ; to plowmen, hapless seasons; To sailors, storms ; to cities, civil treasons." •
Description. — The term comet signvQ.es a.hairy body. A comet consists usually of three parts ; — the nucleus, a bright point in the center of the head ; the cotna (hair), the cloud-like mass surrounding the nucleus ;
Comet Kithout a Nufleus. Comet mth a Nitdeus.
and the tail, a luminous train extending generally in a direction opposite to the sun. There ai-e comets without the tail, and others with several tails, while some are deprived of even the nucleus. The last consist merely of a fleecy mass, known to be a comet from its orbit and rapid motion.
• Thas the comet of 43 b. c, which appeared just after the assassination of Julias CiBsar, was looked upon by the Romans as a celestial chariot sent to convey his soul heavenward. An old English writer observes : " Cometes signifle corruptions of the a\Te. Tliey are signes of earthquakes, of warres, of changyng kjTigedomes, great dearthe of com, yea, a common death of man and beast." Another remarks : " Expert ence is an eminent e\'idence that a comet, like a sword, portendeth war ; and a hairy comet, or a comet with a beard, denoteth the death of kings, as if God and nature intended by comets to ring the knells of princes, esteeming bells in churches upon earth Dot sacred enough for such illustrious and eminent performances."
eoMEtg. 187
Comets are not confined, like the planets, to the limits of the zodiac, but appear in every quarter of the heavens, and move in every conceivable direction. When first seen, the comet resembles a faint spot of light upon the dark background of the sky: as it approaches the sun the brightness increases, and the tail begins to show itself. Generally it is brightest near perihelion, and gradually fades away as it recedes, until it is finally lost, even to the telescope.*
tinct than when it is more distant at P, although at the latter point it is really brighter. If, however, the earth is at c omt o/ coraet.
the earth is passing from a to 6 during the time
* While a comet remains in regions beyond the planets, where the temperature is below — 140° C, its matter must be chiefly solid or liquid. On its approach to the sun, its enveloping atmosphere (if none existed, one will now be formed) will expand, and the nucleus will appear, surrounded by a blaze of light, feeble at first, but becoming more and more brilliant, and so producing the head, or coma, of the comet. Many comets do not go beyond this first phase, and, being exposed only to a moderate heat, remain telescopic. Others, piercing further the solar system, and reaching a higher temperature, develop a more abundant atmosphere. The sun, while attracting to himself the nucleus, has power to repel some of the matter of the atmosphere ; how or why, we know not. Enough, that certain parts fly ofl" as if driven by a gale, so making the tail, which increases more and more until the atmosphere is exhausted. Meanwhile, remarkable changes take place in the nucleus. Eruptions occur. Pieces are sometimes thrown off large enough to form a new comet, and showers of spark-like particles, with oecasionally stony masses, fill the orbit of the comet with meteoroids.— Sc/iiaporeUi.
the comet is near the sun, it will appear less brilliant than if the earth were moving from c to d, as we should then be much nearer it during its greatest illumination.
Number of Comets. — Kepler remarks that "there are as many comets in the heavens as fish in the sea." Arago, basing his calculations on the number known to exist between the sun and Mercury, has estimated that there are 17,500,000 within the solar system. Of this vast number, few are visible to the naked eye, and a still less number attract observation, owing to their inferior size and brilliancy. Many are doubtless lost to our sight by being above the horizon in the daytime. During the eclipse of 1882, Lockyer, who was in Egypt to take observations, saw a brilliant comet near the sun.
Orbits of the Comets. — Comets form a part of the solar system, and are subject to the laws of gravitation. Like the planets, they revolve around the sun, though they differ in the form of their orbits. While the planets move in paths varying but little from circular, and thus never depart so far from the sun as to be invisible to us, the comets travel in extremely elongated (flattened) ellipses, so that they can be observed by us through only a small portion of their paths.
In Fig. 79 are represented the three general classes of cometary orbits. A comet traveling along an elliptical orbit, though it may pass far from the sun, will yet return within a fixed time ; one pursuing either a parabolic or hyperbolic curve cannot return, as the two sides separate from each other more and
more. Many of the comets of the first class have been calculated, and they have repeatedly visited our portion of the heavens ; while those of the other classes, having once visited our system, go away forever,
Three Forms of Cometary Orbits.
seeking perhaps in the far-off space another sun, which in turn they will abandon as they have our own. Calculation of a Comet's Return. — As we can c"" serve so small a proportion of the entire orbit, ^^ p^^very difficult, indeed oftentimes impossible, to d*
whether it is an hyperbola, an ellipse, or a parabola. A few are known to move in elliptical paths, and their orbits have been so accurately computed that it is possible to predict the time of their appearance. The other comets may never return, or at least not
Projections of a few Cometary Orbits on the Plane of the Ecliptic,
for centuries hence. They may be paying our sun their first visit ; or, if they have swept through the "^vlar system before, it may have been at so remote a eitie that no record is preserved, even if it were not as tre the creation of man. Under these circum-
COMEfS. 131
stances, it is difficult to determine the place of these apparently erratic wanderers ; yet, in spite of all these obstacles, some have been tracked into space far beyond the telescopic view. For example, the comet of 1844 is announced to pay a visit to the astronomers of the year of our Lord 101,844. The period of the comet of 1744, is fixed at 123,683 years.
Distance from the Sun. — Some comets at their perihelion sweep near the sun. Thus the one of 1680 came where the temperature was estimated by Newton to be about 2,000 times that of red-hot iron. * The nearest approach known is that of the comet of 1843, whose perihelion distance was but about 30,000 miles from the surface of the sun ; in fact, it doubled around that body in two-hours time. (Guillemin.)f The greatest aphelion distance yet estimated is that of the comet of 1844, which is over 400,000,000,000 miles. The velocity varies, of course, with the position in the orbit. The comet of 1680 moved in perihelion at the rate of over two hundred and seventy-seven miles per second ; while in aphelion its velocity is only about six miles per hour.
Density of Comets. — The quantity of matter contained in a comet is exceedingly small. Even tele scopic stars are visible through the densest part. The comet of 1770 became entangled among Jupiter's
* The comet of 1680 excited such terror in Europe that a medal was struck, to quiet the fears of the people. The inscription read thus: "The star threatens evil things; trust only ! God will turn them to good." Newton calculated the oi bit of this comet and proved that the comet moves around the sun in obedience to the law of gravity.
t The comet of 1843 excited much interest in this country since one Miller had predicted that the end of the world would come in that year; his followers imagined this comet presaged the destruction of all things.
moons, and remained there four months without in terf eriug with their movements ; indeed, so far from that, its own orbit was so much changed by their proximity, that, from a periodical return of 5f years, it has not been seen since. We have good reason to suppose that the earth, in 1861, passed through the tail of a comet, its presence being indicated only by a peculiar phosphorescent mist. So that even should our earth run full-tilt against a comet, the shock might be quite imperceptible.* Still, however lightly we may speak of the probability of such a collision, we must remember that there are comets of greater solidity. Donati's, for instance, is estimated by some to be about yws the mass of the earth. The concussion of such a body, moving with the speed of a cannon-ball, would undoubtedly produce a very sensible effect.
It is not determined whether comets shine by their own or by reflected light. If, however, their nuclei consist of white-hot matter, a passage through such a furnace would be anything but desirable or satisfactory. After all the calculations of Astronomy, our only safety lies in that Almighty Power which traces the path and guides the course alike of planets and comets : He, whose eye marks the fall
* " However dangerous might be the shock of a comet, it might be so slight that it would onlr do damage to that part of the earth where it actuaUy struck ; perhaps, even, we might cry quits, if, wliile one kingdom were devastated, the rest of the earth were to enjoy the rarities which a body coming from so far might bring to it. Perhaps we should be very surprised to find that the debrU of these masses that we despised were formed of gold or diamonds ; but who would be the more astonished — we or the comet-dwellers who would be cast upon our earth? What strange beings each would find the other?" Lettre sur la Comete, par M. De Manpertuis.
He has created.
Variations in Form and Dimensions. — Comets appear to be subject to constant variations. They are now thought generally to decrease in brilliancy at each successive revolution about the sun. The same comet may present itself sometimes with a tail, and sometimes without. When the comet first appears, there is commonly no tail visible, and the light is faint. As it approaches the sun, however, its brightness increases, the tail shoots out from the coma, and grows daily in length and splendor. Supernumerary tails, shorter and less distinct than the principal one, dart out, but they generally soon disappear, as if from lack of material. The tail of the comet of 1843, just after the perihelion, increased in length 5,000,000 miles per day. As the tail thus extended, the nucleus was correspondingly contracted, so that this comet actually " exhausted its head in the manufacture of its own tail."
Remarkable Comets. — Among the many comets celebrated in history, we shall notice only some of those that have appeared in the present century. The great comet of 1811 was a magnificent spectacle. * The head was 112,000 miles in diameter ; the nucleus was 400 miles ; while the tail, of a beautiful fanshape, stretched out 112,000,000 miles. "The aphelion distance of this comet is fourteen times that of Neptune, or 40,000,000,000 miles. It is announced to return in thirty centuries ! " To what profound depths
The Comet of 1835 is known as Halley's comet. This is remarkable as being the first comet whose period of revolution was satisfactorily established. Dr. Halley, on examining the accounts of the great comets of 1531, 1607, and 1682, suspected that they were the reappearances of the same comet, whose period he fixed at about 75 years.* He finally ven-
• The history of this comet, as it has been traced back by it^ period of seventy-five years, is quite eventful. It was seen in England in 1066, when it was looked upon with dread as the forerunner of the \ictorj' of William of Normandy. It was then equal to the full moon in size. In 1456, its tail reached from the horizon to the zenith. It was
tured to predict the return of the coined at near the end of 1758 or beginning of 1759. Although Halley did not live to see his prophecy fulfilled, great interest was felt in the result. It was not destined, however, for a professional astronomer to be the
saw it on Christmas night, 1758.
supposed to indicate the success of Mahomet II., who had already taken Constantinople, and then threatened the whole Christian world. Pope Calixtus III., therefore, ordered extra Ave Marias to be repeated by everybody, and also the church bells to be rung daily at noon (whence originated the custom now so universal). A prayer was added as follows : "Lord, save us from the devil, the Turk, and the comet." In 1223, it was considered the precursor of the death of Philip Augustus of France. The first recorded appearance of Halley's comet was b. c. 130, when it was supposed to herald the birth of Mithridates.
The Comet of 1843 was so brilliant that it was visible in full daylight. It was so near the sun at perihelion as " almost to graze his surface."
Encke's Comet has a period of only 3^ years. A most interesting discovery has been made from observations upon its motion. The comet returns each time to its perihelion about 3^ hours earlier than the calculations indicate. Hence, Prof. Encke has been led to conjecture chat space is filled with a thin, ethereal medium capable of diminishing the centrifugal force, and thus contracting the orbit of a comet.
DoNATi's Comet (1858) was the subject of universal wonder. When first discovered, in June, it was 240,000,000 miles from the earth. In August, traces of a tail were noticed, which expanded in October to about 50,000,000 miles in length. This comet, though small, has never been exceeded in the brilliancy of the nucleus and the graceful curvature of the tail. It will return in about 2,000 years.
The " Great Comet of 1882 " had, soon after passing its perihelion, a nucleus as bright as a star of the 1st magnitude, and a tail 60,000,000 miles long. The aphelion of its orbit is six times further than Neptune from the sun, and the comet's period is estimated at between eight and nine centuries.
Description. — If we watch the western horizon in March or April, just after sunset, we shall sometimes see the short twilight of that season illuminated by
a faint nebulous light, of a conical shape, flashing upward, often as high as the Pleiades. In September and October, at early dawn, the same appearance
can be detected near the eastern horizon. The light can be seen in this latitude only on the most favorable evenings, when the sky is clear and the moon absent. Even then, it will be frequently confounded with the Milky Way or auroral lights. At the base.
it is of a reddish hue, where it is so bright as often to efface the sraaller stars. In tropical regions, the zodiacal light is perpetual, and shines with a brilUancy sufficient, says Humboldt, to cast a sensible glow on the opposite part of the heavens.
Origin. — The commonly-received opinion is, that it is caused by a faint, cloud-like ring, perhaps a meteoric zone, that surrounds the sun, and becomes visible to us only when the sun himself is hidden below the horizon. Others maintain that, since it has been seen in tropical regions in the east and the west simultaneously, it can be explained only on the theory of a " nebulous ring that surrounds the earth within the orbit of the moon."
23. At Edinburgh, Scotland, there are times when the sun rises at 3^ o'clock A. M. and sets at 8^ o'clock p. M., and the twilight lasts the entire night. When and why is this ?
45. Is it correct to say that the moon revolves about the earth, when we know that, according to the law of Physics, they must both revolve about their common center of gravity ?*
54. "The shadow of the satellite precedes the satellite itself when Jupiter is passing from conjunction to oi)position, but follows it between opposition and conjunction." Explain.
* "Strictly speaking, the moon does not revolve around the earth, any more than the earth around the moon ; but, by the principle of action and reaction, the center of each body moves around the common center of gravity of the two bodies. The eartli being eighty tiniis as heavy as the moon, this center is situated within the former, about three-quarters of the way from its center to its surface."— i^ewcomh's Astronomy, p. 91.
' 1 To Find Distance of Pl-Ocets from sun. I •'! To Fint) Moons Distance from Earth. ^ 3. To Find Sun's Distance from Earth. L 4. To FiifD LoKcrruDK op a Place, etc.
I. THE STARS.
IN our celestial journey we have reached Neptune, the sentinel outpost of the solar system. We are now nearly 2,800,000,000 miles from our sun. Yet we are apparently no nearer the fixed stars than when we started. They twinkle as serenely there in the far-off sky as to us here on the earth. The heavens by night, with the exception of a few changes in the planets, look familiar. Between them and us there is still a vast chasm which no imagination can bridge ; a distance so immense that figures are meaningless, and we can only call it space, — so profound that to us it is limitless, though beyond we see other worlds twinkling, like distant lights over a waste of waters.
We never see the Stars. — This assertion seems paradoxical, yet it is strictly true. So far are the stars removed from us, that we see only the light they send, but not the surface of the worlds themselves. They are merely glittering points of light. The most powerful telescope fails to produce a sensible disk. This constitutes a marked difference between a planet and a fixed star.
204 THE SIDEREAL SYSTEM.
The Annual Parallax of tne Fixed Stars. — When speaking of this subject on page 121, we said that 186,000,000 miles, or the diameter of the earth's orbit, is the unit for measuring the parallax of the fixed stars. Yet when the stars are viewed from even these extreme points, they manifest so slight a change of place, that to estimate it is one of the most delicate feats of astronomy.
At the present time, it is considered that the star Alpha (a) Centauri in the southern heavens is the nearest to the earth. Its parallax is judged to be about 1". Its distance is more than 200,000 times that of the earth from the sun, or twenty trillions of miles. This is probably by no means its actual distance, but merely the limit within which it cannot be, but beyond which it must be.*
These figures convey to our mind no idea of distance. Our imagination fails to grasp the thought, or to picture the vast void across which we are gazing. We remember that light moves at the rate of 186,000 miles per second. A ray at that speed would, in one day, plunge out into the abyss beyond Neptune six times the distance of that planet from the sun. Yet it must sweep on at this prodigious speed, day and night, for over 3^ years to span the gulf
* David Gill, the Royal Astronomer at the Cape of Good Hope, has recently determined the parallax of a Centauri to be 0".75. This would make its distance 275,0CC astronomical units. 275,000 x 93,000,000 miles = over 25^ trillion miles. Light would require about i\ years to travel this enormous distance. Vega's parallax is placed at not far from 0".2, which indicates a distance of about 1,000,000 astronomical units. Hence, Vega shines upon us from the inconceivable distance of niiiety-three trillion mile.i.' The parallax of Sirius has been variously estimated at from 0".16 to 0".38. Newcomb places this star at more than a million radii of the earth's orbit away from us, yet its light is four times as brilliant as that of any other star. The difficulty of measuring the stellar parallax may be judged from the fact that 1" measures the angle at wliich a globe three-tenths of an inch in diameter would be seen when a mile away.
and reach a stopping point at the nearest fixed star. It has been estimated that the average time required for the light of the smallest stars which are visible to the naked eye to reach the earth is about 125 years. What, then, shall we say of those fardistant ones, whose faint light appears as a mere fleecy whiteness even in the most powerful telescopes? The conclusion is irresistible, that the light we receive set out on its sidereal journey far back in the past, perhaps before the creation of man!
Motion of the Fixed Stars. — It will aid us still further in comprehending the immense distances of the stars, to learn that, though they seem to be fixed, they are moving much more swiftly than any of the planets. Thus, Arcturus flies through space at the astonishing rate of 200,000 miles per hour, or nearly twice that of Mercury, and more than three times that of the earth. Yet, through all our lifetime, we shall never be able to detect any change in its position. " It requires three centuries for it to move over the starry vault a space equal to the moon's apparent diameter."
The Stars are Suns.— The vast distance at which the stars are known to be, precludes the thought of their shining, like the planets or the moon, by reflecting back the light of our sun. They must be selfluminous, and are doubtless each the center of a system of planets and satellites.
Our Sun a Star. — As we see only the suns of these distant systems, so their inhabitants see only the sun of our system, and that as a small star.
our sun is in motion. It is sweeping onward, with its retinue of worlds, 150,000,000 miles per year, toward a point in the constellation Hercules. The Pleiades has been thought to be the center around which this
able. To count them, one would think almost as interminable a task as to number the leaves on the trees. It is, therefore, somewhat startling to learn that the entire number visible to the most piercing eyesight does not exceed 6,000, while few can discern more than 4,000.* The number, however, which may be seen with a telescope is marvellous. In Fig. 84, is shown a portion of the heavens where the naked eye sees but six stars. Could we examine the same region of the sky with more powerful instruments, new constellations would doubtless be descried in the infinite depths of space.
Scintillation. — The twinkling of the fixed stars is due to what is termed in Physics the "Interference of Light." The air, being unequally dense, warm, and moist in its various strata, transmits very irregularly the different colors of which white light is composed. Now one color prevails over the rest, and now another, so that the star appears to alter its hue incessantly. As the purity and density of the air vary, the twinkling of the stars also changes, and, therefore, it is always greatest near the horizon, t
Magnitude of the Stars. — As the telescope reveals no disk of even the nearest stars, we know nothing of their comparative size. The finest spider's thread, placed at the focus of the instrument, hides the star from the eye. When the moon passes in front of a
bright light remains upon the retina, as in the whirling of a firebrand.
t Humboldt says that at Cumana, in South America, where the air is remarkably pure and uniform in density, the stars cease to twinkle after tliey have risen 15° above the horizon. This gives to the celestial vault a peculiarly calm and soft appearance. — It should he noticed that interference occurs only when the light emanates from a point. A body that subtends a visual angle, i. e., has a sensible disk, like a planet, cannot twinkle.
star, the occultation is instantaneous, and not gradual, as in the case of the planets. Classification depends, therefore, merely upon their relative brightness. The most conspicuous are termed stars of the first
Fin. sr,.
magnitude; of these there are about twenty. The number of second-magnitude stars in the entire heavens is sixty -five ; of the third, about 200 ; of the fifth, 1,100 ; of the sixth, 3,200 ; of the seventh, 13,000 ; of the eighth, 40,000 ; and of the ninth, 142,000. Few persons can see smaller stars than those of the fifth or sixth magnitude.
The DiflFerence in the Brightness of the stars may result from a dilBference in their distance, size, or intrinsic brightness. Hence it follows that the faintest stars may not be the most distant from the earth.
Names of Stars. — Many of the brightest stars received proper names at an early date ; as Sirius, Arcturus. The chief stars of each constellation are distinguished by the letters of the Greek alphabet ;
THE STAKS. 209
the brightest one being usually called Alpha (a), the next Beta (j"^), etc., — the name of the constellation, in the genitive case, being put after each. Ex., a Arietis, (3 Lyrse.*
Star catalogues are issued, containing the stars arranged in the order of their Right Ascension, and numbered for convenience of reference. Argelander's Charts have 334,188 stars marked in the northern hemisphere.
The Constellations. — From the earliest ages, the stars have been arranged in constellations, for the purpose of more readily distinguishing them. Some of these groups were named from their supposed resemblance to certain figures, such as perching birds, pugnacious bulls, or contorted snakes, while others do honor to the memory of classic heroes.
"Thus monstrous forms, o'er heaven's nocturnal arch, Seen by the sage, in pomp celestial march ; See Aries there his glittering bow unfold, And raging Taurus toss liis horns of gold ; With bended bow the sullen Archer lowers, And there Aquarius comes with all his showers ; Lions and Centaurs, Gorgons, Hj'dras rise. And gods and lieroes blaze along the skies."
With a few exceptions, the likeness is purely fanciful. Not only are the figures uncouth, and the origin often frivolous, but the boundaries are not distinct. Stars occur under different names ; while one constellation encroaches upon another, f Though,
preposition of.
t Chambers well remarks, "Aries should not have a horn in Pisces and a leg in Cetus, nor should 13 Argos pass through the Unicorn's flank into the Little Dog. 51 Oamelopardali might with proiiriety be extracted from the eye of Auripa, a)!"! the ribs of Aquarius Released froin 4C Capricorni."
however, the constellations are thus rude and imperfect, there seems little hope of any change. Age gives them a dignity that insures their perpetuation.
The Invention of the Constellations goes back into ages of which no record remains. By some it has been ascribed to the Greeks. When the signs of the zodiac were named, they doubtless coincided with the constellations. Aries (the ram) was so called because it rose with the sun in the spring-time, and the Chaldean shepherds named it from the flocks, their most valued possession. Then followed, in order, Taurus (the bull) and Gemini (the twins), called from the herds, which were esteemed next in value. At the summer solstice, the sun appears to stop, and, crab-like, to crawl backward ; hence the name Cancer (the crab). When the sun is in Leo, the brooks being dry, the lion leaves his lurkingplace and becomes a terror to all. Virgo comes next, when the virgins glean in the summer harvest. At the autumnal equinox, the days and nights are equally balanced, and this is beautifully represented by Libra (the scales). The vegetation decays in the fall, causing sickness and death ; the Scorpion, which stings as it recedes, is suggestive of this Parthian warfare. Sagittarius (the archer) tells of the hunting month. Capricornus (the goat, which delights in climbing lofty precipices) denotes how at the winter solstice the sun begins to climb the sky on his return north. Aquarius (the water-bearer) is a natural emblem of the rainy season. Pisces (the fisHes) is the month for fishing.
the ecliptic about 30°, so that those stars which were, during the infancy of astronomy, in the sign Aries {v) are now in Taurus (a), and those which were in the sign Pisces (X) are now in Aries {^)*
appearance of the constellations and the figures
* If the teacher will put a pin at the center of Fig. 86, and then draw a sharp knife between the signs and the constellations, so as to detach the middle of the cut, and cause the inner part to revolve, the signs may be turned before any constellation, an(} |;hijs this change be clearly apprehended.
which the stars form are due to the position we oecupy. Could we cross the gulf of space beyond Neptune, the stars now so familiar to us would look strangely enough in their new groupings. As one in riding through a forest sees the trees apparently increase in size and open up to view before him. while they decrease in size and close in behind him. forming clusters and groups which constantly change as he passes along, so, as our earth travels -^vith the solar system on its immense sidereal journey, the stars will gradually grow larger and brighter in front, while those behind us will appear smaller and dimmer.
Since, in addition to this, the stars themselves are in motion with varying velocity and in different directions, the constellations must change still more rapidly, so as ultimately to transform the appearance of the heavens. In time, the " Bands of Orion " will be loosened, and the '' Seven Sisters " will glide apart. Such are the distances, however, that, although these movements have been going on constantly, no variation has occurred, since the creation of man, that is perceptible, save to the watchful astronomer. Nothing in nature is so invariable as the stars. They are the standards of time. Myriads of years must elapse before new maps of the constellations will be required.
Value of the Stars in Practical Life.—" The stars are the landmarks of the universe." They seem to be placed in the heavens by the Creator, not alone to elevate our thoughts and expand our conceptions of the infinite and eternal, but to afford us, amid the
constant fluctuations of our own earth, something unchangeable and abiding. Every object about us is constantly shifting, but over all shine the " eternal stars/' each with its place so accurately marked, that to the astronomer and the geographer no deception is possible. To the mariner, the heavens become a dial-plate, the figures on its face set with glittering stars, along which the moon travels as a shining hand that marks off the hours with an accuracy no watch can ever rival. Standing on the deck of his vessel, far out at sea, a single observation of the sun or the stars decides his location in the waste of waters as accurately as if he were at home, and had caught sight of some old landmark he had known from his boyhood. In all the intricacies of surveying, the stars furnish the only immutable guide. Our clocks vainly strive to keep time with the celestial host. Thus, by an evident plan of the Creator, even in the most common affairs of life, are we compelled to look for guidance from the shifting objects of earth up to the heavens above.
Ancient Views. — Anaximenes (500 b. c.) thought that the stars were for ornaments, and were nailed like bright studs into the crystalline sphere. Anaxagoras considered that they were stones whirled up from the earth by the rapid motion of the ether, and that its inflammable properties set them on fire and caused them to shine as stars. Some schools of the Grecian philosophers — the Stoics, Epicureans, etc. — believed that they were celestial fires kept alive by matter that constantly streamed up to them from the center of the heavens. The stars were at one
ing holes of the universe.
Three Zones of Stars. — If we recall what was said on page 90, concerning the paths of the stars and the appearance of the heavens at different seasons of the year, we shall see that the constellations are naturally divided into three zones. The first embraces those which are visible through the entire year ; the second, those whose paths can be seen only in part on any given night ; and the third, those whose paths just graze our southern horizon, or never pass above it.
I. The Northern Circumpolar Constellations are
visible in our latitude every night. They may be easily traced by holding the book up toward the northern sky in such a way that Polaris and the Big Dipper on the map and in the heavens agree in position, and then locating the other constellations by comparison.
As the stars revolve about Polaris, their places will vary with every successive night through the year. The cut represents them as they are seen at midnight of the winter solstice. At 6 P. M. of that day, the right-hand side of the map should be held downward, and the Big Dipper will be directly below the north star. At 6 a. m., the left-hand side should be at the bottom, and the Dipper will be above Polaris. From
day to day, this aspect will change, each star coming a little earlier to the meridian, or to its position on the preceding night. The rate of this progression is six hours, or 90°, in three months.
Ursa Major is represented under the figure of a great bear. It contains 133 stars visible to the naked eye. This constellation has been celebrated among all nations. It is remarkable that the shepherds of Chaldeain Asia and the Iroquois Indians of America gave to it the same name.
Principal Stars. — A noticeable cluster of seven stars — six of the second and one of the fourth magnitude— forms what is familiarly termed the Dipper. In England it is styled Charles's "Wain, from a fancied resemblance to a wagon drawn by three horses tandem. Mizar {^) has a ininute companion, Alcor, which Humboldt tells us could be rarely seen in Europe. A person with good eyesight may now readily detect it. Megrez {6), at the junction of the handle and the bowl, is to be marked particularly, since it lies almost exactly in the colure passing through the autumnal equinox. Dubhe and Merak are termed the Pointers, because they point out the polar star. The bear's right fore-paw and hind-paw* are each marked by two small stars, as shown in the cut ; a similar pair nearly in line with these denote the left hind-paw (see £, Fig. 90).
formed her into a bear.
" The prostrate wretch lifts up her head in prayer, Her arms grow shaggy, and deformed with hair ; Her nails are sharpened into pointed claws. Her hands bear half her weight and turn to paws.
And lest the supplicating brute might reach The ears of Jove, she was deprivetl of speech. How did she fear to loflge in woods alone. And haunt the fields and meadows once her own ! How often would the deep-mouthed dogs pursue, Whilst from her hounds the frighted hunters flew."
Some time afterward, CalJisto's son, Areas, being out hunting, pursued his mother, and was about to transfix her with his uplifted spear, when Jupiter in pity transferred them both to the heavens, and placed them among the constellations as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.
Ursa Minor is represented under the figure of a small bear. It contains twenty-seven stars, of which only three are of the third, and four of the fourth magnitude.
Principal Stars. — A cluster of seven stars forms the Little Dipper. Three of them are small, and are seen with difficulty. Polaris, at the extremity of the handle, has been known from time immemorial as the North Polar Star. Until the mariners compass came into use, it was the star
Polaris does not mark the exact position of the pole, since that is about 1^° toward the Pointers. This distance will gradually diminish,* until in time (2130 A. D.) it will be only |° : then it will increase again, until, in the lapse of ages, 12,000 years hence, the brilliant star Vega (a Lyrse) will fulfill the office of polar star for those who shall then live on the earth, f The Distance of Polaris is so great, that, though the star is moving through space at the rate of ninety
* Five stars of the Dipper itself are drifting away from tlie sim, at tlie rate of 17 miles per second, .seeming to form a family or group by themselves. Proctor's Easy Star Lessons gives charts representing the appearance of the Dipper for 100,000 years.
\ Of the nine Pyramids which are standing at Gizeh, Egypt, six have openings facing the north. These lead to straight passages which descend at a uniform angle of about 26° and are parallel with the meridian. If we supi)o.se a person, 4,000 years ago, standing at the lower end of one of these passages, and looking out, his eye would strike the sky near the st:ir Tliuban, which was then the jiolar star. The supposed date of the building of these Pyramids (the Great Pyramid, 2123 b. c.) agrees with that epoch, and naturally suggests that the builders had some special design in this peculiar construction.
miles per minute, this tremendous speed is imperceptible to us. It requires nearly fifty years for its light to reach the earth ; so that, when we look at Polaris, we know that the ray which strikes our eye set out on its journey through space half a century ago. We cannot state positively that the star is now in existence, since if it were destroyed to-day it would be fifty years before we should miss it. *
Calculation of Latitude from Polaris.— By an observer at the equator, Polaris is seen at the horizon. If he goes north, the horizon is depressed, and Polaris seems to rise in the heavens. When it has reached the height of a degree, the observer is said to have passed over a degree of latitude on the earth's surface. As he moves further north, the polar star continues to ascend ; its distance above the horizon denoting the latitude of each place in succession, until at the north pole, if one could reach that point, Polaris would be seen directly overhead.
Drftco is represented under the figure of a long sinuous serpent, stretching between Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, nearly encircling the latter constellation, and finally reaching out its head almost to the body of Hercules.
Principal Stars. — Four small stars form a quadrilateral figure at the head ; a fifth, of the fourth magnitude, which is scarcely visible, marks the end of the nose ; several scattered groups and little triangles of small stars denote the position of the various coils of the body ; thence, an irregular line of stars traces the dragon's tail around between Ursa
Major and Ursa Minor. Tliuban, lying midway between y of the Little Dipper and ^ of the Big Dipper, is noted as the polar star of forty centuries ago.
Mythological History. — Jupiter had carried off Europa. 7\genor, her father, sent her brother Cadmus in pursuit of his lost sister, bidding him not to return until he was successful in his search. After a time, Cadmus, weary of his wanderings, inquired of the oracle of Apollo concerning the fate of Europa. He was told to cease looking for his sister, to follow a cow as a guide, and when she rested, there to build a city. Hardlj' had Cadmus stepped out of the temple, when he saw a cow slowly walking along. He followed her until slie came upon the broad plains where Thebes afterward stood. Here she stopjied. Cadmus, wishing to offer a sacrifice to Jupiter in gratitude for the delightful location, sent his servants to seek for water. In a dense grove near by, was a fountain guarded by a fierce dragon {Draco), and sacred to JIars. The Tyrians, approaching this and attempting to dip up some water, were attacked, and many of them killed, by the enormous serpent, whose head overtopped the tallest trees. Cadmus, becoming impatient, went in search of his men, and, on arriving at the spring, saw the sad disaster. He forthwith fell upon the monster, and after a severe battle succeeded in slaying him. While standing over his conquered foe, he heard a voice from the ground bidding him take the dragon's teeth and sow them. He obeyed. Scarcely had he finished when the earth began to move and the points of spears to prick through the surface. Next, nodding plumes shook off the clods, and the heads of armed men protruded. Soon a great harvest of warriors covered the entire plain. Cadmus, in terror at the appearance of those giants, whom he termed Sparti {the soion), prepared to attack them, when suddenly they turned upon themselves, and never ceased their warfare till only five of the crowd survived. These, making peace with one another, joined Cadmus, and assisted him in building the City of Thebes.
Cepheus is represented as a king in regal state, with a crown of stars on his head, while he holds in his hand a scepter which is extended toward his wife, Cassiopeia. The constellation contains thirty-five stars visible to the naked eye.
Principal Stars. — The brightest star is Alderamin (a), in the right shoulder. Alphirk (;^), in the girdle, is at the common vertex of several triangles, which point out respectively the left shoulder (i), the left knee (y), and the right foot. The head, which lies in the Milky Way, is marked by a little triangle of three stars. This forms, with a, (3, and i, quite a regular quadrilateral figure. A bright star of the fifth magnitude, close to Polaris, points out the left foot.
Cassiopeia^ is represented as a queen seated on her throne. On her right, is the king ; on her left, Perseus, her son-in-law ; above her, Ajidromeda, her daughter. The constellation contains sixty-seven stars visible to the naked eye.
Principal Stars. — A line drawn from Megrez ((J), in Ursa Major, through Polaris and continued an equal distance, will strike Caph {13) in Cassiopeia. This star is noticeable as marking, with the others named, the equinoctial colure, and as being on the same side of the true pole as Polaris. The principal stars form the figure of an inverted chair, which is very striking and may be easily traced.
II. Equatorial Constellations. — The constellations we shall now describe lie south of the circumpolar groups. Only a portion of their paths is above our horizon. In using the maps, the observer is supposed to stand with his back toward Polaris, and to be looking directly south. Commencing with the constellation Perseus, so intimately connected with the other
* Fo» tlie mythological history of Cassiopeia, see Perseus and Andromeda. The names of the principal stars in the Chair make a mnemonic word ,—0(iy ^e, hagdc. The student can often form such an association of the letters, and will fiud the device an aid to his memory. (Compare Virgo, page 230.)
EQUATORIAL CONSTELLATIONS. 221
members of the royal family just described, we pass eastward in our survey, and notice the various constellations as they slowly defile in silent march across the sky.
The first map represents the constellations on or near the meridian at nine o'clock in the evening- of the winter solstice. On the evening- of the autumnal equinox, the left-hand side of the map should be turned downward toward the eastern horizon. On the evening of tlie vernal equinox, the right-hand side should be turned to the western horizon. At these different times, the stars, though keeping their relative positions, will be diversely inclined to the horizon. As the stars apparently move westward at the rate of lo"" per hour, the time of the evening determines what stars will be visible, and also their distances above the horizon.
Perseus is represented as brandishing an enormous sword in his right hand, while in his left he holds the head of Medusa. The constellation comprises eighty-one stars visible to the naked eye.
Principal Stars. — The most prominent figure is called the Segment of Perseus. It consists of several stars arranged in a line curving toward Ursa Major. Algenib (a), the brightest of these, is of the second magnitude. Algol (p. 242), in the midst of a group of small stars, marks the head of Medusa. Between the bright stars of Perseus and Cassiopeia, is a beautiful star-cluster visible to the naked eye.
MythologicaIj HisToiiY. — Perseus, from whom this constellation was named, was the son of Jupiter and Danaii. His grandfather, Acrisius, liaving been iuformed by the oracle that his grandson would be the instru-
ment of his death, put the mother and child in a coffer and set them adrift on the sea. Fortunately, they floated near tlie island Seriphus, where they were rescued and kindly treated by a brother of Polydectes, king of the country. "When Perseus had grown up, he was ordered by Polydectes to bring him, as a marriage gift, the head of Medusa. Xow Medusa was once a beautiful maiden, who dared to compare her ringlets with those of Minerva ; whereupon, the goddess changed her locks into hissing serpents, and made her features so hideous, that she turned to stone every living object upon which she lixed her Gorgon gaze. Perseus was at first overpowered at the thought of undertaking this enterprise; but Mercury promised to be his guide, and to furnish him with his winged .shoes ; Minerva loaned him her wonderful shield, that was bright as a mirror ; and the Nymphs gave him, in addition, Pluto's helmet, which made the bearer invisible. Thus equipped, Perseus mounted into the air and flew to the ocean, where he found the three Gorgons, of whom Medusa was one, asleep. Fearing to gaze in her face, he looked upon tlie image reflected in Minerva's shield, and with his sword severed Medusa's head from her body. The blood gushed forth, and with it the winged steed Pegasus. Grasping the head, Perseus flew away. The other Gorgons awaking, pursued him, but he escaped their search by means of Pluto's helmet As he flew over the wilds
chained to a rock.
Principal Stars. — Algenib and Algol in Perseus form, with Almach (y) in the left foot of Andromeda, a riglit-angled triangle opening toward Cassiopeia. This figure is so perfect, that the stars may be easily recognized. The girdle is pointed out by Merach (/3), and two other stars which form a line slightly curving toward the right foot. The breast is denoted by a very small triangle composed of three stars, — 6 of the fourth magnitude, another of the fifth magnitude just south, and an exceedingly minute star a little at the west. Alpheratz («), in the head of Andromeda, belongs also to Pegasus. This star, with three others —Algenib (y), Markab (a), and Scheat (^3),— all of the second magnitude, constitute the Great Square of Fegasus. The brightest stars of these two constellations form a figure strikingly like the Big Dipper. Algenib and Alpheratz lie in the equinoctial colure which passes through Caph.
Mythological History. —Cassiopeia had boasted that her daughter Andromeda was fairer than the Sea-nymphs. They appealed, in great indignation, to Neptune, who sent a sea-monster {Cetus) to devastate the coast of Ethiopia. To appease the deities, her father Cepheus was directed by the oracle to bind his daughter to a rock, to be devoured by Cetus. Perseus, returning from the destruction of Medusa, saw Andromeda in her forlorn condition. Struck by her beauty and tears, he offered to liberate her at the price of her hand. Her parents joyfully consented, and, in addition, offered a royal dower. Perseus slew the terrible monster, and.
freeing Andromeda, restored her to hsr parents. All the promiuent actors in this scene were honored with seats among the constellations. The Seanymphs, it is said, in petty spite of Casoioj>eia, prevailed that she should be placed where for half of the time she hangs with her head do^v-nward, — a fit lesson of humility. Cephcus, her husband, shares in her punishment.
Aries, the irim, was anciently the first constellation of the zodiac. It is now the first sign, but the second constellation. On account of the precession of the equinoxes, the constellation Pisces occupies the first sign.
PRI^'CIPAL Stars. — The most noted star is a Arietis (Alpha of Aries, more commonly called simply Arietis), in the right horn. This lies near the path of the moon and is one of the stars from which longitude is reckoned. A line di'awn from Almach to Arietis will pass through a beautiful figure of three stars called TJie Triangles.
Mythological History. — Phrixns and Helle were the children of Athamas, king of Thessalj*. Being persecuted by Ino, their step-mother, they were com}>elled to flee for safety, ilercury provided them a ram which bore a golden fleece. The children were no sooner placed on his back than he vaulted into the heavens. In their aerial jouniey, Helle becoming dizzy fell off into the sea, which was afterward called the Hellespont, now the Dardanelles, Phrixus having reached Colchis in safety, offered the ram in sacrifice to Jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to Aetes, his protector. The Argonautic exjiedition in pursuit of this golden fleece, by Jason and his followers, is one of the most romantic of mythological stories. It is, undoubtedly, a fanciful account of the first important maritime expedition. Rich spoils were the prizes to be secured.
in the head, forms a distinct V. The brightest of these is Aldebaran, a fiery red star of the first magnitude.* The Pleiades (Job, xxxviii, 31), or the Seven Sisters, is the most conspicuous group in the sky (p. 206). It contains a large number of stars, six of which are visible to the naked eye. There were said to have been seven anciently, but that Electra left her place in order not to behold the ruin of Troy, which was founded by her son Dardanus. Other myths relate that the ''Lost Pleiad'''' was Merope, who married a mortal. Alcyone is the brightest Pleiad. El Nath (r^) and ^ point out the horns of Taurus.
Mythological Hlstoiiy. — This is the animal whose form Jupiter assumed when he bore off Europa. The Pleiack-s were the daughters of Atlas, and Nymphs of Diana's train. They were distinguished for their unblemished virtue and mutual affection. The hunter Orion having pursued them one day, iu their distress they prayed to the gods, when Jupiter, in pity, transferred them to the heavens.
Aurlf/a, the Charioteer or Wagoner, is represented as a man resting one foot on a horn of Taurus, and holding a goat and kids in his left hand and a bridle in his right.
The Principal Stars are arranged in an irregular five-sided figure. Capella, the goat-star, is of the first magnitude. It travels in its orbit 1,800 miles per minute ; seventy years — a long lifetime —are required for its light to reach the earth. Near by is a tiny triangle, formed of three small stars, called the Kids. Menkalinan (,'?) is in the right shoulder, d in the right
* Aldebaran is estimated to move through the heavens at tlic rate of 55 miles per second. (See pp. 205, 201.) A numl)er of the liright stars between Aldel^aran and the Pleiades have a common motion of alxjut 10" per century toward the east.
hand, /3 (common to Auriga and Taurus) the right foot, and i the left foot. Capella, /3, and 6 (a star in the head) form a triangle. The origin of this constellation is unknown.
I^isces, the fishes, is represented by two fishes tied together bv a long ribbon. It consists of small stars, which can be traced only upon a clear night, and in the absence of the moon.
CefKS, the ichale, is a huge sea-monster, slowly ploughing his way eastward, midway between the horizon and the zenith. It may easily be found, on a clear night, by means of the numerous figures given in the map.
The Principal Stars are Castor'-' and Pollux, which are of the first and second magnitudes. The latter is one of the stars from which longitude is reckoned by means of the Nautical Almanac. The constellation is clearly distinguished by two nearly parallel rows of stars, that by a slight effort of the imagination may be extended into the constellations Taurus and Orion.
Mythological History. — Castor and Pollux were noted, — the former for his skill in training horses, the latter for boxing. They were tenderly attached to each other, and were inseparable in their adventures. They accompanied Jason on the Argonautic expedition. A storm having arisen during this voyage, Orpheus played on his wonderful lyre and prayed to the gods ; whereupon the tempest was stilled, and star-like flames shone upon the heads of the twin-brothers. Sailors, therefore, considered them as patron deities,* and the balls of electric flame seen on masts and shrouds, now called St. Elmo's fire, were named after them. Afterward, Castor was slain. Pollux being inconsolable, Jujuter off'ered either to take him up to Olympus, or to let him share his immortality with his brother. Pollux preferred the latter, and so tlie brothers pass alternately one day under the earth, and the next in the Elysian Fields. Not only did sailors thus confide in their watch over navigation, but soldiers believed them to return, mounted on snow-white steeds and clad in rare armor, to take part in the hard-fought battle-fields of the Romans.
Safe comes the ship to haven,
Through billows and through gales. If once the great Twin Brethren Sit shining on the sails."— Lays of Ancient Rome.
club in his right hand, and the skin of a lion in his left. This is one of the most clearly defined and conspicuous constellations in the heavens.
Principal Stars. — Four brilliant stars, in the form of a parallelogram, mark the outlines of Orion. Betelgeuse, a beautiful ruddy star of the first magnitude, is in the right shoulder; Bellatrix (>), of the second magnitude, is in the left shoulder ; Rigel, of the first magnitude, is in the left foot ; and Saiph (>«), of the third magnitude, is in the right knee. Two small stars near /- form with it a small triangle, which is itself the vertex of a larger triangle composed of /-, •/, and Betelgeuse. Near the center of the parallelogram are three stars forming the Belt of Orion. This group is also called the Bands of Orion (Job, xxxviii, 31), Jacob's rod, and the Yard. It received the last name because it forms a line 3' long, divided in equal parts by a star in the center. These divisions are useful for measuring the distances of the stars. Running from the belt southward, is an irregular line of stars which marks the sword ; west of Bellatrix is a curved line denoting the lion's skin. South of Orion are four stars forming a beautiful figure styled The Hare,
Mythological Histohy. — Orion was a famous hunter. Becoming enamored of Merope, he desired to marry her. (Enopion, her father, opposing the choice, put out the eyes of the unwelcome suitor. The blinded hero followed the sound of a Cyclop's hammer until he came to Vulcan's forge. Vulcan, taking pity, instructed Kedalion to conduct him to the abode of the sun. Placing his guide on his shoulder, Orion proseeded to the east, and at a favorable place
The healing beams restored him to sight. As a punishment for having profanely boasted that he was able to conquer any animal the earth could produce, he was bitten in the heel by a scorpion. Afterward, Diana placed him among the stars ; where Sirius and Procyon, liis dogs, follow liim, the Pleiades fly before him, and far remote is the Scorj/km, by whose bite he perished.
Canis Major and Ca^iis Minor contain each a single star of the first magnitude, Sirius, and Procyon.* These two, with Betelgeuse, Phaet in the Dove, and Naos in the Ship, form a huge figure known as the Egyptian X. Sirius, the dog-star, is the most brilliant star in the heavens. It is receding from the earth at the rate of 20 miles per second (Huggins). Seventeen years are required for its light to reach us.f (See note, p. 308.)
the most beautiful constellations in the zodiac.
The Principal Stars are arranged in the form of a sickle. Regulus, in the handle, is a brilliant star of the first magnitude. It is one of the stars from which longitude is reckoned. It is almost exactly in the ecliptic. Zosma {6) lies in the back of the lion, 6 in the thigh, and Denebola, a star of the second magnitude, in the brush of the tail.
Cancer includes the stars that lie irregularly scattered between Gemini, Head of Hydra, Procyon, and Leo. In the midst of these, is a luminous spot, called Praesepe, or the Bee-hive, which an ordinary glass will resolve into stars.
* Procyon, like Sirius, was formerly considered a star of evil omen, and as bringing bad weather. " Who that is learned in matters astronomioal," said Digges, the astrologer, " noteth not the great efl'ects at the rising of the star called the Litel Dogge."
folded wings, bearing in her left band an ear of corn.
The Pri>-cipal Stae, Spica, in the ear of corn, is of ^ the first magnitude, and is used for determining Ion-gitude at sea. Denebola, Cor Caroli (a), Arcturus, and Spica form a figure about 50= in length, called
the Diamond of Virgo. Five third-magnitude stars, e 6 y, 7], .^, (the mnemonic word is begde) make a corner known among the Arabian astronomers as " The retreat of the howling dog."
Mythological History. -Virgo was the Goddess Astr^a. According to the poets, the early history of man ..as the golden age. It was a time of innocence and truth. The gods dwelt among men, and perpetual spring delighted the earth. Next, came the sUver age, less tranquil and serene.
but still the gods lingered and happiness prevailed. Then followed the brazen and iron ages, when wickedness reigned supreme. The earth was wet with slaughter. The gods left the abodes of men, one by one, Astrsea alone remaining ; until finally she too, last of all the immortals, bade the earth farewell. Jupiter thereupon placed her among the constellations.
Hifdra is a long, straggling serpent, having its head near Procyon and extending its tail beyond Virgo, a total distance of more than 100°.
The Principal Star is Cor Hydrse, of the second magnitude. It is a lone star, and may be easily found by a line drawn from y Leonis through Regulus, and continued about 23°. The head is marked by a rhomboidal figure of four stars of the fourth magnitude lying near Procyon. The Crater, or Cup, is a beautiful and very striking semicircle of six stars of the fourth magnitude directly south of 0 Leonis. Corvus {S, e, y, (5), the raven, lies 15° east of the Cup. e Corvi is in the equinoctial colure.
Mythological History. — Hydra was a fearful serpent which in ancient times infested the lake Lerna. Its destruction constituted one of the twelve labors of Hercules. Tlie Crow was formerly white, it is said, but was changed to its raven tint on account of its proneiiess to tale-bearing.
Canes Vetiaticlf the hunting dogs. This constellation contains the bright star. Cor Caroli (a), which is found by a line passing from Benetnasch (??) through Berenice's Hair to Denebola (/3).
Berenice's ILiir is a beautiful cluster midway between Cor Caroli and Denebola. Near by is a single bright star of the fourth magnitude.
Mythological History.— Berenice was the wife of Ptolemy. Her husban.l going upon a dangerous expedition, she promised to consecrate her beautiful tresses to Venus if he should return in safety. Soon after the fulfilment of this vow the hair disappeared from the temple where it had been deposited. Berenice being much disquieted at this loss, Conon, the astronomer, announced that tlie locks had been transferred to the heavens, in proof of which he pointed out this cluster of hitherto unnamed stars. All parties were satisfied with this happy termination of the difficulty.
left he holds by the leash his two greyhounds {Canes Venatici), with which he is pursuing the Great Beai continually around the north pole.
Principal Stars.— Arcturus (Job, ix, 9), a magnificent star of the first magnitude, is in the left knee. It forms a triangle with Denebola and Spica, and also one with Denebola and Cor Caroli. It travels in its orbit fifty-five miles per second, qv
three times as fast as the earth (p. 205). Its light reaches the earth in twenty-five years. Mirach (t) lies in the girdle, 6 in the right shoulder, Alkaturops (//) in the club, /3 in the head, and Seginus (y) in the left shoulder. Seginus forms with Cor Caroli and Arcturus a triangle, right-angled at Seginus. Three small stars in the left hand of Bootes lie near Benetnasch.
Hercules is represented as a warrior clad in the skin of the Nemsean lion, holding a club in his right hand and the dog Cerberus in his left. His foot is near the head of Draco, while his head lies 38° south and his club reaches 10 degrees beyond.
The Principal Star is Ras Algethi (a Herculis). This forms a triangle with j3 and S. A peculiar figure of four stars (tt, ?/, ^, e), north of these, marks the body. (See Maps, Nos. 5, 6, and 7.) The left knee is pointed out by 0, and the left foot by y.
Mythological History. — This constellation immortalizes the name of one of tlie greatest heroes of antiquity. Hercules was the son of Jupiter and Alcmena. "While he was yet lying in his cradle, Juno, in her jealousy, sent two serpents to destroy him. The precocious infant, however, strangled them with his hands. By the cunning artifice of Juno, Hercules was made subject to Eurystheus, his elder half-brother, and compelled to perform all his commands. Eurystheus enjoined upon him a series of the most difficult and dangerous enterprises that could be conceived, which have been termed the " Twelve Labors of Hercules. " Having completed these tasks, he afterward achieved others equally celebrated. Near the close of his life he killed the centaur Nessus. The dying monster charged Dejanira, the wife of Hercules, to preserve a portion of his blood as a charm to use
ill case the love of her husband should ever fail her. In time, Dejanira thought she needed the potion, and Hercules having sent for a white robe to wear at a sacrifice, she steeped the garment in the blood of Xessus. Xo sooner had Hercules put on the fatal robe than the venom stung his bones and boiled through his veins. He attempted to tear it off, but in vain. It stuck to his flesh, and tore off" great pieces of his bodj\ The hero, finding he must die, ascended Mount (Eta, where he erected a funeral pyre, spread out the skin of the Xemaean lion, and laid himself down uiion it. PhUoctetes applied the torch. With perfect serenity of countenance Hercules awaited approaching death —
Corona consists of six stars arranged in a semicircular form. The brightest of these is Alphecca. This makes a triangle, with Mirach (^) and (J in Bootes. It forms a similar figure with Mirach and Arcturus.
SerjjentariiiSf or Ophiuch tis^ the serpent-bearer, is represented under the figure of a man grasping in both hands a prodigious serpent, which is writhing in his grasp.
Principal Stars. — Ras Alhague {a), in the head, is of the second magnitude. It is about 5° from Ras Algethi. They form a pair of stars conspicuous like the pairs in Gemini, Canis Minor, Canis Major, etc. ; 3 marks the right shoulder, and k the left. There is a small cluster near 3, called Taurus Poniatowskii. An irregular square of four stars, near y Herculis, denotes the head of the serpent.
Mythological History. — This constellation perpetuates the memory of JEsculapius, the father of medicine. He was so skilful that he restored several persons to life ; whereupon Pluto complained to Jupiter that his
kingdom was in clanger of being depopnlateil. Therefore Jupiter struck him with a tliunderbolt, but afterward placed him among the constellations. Serpents were sacred to ^sculapius, because of the superstitious idea that they have the power of renewing their youth by changing their skin.
teresting constellation.
Principal Stars. — Antares («) is a fiery red star of the first magnitude. It marks the heart of the Scorpion. The head is indicated by several stars, the
most prominent of which is §, arranged in a line slightly curved. The tail may be easily traced by a series of stars which winds around through the Milky Way in a beautiful manner. *
Mythological Hlstory. — This is the scorpion that sprang out of the earth at the command of Juno, and stung Orion. Scorpio and Orion are so placed among the constellations that they never appear in the heavens together.
at Scorpio.
Principal Stars. — A row of stars from ju to /? marks the bow : another from }- eastward points out the arrow and the right arm drawn back in bending the bow. North of r, two stars of the fourth magnitude denote the head of the centaur. The 3Iilk Dipper, so called because the handle lies in the Milky Way, is a very striking figure.
Mythological History. — This constellation is named in honor of Chiron, one of the centaurs. These monsters were represented as men from the head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was that of a horse — the ancients having so high an opinion of that animal that the union was not considered in the least degrading.
Chiron was renowned for his skill in music, medicine, and prophecy. The most distinguished heroes of mythology were among his pupils. He taught j^sculapius phj'sic ; Apollo, music ; and Hercules, astronomy.
Cajyricoriias contains no very conspicuous stars. The Southern Fish (No. 6) has one star of the first magnitude, Fomalhaut («, No. 7), which on a clear summer evening may be seen in the south, midway to the zenith. Antinous and the Eagle is a double
Constellation. It contains a beautiful star of the first magnitude, Altair. This is conspicuous, as being the center one in the row of three bright stars. A similar row denotes the tail of the eagle ; the first star of which is named C, and the last star lies in Cerberus. The Dolphin contains a pretty cluster in the form of a diamond. It is sometimes called Job's Coffin.
CygnuSf the swan, is a remarkable group of stars. the principal ones being so arranged as to form a large and beautiful cross. The upright piece lies along the Milky Way. It is composed of four stars, three of which, Deneb (a), y, and S, are bright, while the fourth is a variable star. No. 61, a minute star, scarcely visible to the naked eye, is noted as being the nearest to the earth of any of the fixed stars in the northern hemisphere (p. 241).
LyrOf the harp, contains one brilliant blue star, Vega (p. 217). Close by it is a parallelogram of four smaller stars, by which it may be easily recognized.
.Mythological History.— This is the celestial lyre upon which Orpheus discoursed such ravishing music that Avild beasts forgot their fierceness and gathered about him to listen, while the rivers ceased to flow, and the very rocks and trees stood entranced.
south of the equator. The constellations are reversed with reference to the horizon. The two stars which, in the northern hemisphere, compose the base of the parallelogram in Orion, form here the upper side. Sirius is above Orion. All the northern circumpolar constellations are hidden from view. At the southern pole there is no conspicuous star, but the richness and number of the neighboring stars compensate this deficiency, and give to the heavens
THE SOUTHERN CONSTELLATIONS. 23d
an incomparable splendor. Here is the magnificent constellation Argo, in which we find Canopus, looked upon anciently as next to Sirius in brilliancy : rj, a variable star, now surpasses it in brightness.
Nearly at the height of the south pole, blazes the Southern Cross; below is the Centaur, containing two stars of the first magnitude and five of the second ; and above is Hydrus, where shines Achernar, another beautiful star of the first magnitude.
1. Double Stars.— To the naked eye, all the stars appear single. With the telescope, over 10,000 have been found to be double. Thus, Polaris consists of two stars about 18" apart ; Rigel has a companion about 10" from it ; and Sirius, one distant 7". A
components.
In case two stars happen to lie in the same straight line from us, though at immense distances from each other, their light will blend. They will be seen by the naked eye as a single star, and by the telescope as a double star. They are called optical double stars. Many, however, of the double stars have been found to be physically connected. Each double star of this class forms a binary system of two suns revolving in an elliptical orbit about their common center of gravity, like the planets in the solai* system, in accordance with Newton's law of gravitation. In a few instances, there are combinations of triple, quadruple, and even septuple stars. Thus e Lyrae is a double-double star, while 0 Orionis is a system of six suns. The components of a double star commonly differ in brightness ; so that frequently the fainter one is nearly lost in the brilliancy of its companion sun.
The Periods of some systems have been ascertained. Thus, I Ursae Majoris is a double star, and the two stars of which it is composed have performed an entire revolution about each other since they were found to be connected. There are only eleven binary stars now known whose periods are less than a century, while the others have periods which seem to extend, in some cases, beyond a thousand years.
Orbits. — It is not possible to estimate the dimensions of the orbits of the double stars, until their distances from us are definitely known. ''Taking the
DOUBLE STARS. 241
estimated distance of 61 Cygni (550,000 times the sun's distance from the earth)* as a basis, the companions of that system cannot cultivate a very intimate acquaintance, since they must be over a billion miles apart. From these data, astronomers have attempted even to calculate the mass of some of the double stars. 61 Cygni, although scarcely visible to the naked eye, and known to be the second nearest to us of any of the fixed stars, is estimated to weigh one-third as much as our sun." (See p. 308.)
II. Colored Stars. — We Kave already noticed that the stars are of various colors. f Sirius is white; Antares, red; and Capella, yellow ; while Lyra has a blue tint, and Castor has a green one. In the pure transparent atmosphere of tropical regions, the colors are far more brilliant. There, oftentimes, the nocturnal sky is a blaze of jewels, — the stars glittering with the green of the emerald, the blue of the amethyst, and the red of the topaz.
In the double and multiple stars, every color is presented in all its richness and beauty ; while there are also combinations of colors complementary to each other. Here is a green star with a blood-red companion ; here an orange and a blue sun ; there a yellow and a purple one. The triple star y Andromedse is formed of an orange-red sun and two others of an emerald green.
flowers of the footstool and the starry flowers of the throne," proclaim their common Author ; while rainbow, flower, and star alike evince the same Divine love of the beautiful.
We can hardly conceive the effects produced in a system having colored suns. Take a planet revolving about tp Cassiopeise for instance. This is illuminated by a red, a blue, and a green sun. Sometimes, by the succession of these suns, a cheerful green day would present a charming relief to a fiery red one ; and that might be still further subdued by a gentle blue one. The odd contrast of color and the vicissitudes of extreme heat and cold that obtain on such a world, present a picture which our fancy can sketch better than words can paint.
The colors of the stars change. Sirius was anciently red. It is now unmistakably white. There are two double stars which were described by Herschel as white ; each is now composed of a golden-yellow and a greenish star.
brilliancy. The following are most conspicuous :
Algol, in the head of Medusa, is a star of the second magnitude for about two and a half days, when it suddenly decreases, and in three-and-a-half hours descends to the fourth magnitude. It then rekindles, and in three-and-a-half hours is again as brilliant as ever.
MiRA, the wonderful, a star in the Whale, has a period of eleven months. It is ordinarily of the second magnitude for about fifteen days. It then
decreases for three months, until it becomes invisible to the naked eye. This period of darkness lasts five months ; it then rebrightens for three months, until it regains its former lustre. Occasionally, however, it fails to brighten at all beyond the fourth magnitude, while on one occasion its light was almost equal to that of Aldebaran. Sometimes no perceptible change takes place for a month ; then again, there is a sensible alteration in a few days.
The Reason of this Variability is not understood. It has been suggested, in the case of Mira, that it may be a globe rotating on its axis, and that different portions of its surface, illuminated to different degrees of intensity, are thus presented to us. Others have conceived that there may be satellites revolving about these suns, and that when their dark bodies interpose between the stars and our earth, they eclipse the light wholly or in part.
IV. The Temporary Stars suddenly blaze out in the heavens, and then gradually fade away. The most celebrated one burst forth in Cassiopeia, in the year 1572. Tycho Brahe says : " One night as I was examining the celestial vault, I saw with unspeakable astonishment a star of extraordinary brightness in Cassiopeia. Struck with surprise, I could scarcely believe my eyes. To convince myself that there was no illusion, 1 called the workmen of my laboratory and the passers-by, and asked them if they saw the star which had so suddenly made its appearance. It could be compared only with Venus at her quadrature, being seen distinctly at midday." Its color was at first white, then yellow, and finally red. Its
brightness decreased gradually until the spring of 1574, when the star disappeared from view and has not since been seen. As two brilliant stars had previously appeared in Cassiopeia, at intervals of about three centuries, they have been thought, by some, to be identical, and that it is only a variable star of long period.
Since this discovery by Tycho Brahe, numerous instances are recorded of stars which have suddenly burst forth, and have then either faded out entirely, or remain as faint telescopic objects. In the latter case, they are termed New stars. One of this kind appeared in Corona Borealis, in 1866. At first it was of the second magnitude, but in a week changed to the fourth, and in a month diminished to the ninth. Strangely, too, some stars have disappeared from the heavens, and are styled Lost stars. The changes which are thus constantly taking place are calculated to make the term *' eternal stars" seem a very indefinite phrase.
Explanation. — ^These phenomena are as yet little understood. A rotation about an axis would fail to explain the changes in color. Some think that these stars revolve in enormous orbits of such eccentricity that at their most distant points they fade out of sight. Arago has shown, in reply to this, that for a star to decrease in brightness from the first magnitude to the second by moving directly from us, even with the velocity of light, would require six years. As we have just seen, the star of 1866 underwent this change in brilliancy in a week.
instances of enormous conflagrations in which a world is overwhelmed in ruin ! The investigations of spectrum analysis indicate that the star of 1866 consisted of burning hydrogen gas. We can suppose that the gas was evolved by some convulsion, and, taking fire, wrapped the entire globe in flames. This need not involve the idea of destruction, but only a change of form. A dark star may thus become luminous, or a bright one may be extinguished.*
5. The Star Clusters are groups of stars so massed together as to present a hazy, cloud-like appearance. Several of them have been already named, — the Pleiades, the Beehive in Cancer, Berenice's Hair, the Hyades, and the group in the sword-handle of Perseus. The principal stars of which they are composed can generally be distinguished by the naked eye, although by the use of a small opera or spyglass the number is increased.
In the southern sky, there are clusters still more remarkable. In the Cross, is a group of 110 stars of various colors, red, blue, and green, so that looking on it, says Herschel, is "like gazing into a casket of precious gems." A cluster in Toucan is compact in the center, where it is of an orange-red color ; the exterior is composed of pure white stars, making a border of exquisite contrast.
It is generally conceded that there is some close
* The x>rocess of apparent creation and destruction is going on in the heavens immediately before the eye of the astronomer. New stars flash light, old stars are lost, worlds burst into flame, and their glowing embers fade into darkness. Are they recreated into new worlds? We know not. We only perceive that the same Almighty power which fitted up this earth for our home is yet at work among the worlds about us, and we are thus witnesses of His eternal presence.
physical relation existing between the stars composing such an ''archipelago of worlds," but its nature is a mystery. They seem generally crowded together toward the center, blending into a continuous blaze of light. Yet, although they appear so densely compacted, it is probable that, if we could change our stand-point and penetrate one of these gi'oups *of suns, we should find it, on our approach, opening up and spreading out before us, until, in the midst, the suns would shine down upon us from the heavens as the stars do in our own sky.
6. Nebulae are faint, misty objects, like specks of luminous clouds. A few are visible to the naked eye, but the telescope reveals thousands. They differ from clusters in not being resolvable into stars when viewed through the largest telescopes. With the con-
stant improvement made in these instruments, however, many so-called nebulae have been resolved, and thus the number of clusters has been increased, while new nebulae have been discovered.
Until of late, it was thought that all nebulae were simply groups of stars, which would be ultimately discerned in the more powerful telescopes yet to be made. Spectrum analysis shows, however, that many of these luminous clouds are gaseous, and are not composed of stars.
Since all the nebulae maintain the same position with respect to the stars, their distance must be inconceivably great, and, in order to be visible to us, their magnitude must be proportionately vast. They are most abundant at the two poles of the Milky Way, but are more uniformly distributed over the heavens lying near the south pole.
It is now generally believed that nebulae constitute the material for making stars, — are, in fact, sungerms ; that all stars originally existed as nebulae ; and that every nebula will, in time, be changed into stars.
Nebulae are divided, according to their form, into six classes — elliptic, annular', spiral, planetary , irregular nebulce, and nebulous stars, f
The Elliptic or merely oval nebulae are the most abundant. Under this head is classed the Great Nebula in Andromeda, which was discovered over
t This division of the nebulae is purely arbitrary, and used only to introduce some order of arrangement. The shape of the nebulae changes with the power of the telescope through which they are seen. Thus the Great Nebula in Andromeda, as resolved by Bond, is no longer oval, but irregular in form. The Ring- Nebula of Lyra, seen through the large telescope of to-day, is egg-shaped; while the Dumb-bell Nebula assumes the outline of a chemical retort
a thousand years ago, and is visible to the naked eye. Prof. Bond, of the Cambridge Observatory, jr,g 97 has partly resolved it into stars,
nebula to be one continuous bed of stars of different sizes for its entire extent, it must comprise the enormous number of 30,000,000."
The distance of such nebulse from the earth passes our comprehension. Some astronomers have estimated that a ray of light would require 800,000 years to span the gulf that intervenes. Imagination wearies itself in the attempt to understand these figures. They teach us something of the limitless expanse of that space in which God is working the mysterious problem of creation.
"bit of gauze stretched over a hoop;" second, as sho-wn in Lord Rosse's telescope (p. II), which resolves the filmy parts of the nebula into minute stars, and reveals a fringe of stars along the edge.
The Spiral or Whirlpool Xebul^ are exceedingly curious. The most remarkable one is in Canes Venatici. It consists of brilliant spirals sweeping outward from a central nucleus, and all overspread with a multitude of stars.* One is lost in attempting to imagine the distance of such a mass, and the forces which produce such a "tremendous hurricane of matter — perhaps of suns."
which have no definite form. Many present the irregularities of clouds torn by the tempest. Some of the likenesses which may be traced are strangely fantastic : for example, the Dumb-bell Xebula, in the constellation Vulpecula, and the Crab Xebula, near the southern horn of Taurus. There is also one known
having one in each focus. It is thought that these may be suns possessing immense atmospheres, which are rendered visible somewhat as that of our sun is in the zodiacal light ; and that in like manner our sun may present to other worlds the appearance of a nebulous star.*
♦ Nothing in all nature is more suggestive of the magnificence and immensity of Creation, than are the nebulous star-clusters, many of which are at such an inconceiv-. able distance, that the most powerful telescopes show them only as a confused mass of light. A casual observer, — even though when led by scientific analogy to resolve each little patch of star-dust into a host of separate suns, and to provide each sun with a retinue of inhabited planets,— might think of them as little colonies of suns, set on the very outskirts of world-creation, and moving in such close proximity, that the peoples of the various worlds might communicate with one another. Yet, were he transported to some planet whirling about one of those far-otf star-suns,— a multitude of which blend as a single point of light to our human eyes,— he would see the other suns only as fixed stars in the firmament above him ; and though many of them might surpass in splendor the glory of our own Sirius, yet all would still remain at such an immense distance as to baffle the research of the most powerful telescopic instruments. Thus, too, he would probably find each planet revolving at such a distance from its sister planets, as to render the certain knowledge of other inhabited worlds as elusive there as here.
Crab Nebula,
among the nebulae which can be accounted for only under the supposition that they, like some of the stars, are variable. Mr. Hind tells us of a nebula in Taurus which, in 1852, was distinctly visible with a small telescope, but, in 1862, had vanished entirely out of the reach of a powerful instrument. The Great Nebula in Argo, when observed by Herschel in 1838,
had in the center a vacant space containing a star ot the first magnitude, enshrouded by nebulous matter. In 1863, the nebulous matter had disappeared, and the star was only of the sixth magnitude. These facts as yet defy explanation. They illustrate the vast and wonderful changes constantly taking place in the heavens.
Double Nebula. — There seems to be a physical connection existing between some of the nebulae, similar to that already noticed in respect to certain stars. In the case of the latter, this inter-relation has been proved, since, even at their distances, their movements can yet be traced in the lapse of years. '* But, owing to the almost infinite depths in the abyss of the heavens at which these nebulae exist, thousands of years, perhaps thousands of centuries, would be necessary to reveal any movement." — (Guillemin.)
7, Magellanic Clouds. — ITot far from the southern pole of the heavens, there are two cloud-like masses, distinctly visible to the naked eye, known to navigators as Cape Clouds. Sir John Herschel describes them as consisting of swarms of stars, clusters, and nebulae, seemingly grouped together in the wildest confusion. In the larger, he found 582 single stars, 46 clusters, and 281 nebulae.
8. The Milky Way. — Via Lactea, or the Galaxy, is a luminous, cloud-like band that stretches across the heavens in a great circle. It is inclined to the celestial equator about 63°. This stream of suns is divided into two branches from a Centauri to Cygnus. To the naked eye, it presents merely a diffused
These stars are not uniformly distributed through the entire extent. In some regions, within the space of a single square degree we can discern as many as can be seen with the naked eye in the entire heavens. In other parts, there are broad, open spaces. A remarkable instance of this occurs nears the Southern Cross. There is a dark, pear-shaped vacancy, with a single bright star at the center, glittering on the blue background of the sky. In viewing it, one is said to be impressed with the idea that he is looking through an opening into the starless depths beyond the Milky Way.
The northern galactic pole is situated near Coma Berenices, and the southern in Cetus. Advancing from either pole toward the Milky Way, the number of stars increases, at first slowly and then more rapidly, until the proportion at the galaxy itself is thirty-fold.
Nebula. S55
Herschel's Theory.* — Sir W. Herschel has conjectured that the stars are not indifferently scattered through space, but are collected in a stratum something like that shown in the cut, and that our sun occupies a place at S, near where the stream branches, A and E being the galactic poles. It is evident that, to an eye viewing the stratum of stars in the direction SB, SC, or SD, they would seem much denser than in the direction SA or SE. Thus are we to think of our own sun as a star of the second or third magnitude, and of our little solar system as plunged far into the midst of this vortex of worlds, a mere atom along that
9. The Nebular Hypothesis is a theory advanced by Laplace, to show how the solar system may have been formed, f As since modified, its outlines are as follows: In the "beginning," all the matter which now composes the sun, and the various planets with their moons, was in a gaseous and highly heated state. It filled the space at present occupied by the system, and extended far beyond the orbit of Neptune. In other words, the solar system was simply an immense nebula. The heat, which is the repel-
real structure of the universe outside of our own system.
t We should remember that this theory aims to tell only the way in which our system was developed. The parent nebula must have confciined a potential energy equal to all the manifestations of force since made in tlie entire system. Nothing could be developed from a mass of nebulous matter the germs of which had not been put in it originally by the Creator. The analogies of nature all go to show that the Creator's plan is, in general, not to produce any object in a perfect and matured state ; but rather, by a gradual growth, to unfold its full form and functiou.
lant force, overcame the attraction of gravitation. Gradually the mass cooled by radiation. As centuries passed, the repellant force becoming weaker, the attractive force drew the matter and condensed it toward one or more centers. The nebula then presented the appearance of a nebulous star — a nucleus enveloped by a gaseous atmosphere.
According to a well-known law in physics, seen in every -day life, wherever matter seeks a center — as in a whirlpool, in a whirlwind, or even in water poured through a funnel — a rotary motion was established. As the rotary motion of the nebula increased, the centrifugal force finally overcame at the exterior the attraction of gravitation. A ring of condensed vapor was then left behind.* Centuries elapsed, and again, under the same conditions, a second ring was detached. Thus, one by one. concentric rings were separated from the parent nebula, all revolving in the same plane and in the same direction. These different rings, becoming gradually consolidated, formed the planets. Generally, however, in this process, while still in the vg^porous state and slowly condensing, the rings themselves detached other rings that were in turn consolidated into satellites.
In the case of Saturn, several of these secondary rings did not condense into globes, but still remain as rings which revolve about the planet, f Mitchell
*A eonadenbie modification of the Xelnilar Hypothesis is possible, leaving its geneal ides, hcfwever, intact. It is dow generally conceded that the several planets ■w&t xtot "tfciowB oS," bat merely detached and left behind. Proctor thinks that the solar system is tbe resolt at mteteork a^gregaiion as well as gaseous condensation : the f*««»**g jM tikdr iahiMCiy beong so large, gathered immense quantities of meteoroids,
NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 257
naively remarks, " Saturn's rings were left unfinished to show us how the world was made." The ring which formed the minor planets broke up into small fragments, none large enough to attract the rest and thus form a single globe.
The central mass of vapor finally condensed itself into the sun, which remains the largest member of the system. According to this theory, the sun may yet give off a few more planets, whose orbits will not exceed its present diameter. After a time, all its heat will be radiated into space, its fire will become extinct, and life on the planets will cease. We know not when this remote event may occur. We cannot fathom the purpose of God in creating and maintaining this system of worlds, nor can we foretell how soon it may complete its mission. We are assured, however,
*' That nothing walks with aimless feet, That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete."
In Memokiam.
rings were composed of matter uniformly distributed ; while in the case of the rings that consolidated into planets, there was a nucleus that attracted the rest of the matter to itself. It is possible that the rings of Saturn may yet break up and form new satellites for that planet. Indeed, some hold that one at least of the rings has thus been resolved into small meteorites. These may be attracted, and .so picked up, one by one, in succession by the larger, until they form another moon, which will continue to revolve about the planet as the ring does now. — " The present state of the .solar system is a living picture of the entire history of a single planet. From the sun's fire-mist, to ring-girt Saturn ; from Saturn, to storm-beaten Jupiter ; from Jupiter, to the sunny summer-time of our own planet ; from Earth, to autumn-browned Mars ; and from Mars, to the wintry silence and desolation of the dark gulches of the moon,— there is a series of stages that carries the thought back into the eternity long passed, as well as onward into the measureless depths of the future, and confers upon human intelligence a sort of exemption from the limitations of finite existence."— Pro/. Winchell.
IV. CELESTIAL CHEMISTRY.
Spectrum Analysis. — The rainbow — that child of the sun and shower — is familiar to all. The brilliant band of colors, seen when the sunbeam is passed through a prism, is scarcely less beautiful. The ray of light containing the primary colors is here spread out fan-like, and each tint reveals itself. This variously-colored band is called a spectrum (plural, spectra). There are three different kinds of spectra —
1st. When the light of a solid or liquid bod} , as iron white-hot, is passed through a prism, the spectrum is continuous, and consists of a series of distinct colors, varying from red on one side to violet on the other.
2nd. If the light of a burning gas containing any volatilized substance be passed through a prism, the spectrum is not continuous, but is ornamented by bright-colored lines, — sodium giving two yellow lines ; strontium, a red one ; silver, two beautiful green ones. Each element produces a definite series which can be recognized as its test.
3rd. If a light of the first kind be passed through one of the second, the spectrum is crossed by dark lines. Thus, if the white light of an electric lamp be passed through a flame containing sodium, instead of the vivid yellow lines so characteristic of that metal, two black lines exactly occupy their place. A gaseous flame absorbs the rays of the same color that it emits. (See note, \>. 310.)
The Spectroscope. — This instrument consists of two small telescopes, with a prism mounted between their object-glasses (Fig. 106). The rays of light enter through a narrow slit at A, and are rendered parallel by the object-glass. They then pass through the prisms at C, are separated into the different colors, and, entering the second telescope at D, fall upon the
eye at B. A third telescope is sometimes attached, which contains a minutely-accurate scale for measuring the distances of the lines. In addition, a mirror may throw in at one side of the slit a ray of sunlight or starlight, and so we can compare the spectrum of the sunbeam with that of any flame we desire.
Revelations of the Spectroscope Concerning THE Sun. — The spectrum of the sunbeam is not continuous, but is crossed by a large number of dark lines, called, from their discoverer, Fraunhofer's lines. It is therefore concluded that the sun's light is of the third class just named, and that it is proFig. 106.
But not only does spectrum analysis thus shed light on the physical constitution of the sun, but these lines are so distinctive, so marked and varied, that the elements of which the sun is composed may be discovered.* Thus, for example, iron gives a spectrum of some 450 lines, differing in intensity and
* The following twenty-two elements have been detected : sodium, calcium, liarium. magnesium, iron, chromium, nickel, cobalt, hydrogen, manganese, aluminium, titanium, palladium, vanadium, molybdenum, strontium, lead, uranium, cerium, strontium, cadmium, oxygen, and a probability of several more, such as carbon, silver, tin, etc.
relative length. These are bright when iron vapor is burning, and dark when white light is passed through such burning vapor. In the solar spectrum we have such a coincidence of dark lines, as to make the conclusion irresistible that iron is contained in the sun's atmosphere.*
Stars are Suns. — The same method of analysis has been applied to the stars. The spectra are marked by dark lines. Their constitution is therefore like our sun, and they also exhibit familiar elements. Betelgeuse, for example, contains many substances known to us, but, as is thought, no hydrogen. What a world that must be without water ! We thus trace in the faintest star that trembles in the measureless depths of space, the elements that compose the common objects of our own life. We know that we are akin to nature everywhere, — a part of a system vast as the universe.
The Motion of a Star may be resolved into two components : one representing its motion at right angles, and the other its motion parallel to the line of vision. The former component can be determined by the telescope ; the latter is revealed by the spectro-
* Recent researches in spectroscopy present important problems. On elevating the temperature, it has been found that not only the lines of the spectrum of a substance vary, but new ones appear. Certain substances have apparently common lines. A molecule containing a few atoms gives a line-spectrum ; increase the number of atoms and it presents a finted-spectrum (i. e., one composed of bands, each made up of lines, and having a sharp boundary on one side but fading away on the other) ; increase the number yet more, and it yields a continuous sx)ectrum. New queries have therefore arisen in Solar Physics. How many atoms are there really in a specified molecule t What is the meaning of certain unfamiliar lines seen in the solar spectrum ? Why do we not detect in the sun many of those substances that form so large a part of the earth's crust? Lockyer supposes that the so-called elements are really compounds whose molecules may be "dissociated" by intense heat, so that in the sun we see only the germs of our familiar chemical forms. Bead Lockj^er's " Spectrum Analysis," and Young's t'fheSun."
scope. If the star is moving towards us, the number of vibrations producing any color will be increased, and hence the dark lines corresponding to that color in the spectrum will be pushed beyond its usual place toward the violet end ; if going from us, the number will be decreased, and the dark lines be pushed toward the red end of the spectrum.* The amount of displacement once determined, the velocity of the star can be reckoned by means of wellknown laws of optics.
Spectra of Nebulae, — Instead of being marked with dark lines, as are the si)ectra of the stars, many of the nebulae exhibit bright lines. Their spectra are, therefore, of the 2nd kind. This proves such nebulae to consist, not, like the stars, of an intenselyheated nucleus shining through a luminous atmosphere, but of a glowing mass of gas.f Out of 60 nebulse examined by Mr, Huggins, 20 exhibited the bright lines belonging to the gases, and all contained nitrogen.
The Solar Flames, which were formerly seen only during an eclipse, can now be examined by means of the spectroscope, at any time. J The sun has thus
train sounds shriller than when it is receding. See Physics, p. 133,
t Tlie Dumb-bell nebula is said to emit a light only about one twenty-thousandth part that of a common wax-candle. If this matter be a " sun-germ," how immensely must it become condensed before its rushlight glimmering can rival the dazzling brilliancy of even our own sun !
J " The red portion of the spectrum will stretch athwart the field of view like a scarlet ribbon with a darkish tend across it ; and in that band will appear the prominences, like scarlet clouds, so like our own terrestnal clouds, indeed, in form and texture, that the resemblance is quite startling. One might almost think he was looking out through a partly-opened door upon a sunset sky, e.vcept that there is no variety or contrast of color ; all the cloudlets are of the same pure scarlet hue. Along the edge of the op)ening is seen the chromospliere, more brilliant than the clouds which rise from it or float above it. and^ for the most i>art, made up of minute tongues and filamente. "—youn^.
TIME. 263
been found to be a sea of fire swept by the most violent storms.* Flames travel over its surface with a velocity of which we can form no conception ; "one jet shot out 80,000 miles and disappeared in ten minutes." Young describes a protuberance that reached the enormous height of 350,000 miles and then faded entirely away, all within two hours.
V. TIME.
Sidereal Time. — A sidereal day is the exact interval of time in which the earth rotates on its axis. It is found by marking two successive passages of a star across the meridian of any place. This is so absolutely uniform, that, as recent investigations seem to show, the length of the sidereal day has not varied more than gV ^f ^ second in 2,400 years, (note, p. 89).
The sidereal day is divided into twenty-four equal portions, which are called sidereal hours, and each of these hours into sixty portions, termed sidereal minutes, etc.
Astronomical clocks are regulated to keep sidereal time. The day commences when the vernal equinox is on the meridian. Therefore, the time by a sidereal clock does not point out the hour of the ordinary day. It indicates only how long it is since the vernal equinox crossed the meridian, and thus shows the right ascension of any star which may
* Such a storm " coming down upon us from the north would in 30 seconds after it had crossed the St. Lawrence be in the Gulf of Mexico, carrying with it the whole surface of the continent in a mass, not of ruin simply, but of glowing vapor, in which the vapors arising from the dissolution of the materials composing the cities of Boston, New 7ork; and Chicago would be mixed in a single undistinguishable cloud."— Newoomb,
happen to be on the meridian at that moment. The hours of the clock are easily reduced to degrees (p. 28). The astronomer always reckons the hour of the day consecutively up to twenty-four.
Solar Time. — A solar day is the interval between two successive passages of the sun across the meridian of any place. If the earth were stationary in its orbit, the solar day would be of the same length as the sidereal ; but, while the earth is turning around on its axis, it is going forward at the rate of 360° in a year, or about 1° per day. When the earth has made a complete rotation, it must therefore perform a part of another rotation through this additional degree, in order to bring the same meridian vertically under the sun.
One degree of diurnal rotation is equal to about four minutes of time. Hence the solar day is four minutes longer than the sidereal day. For the convenience of society, it is customary to call the solar day 24 hours long, and make the sidereal day only 23 hr. 56 min. 4 sec. in length, expressed in mean solar time. A sidereal day being shorter than a solar one, the sidereal hours, minutes, etc., are shorter than the solar ; 24 hours of mean solar time being equal to 24 hr. 3 min. 56 sec. of sidereal time.
makes 366 rotations around its axis in 365 solar days.
Mean Solar Time. — The solar days are of unequal length. To obviate this difficulty, astronomers suppose a mean sun moving through the equator of the heavens (which is a circle and not an ellipse) with a perfectly uniform motion. When this mean sujj
passes the meridian of any place, it is mean noon ; and when the true sun is in the same position, it is apparent noon. This mean day is the average length of the solar days in the year. The clocks in common use are regulated to keep mean time.* V/hen it is twelve by the clock, the sun may be either a little past or a little behind the meridian.
The difference between sun-time (apparent solartime) and clock-time (mean time) is called the *^ Equation of time.'' This is the greatest about the first of November, when the sun is over sixteen and a quarter minutes in advance of the clock. The sun is the slowest about February 10th, when it is about fourteen and a half minutes behind mean time.
Mean and apparent time coincide four times in the year — namely, April 15th, June 14th, September 1st, and December 24th. On these days, the noon-mark on the sun-dial coincides with twelve o'clock.
The Sun-Dial. — The apparent time of the dial may be readily changed to mean time, by adding or subtracting the number of minutes given in the almanac for each day in the year, under the heading "sun slow" or "sun fast." A noon-mark is thus a very convenient method of regulating a timepiece, f
♦ In France, until 1816, apparent time was used ; and the confusion was so g^eat, that Arago relates how the town clocks would differ thirty minutes in striking the same hour. As the time varied every day, no watchmaker could regulate a watch or clock to keep it
t The following manner of obtaining one without a transit instrument may be useful. Select a level hard surface which is exposed to the sun from about 9 a. m. to 4 p. m. Upon this carefully describe, with compasses, a circle of eight or ten inches in diameter. Take a piece of heavy wire, six or eight inches in length, one end of which is sharpened. Drive this perpendicularly into the center of the circle, leaving it just high enough to allow the extreme end of its shadow to fall upon the circle about 9J or 10 a. m. Mark this point, and also the place where the shadow touches the circle in the afternoon. Take a point half-way between the two, and, drawing a line from that to the center of the circle, it will be the meridian liiie, or noou-mark.
Why the Solar Days are of Unequal Length- — There are two reasons for this, — the unequal orbital motion of the earth, and the obliquity of the ecliptic. First : the orbit of the earth is an ellipse ; and thus the apparent yearly motion of the sun along the ecliptic is variable. In perihelion, in January, the sun appears to move eastward daily 1° 1' 9' .9 ; while at aphelion, in July, only 57' 11". 5. As the earth in its diurnal motion rotates uniformly from west to east, and the sun passes eastward irregularly, this must produce a corresponding variation in the length of the solar day. The sun, therefore, comes to the meridian sometimes earlier and sometimes later than the mean noon, and they agree only at perihelion and aphelion.
day. The mean
sun is therefore supposed to pass along the equinoctial, which is perpendicular to the earth's axis : while the ecliptic is inclined to it 23" 27'. Let A represent the vernal equinox ; I, the autumnal ; AEI, the ecliptic ; AI, the equinoctial ; PK, PL, PM, etc.,
meridians. Let the distances AB, BC, CD, etc., be equal arcs of the ecliptic, which are passed over by the sun in equal times. Next, on the equinoctial, mark off distances Aa, ah, he, etc., equal to AB, BC, etc. These are equal arcs of right ascension, or hourcircles, through which the earth, rotating from west to east, passes in equal times. Now, meridians drawn through these divisions, would not agree with those drawn through equal divisions on the ecliptic. Hence, a sun moving along the ecliptic, which is inclined, would not make equal days, even though the ecliptic were a perfect circle.
Let us see how the mean and apparent solar days would compare. Let the real sun pass in its eastward course from A to B in a certain time ; the mean sun moving the same distance would reach the point a, since the latter travels on the base and the former the hypothenuse of a triangle. The earth, rotating from west to east, would cause the real sun to cross any meridian earlier than the mean sun ; hence, apparent time would be faster than clock-time. By holding the figure up above us toward the heavens, we can see how a westerly sun would cross the meridian earlier than an easterly one. Following the same reasoning, we can see that at the solstice, solar and mean time would agree ; while beyond that point the mean time would be faster.
* Until recently, very many nations terminated one day and commenced the next at sunset. Under this plan, 10 o'clock on one day would not mean the same as 10 o'clock on another day. The Puritans commenced the day at 6 p. m. The Babylonians, Persians, and Assyrians began the day at sunrise.
ing the day into two portions of twelve hours each, is said to have been adopted by Hipparchus, 150 years b. c, and is now in use over the civilized world. The astronomical method of reckoning the hours consecutively up to twenty-four is much more convenient, and is therefore coming into general favor. The names of the days are derived as follows :
The Year. — The sidereal year is the interval of a complete revolution of the earth about the sun, measured by a fixed star. It comprises 365 d., 6 hr., 9 min., 9.6 sec. of mean solar time. The mean solar year (tropical year) is the interval between two successive passages of the sun through the vernal equinox. It comprises 365 d., 5 hr., 48 min., 46.7 sec. If the equinoxes were stationary, there would be no difference between the sidereal and the tropical year. As the equinoxes retrograde along the ecliptic 50" of space annually, the former is 20 min., 20 sec. longer.
The anomalistic year is the interval between two successive passages of the earth through its perihelion, which moves eastward about 11". 8 annually. It is 4 min., 40 sec. longer than the sidereal year.
The Ancient Year. — The ancients ascertained the length of the year by means of the gnomon. This was a perpendicular rod standing on a smooth plane
on wliicli was a meridian line. When the shadow cast on this line was the shortest, it indicated the summer solstice; and when it was the longest, the winter solstice. The number of days required for the sun to pass from one solstice back to it again determined the length of the year. This they found to be 365 days. As that is nearly six hours less than the true solar year, dates were soon thrown into confusion. If, at a certain date, the summer solstice occurred on June 20th, in four years it would fall on the 21st; and thus it would gain one day every four years, until in time the summer solstice would happen in the winter months.
Julian Calendar. — Julius Csesar first attempted to make the calendar year coincide with the motions of the sun. By the aid of Sosigenes, an Egyptian astronomer, he devised a plan of introducing every fourth year a leap-year, which should contain an extra day. This was termed a bissextile year, since the sixth (sextilis) day before the kalends (first day) of March was then counted twice.
Grregorian Calendar. — Though the Julian calendar was nearly perfect, it was yet somewhat defective. It considered the year to consist of 3G5^ days, which is 11 minutes in excess. This accumulated year by year, until in 1582 the difference amounted to ten days. In that year, the vernal equinox occurred on the 11th of March, instead of the 21st. Pope Gregory undertook to reform the anomaly, by dropping ten days from the calendar and ordering that thereafter only centennial years which are divisible by 400 should be leap-years. The Gregorian
calendar was generally adopted in Catholic countries. Protestant England did not accept the change until 1752. The difference had then amounted to 11 days. These were suppressed and the 3rd of September was styled the 14th.* Dates reckoned according to the Julian calendar are termed Old Style (O.S.); and those according to the Gregorian calendar, New Style (N.S.).
Commencement of the Year. — The Jews began their civil year with the autumnal equinox ; but their ecclesiastical year, with the vernal equinox. When Caesar revised the calendar, the Romans commenced the year with the winter solstice (Dec. 22)^ and it is probable he did not intend to change it materially. He ordered it to date from January 1, in order that the first year of his new calendar should begin with the day of the new moon immediately succeding the winter solstice.
The Earth our Timepiece. — The measure of time is, as we have just seen, the length of the mean day. This is estimated from the length of the sidereal day. Hence, the standard for time is the rotation of the earth on its axis. All weights and measures are based on time. An ounce is the weight of a given bulk of distilled water. This is measured
* This sweeping change was received in England with great dissatisfaction. Prof De Morgan narrates the following : " A worthy couple in a conntrj' town, scandalized by the change of the calendar, continued for many years to attempt the obsen'ance o( Good Friday on the old day. To this end they walked seriously and in full dress to the church door, on which the gentleman rapi)ed with his stick. On finding no admittance, they walked as seriously back again and read the service at home. There was a widespread superstition that, when Christmas day began, the cattle fell on their knees In their stables. It was asserted that, refusing to change, they continued their prostrations according to the Old Style. In England, the members of the Government were mobbed in the streets by the crowd, which demanded the eleven days of which they had been illegally deprived."
CELESTIAL MEASUREMENTS. 2tl
by cubic inches. The inch is a definite part of the length of a pendulum which vibrates seconds in the latitude of London. Arago remarks, a man would be considered a maniac who should speak of the influence of Jupiter's moons on the cotton trade. Yet there is a connection between these incongruous ideas. The navigator, travelling the waste of waters where there are no paths and no guide-boards, may reckon his longitude by the eclipses of Jupiter's moons, and so decide the fate of his voyage. We can easily see how the rotation of the earth on its axis influences the cost of a cup of tea.
Many persons read the enormous figures which indicate the distances and dimensions of the heavenly bodies with a questioning, indefinite idea, entirely unlike the feeling of certainty with which they read of the distance between two cities, or the number of square miles in a certain State. Many, too, imagine that celestial measurements are so mysterious in themselves that no common mind can hope to grasp the methods. Let us attempt the solution of a few of these problems.
1st, To Find the Distances of the Planets from the Sun.— In Fig. 108, E represents the earth; ES, the earth's distance from the sun; V, the planet Venus; and VES, the angle of elongation (a rightangled triangle). It is clear that, as Venus swings
apparently east and west of the sun, this angle may be easily measured ; also, that it will be the greatest when Venus is in aphelion and the earth in perihelion at the same time, for then VS will be the longest and ES the shortest. Now in every rightFig. 108. angled triangle the propor-
is termed the sine of that
angle. Tables are published containing the sines for all angles. In this way, the mean distance of Venus is found to be jVn that of the earth; Mars, f times; Jupiter, 5| times, etc.*
2iid. To Measure the Moon's Distance from the Earth. — (1.) The Ancient Method.— As the moon's distance is so much less than that of the other heavenly bodies, it is measured by the earth's semidiameter. The method, an extremely rough one, which was in use among the ancients, was something
The same result would be obtained by the use of Kepler's third law ; and on page 19, we saw how the distances of the planets themselves could be determined by the periodic times, if the distance of the earth from the sun is first known. So that when we have accurately determined the sun's distance from us, we can then decide by either of the methods named the distance of all the planets. Indeed the sun's distance is, as already remarked, the " foot-rule " for measuring all celestial distances.
like the following : In an eclipse of the moon, that body passes through the earth's shadow in about four hours. If, then, in four hours, the moon travels along its orbit a distance equal to the diameter of the earth, in twenty-four hours it would pass over six times, and in a lunar month (about thirty days) one hundred and eighty times, that distance. The circumference of the lunar orbit, then, must be one hundred and eighty times the diameter of the earth. The ancients supposed the heavenly orbits to be circles, and, as the diameter of a circle is about ^ of the circumference, they deduced the diameter of the moon's orbit as 120 times, and the distance of the moon from the earth as 60 times, the semi-diameter of the earth.
(2.) Modern Method by the Lunar Parallax. — Under the head of parallax, we saw how, in common life, we obtain a correct idea of the distance of an object by means of our two eyes. We proved that one eye alone gives no notion of distance. Just, then, as we use two eyes to find how far from us an object is, so the astronomer uses two astronomical eyes, or observatories, located as far apart as possible, to find the parallax of a heavenly body. In Fig. 109, M represents the moon ; G, an observatory at Greenwich ; and C, another at the Cape of Good Hope. At the former, the distance from the north pole to the center of the moon, measured on a meridian of the celestial sphere, is .found to be 108°. At the latter station, the distance from the south pole to the moon's center is measured in the same Wdij, aijd foun(J to be 73^°. The sum of these angles
is 1811^''. Now, the entire distance from the north pole around to the south pole, measured on a meridian, can be only half a great circle, or 180°. This difference of 1|° must be the difference in the position of the moon, as seen from the two observatories. For the observer at the former station will see the moon projected on the celestial sphere at G', and in measuring its distance from the north pole will measure an arc bQ' further than if he were located at E, the center of the earth. The observer at the latter station will see the moon projected on the celestial sphere at C, and in measuring its distance from the south pole will measure an arc bC more than if he were located at E, the center of the earth. The sum of bG' and bC = G'C is the difference in the position of the moon as seen from the two stations. In other words, it is the moon's parallax. The arc GC, measures the angle C'MG'; that angle is equal to the opposite angle GMC = 1^°. Now, in the four-sided figure GECM, the sides GE and CE are both equal radii of the earth = 3,956 miles; while the distance from G to C is the difference in the latitude of the two places. The angles ZGM and Z'CM, being the zenith distances of the moon, are known, and so the angles MGE and MCE are easily found. EM, the moon's distance from the center of the earth, is thus readily computed by a simple trigonometrical formula.
(3.) The Horizontal Parallax of the Moon is most commonly found by estimating its distance, not from the north and south poles, as just explained under the general meaning of the term parallax, but
from a fixed star. The moon's horizontal parallax is now estimated at 57', which makes its distance about sixty times the earth's semi-diameter (p. 273).*
3. To Find the Sun's Distance from the Earth. — This might be estimated by obtaining the solar parallax in the same manner as the lunar parallax. It would be necessary only to take the sun's distance from the north and south poles respectively at Greenwich and the Cape of Good Hope, and then subtracting 180° from the sum of the two angular distances, the remainder would be the solar parallax. The difficulty in this method lies in the fact that when the sun shines the air is full of tremulous motion. This increases refraction — that plague of all astronomical calculations — to such an extent that it becomes im-
* In figure 110, let S represent the moon, sun, or any other heavenly body ; AB, the semi-diameter of the earth ; and ASB, the "horizontal parallax" of the body. Then, by tthe following trigonometrical formula, the distance fro.ip thp earth may be easily p*lci)r Jated— AS : AB : : Radius : Sin of AS?
possible to calculate so small an angle with any accuracy. Neither can the parallax be estimated, as in the case of the moon, bj'^ measuring the distance
from a fixed star, since when the sun shines the stars near by are invisible even in a telescope. Astronomers have therefore been compelled to resort to other methods.
(1.) Calculation of Solar Parallax by Observing Mars. — We have already seen that the distance of Mars from the sun is | that of the earth from the sun. If, therefore, we can find Mars's distance from the earth, we can multiply it by three, and so obtain the distance of the sun from the earth. In 1862, when Mars was in opposition, it came very near us, for it was in perihelion while the earth was in aphelion, so that its distance (as since ascertained) was only about 34,000,000 miles. Astronomers at Greenwich and the Cape, and at various American and European observatories, calculated the distance of the planet from the north and south poles, as well as from several fixed stars, in the manner just explained for obtaining the lunar parallax. The result of these observations fixed the solar parallax at 8". 94,* making the sun's distance 91,430,000 miles.
(2.) Calculation of Solar Parallax by Observation OF the Transit of Venus.— In the figure, let A and B represent the position of two observers sta-
Transit of Vemte.
tioned at opposite sides of the earth. At the time of the transit, the one at A will see the planet Venus as a round black spot at V" on the sun's disk, while the one at B will see it at V. The distance V'V" is the difference in the position of Venus as seen from the two stations on the earth. The distance AB is the diameter of the earth. The distance V'V" is as much greater than AB as VV" is greater than VA. The distance of Venus from the sun is known, by Prob. I., to be .72 that of the earth. The distance of Venus from the earth must, then, be 1.00— .72 =.28. Hence, VV", the distance from the sun to Venus, =.72-^.28= 2. 5 times the length of AV, the distance of Venus from the earth. Therefore, V'V" is equal to 2^ times AB, the earth's diameter, or 5 times the solar parallax. Knowing the hourly motion of Venus, it is necessary only for each observer to find when the planet's disk enters upon and leaves the sun's disk, to determine the length of the path (chord) it traces. A comparison of the length and direction
The advantage of this method is that, as the distance V V" is two and half times that of AB, an error in measuring that chord affects the solar parallax less than one-fifth.
Time of a Transit of Venus.* — This is an event of rare occurrence. It happens only at intervals of 8, 105^ ; 8, 131^, years, &c. Were the planet's orbit in the same plane as the ecliptic, a transit would take place during each synodic revolution ; but as it is inclined about 3|°, the transit can occur only when the earth is at or near one of the nodes at the same time with the planet when in inferior conjunction. As the nodes of Venus now fall in that part of the earth's orbit which we pass in the beginning of June and December, transits always occur in those months.
The Transit of June 3rd, 1769, excited great interest. King George III. fitted out an expedition to Tahiti, under the coromand of the celebrated navigator, Capt. James Cook. In order to make the angle as great as possible, and so increase the length of the chords, or paths of the planet across the sun, astronomers were sent to all the most favorable points of observation — St. Petersburg, Pekin, Lapland, Cali
* Tlie first transit ever seen was witnessed by Horrox, a young amateur astronomei residing near Liverpool. His calculations fixed upon Sunday, Nov. 24, 1639 (0. S.)He, however, commenced his watch of the sun on Saturday preceding. The following day he resumed his ob3er\'ation at sunrise. Tlie hour for church arriving, he repaired to service as usual. Returning to his labor Immediately afterward, he says : "At this time an opening in the clouds, which rendered the sun distinctly vnsible, seemed as if Divine Pro\idence encouraged my aspirations ; when — oh most gratifying spectacle ! the object of so many earnest wishes — I perceived a new spot of perfectly round form that had just entered upon the left limb of the sun."
The transits of Dec. 8, 1874, and Dec. 6, 1882, were carefully observed by several government expeditions ; the results have not yet been fully announced.
June 11 2247.
The transits of Mercury are more frequent ; but owing to the nearness of the planet to the sun, they are of little value in determining the solar parallax.
Changes in the Estimate op the Solab Parallax.— About 1824, Encke deduced 8". 58 as the probable result of the observations upon the transit of 1769. This conclusion held the ground for nearly thirty years, and the corresponding solar distance of 95,293,000 miles is found in all the older text-books. About 1860, Le Verrier announced that he could reconcile the theories regarding certain of the planets only by assuming a greater solar parallax. As the result of various calculations, together with the material furnished by the observations upon the
♦ Le Gentil, sent out by the French Academy to observe the transit of 1761 in the East Indies, was prevented from making liis first i)ort by the war with England. High winds afterward kept him out at sea till the transit was over. He then resolved to remain abroad until after the transit of 1769. Eight long years passed, and the morning of June 3, 1709, dawned bright and beautiful. Le Gentil, with his instruments all in place, was counting the moments for the long-awaited transit to begin ; when, suddenly, the sky grew black with clouds, and a tropical storm, the first in days, swept by. Meantime, Venus came and went, and the ill-fated Le Gentil had again lost the opportunity of years. Prostrated by his bitter disappointment, it was two weeks before he could hold his pen to write the story of his second failure.
planet Mars in 1862, a new parallax of 8". 94 was obtained. This has been accepted by all until recently, and was used in former editions of this work. It is now known to be too large, and astronomers are making every effort to determine this most important factor in celestial measurements. As already stated on page 36, the parallax at present received is about 8". 80, which represents a mean solar distance of 92,885,000; in round numbers, 93,000,000, as given in the present edition.
The difficulty of determining the solar parallax accurately will be seen, when one is told that the correction from the old value of 8". 58 to the recent one of 8 '.94, was a change in the angle equal to that which the breadth of a human hair would make when seen at a distance of 125 feet. Yet this reduced the estimated distance of the sun from 95,293,000 miles, to 91,430,000 miles.
4. To Find the Longitude of a Place.* — (1.) The Solar Method. — If the sailor can see the sun, he watches it closely with his sextant ; and when the sun ceases to rise any higher in the heavens it is apparent noon. By adding or subtracting the equation of time (as given in his almanac), he obtains the true or mean noon. He then compares the local time thus determined, with the Greenwich time as kept by the
* It is pleasant to notice tliat tlie astronomer can preiUct witli the utmost precision. He announces that on such a year, niontli, day, hour, and second, a celestial body will occupy a certain position in the heavens. At the time indicated, we point our telescope to the ])lace, and, at tlie instant, true beyond the accuracy of any timepiece, the orb sweeps into view ! A prediction of the Nautical Almanac is received with as much confidence as if it were a fact contained in a book of history. " On the trackless ocean, this book is the mariner's trusted friend and counsellor; daily and nightly its revelations bring safety to ships in all parts of the world. It is something more than a mere book. It is ao ever-present manifestation of the order and harmony of the universe."
to degrees, gives the longitude.
(2.) The Lunar Method.— On account of the difficulty in obtaining a watch which will keep the exact Greenwich time through a long voyage, the moon is more generally relied upon than the chronometer. The Nautical Almanac is always published, for the benefit of sailors, three years in advance. It gives the distance of the moon from the principal fixed stars which lie along its path, at every hour in the night. The sailor has only to determine with his sextant the moon's distance from any fixed star, and ■ then, by referring to his almanac, find the corresponding Greenwich time. By comparing this with the local time, and reducing the difference to degrees, etc., he obtains the longitude.
5. To Find the Latitude of a Place.— (1.) By means of the sextant find the elevation of the pole above the horizon, and this gives the latitude directly. (Fig. 35.)
(2.) In the same manner, determine the height of the sun above the horizon at noon. The sun's declination for that day (as laid down in the almanac), added to or subtracted from this, gives the height of the equinoctial above the horizon. Subtract this result from 90°, and the remainder is the latitude.
" Place an Astronomer on board a sliip ; blindfold him ; carry him by any route to any ocean on the globe, whether under the tropics or in one of the frigid zones ; land him on the wildest rock that can be found ; remove his bandage, and give him a chronometer regulated to Greenwich or Washington time, a transit instrument Anth the proper appliances, and the necessary books and tables, and in a single clear night he can tell his position mthin a hundred yards by observations of the stars. "
the earth were a perfect sphere, it is obvious that degrees of latitude would be of the same length wherever measured on its surface. Each would be ^^0^ of the entire circumference. If, however, a person sets out from the equator, and travels along a meridian toward either pole, and, when the polar star has risen in the heavens one degree above the horizon, he marks the spot, and then continues his journey, marking each degree in succession, he will find that the degrees are not of equal length, but increase gradually from the equator to the pole. If, now, the length of a degree be measured at different places, the rate of variation can be found, and then the average length be estimated. Measurements for this purpose have been made in Peru (almost exactly at the earth's equator), Lapland, England, France, India, Russia, etc. So great accuracy has been attained, that Airy and Bessel, who have solved the problem independently, differ in their estimate of the equatorial diameter but 77 yards, or only y^o of a mile.
7. To Find the Relative Size of the Planets. — The volumes of two globes are proportional to the cubes of their like dimensions. The diameter of Mercury is 3,000 miles, and that of the earth 7,925 ; then,
PRACTICAL QUESTIONS. 283
8. To Find the Diameter of the Sun. — (1.) A very simple method is to hold up a circular piece of paper before the eye at such a distance as exactly to hide the entire disk of the sun. Then we have the proportion,
(2.) The apparent diameter of the sun, as seen from the earth, is about 32': the apparent diameter of the earth, as seen from the sun, is twice the solar parallax, or 17". 60 (p. 36). Thence, the
Ap. diam. of earth : ap. diam. of sun : : real diam. of earth : real diam. of sun.
(3.) Knowing the apparent diameter of the sun, and its distance from the earth, the real diameter is found by Trigonometry. In figure 110, let S represent the earth ; AB, the radius of the sun ; and ASB, half the apparent diameter of the sun. We shall then have the proportion,
* * * which was not all a dream, The bright sun was extinguislied, and the stars Did wander darkling in the external space Ray less aud pathless."
* " To the astronomer, the fixed stars are immovable lioundary-stones by which he determines the courses of the wandering lieavenly bodies. To the geographer, they are the signal-stations according to which he surveys the chart of the earth by the heavens. To the mariner, they are the lights that direct him over the dark paths of the seas. To the hunter, the herdsman, the wanderer, they are a clock. To the farmer, they are a calendar. The historian finds in them many a memorable event in the oldest Grecian history. The poet reads in them the charming Grecian mythology, which has furnished such rich materials to dramatic art ; and every person of sensibility receives from them au impulse to worship, meditation, and liope."
82. Newcomb, in his Astronomy, says that, " If, when the moon is near the meridian, an observer could in a moment jump from New York to Liverpool, keeping his eye fixed upon that body he could see her apparently jump in the opposite direction about the same distance." Explain.
In the first column are the relative distances of the planets from the sun ; in the second, the periodic times of the planets ; and in the third, the squares of the periodic times divided by the cubes of the mean distances. The decimal points are omitted in the third column for convenience of comparison. The want of exact uniformity is doubtless due to errors in the observations.
133 413
Arago, speakinsr of Kepler's Laws, says : " These interesting laws, tested for every planet, have been found so perfectly exact, that we do not hesitate to infer the distances of the planets from the sun from the duration of their sidereal periods ; and it is obvious that this method possesses considerable advantages in point of exactness."
QUESTIONS FOR CLASS USE.
These are the questions which the author has used in his own classes for review and examination. In the historical portion, he has required his pupils to write articles upon the character and life of the various persons named, gathering materials from every attainable source. He has also introduced whatever problems the class could master, taking topics from the article on Celestial Measurements and the various mathematical treatises.
Introduction. — Define Astronomy. Is the earth a planet? Is the moon a planet? What is the sky? Why does it seem concave ? What gives it its color? What is the difference in the appearance of a fixed star and a planet? What is the Milky Way? In what direction does it span the heavens? In what season of the year is it most brilliant ?
5-6. What can you say of the antiquity of astronomy ? How far back do the Chinese records extend ? Name some astronomical phenomena they contain. Why were these astronomers at fault in failing to announce the eclipse ? (Ans. Certain religious ceremonies were performed on such occasions, and their omission was believed to expose the nation to the anger of the gods.) Why should the Chaldeans have become versed in this study ? How ancient are their records ? What discoveries did they make? How does the Asiatic differ from the European mind ?
7. What Grecian philosopher early acquired a reputation in thi? science? What other discovery did Thales make (Physics, p. 251)? What did he teach? What memorable eclipse did he predict? What did Anaximander teach? In what century did Pythagoras live? What was his characteristic trait ? Did he advance any proof of his system ? Explain his theory. How does it differ from ours? What strange views did he hold ?
What has Hipparchus been styled ? What addition did he make to astronomical knowledge ? How man}- stars in our present catalogue (p. 207;? How did Egypt rank in science at an early day? What preparation did the Grecian philosophers make to fit themselves for teachers? How long did Pythagoras travel for 'his purpose?
9. What can you say of the School at Alexandria ? What great work did Ptolemy write? What theory did he expound? Was it original? What discovery did Eratosthenes make ? Describe that method (p. 282). Show how the movements of the planets puzzled the ancients.
13. What is astrology ? What was its association with astronomy? State something of the repute in which astrolog)- was held. Tell what you can of the system. W'hat use did it subserve ?
14. What theory displaced the Ptolemaic? W'hen? Was the system of Copernicus original ? What credit is due him? Describe his idea of apparent motion. How did he apply this to the heavenly bodies ? What crudity did he retain ?
15. Who was Tycho Brahe ? What was his theory? How did it differ from Ptolemy's and Copernicus's ? What good did Brahe accomplish? Could he generalize his facts? Had he a telescope ? How did Kepler differ from Brahe? What were the two prominent characteristics of Kepler ?
16-19. State his three laws. Tell how he discovered the first. The «econd. The third. Describe (he ellipse. Define focus, perihelion, and aphelion. What remarkable statement did Kepler make? When did Galileo live ?
20. What discoveries did he make in Physics? In astronomy? WTiat advantage did he have over his predecessors? Give an account of his observations on the moon. On Jupiter's moons.
21. Why did this settle the controversy between the Ptolemaic and the Copernican system? How were Galileo's discoveries received? Give some of Sizzi's arguments. Who discovered the law of gravitation ?
23. Repeat it. How was this idea suggested ? WTiat familiar laws of motion aided Newton? How did he apply these to the motion ot the moon? Repeat the storj- of his patient triumph.
24, 25. What is the celestial sphere ? Give the two illustrations which show its vast distance from the earth. Why can we not see the stars by day, as by night? What portion of the sphere is visible to us? Name the three systems of circles.
26-30. Name and define (i) the principal circle, (2) the secondary circles, (3) the points, and (4) the measurements of each system. Define especially, because in common use, zenith, nadir, azimuth, altitude, equinoctial, right ascension, declination, equinox, ecliptic, colure, and solstice. What is N or S in the heavens ?
picture it to ourselves.
The Sun. — What is its sign? Its distance from us? Illustrate. What is the solar parallax (see pp. 121, 275)? What change has recentl>' been made in the estimate of the parallax of the sun, and of its distance from the earth? (See p. 279.)
39. 40. State the solar dimensions, (i) diameter— illustrate ; (2) volume ; (3) mass ; (4) weight ; (5) density. How large did Pythagoras think the sun is? Tell something about the force of gravity on the sun. How much would you weigh if carried to its surface? (The force of gravity on the sun as compared with the earth is 27.6.) How does the sun appear to the naked ej'e?
42. When were the spots discovered? Tell something about the number of the spots. Their location." Size. What number of miles subtend a second of arc at the distance of the sun?
45. 46. Explain a sidereal and a synodic revolution of a spot. Why do not the spots move in straight lines? Show how they curve. Tell what you can about the irregular movements of the spots.
47. Illustrate how suddenly they change. What can j-ou say about their periodicity? Who discovered this? Is there any connection between the solar spots and the aurora ?
48. Tell about the influence of the planets on the spots. Do the spots aflfect the truitfulness of the season ? Does the temperature of the spots diflfer from that of the rest of the sun ? Are the spots depressions in the sun ?
49. How much darker are they than the adjacent surface? Is the sun brighter than the Drummond light? {Ans. "The sun gives out as much light as one hundred and forty-six lime-lights would do, if each were as large as the sun and were burning all over.'')
53,54. What is the present theor)' (" KirchhofTs Theory ") ? Name the four different portions of the sun. Define the nucleus. The photosphere. The chromosphere. The corona. What are the protuberances? How are the spots produced ? The umbra? The penumbra? Upon what discoveries does this theory depend (p. 262)? What is the cause of the heat of the sun ? Will the heat ever cease ?*
planets. Compare the two groups of the major planets.
57, 58. Draw an ellipse, and name the various parts. Define the ecliptic. The plane of the ecliptic. Why is the ecliptic so called? Define the ascending node. The descending node. Line of the nodes. Longitude of the node. Tell what )'ou can with regard to the comparative size of the planets.
* If we accept the Nebular hypothesis (p. 256), we must suppose that the heat is produced by the condensation of the nebulous matter and consequent chemical changes. The sun is radiating its heat constantly, and, at some time, its light will go out, in turn, as that of the earth and the planets has before it. This theory is of especial mterest, as it shows that the sun, as well as the solar system, has a certain fixed existence; and that, " like all natural objects, it passes through its regular stages of birtt). vigor, decay, and death, in ope order of progress." — Newcomb,
61-3. What do you say concerning the probability of the planets being inhabited ?* State the conditions of life on the different planets. What are the two divisions of the planets?
64. What causes the apparently irregular movements of the planets ? Define heliocentric and geocentric places. Illustrate. In what part of the sky is an inferior planet always seen? Define inferior and superior conjunction. Greatest elongation.
65, 66. Explain the retrograde motion of an inferior planet. (This motion, it will be remembered, was one that sorely puzzled the ancients.) Describe the phases of an inferior planet.
Explain the opposition and conjunction of a superior planet.
68. Explain its retrograde motion. Must a superior planet always be seen in the same part of the sky as the sun? Define quadrature. Can an inferior planet be in quadrature?
69. 70. Which retrogrades more, a near or a distant planet? Define a sidereal and a synodic revolution of an inferior and a superior planet, and tell what you can about each. In what case would there be no difference between a sidereal and a synodic revolution ? Why is a planet invisible when in conjunction? When is a planet evening, and when morning star ?
Mercury. — Definition and sign? Describe the appearance of Mercury, and where seen. What was the opinion of the ancients ? Of the astrologists ? Of chemists ? Why is it difllicult to see this planet ? When can we see it best ?
73. What is the peculiarity of its orbit? What is Mercury's greatest elongation from the sun? Why does this vary? What is Mercury's distance from the sun? What is its velocity? What is the length of
* The uniformity of Nature is a most effective argument in this direction. Light travels everywhere through the universe at the same rate. The elements of star planet, and the earth are the same. The sun, which may be considered as the mother of the earth, is composed of the same materials. The laws of gravitation rule so absolutely that the satellite ofSiriuswas not discovered until after it was observed that an unknown influence afiected the star. " The uniformity of law and mattei is proof that there must be through the universe organizations similar to those of our system. We see the result of these laws in the world we inhabit, and we cannot doubt that the same powers and the same materials have produced organizations similar to these of the earth in millions of other places, though we can only philosophically suppose their existence, not practically prove it." — IV. Meytr,
74-6. Show why its greatest and least distances vary so much. What is its diameter? Volume? Density? Force of gravity? Specific gravity? How much would you weigh on Mercury? (Mercury's foice of gravity as compared with that of the earth is 46.) Describe its seasons. (If the pupil does not understand pretty well the subject of the terrestrial seasons, it would be well here to read carefully page 95, et seq.) What is the temperature? The appearance of the sun ? Has Mercury any moon? What is the appearance of the planet through a telescope? What do these phases prove? What do we know of the mountains and valleys upon Mercurj'? The atmosphere? Have we any recent observations ?
78. Describe the orbit of Venus. What is the distance of Venus from the sun? Velocity? Length of the year? Day? Difference between the sidereal and synodic revolutions? Distance from the earth?
So. Force of gravity ? (The force of gravity on the surface of Venus is .82 that of the earth.) Docs the force of gravity increase or decrease with the mass or volume of the body? Describe the seasons upon Venus.
81,82. Describe the telescopic appearance of Venus. Who discovered the phases of Venus ? What was the effect of this discovery? What proof have we that Venus possesses a dense atmosphere? Has Venus a moon ?
83. E.\RTH. — Sign ? What is the appearance of the earth from the other planets? Do we, then, live on a star? Is it probable that the earth was always dark and dull as it now seems to us?* How does
* Probably not. The earth was doubtless once a glowing star, like the sun. Its crust is only the ashes and cinders of that fearful contJagration. The rocks are all burnt bodies. The atmosphere is only the gas left over after the fuel was all consumed. Every organic object has been rescued by plants and the sunbeam from the grasp u! oxygen.
86-7. Give some illustrations of apparent motion. Is it, then, natural for us to transfer motion ? Under what conditions do you think this occurs ? Explain the cause of the rising and setting of the sun and stars. Who first explained these phenomena in this manner? What do you say of its simplicity ?
88. What is the cause of day and night? Do all places on the earth revolve with equal velocity ? Illustrate. At what rate do we move? Wh}' do we not perceive our motion?
89. What would be the effect if the earth were to stop its rotation? Is there any danger of this catastrophe? How is the length of the day increasing? Is the amount appreciable ?
90-1. Draw the figure, and show how the stars move daily through unequal orbits and with unequal velocities. Describe the appearance of the stars at the N. Pole. At the Equator. At the S. Pole.
92-3. Describe the path of the earth about the sun. Defin eccentricit}\ What is the amount of the eccentricity of the earth's orbit? Is this stable? Do we see the same stars at different seasons of the year ? Why not? If we should watch from 6 p. M. to 6 .k. m., what portion of the sphere would we see?
94. What do we mean by the yearly motion of the sun among the stars ? How can we see it ? What is the cause ? What is the ecliptic ? Why so called ? What are the equinoxes? What do you understand when you see in the almanac the statement that *' The earth is in Aries?" " The sun is in Sagittarius?" etc. How many apparent motions has the sun ? Name them, and give the cause and effects of each. Has the sun any real motions?
95. Describe the apparent motion of th sun, N. and S. How is it that the sun in summer shines on the north side of some houses both at rising and setting, but in winter never does? Define the obliquity of the ecliptic. The parallelism of the earth's axis. What do you say of its permanence ? Why will a top stand while spinning, but will fall as soon as it ceases ?
earth at different angles at the same time. Show how the angles vary at different times. Is the sun reall}' hotter in summer than in winter? Why does it seem to be ? Why is it warmer in summer than in winter ? What effect upon the temperature has the difference in the length of the summer and the winter day?
98-100. Explain the cause of equal day and night at the equinoxes. \Vh)' are our days and nights of unequal length at all other times? Why does the length vary at different seasons of the year ? How do the seasons, &c., in the N. Temperate Zone compare with those in the S. Temperate Zone? Describe the yearly path of the earth about the sun — (i), at the summer solstice ; (2), at the autumnal equinox ; (3), at the winter solstice ; (4), at the vernal equinox ; (5), the yearly path finished back to the starting-point. Is the division of the earth's surface into zones an artificial or a natural distinction? Who invented it?
loi. How much nearer are we to the sun in winter than in summer? Why is it not warmer in winter? How is it in the South Temperate Zone? W^hen do the extremes of heat and cold occur? Why do they not occur exactly at the solstices?
102. Why is summer longer than winter ? Does the earth m ve with the same velocity in all parts of its orbit? Describe the curious appearance of the sun at the North Pole. In Greenland, at what part of the year will the midnight sun be seen due north ? What is the length of the days and nights at the Equator?
to the ecliptic. If the equator were perpendicular to the ecliptic.
104-5. Define the precession of the equinoxes. Who discovered this fact ? At what rate does this movement proceed ? What time will be required for the equinoxes to make an entire revolution ? What are the results of precession? What star was formerly the Polar Star? (See p. 219.)
106-9. Explain the cause of precession. How does the spinning of a top illustrate ihis subject ? In what way is the force which acts on a spinning-top opposite 10 that which produces precession ? What is Nutation ? What is the cause of the nodding motion ? How does the moon's influence compare with that of the sun ? W'hat is the effect of Nutation?
III. What causes combine to produce this nodding motion we have described ? Why are the tropics located where they are ? Is their position on the earth permanent? What effect does precession have
112. At what season of the year is the earth now in perihelion ? When was it in perihelion in the autumn? When :n the winter? When will perihelion occur in the spring? When in summer? When will the cycle be completed ? What provision is there for permanence in the midst of these changes?
113-14. What is refraction? Its effect? Upon what principle of Optics is this based ? How does refraction vary ? Are the sun and moon ever where they seem to be ? Is the real day longer or shorter than the apparent one ?
115. Describe the apparent deformation of the sun and moon near the horizon. Explain. Why are not these bodies apparently deformed in the same way when they are high m the heavens ? Why do they appear smaller in the latter case ? (See Fig. 48, p. 124.) What causes the hazy appearance of the heavenly bodies near the horizon ?
117. Where is it the longest? Shortest? State the cause of this variation. What is diffused light? What would be the effect if the atmosphere did not act in this way? Is there really any sky in the heavens ? What is the cause of the appearance ? What is aberration of light ?
lustrate.
120-21. Define true and apparent place. How does parallax vary ? What is the practical importance of this subject (pp. 36, 278)? Define horizontal parallax. What is the sun's horizontal parallax ? What is the annual parallax?
The Moon. — Signs ? Describe the moon's orbit. What is the moon's distance from the earth? Illustrate. What is the difference between her sidereal and synodic revolutions ? What is the real path ot the moon? (Imagine a pencil fastened to the spoke of a wheel, and the wheel rolled by the side of a wall on which the pencil is constantly marking.) How often does the moon turn on her axis ? What is the
* "The line of equinoxes of the earth's orbit, as we have seen, has a slow lefthanded retrograde motion of so".2 eacli year, called the precession of the equinoxes \ and the line of apsides has a still sXowftx right-handed direct motion oi \\".2<)\ and in consequence of the motion of both these lines, the an^le formed by them changes through 6i".49 each year, so as to complete an entire revolution in 21,077 years."
124. Why does the crescent moon appear larger than the dark body of the moon? When ought the moon to appear the largest? Do all persons think the moon to be of the same apparent size?
126. Does the center of gravity in the moon coincide with that of magnitude ? Has the moon any atmosphere ? What proof have we of this? (Ans. (i). We see but slight, if any, appearance of twilight on the moon. (2). When the moon passes between us and a star, it does not refract the light of a star, so that the atmosphere cannot be suflScient to support more than y§ij of an inch of the mercurial column.) What must be the effect of this lack upon the temperature of the moon's surface? State Langley's observations upon Mount Whitney. How does the earth appear from the moon?
127-9. What is the earth-shine ? How is it caused ? What is it called in England ? Describe the path of the moon around the earth, and the consequent phases. Why is new moon seen in the west and full moon in the east ? Why can we sometimes see the moon in the west after the sun rises, and in the east before the sun sets? What is the length of a lunar month?* What do we mean by the moon's running high or low? What is the cause of this variation? Is it of any use?
132. Explain the cause of "Dry Moon" and "Wet Moon." What are nodes? How much is the moon's orbit inclined to the ecliptic — • our ideal sea-level? What is an occultaiion? What use does it subserve? Describe the seasons, heat, etc., on the moon.
135-7. Describe the telescopic appearance of the moon. Are the mountains the light or the dark portions? What canyon say about them? The gray plains? The rills? The craters? What are the peculiar features of the lunar landscapes? Are the lunar volcanoes extinct?
* " The moon's sidereal period is not constant, and a comparison of modern with ancient observations shows that it has undergone an acceleration since tlie period ot" the Chaldean observations of eclipses made 720 b. c. Several explanations have been given by Laplace and others, of the supposed cause of the acceleration of the moon's mean motion ; but it is highly probable that it is a pseudo-phenomenon^ that owes its origin to a real lengthening of the time of rotation of the earth (which is the unit of astronomical time), caused by the friction of the sea and atmosphere."
+ It will aid in understanding the cause of harvest moon, if one gets clearly in mind the fact that the moon when full is always in the opposite part of the heavens from the sun. At the time of the autumnal equinox, i. e. when the sun is at the autumnal equinox, (or in Libra, note, p. 94.) the moon must be at the vernal equinox, (or in Aries.) The least retardation of the moon, which occurs at this time, happens, therefore, in September.
SOLAJEl SYSTEM. 303
138. Eclipses. — When can an eclipse of the sun occur ? Show how a solar eclipse may be total, partial, or annular. Define umbra. Penumbra. Central eclipse. State the general principles of a solar eclipse. What curious phenomena attend a total eclipse?* What are Daily's Beads ? What is the corona ? Describe the effect of a total eclipse. What curious custom prevails among the Hindoos? What is the Saros? Is it now of any value? What is the metonic cycle? Explain its use. What is the golden number? What is the cause of a lunar eclipse ? Why are lunar eclipses seen oftener than solar ones? How were total eclipses formerly regarded ?
147. The Tides. f — Define ebb. Flow. How often does the tide happen? Explain the cause. Why does the tide occur about fifty minutes later each day? Why is there a tide on the side opposite the moon? The sun is much larger than the moon ; why does it not pro duce the larger tide? What effect has the friction of the tides produced upon the earth? What theory upon this topic has Professor Ball advanced ? What is meant by the differential effect of tlie moon ? Why is not the tide felt out at sea? What is spring-tide ? Neap-tide? Why does the tide differ so much in various localities? Tell about the height of the tides at different points. Why is there no tide on a lake ? Is the tidal wave a forward movement of the water ?
150. Mars. — Definition and sign? Describe the appearance of this planet. When is it brightest? What is its distance from the sun? Velocity? Day? Year? Distance from the earth? What is the peculiarity of its orbit? What is the diameter of Mars? Its volume and density as compared with the earth? How far would a stone fall on its surface the first second? Who discovered its moons ? What is the peculiarity of these tiny globes? What are the peculiar telescopic features of Mars? What is the cause of its ruddy color? Wliat are the snow-zones? Can we watch the change of its seasons?
* Lockyer, describing the beginning of a total eclipse, says : " One seems in a new world— a world filled with awful sights and strange forebodings, and in which stillness and sadness reign supreme ; the voice of man and the cries of animals are hushed ; the clouds are full of threatenings and put on unearthly hues ; dusky, livid, or purple, or yellowish crimson tones chase each other over the sky irrespective of the clouds. The very sea is responsive and turns lurid red. All at once the moon's shadow comes sweeping over air, and earth, and sky, with frightful speed. Men look at each other and behold, as it were, corpses, and tlie sun's light is lost."— Gillis. in his observations upon the eclipse of 1859, as witnessed by him m Peru, remarks: "At 1.54, the moment of totality, the attendants, catching sight of the corona, dropped on theii knees, and shouted, '• La Gloria ! La Gloria ! "
t As the tidal wave does not move as rapidly as the earth does, the water has an apparent backward motion. It has been suggested that this (as well as the friction of the atmosphere) acts as a break on the earth's diurnal revolution. It has been shown that the moon's true place can be best calculated if we suppo-e that the sidereal day is shortening at the rate of iHU of a second in 2,400 years. (See page 89.)
154. Minor Planets (Asteroids).* — Give Bode's law. Telthow the first of these planets was discovered. How many are now known? Are the)- probably all discovered ? Describe some of these " pocket planets". Do they all lie within the Zodiac? What is their origin ? {Ans. According to the nebular hypothesis, the ring of matter broke up into numberless small bodies, instead of aggregating into one large planet.) Give some of the names and signs.
157. Jupiter. — Definition and sign? Describe his appearance. Describe his orbit, \yhai is his distance from the sun? Velocity? Day? Year? Distance from the earth? Diameter? Volume? Density? Centrifugal force ? Force of gravity ? Figure? Describe his seasons. Upon what does the change of seasons in any planet depend? What must be the appearance of the Jovian sky? Describe the telescopic features of Jupiter. Are Jupiter's moons visible to the naked eye? What are their names? What is their size? What space do they occupv? Describe the eclipse of Jupiter's moons. Define immersion, emersion, and transit. How rapidly do the satellites revolve? What can you say of the frequency of eclipses on Jupiter? Describe the belts. Why are they parallel to its equator? How was the velocity of light discovered? Does Jupiter emit light? Is it probable that a solid crust has formed over this planet? In what waj- is Jupiter reproducing the earth's histori"?
164. Saturn. — Definition and sign ? Describe Saturn's appearance in the heavens. How nipidly does this planet move through the sky? What is its distance from the sun ? What is the peculiarity of its orbit ? What is its velocity ? Year ? Day ? Distance from the earth ? Diameter? Volume? Density? Force of gravity ? Describe its seasons. Has it any atmosphere ? Who discovered the rings of Saturn ? Describe them. Which are the Bright Rings ? Which is the Dusky Ring? Are they stationary? E.\plaiu their phases. Of what are they composed? Does Saturn emit !ight? Describe Saturn's belts. Describe Saturn's moons. The scenerj' on Saturn.
170. Ur.\nus. — Definition and sign ? How was this planet discovered ? Tell of its previous observation by Le Monier. Is Uranus visible to the naked eye ? What is its distance from the sun ? Year ?
* " It may surprise some persons to learn that the total mass of the two or three hundred small planets which have been discovered between the orbits of .Mars and Jupiter, is sufficient only to make a globe a little over 403 miles in diameter. In other words if our globe were divided into 8,000 equal parts, one of these parts would equal in bulk and in weight the toUl of all these asteroids. Or, cut the earth through the equator, then take a section of about three-fourths cf a mile in thickness, and it would furnish material for all these small planets and something remaining. It would seem that the solar system could' not be much damaged, if some of these small planets should drop out of their courses and join some of the larger ones."
Satellites. Peculiarity of its moons.
172. Neptune.— Definition and sign? What is the appearance of this planet in the sky ? Give an account of its wonderful discovery. What is its distance from the sun? Year? Velocity? Diameter? Volume ? Density ? Do we know anything of its seasons ? Why not ? What is the appearance of the heavens? What are the telescopic features of Neptune? Has Neptune any moon? What advantage have the Neptunian astronomers ?
175. Meteors, Aerolites, and Shooting-Stars.— Define an aerolite. A shooting-star. A meteor. Give some account of the fall of aerolites. What elements are found in aerolites? How can an aerolite be distinguished? Give an account of wonderful meteors. Of shooting-stars.
176. Describe the showers of 1799 and 1833.* The shower of 1866. At what intervals did these showers occur ? Why was not the shower of 1866 seen in this country ? (Ans. Our side of the earth was not turned toward the meteors.) What is the average number of meteors and shooting stars daily? Why do we not see more of them? In what months are they most abundant ?f Describe the origin of meteors and shooting-stars. What is their velocity? What causes the light? The explosion often heard ? What is the theory of meteoric rings? What is their shape ? How do these streams of meteoroids account for the showers at regular intervals? What is the period of the November ring? Why is the August shower so uniform, while the November one is periodic ?:J: What is the relation between meteors and comets?
* A southern planter, describing the effect of the star-shower of 1833, says: ''I was suddenly awakened by the most distressing cries that ever feU on my ears. Shrieks of horror and cries for mercy I could hear from most of the negroes of three plantations, amounting in all to about 600 or 800. While earnestly listening for the cause, I heard a faint voice near my door calling my name. I arose, and taking my sword, stood at the door. At this moment I heard the same voice still beseeching me to rise, and saying, ' Oh, my God, the world is on fire !' I then opened the door, and it is difficult to say which excited me most, the awfulness of the scene or the cries of the distressed negroes. Upwards of one hundred lay prostrate on the ground, some speechless, and some with the bitterest cries, with their hands raised, imploring God to save the world and them. The scene was truly awful, for never did rain fall much thicker than the meteors towards the earth : east, west, north, and south, it was the same."
+ It has been noticed, from very early times, that the night of the 10th of August (St. Laurence's Day) is especially favorable ff)rthe occurrence of shooting-stars; and in Catholic Ireland, these stars, on the toth of August, are always called the " tears of St. Laurence the Martyr," who was put to death by being broiled upon a gridiron.
t The fact that the November meteoroids are collected in a shoal instead of being distributed uniformly through the orbit gives color to the idea that this stream has not been long a member of the solar systcip, " In 1867, Leverrier stated his be-
lief that the November meteors form the remains of some comet that had been recently introduced into the solar system by the attraction of one of the large outer planets. He lound that the year a. d. 126 would give a position to the planet Uranus capable of producing such an eflFect, by converting the parabolic path of a comet into the path now described by the November meteors. In the year a. d. 137, the changed path of the comet for the first time came near the earth in her orbit round the Sun, since which year the petrified comet or shower of stones has completed 52 entire revolutions, the last of which terminated on the 13th of November, 1866. Theophanes of Byzantium relates that in November, a. d. 472, the sky at Constantinople appeared to be on Are with flying meteors. This corresponded with the tenth revolution of the November meteors. — Conde, in his history of the dominion of the Arabs, speaking of the year a. d. 902, states that in the month of October (13th), on the night of the death of King Ibrahim Ben Ahmed, an immense number of falling stars were seen to spread themselves over the face of the sky like rain, and tliat the year in question was thenceforth called the ' Year of Stars' This year corresponded to the twenty-third revolution of the November meteors. — A similar shower of stars took place on the 17th of October, a. d. 934. — On the 14th of October, a. d. 1002, a remarkable shower of shooting-stars is noted by the Arab astronomers and historians, corresponding with the completion of the twenty-sixth revolution of the November meteors. — It is related in the annals of Cairo that on the 19th of October, a. d. 1202, the stars appeared like waves upon the sky, towards the east and west ; they flew about like grasshoppers, and were dispersed from left to right. This shower corresponded with the thirt3'-second revolution of the November meteors.— On the 22nd of October, a. d 1366, a shower of stars was noted, corresponding with the thirtyseventh revolution of the November meteors.— A similar phenomenon (forty-second revolution) was observed on the 25th of October, a. d. 1533. — The forty-seventh revolution was noted on the 9th of November, a. d. 1698. — The fiftieth revolution, observed by Humboldt and Boupland, on the 12th of November, a. d. 1799, as already remarked, first led modern astronomers to speculate on the true nature of these remarkable periodic phenomena. — The early observations of this meteoric shower were dated on the 12th of October, and during 52 revolutions the intersection of its orbit with that of the earth has moved on to the 14th of November. — Mr. Adams hasshown this movement of nodes to be a consequence of the attractions of the superior planets, and has finally demonstrated the truth of the cometary origin of the November meteors."' — Houghton.
* " Comets are almost alwaj-s accompanied by tails, which are placed in the line joining the Sun and Comet, and on the side opposite to the Sun. Exceptions to this rule, though rare, sometimes occur. For e.xample. the tail of the Comet of 1577 deviated 21 ° from the line joining the Sun and the Comet, and the tail of the Comet of 1680 diverged 5^ from the same line. Comets have been occasionally observed with two tails, one in the usual position, and the other in nearly an opposite direction, or towards the Sun. The angle between the two tails, when such a phenomenon has been observed, has always been very considerable, varying from 140° to 170°. This rare phenomenon of two tails is supposed to be connected with certain rapid changes which the gaseous substance of the Comet is obser\'ed to undergo on approaching the Sun. There are many instances on record, in which the tails of Comets were observed to stretch through 100° of the celestial sphere, and the apparent
The head? The coma? Does each comet necessarily possess all these parts ? How would a mere round, fleecy mass be known to be a comet ? What mistake did Herschel make in looking, as he supposed, at one of this kind (p. 171)? Where do comets appear? In vvhat direction do they move? How does a comet look when first seen? Describe the approach of a comet to the sun. Upon what does the time of greatest brilliancy depend ? What do you say of the number of the comets ? What was Kepler's remark ? Why do we not see them oftener? Where did Lockyer see one? Describe the orbits of comets. Which class has been calculated ? Which classes never return? Describe the difficulty of calculating a comet's orbit. Name the periods of some comets. What has been the distance from the sun of some noted comets ? Velocity ? What do you say of the density of a comet? Illustrate. Is there any danger of our running against a comet ? Do comets shine by their own or by reflected light ? Tell what you can of their variation in form and dimensions. Give some account of the comets of 1811, 1835, ^"d 1843. For what is Biela's comet noted ? (Ans. " A very remarkable phenomenon attended the perihelion passage of this comet in the latter end of 1845. It became divided into two comets, which did not again re-unite, but traveled along together in similar orbits. This unique phenomenon was noticed for the first time in America on the 29th of December. The greatest distance observed between these two fragments of Biela's comet, before their final disappearance, was about iivo-thirds of the moon's distance from the earth.") For what is Encke's comet noted ? What is its period ? Give some description of Donati's comet. The comet of 1882.
203. Tell something of the appearance of the heavens at Neptune's distance from the sun — our starting-point. Do we ever see the stars? What do we see, then ? Whicli star is nearest the earth ? What is its parallax? Its distance? How long would it take light to reach the nearest star? How would the earth's orbit appear at that distance ? Our sun? How long does it take for the light of the smaller stars to reach the earth? What can you say of the motion of the fixed stars? Illustrate.
length of the tail is known to undergo most rapid changes. We shall mention only one case as an example of this phenomenon. The Comet of 1618 presented to the Danish astronomer, Longomontanus, a tail of 104° in length, while it had been measured by Kepler a few days previous, and ascertained to be only 70° long,"
What proof have we that the fixed stars are suns ?* Describe the motion of the solar system. Is the center known ? How many stars can we see with the naked eye ? With a telescope ? Have all the stars been discovered ? What is the cause of the twinkling of the stars? Do we know anything of the magnitude of the stars ? Name the points of difference between a planet and a fixed star. What do you mean by a star of the first magnitude? How many are there ? Of the second magnitude ? How many sizes can one see with the naked eye ? What is the cause of the difference in the brightness ? How are the stars named ? Describe the division of the stars into constellations. Is there any real likeness to the mythological figures? Name any figure which seems to you well founded. Are the boundaries distinct? Who invented the system ? State the possible meaning of the signs of the Zodiac and their origin. Explain why the signs and the constellations of the Zodiac do not agree. What causes the appearance of the constellations? Would they appear as they now do, if we should go out into space among them? Are the present forms permanent? State the value of the stars in practical life. What were the views of the ancients with regard to the stars? Describe the division of the stars into three zones. 214. The Constell.\tions. — The questions on these are uniform : ( i) description. {i\ principal stars, and (3) mythological history. Therefore, they need not be repeated with each constellation. What are the pointers? Does Polaris mark the exact position of the North Pole? How man}- times per day is Polaris on the meridian of any place? Explain how this applies in navigation or surveying. State how the amount of the variation from the true north will change through the ages. What star will ultimately become the pole-star? What curious facts are stated concerning the Pyramids? What do you say ot the distance of Polaris ? How razy latitude be calculated by means of Polaris ? What stars never set in our sky? What stars never rise?f Will the
* Sinus shines at least 200 times as brightly as our sun would shine if set beside it. Assuming its surface to be equally brilliant, this would imply, in comparison with our sun, a diameter 14 times and a volume 3.000 times as great. Its luster, however, seems higher than the sun's, but, even making allowance for that, we must stUl consider this giant sun to be at least 1,000 times as large as our own orb. Recent evidence tends to show that its rate of recession from us is diminishing, so that we may e.xpect this to change into a motion of approach. Here is a hint that Sirius is travelling in a mighty orbit with movements carrying it alternately from and toward us — Proctor.
+ All stars whose north polar distance is less than the latitude of any place, will never set at that place, and all stars whose south polar distance is less than the latitude, will never rise. The Greeks and the Romans were familiar with the fact that certain stars never descend below the horizon. The following quotations are interesting : '• Immunemque aequoris Arcton."'
Big Dipper always appear as now ? Name three bright stars near the first meridian. (Ans. a Andromedse, >■ Pegasi, and ,i CassiopeiiE.) How many degrees of longitude correspond to an hour of time? At what rate is Sirius receding from the earth? How has this motion been discovered? (See page 261.)
239. Double Stars, etc. — Does any star appear double to the naked eye ? How many have been found by the use of the telescope ? What is an optical double star? Are all double stars of this class ? Describe the revolution of a binary system. What other combinations have been discovered? What are their periods? Orbits? Mass? Are these companion stars as close to each other as they seem ?
241. Name some prominent colored stars. Do their colors ever change? Which colors would indicate the hottest star? What is the probable effect in a system having colored suns ?
243. What are temporary stars? Describe the one seen in Cassiopeia. The one in Corona Borealis, in 1866 ? What are lost stars ? Can you give any explanation of this phenomenon? Of what did the star of 1866 consist? Are these stars destroyed? Is the process of creation now complete ?
246. What are nebulse ? How do they differ from clusters? Is it probable that all nebulse will be resolved into clusters ? What is the general belief concerning nebulne ? What has spectrum analysis proved some of the nebulae to be ? Where are they most abundant ? What can you say about their distances? Into how many classes, for convenience, are they divided ? Describe and illustrate the elliptic nebulae. What is said of the distance of the great nebula in Andromeda?
'ApKTOi' 9' rjv KoX aixa^av iTriK\ri<nv KoXfovatv, 'Ht' avTOv <TTpe<f)eTai, Kai t 'fipiwra SoKeiiii, OtT) S' d/iifiopos e(7Ti Xoerpuiv 'fiKeoroio,
ViRG. Georg. L 246.
In order to understand the meaning of the expressions 7re<t)v\ayix€i'oi 'flKeat'oio, and ^^ aquoris expertes" as used by a Greek or Italian, we should remember that the north polar distance ofr/ Ursse Majoris 1839° 56' 48" ; and since the latitude of Athens is 37" 58', and that of Naples 40° 50', an inhabitant of the former city would see this star descend below the northern horizon for a small portion of its course ; and an inhabitant of Naples would see it sink within 3' of the horizon, so as just to move along its northern edge.
The number of stars it contains ? Describe the annular nebulae. What is said of the " ring universe " in Lyra? Its diameter? Describe the spiral nebula in Canes Venatici. Describe the planetar>' nebulae. What is said of the number and size of these "island universes"? Describe the fantastic appearance of the irregular nebulae.
251. What are nebulous stars? What is their structure? What are variable nebulae ? Give instances. What is said of double nebulae ? Is an)-thing definite known with regard to them ? What are the Magellanic clouds ?
259. What is spectrum analysis? Name the three kinds of spectra. What colored rays will a flame absorb?* Describe the spectroscope. What are Fraunhofer's lines? What is known of the constitution of the sun ? What proof have we that iron exists in the sun ? What elements have been found in the sun ? What proof have we that the
* The power which gases possess of cutting out the particular lines which belong to the color that each emits has been beautifully illustrated by Prof. Newcomb. He says: "■ Suppose nature should loan us an immense collection of many millions of gold pieces, out of which we were to select those which would ser\'e us for money, and leturn her the remainder. The English rummage through the pile, and pick out all the pieces which are of the proper weight for sovereigns and half-sovereigns ; the French pick out those which will make five, ten, twenty, or fifty-franc pieces; the Americans the one, five, ten and twenty dollar pieces, and so on. After all the suitable pieces are thus selected, let the remaining mass be spread out on the ground according to the respective weights of the pieces, the smallest pieces being placed in a row, the next in weight in an adjoining row, and so on. We shall then find a number of rows missing: one which the French have taken out for five-franc pieces; close to it another which the Americans have taken for dollars ; afterwards a row which have gone for half-sovereigns, and so on. By thus arranging the pieces, one would be able to tell what nations had culled over the pile, if he only knew of what weight each one made its coins. The gaps in the places where the sovereigns and half-sovereigns belonged would indicate the English, that in the dollars and eagles the Americans, and so on. If, now, we reflect how utterly hopeless it would appear, from the mere examination of the miscellaneous pile of pieces which had been left, to ascertain what people had been selecting coins from it, and how easy the problem would appear when once some genius should make the proposed arrangement of the pieces in rows, we shall see in what the fundamental idea of spectrum analysis consists. The formation of the spectrum is the separation and arrangement of the light which comes from an object on the same system by which we have supposed the gold pieces to be arranged. The gaps we see in the spectrum tell the tale of the atmosphere through which the light has passed us; in the case of the coins they would tell what rutions had sorted over the 'p\\Qj" —Nrwcomb's Astronomy^ p. 228.
stars are suns? What can you say of the similarity existing between the stars and our earth ? What has been discovered with regard to the constitution of the Nebulae ? Of their relative brightness? How has the proper motion of the stars been shown?
263. Time. — What two methods of measuring time? What is a sidereal day? What are astronomical clocks? Tell how they are used. Why do astronomers use sidereal time ? What is a solar day? What causes the difference between a sidereal and a solar day ? To how much time is a degree of space equal? Which is taken as the unit, the solar or the sidereal day? How long is a solar day? A sidereal day? A solar day equals how many sidereal hours ? A sidereal day equals how many solar hours? Describe mean solar time. What is apparent noon? Mean noon? The equation of time ? When is this greatest ? When least ? When do mean and apparent time coincide ? Can a watch keep apparent time? How may apparent time be kept? How can it be changed into mean time ? Tell how to erect a sundial. When will a sidereal and a mean time clock coincide ? A mean-time clock and the sundial? How did the ancients measure time, before the invention of clocks and watches?" State the two reasons wh}' the solar days are of unequal length. What is the civil day ? Who invented the present division ? Describe the customs of various nations. What
* " The ancients used clepsvdrje and siin-dials, to measure time. The clepsydrae, in its simplest form, resembled the hour-glass, water being used instead of sand, and the flow of time being measured by the flow of the water. After the era of Archimedes, clepsydrae of the most el.iborate construction were common ; but while they were in use, the days, both winter and summer, were divided into twelve hours from sunrise to sunset, and consequently the hours in winter were shorter than the hours in summer; the ciepsydra, therefore, was almost useless except for measuring intervals of time, unless different ones were employed at different seasons of the year. The sun-dial was a great improvement upon the clepsydrae ; but at night and in cloudy weather it could not be used, of course, and the rising, culmination, and setting of the various constellations were the only means available for roughly telling the lime during the night. Indeed, Euripides, who lived 480-407 b. c, makes the Chorus in one of his tragedies ask the time in this form : —
It is also on record that as late as a. d. 1108 the sacristan of the Abbey of Cluny consulted the stars when he wished to know if the time had arrived to summon the monks to their midnight prayers ; and in other cases, a monk remained awake, and to measure the lapse of time repeated certain psalms, experience havmg taught him in the day, by the aid of the sun-dial, how many psalms could be said in an hour. When the proper number of psalms had been said, the monks were awakened."— Lockyer.
is the origin of the names of the days?* What is the sidereal \-ear? The mean solar year? What causes the difference? What is the anomalistic year? How did the ancients find the length of the \'ear? What error did they make ? What was the result ? Give an account of the Julian calendar. The Gregorian calendar. What is the meaning of the terms O. S. and N. S. ?f What country now uses O. S. ? When was the change adopted in England ? X How was it received ? How could a child be eight years old before a return of its birthday? When do the Jews begin their year? Why does our year begin January 1st ? Show how the earth is our timepiece. What influence has Jupiter's moons on the cotton trade?
Celestial Measlrements. — These problems are to be used throughout the study. They require no questions but the formal statement of the problem requiring solution.
* It is said that the Egyptians named the seven days from the seven celestial bodies then known. The order was continued by the Romans Tuesday they called Dies Martis ; Wednesday, Dies Mercurii : Thursday, Dies Jovis ; Friday, Dies Veneris. In the Saxon mj-thology. Tius. Woden, Thor, and Friga are equivalent to Mars, Mercury-. Jupiter, and Venus. Hence we see the origin of our English names.
+ " As an illustration of the effect of the change of style, we may instance the case of Washington. He was bom February ii, 1732, before the change of style. Inasmuch as 1752 began on the 25th of March and ended on the 31st of December, he had no birth-day in that year ; hence, he was 20 years old on the 22nd of February, 1753, new style. Because anniversaries are always determined according to the civil calendar, the birth-day of Washington is properly celebrated on the 22nd of February, and not on the 23d, as some have contended, on account of the day dropped in the year 1800." — Peck^s Astronomy, p. 216.
X " In England, from the 14th century till the change of style in 1752. the legal and the ecclesiastical year began March 25. After the change was adopted in 1752, events which had occurred in January, February, and before March of the old legal year, would, according to the new arrangement, be reckoned in the next subsequent year. Thus the revolution of 1688 occurred in February of that legal year, or. as we should now say, in February, 1689 ; and it was, at one time, customary to write the date thus: February, i68|." — Appleton's Cyclopaedia, article on Calendar.
January. (7 p. m.) — In the North, Cassiopeia and Perseus are above Polaris, Cepheus and Draco west, Ursa Minor fs below, and Ursa Major below and to the east. /// the East, Cancer is just rising, Canis Minor (Procyon) has just risen. Along the Ecliptic, Gemini is well up, then Taurus, Aries — reaching to the meridian, next Pisces; Aquarius (letter Y) and Capricornus are just setting. In the Southeast, Orion and the Hare are well up. In the South, Cetus swims his huge bulk far to the east and west. In the Southwest, is Piscis Austral is (Fomalhaut). North of the Ecliptic, the Triangles are nearly in the zenith, Perseus is just east, below is Auriga, Andromeda lies just west of the meridian, and Pegasus is midway; Delphinus (the Dolphin, Job's Coffin), Aquila (Altair), and Lyra (Vega) are fast sinking to the western horizon ; while, along the Milky Way, blazes the brilliant cross of Cygnus.
February. (7 p. m.) — In the North, Ursa Major lies east of Polaris, Ursa Minor and Draco are below, Cepheus is west, Cassiopeia above and to the west. In the East, Regulus and Cor Hydrse are just rising. Along the Ecliptic, Leo (Regulus, the sickle) just rising, Cancer well up, Gemini midway, Taurus on the meridian, Aries (the scalene triangle) past, Pisces next, and, lastly, Aquarius just setting. In the Southeast, Canis Minor, Canis Major ^Sirius), and Orion are conspicuous. Iti the Southivest, Cetus covers nearly the whole sky. North of the Ecliptic, Perseus is on the meridian, while Auriga is a little east of it ; west of Perseus is Andromeda, while the Great Square of Pegasus is fast approaching the horizon. In the Northwest, Cygnus is setting.
March. (7 p. U.)—In the North, Ursa Major lies east of Polaris, Draco and Ursa Minor are below, Cepheus is below and to the west, and Cassiopeia west. In the East, Cor Caroli is well up, toward the northeast, and Coma Berenices is rising. Along the Ecliptic. Leo is fully risen, next Cancer, Gemini reaches to the meridian, Taurus is past, Aries midway, and, lastly, Pisces is just beginning to set. In the Southeast, Cor Hydrae, Canis Minor, and Canis Major are conspicuous. In tfu South,
314 GUIDE TO THE CONSTELLATIONS.
Orion blazes brilliantl}'. In tlie Southwest, Cetus is hiding below the horizon. Xorth of tJu Ecliptic, Auriga is in the zenith ; west are Perseus and Andromeda, while Pegasus is just beginning to sink out of sight.
April. (7 p. M.J — In the North, Ursa Major is above and to the east of Polaris ; opposite and to the west is Perseus, Draco below and to the east, Cepheus below and to the west, Cassiopeia west. Jit the East, Bojtes ( Arcturus) is not quite fully r.sen. Along the Ecliptic, Virgo (Spica is rising, Leo midway, Cancer reaches to the meridian, Gemini is past, next Taurus, then Aries, and, lastly. Pisces just setting. In the Southeast, is the Crater (the Cup) ; Hydra stretches its long neck to the meridian. In tJu South. Canis Minor. In tJie Southioest, Sirius and Orion ; the Eg^-ptian X ip. 229) can now be seen. A'orth of t/ie Ecliptic, and in the northeast, are Coma Berenices and Cor Caroli ; above Gemini and Taurus is Auriga, while Andromeda is just setting in the northwest.
3Ijiy. (S p. M.) — In the Xorth. Ursa Major is above Polaris, Ursa Minor and Draco are east, Cepheus and Cassiopeia below, and Perseus is west. In the East, Lyra is rising, and Hercules is just up. Along tlu Ecliptic, Libra is just rising, Virgo is midway. Leo is on the meridian, Cancer is past, next Gemini, and lastly Taurus just setting. In t/i€ South, stretching east and west of the meridian, is Hydra, with the Crater and Corvus a little east. /;/ tJte South-u'cst, are Cor Hydrae, Canis Major, and Canis Minor, while Orion is just setting in the west. Noi-th of the Ecliptic, in the east, above Hercules, are Corona Borealis (The Northern Crown), Bootes (Arcturus), Coma Berenices, and Cor Caroli, which stretch nearly to the meridian. In tJie Xorthzvest, above Taurus and Perseus, is Auriga.
Juue. (S p. .M.I — /« the Xorth, Ursa Major is above Polaris, Draco and Ursa Minor are east, Cepheus is below and east, and Cassiopeia directly below. /// the East, Cj-gnus (the Cross) and Aquila are rising, Lyra and Taurus Poniatowskii are well up. Along the Ecliptic, Scoxp'xo is rising. Libra is midway, Virgo on the meridian, Leo past, Cancer midway, Gemini next, and Taurus just setting. In the South, are Cor vus and the Crater a little past the meridian. In tJie Southwest, is Cor Hydrae, and in the west Canis Minor is nearing the horizon. North of the Ecliptic, in the east, above Scorpio, is Hercules ; then Corona and Bootes, and, near the meridian. Cor Caroli. and Coma Berenices. In the Northwest, is Auriga, just coming to the horizon.
July, (g p. M.) — In the Xorth, Draco and Ursa Minor are abo»e Pola ris, Ursa Major is west, Cepheus east, and Cassiopeia below to the east. In the East, the Dolphin (Job's Coffin) is now well up, Cygnus is almost
midway to the meridian, and Lyra is still higher. Along the Ecliptic, Capricornus is rising, Sagittarius (the Archer) is next, Scorpio, with its long tail swinging along the horizon, is directly south, Libra is past the meridian, Virgo midway, and Leo has almost reached the horizon. In the South'west, the Crater is setting, and Corvus is just above. A'orth of the Ecliptic , above Scorpio and east of the meridian, are Serpentarius, Hercules, and Taurus Poniatowskii ; Corona is almost on the meridian, to the west of which lie Bootes, Cor Caroli, and Coma Berenices.
August. (9 P. M.) — In the North, Draco and Ursa Minor are above Polaris, Cepheus is above and to the east, Cassiopeia east, and Ursa Major west. In the Northeast, Perseus is just rising, while south of it, Andromeda and Pegasus are fairly up. Along the Ecliptic, Aquarius is risen, next Caprjcornus, Sagittarius reaches to the meridian. Scorpio is just past, Libra next, and Virgo (Spica) just touches the horizon. North of the Ecliptic, Taurus Poniatowskii is on and Lyra is just east of the meridian ; the Swan and Dolphin are east of Lyra, Serpentarius and Hercules are above Scorpio, and just west of the meridian ; thence west are Corona and Bootes, while far in the northwest are Coma Berenices and Cor Caroli.
September. (8 p. m.) — Draco is above and to the west of Polaris, Cepheus above and to the east, Cassiopeia east, Ursa Major is below and to the west. In the Northeast, Perseus is just rising. In the East, Andromeda is fairly up, Pegasus is nearly midway to the meridian. Along the Ecliptic, Pisces is just rising, next Aquarius, Capricornus in the southwest, Sagittarius on the meridian in the south, next Scorpio in the southwest. Libra, and, lastly, Virgo just setting. N^orth of the Ecliptic, Lyra is on the meridian, Cygnus, the Dolphin, and Aquila are just to the east ; while to the west, are Taurus Poniatowskii and Serpentarius ; north of these latter are Hercules, Corona, Bootes, Cor Caroli, and Coma Berenices.
October, (7 P. M.) — In the North, Cepheus and Draco are above Polaris, Ursa Minor is west, Cassiopeia east, and Ursa Major below and west. In the Northeast, Perseus is fairly risen. In the East, An^xomeda is nearly midway to the zenith. Along the Ecliptic, Aries is just rising, Pisces well up, Aquarius and Capricornus are in the southeast, Sagittarius is in the south, Scorpio far down in the southwest, and Libra just setting. North of the Ecliptic, Cygnus and Aquila are on the meridian ; the Dolphin is just east of it, and far south ; Lyra is west of the meridian ; Taurus Poniatowskii is lower down and to the south ; Serpentarius is just above Scorpio ; next, in line with Scorpio and Polaris, is Hercules ; Corona and Bootes are toward the northwest, where Coma Berenices is just setting.
November. (7 p. m.) — In the North, Ursa Major is below Polaris, Ursa Minor and Draco are to the west, Cepheus is above, and Cassiopeia above and to the east. In the Northecst, Auriga is just rising, and Perseus is above, nearly midway to the meridian. Along the Ecliptic, Taurus is just rising, next are Aries and Pisces ; Aquarius is on the meridian, south ; then Capricornus, and lastly Sagittarius, in the southwest. iVorth of the Ecliptic, Pegasus and Andromeda lie east of the meridian, the Swan, Dolphin, Eagle, Taurus Poniatowskii, and Lyra west. In the Northwest, are Hercules and Corona.
December. (7 p. m.) — In the North, Cassiopeia is above Polaris, Cepheus above and to the west, Perseus above and to the east, Draco west, and Ursa Major below. In tlie NoriJieast, below Perseus, is Auriga. In the East, Orion is rising. Along the Ecliptic, Gemini is just rising. Taurus is nearly midway, next Aries, Pisces is on the meridian, then Aquarius, and lastly Capricornus, far in the southwest. /;/ the South, east of the meridian, is Cetus, and west is Fomalhaut. A'orth of the Ecliptic, Andromeda is nearly on the meridian, and Pegasus west of it ; Cvgnus, Delphinus, Lyra, and Aquila are about midway, while Taurus Poniatowskii is just sinking 10 the horizon. In the Northwest, Hercules is just setting.
Note.— It should be borne in mind that a month makes a variation of about two hours (30°) in the rise of a star ; hence, in the foregoinp; " Guide," the 'January Sky" of 9 p. .M. would be about the same as the " February Sky " of 7 p. m. ; the "'January Sky" of II p. M. would be about the same as the " March Sky" of 7 p. m.. &c. In this way the "Guide" may be used for any hour in the night. The pupil will see that in the " Guide " the prominent figures and stars in each constellation are given in parentheses. Examples: the " Y" in Aquarius, the -'scalene triangle" in Aries, "Job's Coffin " in the Dolphin, " Procyon " in Canis Minor, &c. These aid in identifying the constellation.
2. To sho'o change of Polar Star. — The pupil can readily see that the north pole of the earth will, at different times, point to different stars located around this circle. Now, Polaris; next, Lyra.
3. To show why present polar distance 7oill gradually diminish and then increase {p. 217). — The polar star lies at a little distance from this circle (edge of plate) and the pole is gradually approaching the star, but will pass it and then recede further from it, until, finally, Lyra, lyings" from this circle, will become the polar constellation.
* The above apparatus was devised by Solomon Sias, A.M. M.D., Principal of Schoharie Union School, N. Y. It can be made by any ingenious pupil. The plates are cut out of tin ; the standard may be made with the knife or scroll-saw to suit one's taste ; the earth is half of a little wooden ball balanced on the wire pin C ; and the semicircle, poles, etc.. are of wire. The different parts may be soldered or fastened together with tacks.
6. To show necessity f 01- new stellar maps occasionally, or careful reductions to previous standards. With the change of equinoxes, there is also a change of the equinoctial system, p. 27.
7. To illustrate Fig. 40. — Remove the wire semicircle, and, inclining the axis of the earth, spin the wire between the thumb and finger like a top. The equinoxes will pass around the ecliptic as they did when the axis was carried around in the previous experiments.
Letting G B E represent the plane of the ecliptic, and G E the line of the equinoxes, we can use this apparatus to illustrate the seasons, etc., (p 95). Also, by placing a lamp near S, the phenomenon of day and night, long summer days, short winter days, etc. (pp. 97, etc.), can be easily explained.
| 98,786 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | storyofstarsnewd00stee | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0014.json.gz:1938 | https://archive.org/download/storyofstarsnewd00stee/storyofstarsnewd00stee_djvu.txt |
eYK0k3YDWDb_UkVm | Functional MRI: Basic principles | 2 Gradients
Having laid the groundwork of understanding where our signal is coming from, we could go in one of two directions. We could start talking about relaxation, which is the process of returning to equilibrium after excitation and releasing the energy that becomes our signal. Or we could start talking about the I part of MRI — imaging. I find it easier to take the latter path. Before continuing with the MR part of the story (relaxation), I like to pause and talk about gradient coils: what they are and how we use them to turn NMR into MRI. My motivation for following this path is that we’re following the path of a pulse sequence: a gradient is often applied during excitation, and gradients are generally applied (“played”) to add some spatial information encoding while we’re waiting for relaxation processes to happen.
When we’re doing this class in person, we pause here to outline the Huettel textbook and talk about how the trajectory of this class does and doesn’t match the trajectory of that textbook, which is the best traditional reference I know for understanding the imaging process. Here are pdfs of parts of Ch. 3 and Ch. 4, so they’re handy for the outlining exercise. But purchasing and referring back to the entire textbook is a great choice for most students of MRI!
Huettel, 2nd Edition, Chapter 3
Huettel, 2nd edition, Chapter 4
First, the physics of what a gradient is and what it does to the sample:
This section is evolving — these new slides hopefully provide slightly better illustrations than the old ones:
Slice selection, conceptually:
Exercises
Next, how do we use gradients for slice selection?
Exercises
2.1 What does “slice selection” mean?
2.2 Imagine you are applying an RF pulse while a gradient is turned on, with the intention of selecting a slice. If you don’t change the bandwidth of the pulse, but you increase the strength of the gradient, will your slice get thicker or thinner?
These next 2 parts are really 1, but the first time through … the movies didn’t get captured. So it’s broken into 2 parts.
… and the 2nd part, with movies (and homework).
Exercises
3.1. The arithmetic is annoying … but go ahead and fill out the table of slice thickness, location, and orientation shown on the last slide.
3.2. What parameter in the table should be adjusted to do the experiment at a different field strength?
3.3. Which image is acquired during an echo? (Note: the illustration in the video is a bit messed up because in the image at left, color indicates the relative phase at each location, while in the image at right, color indicates the intensity of the signal at each location. In the slides, the illustration is corrected so color always indicates phase and the saturation indicates ‘proton density’ — how much sample is at each location.)
3.4. Which image is closer to the center of k-space?
3.5. What is k-space, anyway?
In https://github.umn.edu/caolman/MRIsimulations.git/demos, there’s code called FLASH_oneLine.py that generates read_out.mp4, illustrating the phases at each location in the sample as gradients with different slopes are left on, and how the vector sum of all of those phases results in an induced signal in the coil that comes to an “echo” when the gradient history is balanced:
Exercises | 721 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.umn.edu/fmribasicprinciples/chapter/gradients/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:5365 | https://pressbooks.umn.edu/fmribasicprinciples/chapter/gradients/ |
_9fQ29cjKQMJ97ci | 6.1: Samples | 6.1: Samples
A. Practice Sewing
Cut a set of 5” by 7” sample fabric. With right sides together, stitch 5 lines lengthwise 1” apart back tacking at the beginning and end or each stitched line. Insert completed sample in the Sample notebook.
B. Sample Cutting
Cutting out samples. You will need 19 sets of 5” X 7” sample fabric on grain; 3 samples measuring 4” X 5”; and the remaining samples cut from the patterns in the back of this manual.
C. Samples
For all sample instructions, gray indicates wrong side of fabric and white indicates right side of fabric.
1. Types of Seams
a. Plain – Use 1 set of 5” x 7” sample fabric Use 1 set of . With right sides together, stitch a straight seam 1/2” from edge of fabric. Unfold sample and pressing seam allowance open. Using a sharpie, label the sample “plain seam” and place in your sample notebook.
b. Mock Welt—Use 1 set of 5” x 7” sample fabric. Start by repeating steps 1–3 of the plain seam. Trim the right side of the seam allowance to 1/4 “. Fold left seam allowance over trimmed right seam allowance and press. Turn to right side and topstitch 1/4” from seam line. Label “Mock Welt Seam”.
c. French—Use one set of 5” X7” sample fabric. Place fabric wrong sides together. Stitch 1/4” seam.
Turn fabric with right sides together, seam will be on the inside. Press and stitch at 1/4″.
Lay sample flat and label “French Seam”.
d. Corner—Use one set of 5” X 7” sample fabric. With right sides of fabric together, mark a dot at 1/2” from right edge and 1/2” from bottom as shown. Stitch at 1/2” from edge to dot, leave needle in fabric and pivot fabric swatch to stitch across the bottom at 1/2”. Trim corner at a 45 angle. Turn to right side and press. Label “Corner Seam”.
e. Curved—Use one set of 5” X 7” sample fabric. Using the template found in the back of the book, cut out the curved sample with fabric doubled. With right sides together, stitch 1/2” on the curved side of the fabric. Clip curves and turn right side out, press. Label “Curved Seam”.
Seams Video
2. Types of Seam Finishes
a. Turned and Stitched—Use one set of 5” X 7” sample fabric. Start by repeating steps 1-3 for plain seam. Turn seam allowances under 1/4” and edgestitch (line up with outside edge of presser foot) each seam allowance. Do not stitch through to the right side of fabric.
b. Stitched and Pinked—Use one set of 5” X 7” sample fabric. Start by repeating steps 1-3 for plain seam. Trim seam allowances 1/4” with pinking shears.
c. Hong Kong—Use one set of 5” X 7” sample fabric. Start by repeating steps 1-3 for plain seam except make seam allowances 3/4”. Using 1/2” double fold bias tape, cut 2 strips the length of the seam. One for the left and one for the right sides of the seam allowance.
Unfold the bias tape with the sorter side on the right. Line up the edge of the unfolded bias tape to the edge of the right seam allowance.
Stitch in the ditch of the fold of the bias tape to the seam allowance.
Fold bias tape to the under side of the right seam allowance as shown.
Stitch in the ditch of the seam, catching the under side of the bias tape.
Repeat for the left side of the seam allowance. Label Hong Kong Finish’ and place in Sample Notebook.
d. Serged—Use one set of 5” X 7” sample fabric. Start by repeating steps 1-3 for plain seam. Using the JUKI MO-6700 Serger, serge both seam allowances, trimming 1/8”.
Seam Finishes Video
3. Stitching Techniques Prior to Garment Construction
a. Staystitching-staystitching is used to stabilize curved seams, i.e. the neckline and armscye. Using the bodice block pattern in the appendix, cut one bodice front on fold.
Stitch neckline and armscye at 1/2″ in the direction indicated below. Label sample ‘Staystitching” and place in Sample Notebook.
b. Darts– Darts are used to make flat fabric 3 dimensional to fit over fullness in the body, i.e. bust, hips, etc. Using Bodice front pattern in the appendix, cut one bodice front on fold. Mark the two bust darts and the two waist darts with marking pen.
Folding toward the right side of the fabric, fold the left dart in half and secure withpins. Stitch from base of dart to apex. Press the dart toward the waist.
Fold the right dart in half toward the right side of the fabric and stitch from base to apex.
Fold the left waist dart in half and stitch from base to apex. Repeat for right dart.
Label bust and waist darts. Place sample in Sample Notebook.
c. Easing-Easing is used to force fullness of one fabric into a smaller area without causing ripples, gathering or pleating. For this class, easing will be used to place a sleeve cap (as shown below) into the armscye of a shirt.
For the easing sample, using the pattern provided for easing in the appendix, cut one of each pattern A and B. Using a basting stitch of 5, stitch 2 rows at 1/4” and 3/4”. Leave 4” tails of thread on each end of stitching. Do not back tack.
Videos of Pre Stitching Techniques prior to Garment Construction
4. Stitching Techniques after Garment Construction
a. Trimming-trmming is used to remove bulk form both seam allowances.
b. Grading- grading is trimming only one side of the seam allowance.
c. Edge Stitching/Understitching- is used to help keep seam allowance or facing in place. It is also used as a decorative stitch on the face of the fabric. It is stitched on the right side of the fabric next to the seam allowance following the inside edge of the presser foot.
d. Topstitching – is used as a decorative stitch on the face of the fabric. It also adds strength and supporr to seams. It is stitched at 1/2″ from the seam.
e. Clipping—clipping is used on concave curved seams to remove bulk. Using the pattern in the appendix for clipping, cut 2. With right sides together, stitch 1/2” seam from concave side of sample. Make small slits in the seam allowance around the curve approximately 1/2” apart.
f. Notching—is used on convex curved seams to remove bulk. Using the pattern in the appendix for notching, cut 2 out so sample fabric. With right sides together, stitch 1/2” seam from the convex side of sample. Make small notches in the seam allowance around the curve approximately 1/2” apart.
5. Hand Stitches
a. Catch Stitch -is used to hand sew hems and facings. It is a series of small X’s. The needle direction is from right to left, but you are stitching from left to right. See steps below. Label as “Catch Stitch” and place in Sample Notebook.
Step 1. Using a single thread with a knot in the end, begin the stitch on the hme side of the fabric taking just a few threads.
Step 2. Pull thread through to the knot and begin the next stitch on the garment just above the folded hem edge.
Step 3. Pull thread to just taut and begin the next stitch on the hem about 1/2″ from the first stitch.
Step 4. Repeat to the garment and alternate back and forth from the garment to hem until you reach the end. Secure the thread by stitching in the same place several times.
b. Blind Catch Stitch -The blind catch stitch is the same stitch as the catch stitch with one exception, the top of the hem is folded down so the stitches occur between the garment and the hem . This allows for the catch stitch to be hidden once the fold is pressed up.
View after the fold in the top of the gem has been pressed up. You should only see the small stitches. Label “Blind Catch Stitch” and place in Sample Notebook.
c. Slip Stitch – The slip stitch is a hidden stitch. It is stitched into a fold (or channel). For this sample, you will fold the edge up 1/4” then press, fold again at 1” and press.
Close up view of folded edge.
Start by threading a sewing needle with a single thread and knot at the end.
Step 1. Insert needle into fold of hem, run the needle in the fold about 1/4”.
Step 2. Bring needle up through the fold.
Step 3. Insert needle directly above the fold on the garment and catch a few threads of garment.
Step 4. Insert needle back into the fold of the hem directly below the stitch of the garment.
6. Closures: Zippers
A. Invisible Zipper – an invisible zipper is used in a seam line to hide the zipper from being seen from the outside of the fabric. Cut a set of 5” by 12” rectangles from the sample fabric on-grain. Serge the long edge on both pieces with right sides of fabric facing up.
Unzip the invisible zipper and turn over to wrong side. Using just the left sample piece, place the right zipper tape on the seam line of the left sample.
Uncoil the zipper teeth to the left, there will be a ditch (fold) seen. Using the invisible zipper foot, place the uncoiled zipper teeth in the left groove of the zip per foot and stitch down to the head of the zipper and back tack.
Turn the zipper to the right side by flipping to the right. You should be able to zip the zipper all the way to the top. If you cannot zip to the top, you may have caught the zipper teeth in your stitching and will need to remove and restitch. Next, flip the entire sample and zipper upside down.
Place the zipper on the right serged edge of the sample piece. Uncoil the zipper teeth to the right and place in the right groove of the zipper foot and stitch in the ditch.
Complete the seam below the zipper by placing right sides of fabric together. Begin stitching where the zipper stitching ended and stitch to the bottom of the sample.
B. Lapped Zipper – this zipper is hidden by a lap of fabric that folds over the zipper and is a common zipper to use for side seam zipper openings.
- Cut a set of 5″ by 12″ sample fabric.
2. With right sides together, lay the zipper on the edge and mark the end of the zipper stop on the fabric with a marking pen or straight pin.
3. Using a stitch length of 5, stitch a basting stitch from the top edge to the mark. Leave your needle in place and change your stitch length to 2.3-3, back tack and continue stitching to the bottom of the fabric sample.
4. Press the seam open.
5. Move the right side of the sample fabric under the left side with only the seam allowance on the right edge.
6. Place the zipper face down on the right side of the seam allowance with zipper teeth on the seam line. Pin in place.
7. Using the notched zipper foot, stitch from the top edge of the zipper to the bottom of zipper.
8. Fold the zipper to the right so that the right side is showing. The fold should be on the right seam allowance. Edge stitch on the fold of the seam allowance.
9. Unfold your sample with right sides up. You will not be able to see the zipper, but make sure the zipper is laying right side up under the sample. If you could see through the right side, it should look like the right yellow shaded area.
10. Use a needle and thread and hand baste from just above the metal zipper to the top edge of the sample.
11. Machine stitch (BLUE) the zipper following the basting lines.
12. Remove the basting thread.
13. Gentle open the seam and remove the basting thread from the seam to expose and open the zipper all the way to the zipper stop. Label “Lapped Zipper” and place in the Sample Notebook.
C. Centered Zipper-this zipper is hidden by a 2 laps of fabric that meet over the center of the zipper teeth.
Step 1. Cut a set of 5″ by 12″ sample fabric.
2. With right sides together, lay the zipper on the edge and mark the end of the zipper stop on the fabric with a marking pen or straight pin.
3. Using a stitch length of 5, stitch a basting stitch from the top edge to the mark. Leave your needle in place and change your stitch length to 2.3-3, back tack and continue stitching to the bottom of the fabric sample.
4. Press the seam open.
5. Unzip the zipper and turn it face down. Take the left side of the zipper tape and place on the left seam allowance. Pin in place.
6. Hand baste the zipper tape in place to the seam allowance only.
7. Using the notched zipper foot, stitch the zipper tape to the seam allowance. Remove basting stitch.
8. Close the zipper and pin the right zipper tape to the right seam allowance. Remember to move the sample fabric so you only pin the seam allowance and zipper tape. Hand baste in place then machine stitch.
9. Turn the sample to the right side with the zipper closed. Press the seam and hand baste from just above the zipper stop (you can feel it through the fabric) and 1/4” away from the seam to the top on both sides.
10. Using the notched zipper foot, machine stitch over the basting lines 1/4” from the seam on each side making sure you do not hit the zipper stop at the bottom.
11. Remove basting stitches from stitching line.
12. Remove basting stitches from seam line to expose zipper. Label “Center Zipper” and place in Sample Notebook.
D. Hooks and Eyes – hooks and eyes are options for closures and come in a variety of sizes depending on the application and weight of fabric. You must use them in pairs. The regular hook can be used with either a round eye or a straight eye. The skirt hook is much larger and more stable. This hook and eye combinations is found on waistbands for skirts and pants for both men and women.
General Hook and Eye
- Cut 2 pieces of sample fabric 4″ by 5″. Select 1 regular hood and round eye.
2. Using a hand sewing needle, thread the needle for double thread use. Take 1 length of thread about 10” long, double it, matching ends and thread ends through needle eye. When you begin your hand sewing you can run the needle through the loop to secure, avoiding a knot.
3. Starting from the top side (where you can see the hook, hold the hook in place and stitch around each eye. Then do the same for the round eye.
Close up view.
Skirt Hook and Eye
-
Cut 2 pieces of sample fabric 4″ by 5″. Select 1 skirt hook and flat eye.
-
Using a hand sewing needle, thread the needle for double thread use. Take 1 length of thread about 10” long, double it, matching ends and thread ends through needle eye. When you begin your hand sewing you can run the needle through the loop to secure, avoiding a knot.
-
Starting from the top side (where you can see the hook, hold the hook in place and stitch around each section with a hole. Then do the same for the flat eye on both ends.
E. Buttons are used to close overlapping garment pieces. There are a variety of sizes and shapes to buttons including number of holes for sewing. A 4-hole button will be used for your shirt project as listed in the supply list.
- Cut 2 pieces of sample fabric 4” by 5 “. Select 1 4-hole button. Thread a hand sewing needle with a double thread and knot one end. Start by inserting needle from the underside of the sample and come up through 1 eye of the button. Pull thread to the knot.
2. Insert the needle into the opposing eye diagonally.
3. Continue stitching from the first hole to the second hole 4-5 times. Then insert needle from under the sample in the hole next to the first hole and stitch 4-5 times.
4. To secure the stitches, from the underneath side of the sample, run the needle under the crossed stitches 2 times and cut the thread. | 3,628 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://human.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Textiles_Apparel_and_Fashion/Introduction_to_Apparel_Production_Workbook_(Apple)/06%3A_Sewing_Practice_and_Samples/6.01%3A_Samples | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:21275 | https://human.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Textiles_Apparel_and_Fashion/Introduction_to_Apparel_Production_Workbook_(Apple)/06%3A_Sewing_Practice_and_Samples/6.01%3A_Samples |
bgzUQQKfF0pOF3r8 | 6.2: Basic Concepts | 6.2: Basic Concepts
Review of Anatomy and Physiology
The lungs sit to the left and right of the heart within a space called the thoracic cavity. The cavity is protected by the rib cage. A sheet of muscle called the diaphragm sits at the bottom of the thoracic cavity and separates it from the abdominal cavity. For this reason, the thoracic cavity is a closed space with its own intrathoracic pressure. [1]
There are two membranes in the thoracic cavity. The visceral pleura membrane covers the outside of the lungs, and the parietal pleura membrane lines the interior chest wall. The space between these two membranes is called the pleural space (also referred to as the pleural cavity). The pleural space normally contains between 10 to 20 mL of pleural fluid that provides lubrication as the pleura continuously slide against each other during inspiration and expiration. [2] See Figure 6.1 [3] for an illustration of the pleural cavity (i.e., pleural space).
The process of breathing, known as ventilation, is divided into two distinct phases called inspiration and expiration. During inspiration (also called inhalation), the diaphragm contracts and pulls downward while the intercostal muscles between the ribs pull upward. This movement increases the size of the thoracic cavity, thus decreasing the intrathoracic pressure. This change in pressure on inspiration is referred to as negative pressure . As a result, pressure is lower inside the thoracic cavity than atmospheric pressure, creating a vacuum effect that causes air to rush into the lungs on inspiration. [4]
During expiration (also called exhalation), the diaphragm relaxes, and the volume of the thoracic cavity decreases as the chest recoils. As a result, the intrathoracic pressure increases and becomes higher than atmospheric pressure, causing air to be forced out or the lungs.
View the following supplementary Medline Plus video [5] reviewing the physiology of breathing: Breathing
Pleural Disorders and Indications for Chest Tubes
An injury, inflammation, or infection can cause blood, fluid, or air to build up in the pleural space. The buildup of air or fluid can put pressure on the lung and cause all or part of it to collapse. Chest pain, shortness of breath, and coughing are common symptoms of pleural disorders, but the treatment for pleural disorders varies depending on the type of disorder and its seriousness. If left untreated, pleural disorders can lead to serious problems, including complete collapse of the lung, shock, or sepsis. [6]
When a lung collapses due to leaked air into the pleural space, it is called a pneumothorax , and when it collapses due to blood in the pleural space, it is called a hemothorax . [7] See Figure 6.2 [8] for an illustration of a pneumothorax.
There are different types of a pneumothorax: spontaneous pneumothorax, traumatic pneumothorax, and tension pneumothorax. A spontaneous pneumothorax can happen suddenly without any known cause. It can also be caused by medical conditions that affect the lungs, such as chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). A traumatic pneumothorax is caused by a chest injury, such as a bullet wound that pierces the pleural membranes, causing air to rush into the thoracic cavity.
Tension pneumothorax is a medical emergency caused by large pneumothorax that impacts cardiovascular functioning. The increasing thoracic pressure interferes with blood flow through the inferior vena cava, superior vena cava, and right chambers of the heart, causing the patient’s cardiac output and blood pressure to significantly drop. Due to increasing thoracic pressure, a tension pneumothorax causes the patient’s trachea to shift to the unaffected side. [9]
Other conditions that may require the placement of a chest tube include the following:
- Pleural effusion : Accumulation of fluid in the pleural space, often due to a medical condition such as cancer or heart, kidney, or liver failure
- Chylothorax : A collection of lymph in the pleural space
- Empyema : A pyogenic infection (pus) of the pleural space
- Hydrothorax : Accumulation of serous fluid in the pleural space
Chest tubes are indicated for these pleural disorders to remove air and/or fluid from the pleural space, reestablish negative pressure, and allow the lung to re-expand.
Chest Tube Placement Location
A chest tube is a sterile catheter that is inserted into the pleural space with small drainage holes at the proximal end of the tube to allow for drainage of air or fluid. See Figure 6.3 [10] for an image of the proximal end of the chest tube that is inserted into the patient’s pleural space.
The distal end of the chest tube is connected to a closed drainage system. See Figure 6.4 [11] for an image of a closed chest tube drainage system connected to a mannikin. The closed system drains air and fluid from the patient’s pleural space and prevents air or fluid from entering the pleural space. It is airtight and helps restore negative pressure in the thoracic cavity. [12] The chest tube drainage system must be maintained in an upright position below the patient’s chest to facilitate drainage. It should be placed on a non-movable surface or hung on the bed to prevent accidental dislodgment.
The location where the chest tube is inserted in the patient’s chest is based on the medical condition and the contents that need to be drained from the pleural space. For example, if a patient has a pneumothorax and air needs to be removed from the pleural space, the chest tube is placed higher within the thoracic cavity because air rises. It is typically placed in the second or third intercostal space of the anterior chest. As the air is removed from the patient’s pleural space, it disperses into the atmosphere, so there is little or no drainage collecting in the drainage system. [13]
Conversely, if fluid must be removed from the pleural space, it tends to settle in the lower portion of the lung cavity due to gravity. For this reason, chest tubes are often inserted in the lower posterior or lateral chest to drain blood and fluid. Suction is often applied to help promote the removal of the fluid. See Figure 6.5 [14] for an illustration of common chest tube placement sites.
Chest tubes are also routinely placed postoperatively after cardiac surgery to eliminate mediastinal blood. They are typically placed through incisions near the inferior aspect of the sternotomy incision.
Chest Tube Drainage System Chambers
There is a wide range of chest tube drainage system models that have evolved over time with new technology. However, the basic design principles of these systems are the same: to prevent air from entering the pleural cavity during the various phases of the respiratory cycle and to allow for continuous drainage of air and/or fluid from the pleural cavity. To ensure successful and safe treatment of patients with chest tubes, nurses must have a good understanding of the functioning of the specific models of chest tube drainage systems used in their agency. [15] Always follow agency policy and manufacturer’s directions for setup, monitoring, and use.
In general, traditional chest tube drainage systems have three chambers [16] :
- Collection chamber: The chest tube exits the incision from the patient’s chest wall and connects directly to the collection chamber to collect drainage from the pleural space. The collection chamber is calibrated so that drainage can be directly measured in the device. The outer surface of the chamber has a surface that can be written on to document the date, time, and amount of fluid collected. This chamber is typically on the far right side of the system. [17]
- Water seal chamber: The water seal chamber has a one-way valve that allows air to exit the patient’s pleural cavity during exhalation but does not allow it to reenter during inhalation. The water seal chamber is filled with sterile water and maintained at the 2 cm mark to ensure proper operation. This level should be checked regularly and filled with additional sterile water as needed. The water in the water seal chamber may rise with inhalation and fall with exhalation (referred to as tidaling ). Tidaling indicates the chest tube is patent. However, continuous bubbling in the water seal chamber may indicate an air leak. Some chest drainage systems have a feature that allows for measurements of air leaks. Read more about this feature later in this section. [18]
-
Suction control chamber:
Not all patients require suction. If a patient has suction ordered, the amount of suction should be prescribed by the provider. There are two types of suction systems that may be used, referred to as a wet suction system or a dry suction system.
- A wet suction system controls suction by the level of water in the suction control chamber and is typically set at -20 cm for adults. If there is less water in this chamber, there is less suction. There should be gentle bubbling in this chamber because it is directly attached to a suction device. However, excessive bubbling can cause rapid evaporation of the water. See Figure 6.6 [19] for an image of a wet suction chest tube drainage system. In this image note the drainage in the collection chamber in the right compartment labeled “D,” the water seal chamber in the middle compartment labeled “C,” and -20 cm of water in the suction control chamber in the left compartment labeled “A.”
- A dry suction system uses a regulator to adjust the amount of suction and also responds to air leaks to deliver consistent suction for the patient. [20] See Figure 6.7 [21] for an image of a dry suction chest tube system. Note the collection chamber on the right, the water seal chamber in the middle, and the dry suction regulator on the left.
Air Leak Monitor
Chest tube drainage systems may include many safety features. For example, an air leak in the water seal chamber can indicate that air is reentering the patient’s pleural space, which can indicate worsening of a pneumothorax. Some chest tube drainage systems contain a feature in the water seal chamber that facilitates the measurement of the degree of an air leak from the chest cavity. See Figure 6.8 [22] for an image of an air leak meter. The meter is made up of numbered columns, labeled from 1 (low) to 5 (high). The higher the numbered column through which bubbling occurs, the greater the degree of air leak. By documenting the numbered column through which bubbling is occurring, the nurse can monitor the increase or decrease of the air leak.
There are many different types and manufacturers of chest tube drainage systems. View a supplementary chest drain education video [23] by Gentinge that demonstrates the various components of their dry suction water seal chest drain: Express Dry Suction Dry Seal Chest Drain.
Heimlich Valve
A Heimlich valve is an alternative to a chest tube drainage system. It is a small, specially designed flutter valve that is portable and mobile, allowing a patient with a chest tube to ambulate with ease. The valve functions in any position, never needs to be clamped, and can be hooked up to suction if required. It can also be worn under clothing. [24] See Figure 6.9 [25] for an image of a Heimlich valve.
The blue end of the Heimlich valve attaches to the chest tube inserted into the patient’s chest wall, and the other end can be left open to air or attached to a drainage bag. Air enters the inlet nozzle from the patient’s pleural space and opens a rubber sleeve inside the Heimlich valve. The sleeve collapses near the inlet nozzle, preventing the backflow of air into the patient, and then reopens at the outlet nozzle and allows air to escape. [26] See Figure 6.10 [27] for a visual demonstration of how the Heimlich valve works.
- A.D.A.M. Medical Encyclopedia [Internet]. Atlanta (GA): A.D.A.M., Inc.; c1997-2022. Breathing; [updated 2021, February 12]. https://medlineplus.gov/ency/anatomyvideos/000018.htm#:~:text=The%20second%20phase%20is%20called,and%20air%20is%20forced%20out ↵
- Merkle, A. (2022). Care of a chest tube. StatPearls. https://www.statpearls.com/ArticleLibrary/viewarticle/41781 ↵
- “ 2313_The_Lung_Pleurea.jpg ” by OpenStax College is licensed under CC BY 3.0 ↵
- A.D.A.M. Medical Encyclopedia [Internet]. Atlanta (GA): A.D.A.M., Inc.; c1997-2022. Breathing; [updated 2021, February 12]. https://medlineplus.gov/ency/anatomyvideos/000018.htm#:~:text=The%20second%20phase%20is%20called,and%20air%20is%20forced%20out ↵
- A.D.A.M. Inc. (2021, February 2). Breathing [Video]. Medline Plus. All rights reserved. https://medlineplus.gov/ency/anatomyvideos/000018.htm#:~:text=The%20second%20phase%20is%20called,and%20air%20is%20forced%20out ↵
- National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute. (2022, March 24). What are pleural disorders? U.S. Department of Health & Human Services. https://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/pleural-disorders ↵
- National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute. (2022, March 24). What are pleural disorders? U.S. Department of Health & Human Services. https://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/pleural-disorders ↵
- “ Blausen_0742_Pneumothorax.png ” by Blausen.com staff (2014) at Medical gallery of Blausen Medical 2014 is licensed under CC BY 3.0 ↵
- National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute. (2022, March 24). What are pleural disorders? U.S. Department of Health & Human Services. https://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/pleural-disorders ↵
- “ Chest_Tube_Drainage_Holes.jpg ” by Bentplate84 is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 ↵
- “Book-pictures-2015-687-001.jpg” by British Columbia Institute of Technology (BCIT) is licensed under CC BY 4.0 . Access for free at https://opentextbc.ca/clinicalskills/chapter/10-7-chest-drainage-systems/ ↵
- This work is a derivative of StatPearls by Ravi & McKnight and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- This work is a derivative of StatPearls by Ravi & McKnight and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- “Common-insertion-site-of-chest-tube-for-air-and-fluid” by unknown author is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 . Access for free at www.researchgate.net/figure/Common-insertion-site-of-chest-tube-for-air-and-fluid_fig2_279737006 ↵
- “ Chest Drainage Systems in Use ” by Zisis, et al. is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 ↵
- This work is a derivative of Clinical Procedures for Safer Patient Care by British Columbia Institute of Technology and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- This work is a derivative of Clinical Procedures for Safer Patient Care by British Columbia Institute of Technology and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- This work is a derivative of Clinical Procedures for Safer Patient Care by British Columbia Institute of Technology and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- “ Chest_drain_-_bedside_with_fluids.jpg ” by Johntex is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 ↵
- This work is a derivative of Clinical Procedures for Safer Patient Care by British Columbia Institute of Technology and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- “Labelled_chest_tube_drainage_system.png” by British Columbia Institute of Technology (BCIT) is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0 ↵
- “atm-03-03-43-f2.jpg” by Charalambos Zisis, et al. for Annuals of Translational Medicine is used under Fair Use. Access for free at 10.3978/j.issn.2305-5839.2015.02.09 ↵
- Gentinge. (n.d.) Express dry suction dry seal chest drain [Video]. Getinge. All rights reserved. www2.getinge.com/us/education/chest-drain-education/# ↵
- This work is a derivative of Clinical Procedures for Safer Patient Care by British Columbia Institute of Technology and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- “Book-pictures-2015-688.jpg” by unknown author is licensed under CC BY 4.0 . Access for free at https://opentextbc.ca/clinicalskills/chapter/10-7-chest-drainage-systems/ ↵
- This work is a derivative of Clinical Procedures for Safer Patient Care by British Columbia Institute of Technology and is licensed under CC BY 4.0 ↵
- “ Heimlich_valve.GIF ” by Orinoco-w is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 ↵ | 3,253 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nursing/Nursing_Advanced_Skills_(OpenRN)/06%3A_Manage_Chest_Tube_Drainage_Systems/6.02%3A_Basic_Concepts | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:26550 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Nursing/Nursing_Advanced_Skills_(OpenRN)/06%3A_Manage_Chest_Tube_Drainage_Systems/6.02%3A_Basic_Concepts |
clVlbk5yTt7SfFLe | Project Management: A Strategic Approach | Module 2- Project Life Cycle and Project Organisational Strategy
Key Takeaways
- Project management is an ideal tool to support strategic planning and achieve strategic goals and objectives.
- Projects selected should support the strategic direction and be consistent with the organisation’s existing or proposed goals and objectives.
- Projects should always add value to the organisation’s strategic direction.
- Projects should be consistent with changes in direction in the organisation’s external operating environment.
- The use of project management can improve the strategy process and help reduce the gap between strategic planning and operations functions.
- The Project Life Cycle is a core tool that guides the management of projects successfully from start to finish.
- Every project goes through the Project Life Cycle, which is made up of four and/or five phases of the project management process.
Project Management Tip:
“Before pursuing a new service or product development, or improving an existing one, there must be a strategic alignment within the project and all elements driving the organisation.”
Reflect on how each of these three sub-elements, including 1. Developing a strategic vision and sense of mission, 2. Formulating, implementing, and evaluating Cross-functional decisions, and 3. Achieving its objectives, are important in understanding the challenge of strategic project management.
Exercises | 274 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://opentextbooks.uregina.ca/strategicprojectmanagement/chapter/key-takeaways-2/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:34634 | https://opentextbooks.uregina.ca/strategicprojectmanagement/chapter/key-takeaways-2/ |
0xMiqstoTCtvhxoN | Classical Sociological Theory and Foundations of American Sociology | 27 Methodological Foundations of Sociology (1921)
“To explain, we must first understand.”
NOTE ON SOURCE: This passage is from the posthumous 1921 collection of essays, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, first translated into English by Talcott Parsons in 1947 as The Theory of Social and Economic Organizations. It was later translated by Eric Mathews and published, along with other pieces on sociological method, as “The Nature of Social Action” in Runciman’s Weber: Selections in Translation(1978). The passage here is a loose translation of the original German, condensed for easier reading. A more exact and complete translation can be found in Runciman.
Introduction – Why this is important and what to look for
Weber belonged to the generation, along with Durkheim, that championed and defined the new discipline of sociology. It is thus useful to compare Weber’s definitions of sociology with Durkheim’s. Although they share a general interest in understanding and analyzing “society,”, the way they set up doing so is quite different. For Weber, an empathetic understanding of the meanings human actors bring to their interactions with one another was key, as the following passage explains.
Methodological Foundations of Sociology (in 11 Points)
Sociology, in the sense we adopt here, is a science that interprets the meaning of social action and through that interpretation clarifies the causal procedures and effects of those actions. Actions here are those acts, whether active, refraining from action, or allowing actions to take place, when and only when done with subjective intent. They are “social” actions when they involve the subjective intentions relative to another person’s actions and when that social relation orients the action.
Point 1. Meanings are Empirically Situated
The meaning may either refer to the meaning of a particular individual on a particular occasion or as an average meaning in a given set of cases or even a typical meaning attributed in the abstract (e.g., “capitalists replace workers with machinery with the intention of increasing profits”). It does not signify that the intended meaning is true or correct. Herein lies the difference between the empirical sciences of sociology (and history) and disciplines such as jurisprudence, logic, ethics, or aesthetics that seek the “correct” rule or meaning from their objects of study.
Point 2. We cannot always find the intentions of the actors; the line between intentional and reactive behavior is blurred
There is not a sharp line between meaningful action and reactive action, actions for which actors do not intend a meaning. A great deal of interesting and important behavior for the sociologist to study, especially when we talk about traditional actions, lies between intentional and reactive action. In some cases, such as mystical experiences, we cannot hope to understand the meanings of the action because the actors do not understand the actions themselves. It is often necessary to separate out those aspects which can be understood from those elements which cannot.
Point 3. The goal of interpretation is to generate evidence about the world, and we can do this both rationally and empathetically
The goal of all our interpretations is to find evidence. This evidence can take a rational or an empathetic form. Rational evidence is obtained in the case of actions in which the intended meanings can be intellectually understood wholly and clearly. Empathetic evidence is obtained when actions and their attendant feelings and lived experience are completely relived in the sociological imagination. For the first, every interpretation of a rationally directed purposive action, is quite clearly evidence.
But even of the second, we can learn almost as much about the world from this empathetic understanding. For example, we can try to relive empathetically actions of extreme religious devotion, even as they go against our own beliefs. We can gain some understanding of the intended meanings through empathy, allowing for the influence of various emotions (anxiety, anger, ambition, envy, jealousy, love, pride, lust, etc.) on the course of the action and the means used to perform the action. It is even possible to understand many irrational and emotional actions as deviations from pure types of action that would happen if everything proceeded in a rationally purposive way.
Point 4. Meaningless actions are still important insofar they impact social actions
Operations and actions which are meaningless must still be taken into account if they cause or are caused by, promote or place obstacles in the way of, social actions. Even inanimate objects, such as machines, can have meanings related to their use by humans in social interactions. The flooding of a river may be a natural occurrence, but the way humans respond (for example, by moving away from areas likely to flood) is an important object of sociological study. Or take the way we deal with death, and entire cycle of life, from infancy to old age. In all cases, the sociologists; task is to interpret the meanings humans give to their actions and by doing so to understand the actions themselves.
Point 5. Sociological understanding is explanatory
Understanding can mean two things. In the first, direct understanding, we comprehend the meaning an actor gives. For example, we understand an outburst of anger, seeing evidence of it in a red face or exclamation. We can directly understand the action of aiming a gun. But understanding can be more than direct; it can be explanatory. We understand something aiming a gun not merely directly but also more deeply in terms of motive, if we know other facts about why the person is aiming the gun. If he has been ordered to do so in battle, for example, that is a rational motive; on the other hand, if he is aiming at someone out of fear, this is an irrational motive. To understand sociologically means to grasp the complex of meanings surrounding the specific observed action.
Point 6. Sociological understanding is hypothetical
The goal of every interpretation is the creation of evident facts about the world.
But all of our interpretations are hypotheses about the world. We cannot know for sure if our interpretation is correct. As with all hypotheses, it is crucial to have some way of checking our interpretation. The best way to do this would be by experiment, using the scientific method. Statistical methods can give some approximate results, but only in cases that are measurable in which numerical relationships are possible to establish. Apart from these methods, then, the best option is to compare as many events as possible, keeping as many things similar as possible and investigating one particular point, motive or cause.
Point 7. Motives of actions are crucial to sociological interpretation because they are related to causality
A motive is a set of meanings which prompts the actor to act in a certain way (either from her perspective, or the sociological observer’s perspective). To give a correct causal interpretation of a particular act is to see the action and the motive for the action as related to each other in a way whose meaning can be understood. Sociological laws only exist where statistical generalization fit our interpretation of the intended meaning of a social action. Sociology proceeds by constructing models of intelligible action which apply to real-world situations. Note the difference between meaningless and meaningful (hence, sociological) statistics. Death rates, or the output of machinery are examples of the former. Crime rates and occupational distributions are examples of the latter.
Point 8. Meaningless actions are not unimportant, but they are not sociological facts
Certain facts of life, such as birth and death or the flooding of a river, do not count as sociological because they lack the meaningfulness derived from motives described above. This does not mean they are less important, however. But they do operate in an area distinct from that of meaningful social action. They are conditions of action, or obstacles to action, or promoters of action, but not social actions themselves.
Point 9. Individuals, and individuals alone, are the intelligible performers of meaningful actions
Action for our purposes must refer only to the behavior of one or more individuals. Other disciplines may refer to states or whole societies as individual cases and actors, but from the standpoint of sociological understanding of the meaning of actions we must see these systems as the outcomes of interactions between individuals. For the sociologist, individual human beings are the only intelligible performers of meaningful actions. When a sociologist does speak of something like “the state” or “the family” or any other collectivity, she means a structured outcome of the social actions of individuals, either in actual reality or ideally constructed.
This way of proceeding is quite different from the “organic sociology” proposed by others. In this view, the sociologist is like a natural scientist who examines individuals as so many cells in the body of society. The methods of sociology we present here are quite different. The sociologist does not work like a biologist, who observes organisms at the cellular level. A biologist may observe cells and make inferences about the way they operate in functional terms (e.g. the spleen filters blood), but the biologist cannot interpret the action of the cells involved in the spleen. In contrast, the sociologist can understand the behavior of the individuals involved in a way that simply cannot be done by natural scientists. This interpretation comes with a cost, however. Our interpretations of the social actions of individuals are by nature more hypothetical and partial than those of direct observation of action/function. But this is exactly what sets sociology apart from the natural sciences.
Point 10. Sociology is distinct from psychology
Sociological laws are but theories generated by interpretative sociology. They are observationally verified statements of the likelihood of an expectation of a certain outcome from a particular social action. Sociological laws are most intelligible when the outcome results from a rational pursuit of a clear goal and when the means-end context is clear.
Psychology would add nothing to our sociological interpretation here. When a capitalist deliberates in a rational way whether his profits would increase by replacing workers with machinery, thinking rationally in terms of likely consequences of this action, and comes to the conclusion that, yes, he thinks he will make more money this way, then there is nothing that ‘psychology’ will add to our understanding. Now, when the sociologist attempts to explain irrational elements in action (e.g., the panicked capitalist who sells off his machinery during an economic crisis), she can learn a thing or two from psychology, based on its keener understanding of such irrational elements.
Point 11. Sociology is distinct from the discipline of history
The sociologist seeks to formulate general statements about what happens. This is in contrast with historians, who seek to provide a causal analysis of a specific historic event.
There are pros and cons to this approach. As with any generalizing science, the abstract nature of the concepts of sociology means that there is relatively less content here than in historical analyses. In return, sociology offers greater conceptual clarity. Sociology abstracts from reality. She does this often by creating “ideal types”, stripped of their historical particularities.
Questions for Contemplation and Discussion
- How does Weber’s method for doing sociology (social action) differ from Durkheim’s emphasis on social facts?
- In point six, how would you go about devising an experiment using the scientific method to test the interpretation that capitalists’ behavior becomes more irrational during times of stock market volatility? Why is it nearly impossible for sociologists to conduct such experiments? Given the difficulties of using experiments, how would you arrange a comparative case study of capitalist actions during panics?
- In point seven, what makes crime rates sociological, where death rates are “meaningless statistics’?
- In point nine, compare and contrast “organic sociology” with Weber’s interpretative sociology
- Explain how sociology is distinct from psychology and history. Durkheim, too, compared sociology with these disciplines. How do the distinctions drawn by Weber and Durkheim compare?
Concepts
Sociology
Social Action
Ideal Type
Verstehen | 2,584 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://open.oregonstate.education/sociologicaltheory/chapter/methodological-foundations/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:60136 | https://open.oregonstate.education/sociologicaltheory/chapter/methodological-foundations/ |
4RSCk2g_ksFo6_zj | Douglas College Physics 1104 Custom Textbook - Winter and Summer 2020 | Chapter 10 Fluid Statics – Floating and Sinking
10.3 Pressure
Summary
- Define pressure.
- Explain the relationship between pressure and force.
- Calculate force given pressure and area.
You have no doubt heard the word pressure being used in relation to blood (high or low blood pressure) and in relation to the weather (high- and low-pressure weather systems). These are only two of many examples of pressures in fluids. Pressure[latex]\boldsymbol{P}[/latex]is defined as
where[latex]\boldsymbol{F}[/latex]is a force applied to an area[latex]\boldsymbol{A}[/latex]that is perpendicular to the force.
PRESSURE
Pressure is defined as the force divided by the area perpendicular to the force over which the force is applied, or
A given force can have a significantly different effect depending on the area over which the force is exerted, as shown in Figure 1. The SI unit for pressure is the pascal, where
In addition to the pascal, there are many other units for pressure that are in common use. In meteorology, atmospheric pressure is often described in units of millibar (mb), where
Pounds per square inch[latex]\boldsymbol{(\textbf{lb/in}^2\textbf{ or psi})}[/latex]is still sometimes used as a measure of tire pressure, and millimeters of mercury (mm Hg) is still often used in the measurement of blood pressure. Pressure is defined for all states of matter but is particularly important when discussing fluids.
Example 1: Calculating Force Exerted by the Air: What Force Does a Pressure Exert?
An astronaut is working outside the International Space Station where the atmospheric pressure is essentially zero. The pressure gauge on her air tank reads[latex]\boldsymbol{6.90\times10^6\textbf{ Pa}}.[/latex]What force does the air inside the tank exert on the flat end of the cylindrical tank, a disk 0.150 m in diameter?
Strategy
We can find the force exerted from the definition of pressure given in[latex]\boldsymbol{P=\frac{F}{A}},[/latex]provided we can find the area[latex]\boldsymbol{A}[/latex]acted upon.
Solution
By rearranging the definition of pressure to solve for force, we see that
Here, the pressure[latex]\boldsymbol{P}[/latex]is given, as is the area of the end of the cylinder[latex]\boldsymbol{A},[/latex]given by[latex]\boldsymbol{A=\pi{r}^2}.[/latex]Thus,
Discussion
Wow! No wonder the tank must be strong. Since we found[latex]\boldsymbol{F=PA},[/latex]we see that the force exerted by a pressure is directly proportional to the area acted upon as well as the pressure itself.
The force exerted on the end of the tank is perpendicular to its inside surface. This direction is because the force is exerted by a static or stationary fluid. We have already seen that fluids cannot withstand shearing (sideways) forces; they cannot exert shearing forces, either. The forces due to pressure have well-defined directions: they are always exerted perpendicular to any surface. (See the tire in Figure 2, for example.) Finally, note that pressure is exerted on all surfaces. Swimmers, as well as the tire, feel pressure on all sides. (See Figure 3.)
PHET EXPLORATIONS: GAS PROPERTIES
Pump gas molecules to a box and see what happens as you change the volume, add or remove heat, change gravity, and more. Measure the temperature and pressure, and discover how the properties of the gas vary in relation to each other.
Section Summary
- Pressure is the force per unit perpendicular area over which the force is applied. In equation form, pressure is defined as
- The SI unit of pressure is pascal and[latex]\boldsymbol{1\textbf{ Pa}=1\textbf{ N/m}^2}.[/latex]
Conceptual Questions
1: How is pressure related to the sharpness of a knife and its ability to cut?
2: Why does a dull hypodermic needle hurt more than a sharp one?
3: The outward force on one end of an air tank was calculated in Example 1. How is this force balanced? (The tank does not accelerate, so the force must be balanced.)
4: Why is force exerted by static fluids always perpendicular to a surface?
5: In a remote location near the North Pole, an iceberg floats in a lake. Next to the lake (assume it is not frozen) sits a comparably sized glacier sitting on land. If both chunks of ice should melt due to rising global temperatures (and the melted ice all goes into the lake), which ice chunk would give the greatest increase in the level of the lake water, if any?
6: How do jogging on soft ground and wearing padded shoes reduce the pressures to which the feet and legs are subjected?
7: Toe dancing (as in ballet) is much harder on toes than normal dancing or walking. Explain in terms of pressure.
8: How do you convert pressure units like millimeters of mercury, centimeters of water, and inches of mercury into units like newtons per meter squared without resorting to a table of pressure conversion factors?
Problems & Exercises
1: As a woman walks, her entire weight is momentarily placed on one heel of her high-heeled shoes. Calculate the pressure exerted on the floor by the heel if it has an area of[latex]\boldsymbol{1.50\textbf{ cm}^2}[/latex]and the woman’s mass is 55.0 kg. Express the pressure in Pa. (In the early days of commercial flight, women were not allowed to wear high-heeled shoes because aircraft floors were too thin to withstand such large pressures.)
2: The pressure exerted by a phonograph needle on a record is surprisingly large. If the equivalent of 1.00 g is supported by a needle, the tip of which is a circle 0.200 mm in radius, what pressure is exerted on the record in[latex]\boldsymbol{\textbf{N/m}^2}?[/latex]
3: Nail tips exert tremendous pressures when they are hit by hammers because they exert a large force over a small area. What force must be exerted on a nail with a circular tip of 1.00 mm diameter to create a pressure of[latex]\boldsymbol{3.00\times10^9\textbf{ N/m}^2?}[/latex](This high pressure is possible because the hammer striking the nail is brought to rest in such a short distance.)
Glossary
- pressure
- the force per unit area perpendicular to the force, over which the force acts
Solutions
Problems & Exercises
1: 3.59 x106 Pa or 521 lb/in2
3: 2.36 x 103 N | 1,264 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.bccampus.ca/practicalphysicsphys1104/chapter/11-3-pressure/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:43227 | https://pressbooks.bccampus.ca/practicalphysicsphys1104/chapter/11-3-pressure/ |
79gPpZb4-q4wxyaj | 77: Why Good People Turn Bad Online (Vince) | 77: Why Good People Turn Bad Online (Vince)
Gaia Vince
#technology #analysis #causalargument #systemanalysis #sharedvalues #research
On the evening of 17 February 2018, Professor Mary Beard posted on Twitter a photograph of herself crying. The eminent University of Cambridge classicist, who has almost 200,000 Twitter followers, was distraught after receiving a storm of abuse online. This was the reaction to a comment she had made about Haiti. She also tweeted: “I speak from the heart (and of cource I may be wrong).
In the days that followed, Beard received support from several high-profile people. Greg Jenner, a fellow celebrity historian, tweeted about his own experience of a Twitterstorm: “I’ll always remember how traumatic it was to suddenly be hated by strangers. Regardless of morality – I may have been wrong or right in my opinion – I was amazed (later, when I recovered) at how psychologically destabilising it was to me.”
Those tweeting support for Beard – irrespective of whether they agreed with her initial tweet that had triggered the abusive responses – were themselves then targeted. And when one of Beard’s critics, fellow Cambridge academic Priyamvada Gopal, a woman of Asian heritage, set out her response to Beard’s original tweet in an online article, she received her own torrent of abuse.
There is overwhelming evidence that women and members of ethnic minority groups are disproportionately the target of Twitter abuse. Where these identity markers intersect, the bullying can become particularly intense, as experienced by black female MP Diane Abbott, who alone received nearly half of all the abusive tweets sent to female MPs during the run-up to the 2017 UK general election. Black and Asian female MPs received on average 35 per cent more abusive tweets than their white female colleagues even when Abbott was excluded from the total.
The constant barrage of abuse, including death threats and threats of sexual violence, is silencing people, pushing them off online platforms and further reducing the diversity of online voices and opinion. And it shows no sign of abating. A survey last year found that 40 percent of American adults had personally experienced online abuse, with almost half of them receiving severe forms of harassment, including physical threats and stalking. 70 percent of women described online harassment as a “major problem”.
The business models of social media platforms, such as YouTube and Facebook, promote content that is more likely to get a response from other users because more engagement means better opportunities for advertising. But this has a consequence of favouring divisive and strongly emotive or extreme content, which can in turn nurture online “bubbles” of groups who reflect and reinforce each other’s opinions, helping propel the spread of more extreme content and providing a niche for “fake news”. In recent months, researchers have revealed many ways that various vested interests, including Russian operatives, have sought to manipulate public opinion by infiltrating social media bubbles.
Our human ability to communicate ideas across networks of people enabled us to build the modern world. The internet offers unparalleled promise of cooperation and communication between all of humanity. But instead of embracing a massive extension of our social circles online, we seem to be reverting to tribalism and conflict, and belief in the potential of the internet to bring humanity together in a glorious collaborating network now begins to seem naive. While we generally conduct our real-life interactions with strangers politely and respectfully, online we can be horrible. How can we relearn the collaborative techniques that enabled us to find common ground and thrive as a species?
“Don’t overthink it, just press the button!”
I click an amount, impoverishing myself in an instant, and quickly move on to the next question, aware that we’re all playing against the clock. My teammates are far away and unknown to me. I have no idea if we’re all in it together or whether I’m being played for a fool, but I press on, knowing that the others are depending on me.
I’m playing in a so-called public goods game at Yale University’s Human Cooperation Lab. The researchers here use it as a tool to help understand how and why we cooperate, and whether we can enhance our prosocial behaviour.
Over the years, scientists have proposed various theories about why humans cooperate so well that we form strong societies. The evolutionary roots of our general niceness, most researchers now believe, can be found in the individual survival advantage humans experience when we cooperate as a group. I’ve come to New Haven, Connecticut, in a snowy February, to visit a cluster of labs where researchers are using experiments to explore further our extraordinary impulse to be nice to others even at our own expense.
The game I’m playing, on Amazon’s Mechanical Turk online platform, is one of the lab’s ongoing experiments. I’m in a team of four people in different locations, and each of us is given the same amount of money to play with. We are asked to choose how much money we will contribute to a group pot, on the understanding that this pot will then be doubled and split equally among us.
This sort of social dilemma, like all cooperation, relies on a certain level of trust that the others in your group will be nice. If everybody in the group contributes all of their money, all the money gets doubled, redistributed four ways, and everyone doubles their money. Win–win!
“But if you think about it from the perspective of an individual,” says lab director David Rand, “for each dollar that you contribute, it gets doubled to two dollars and then split four ways – which means each person only gets 50 cents back for the dollar they contributed.”
Even though everyone is better off collectively by contributing to a group project that no one could manage alone – in real life, this could be paying towards a hospital building, or digging a community irrigation ditch – there is a cost at the individual level. Financially, you make more money by being more selfish.
Rand’s team has run this game with thousands of players. Half of them are asked, as I was, to decide their contribution rapidly – within 10 seconds – whereas the other half are asked to take their time and carefully consider their decision. It turns out that when people go with their gut, they are much more generous than when they spend time deliberating.
“There is a lot of evidence that cooperation is a central feature of human evolution,” says Rand. Individuals benefit, and are more likely to survive, by cooperating with the group. And being allowed to stay in the group and benefit from it is reliant on our reputation for behaving cooperatively.
“In the small-scale societies that our ancestors were living in, all our interactions were with people that you were going to see again and interact with in the immediate future,” Rand says. That kept in check any temptation to act aggressively or take advantage and free-ride off other people’s contributions. “It makes sense, in a self-interested way, to be cooperative.”
Cooperation breeds more cooperation in a mutually beneficial cycle. Rather than work out every time whether it’s in our long-term interests to be nice, it’s more efficient and less effort to have the basic rule: be nice to other people. That’s why our unthinking response in the experiment is a generous one.
Throughout our lives, we learn from the society around us how cooperative to be. But our learned behaviours can also change quickly.
Those in Rand’s experiment who play the quickfire round are mostly generous and receive generous dividends, reinforcing their generous outlook. Whereas those who consider their decisions are more selfish, resulting in a meagre group pot, reinforcing an idea that it doesn’t pay to rely on the group. So, in a further experiment, Rand gave some money to people who had played a round of the game. They were then asked how much they wanted to give to an anonymous stranger. This time, there was no incentive to give; they would be acting entirely charitably.
The people who had got used to cooperating in the first stage gave twice as much money in the second stage as the people who had got used to being selfish did. “So we’re affecting people’s internal lives and behaviour,” Rand says. “The way they behave even when no one’s watching and when there’s no institution in place to punish or reward them.”
Rand’s team have tested how people in different countries play the game, to see how the strength of social institutions – such as government, family, education and legal systems – influences behaviour. In Kenya, where public sector corruption is high , players initially gave less generously to the stranger than players in the US, which has less corruption. This suggests that people who can rely on relatively fair social institutions behave in a more public-spirited way; those whose institutions are less reliable are more protectionist. However, after playing just one round of the cooperation-promoting version of the public goods game, the Kenyans’ generosity equalled the Americans’. And it cut both ways: Americans who were trained to be selfish gave a lot less.
So is there something about online social media culture that makes some people behave meanly? Unlike ancient hunter-gatherer societies , which rely on cooperation and sharing to survive and often have rules for when to offer food to whom across their social network, social media have weak institutions. They offer physical distance, relative anonymity and little reputational or punitive risk for bad behaviour: if you’re mean, no one you know is going to see.
I trudge a couple of blocks through driving snow to find Molly Crockett’s Psychology Lab, where researchers are investigating moral decision-making in society. One area they focus on is how social emotions are transformed online, in particular moral outrage. Brain-imaging studies show that when people act on their moral outrage, their brain’s reward centre is activated – they feel good about it. This reinforces their behaviour, so they are more likely to intervene in a similar way again. So, if they see somebody acting in a way that violates a social norm, by allowing their dog to foul a playground, for instance, and they publicly confront the perpetrator about it, they feel good afterwards. And while challenging a violator of your community’s social norms has its risks – you may get attacked – it also boosts your reputation.
In our relatively peaceful lives, we are rarely faced with outrageous behaviour, so we rarely see moral outrage expressed. Open up Twitter or Facebook and you get a very different picture. Recent research shows that messages with both moral and emotional words are more likely to spread on social media – each moral or emotional word in a tweet increases the likelihood of it being retweeted by 20 per cent.
“Content that triggers outrage and that expresses outrage is much more likely to be shared,” Crockett says. What we’ve created online is “an ecosystem that selects for the most outrageous content, paired with a platform where it’s easier than ever before to express outrage”.
Unlike in the offline world, there is no personal risk in confronting and exposing someone. It only takes a few clicks of a button and you don’t have to be physically nearby, so there is a lot more outrage expressed online. And it feeds itself. “If you punish somebody for violating a norm, that makes you seem more trustworthy to others, so you can broadcast your moral character by expressing outrage and punishing social norm violations,” Crockett says. “And people believe that they are spreading good by expressing outrage – that it comes from a place of morality and righteousness.
“When you go from offline – where you might boost your reputation for whoever happens to be standing around at the moment – to online, where you broadcast it to your entire social network, then that dramatically amplifies the personal rewards of expressing outrage.”
This is compounded by the feedback people get on social media, in the form of likes and retweets and so on. “Our hypothesis is that the design of these platforms could make expressing outrage into a habit, and a habit is something that’s done without regard to its consequences – it’s insensitive to what happens next, it’s just a blind response to a stimulus,” Crockett explains.
“I think it’s worth having a conversation as a society as to whether we want our morality to be under the control of algorithms whose purpose is to make money for giant tech companies,” she adds.
On the upside, the lower costs of expressing outrage online have allowed marginalised, less-empowered groups to promote causes that have traditionally been harder to advance. Moral outrage on social media played an important role in focusing attention on the sexual abuse of women by high-status men. And in February 2018, Florida teens railing on social media against yet another high-school shooting in their state helped to shift public opinion , as well as shaming a number of big corporations into dropping their discount schemes for National Rifle Association members.
“I think that there must be ways to maintain the benefits of the online world,” says Crockett, “while thinking more carefully about redesigning these interactions to do away with some of the more costly bits.”
Someone who’s thought a great deal about the design of our interactions in social networks is Nicholas Christakis, director of Yale’s Human Nature Lab, located just a few more snowy blocks away. His team studies how our position in a social network influences our behaviour, and even how certain influential individuals can dramatically alter the culture of a whole network.
The team is exploring ways to identify these individuals and enlist them in public health programmes that could benefit the community. In Honduras, they are using this approach to influence vaccination enrolment and maternal care, for example. Online, such people have the potential to turn a bullying culture into a supportive one.
Corporations already use a crude system of identifying so-called Instagram influencers to advertise their brands for them. But Christakis is looking not just at how popular an individual is, but also their position in the network and the shape of that network. In some networks, like a small isolated village, everyone is closely connected and you’re likely to know everyone at a party; in a city, by contrast, people may be living more closely by as a whole, but you are less likely to know everyone at a party there. How thoroughly interconnected a network is affects how behaviours and information spread around it, he explains.
“If you take carbon atoms and you assemble them one way, they become graphite, which is soft and dark. Take the same carbon atoms and assemble them a different way, and it becomes diamond, which is hard and clear. These properties of hardness and clearness aren’t properties of the carbon atoms – they’re properties of the collection of carbon atoms and depend on how you connect the carbon atoms to each other,” he says. “And it’s the same with human groups.”
Christakis has designed software to explore this by creating temporary artificial societies online. “We drop people in and then we let them interact with each other and see how they play a public goods game, for example, to assess how kind they are to other people.”
Then he manipulates the network. “By engineering their interactions one way, I can make them really sweet to each other, work well together, and they are healthy and happy and they cooperate. Or you take the same people and connect them a different way and they’re mean jerks to each other and they don’t cooperate and they don’t share information and they are not kind to each other.”
In one experiment, he randomly assigned strangers to play the public goods game with each other. In the beginning, he says, about two-thirds of people were cooperative. “But some of the people they interact with will take advantage of them and, because their only option is either to be kind and cooperative or to be a defector, they choose to defect because they’re stuck with these people taking advantage of them.
Christakis turned this around simply by giving each person a little bit of control over who they were connected to after each round. “They had to make two decisions: am I kind to my neighbours or am I not; and do I stick with this neighbour or do I not.” The only thing each player knew about their neighbours was whether each had cooperated or defected in the round before. “What we were able to show is that people cut ties to defectors and form ties to cooperators, and the network rewired itself and converted itself into a diamond-like structure instead of a graphite-like structure.” In other words, a cooperative prosocial structure instead of an uncooperative structure.
In an attempt to generate more cooperative online communities, Christakis’s team have started adding bots to their temporary societies. He takes me over to a laptop and sets me up on a different game. In this game, anonymous players have to work together as a team to solve a dilemma that tilers will be familiar with: each of us has to pick from one of three colours, but the colours of players directly connected to each other must be different. If we solve the puzzle within a time limit, we all get a share of the prize money; if we fail, no one gets anything. I’m playing with at least 30 other people. None of us can see the whole network of connections, only the people we are directly connected to – nevertheless, we have to cooperate to win.
I’m connected to two neighbours, whose colours are green and blue, so I pick red. My left neighbour then changes to red so I quickly change to blue. The game continues and I become increasingly tense, cursing my slow reaction times. I frequently have to switch my colour, responding to unseen changes elsewhere in the network, which send a cascade of changes along the connections. Time’s up before we solve the puzzle, prompting irate responses in the game’s comments box from remote players condemning everyone else’s stupidity. Personally, I’m relieved it’s over and there’s no longer anyone depending on my cackhanded gaming skills to earn money.
Christakis tells me that some of the networks are so complex that the puzzle is impossible to solve in the timeframe. My relief is shortlived, however: the one I played was solvable. He rewinds the game, revealing for the first time the whole network to me. I see now that I was on a lower branch off the main hub of the network. Some of the players were connected to just one other person, but most were connected to three or more. Thousands of people from around the world play these games on Amazon Mechanical Turk, drawn by the small fee they earn per round. But as I’m watching the game I just played unfold, Christakis reveals that three of these players are actually planted bots. “We call them ‘dumb AI’,” he says.
His team is not interested in inventing super-smart AI to replace human cognition. Instead, the plan is to infiltrate a population of smart humans with dumb-bots to help the humans help themselves.
“We wanted to see if we could use the dumb-bots to get the people unstuck so they can cooperate and coordinate a little bit more – so that their native capacity to perform well can be revealed by a little assistance,” Christakis says. He found that if the bots played perfectly, that didn’t help the humans. But if the bots made some mistakes, they unlocked the potential of the group to find a solution.
“Some of these bots made counter-intuitive choices. Even though their neighbours all had green and they should have picked orange, instead they also picked green.” When they did that, it allowed one of the green neighbours to pick orange, “which unlocks the next guy over, he can pick a different colour and, wow, now we solve the problem”. Without the bot, those human players would probably all have stuck with green, not realising that was the problem. “Increasing the conflicts temporarily allows their neighbours to make better choices.”
By adding a little noise into the system, the bots helped the network to function more efficiently. Perhaps a version of this model could involve infiltrating the newsfeeds of partisan people with occasional items offering a different perspective, helping to shift people out of their social media comfort-bubbles and allow society as a whole to cooperate more.
Much antisocial behaviour online stems from the anonymity of internet interactions – the reputational costs of being mean are much lower than offline. Here, bots may also offer a solution. A typical bot response to a racist tweet would be: “Hey man, just remember that there are real people who are hurt when you harass them with that kind of language.” Simply cultivating a little empathy in such tweeters reduced their racist tweets almost to zero for weeks afterwards.
Another way of addressing the low reputational cost for bad behaviour online is to engineer in some form of social punishment. One game company, League of Legends, did that by introducing a “Tribunal” feature, in which negative play is punished by other players. The company reported that 280,000 players were “reformed” in one year, meaning that after being punished by the Tribunal they had changed their behaviour and then achieved a positive standing in the community. Developers could also build in social rewards for good behaviour, encouraging more cooperative elements that help build relationships.
Researchers are already starting to learn how to predict when an exchange is about to turn bad – the moment at which it could benefit from pre-emptive intervention. “You might think that there is a minority of sociopaths online, which we call trolls, who are doing all this harm,” says Cristian Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil, at Cornell University’s Department of Information Science. “What we actually find in our work is that ordinary people, just like you and me, can engage in such antisocial behaviour. For a specific period of time, you can actually become a troll. And that’s surprising.”
It’s also alarming. I mentally flick back through my own recent tweets, hoping I haven’t veered into bullying in some awkward attempt to appear funny or cool to my online followers. After all, it can be very tempting to be abusive to someone far away, who you don’t know, if you think it will impress your social group.
Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil has been investigating the comments sections below online articles. He identifies two main triggers for trolling: the context of the exchange – how other users are behaving – and your mood. “If you’re having a bad day, or if it happens to be Monday, for example, you’re much more likely to troll in the same situation,” he says. “You’re nicer on a Saturday morning.”
After collecting data, including from people who had engaged in trolling behaviour in the past, Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil built an algorithm that predicts with 80 per cent accuracy when someone is about to become abusive online. This provides an opportunity to, for example, introduce a delay in how fast they can post their response. If people have to think twice before they write something, that improves the context of the exchange for everyone: you’re less likely to witness people misbehaving, and so less likely to misbehave yourself.
The good news is that, in spite of the horrible behaviour many of us have experienced online, the majority of interactions are nice and cooperative. Justified moral outrage is usefully employed in challenging hateful tweets. A recent British study looking at anti-Semitism on Twitter found that posts challenging anti-Semitic tweets are shared far more widely than the anti-Semitic tweets themselves. Most hateful posts were ignored or only shared within a small echo chamber of similar accounts. Perhaps we’re already starting to do the work of the bots ourselves.
As Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil points out, we’ve had thousands of years to hone our person-to-person interactions, but only 20 years of social media. “Offline, we have all these cues from facial expressions to body language to pitch… whereas online we discuss things only through text. I think we shouldn’t be surprised that we’re having so much difficulty in finding the right way to discuss and cooperate online.”
As our online behaviour develops, we may well introduce subtle signals, digital equivalents of facial cues, to help smooth online discussions. In the meantime, the advice for dealing with online abuse is to stay calm, it’s not your fault. Don’t retaliate but block and ignore bullies, or if you feel up to it, tell them to stop. Talk to family or friends about what’s happening and ask them to help you. Take screenshots and report online harassment to the social media service where it’s happening, and if it includes physical threats, report it to the police.
If social media as we know it is going to survive, the companies running these platforms are going to have to keep steering their algorithms, perhaps informed by behavioural science, to encourage cooperation rather than division, positive online experiences rather than abuse. As users, we too may well learn to adapt to this new communication environment so that civil and productive interaction remains the norm online as it is offline.
“I’m optimistic,” Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil says. “This is just a different game and we have to evolve.”
References
The New Statesman tracked abusive tweets sent to women MPs in the run-up to the 2017 UK general election.
A 2017 Pew Research Center survey showed that 41 percent of Americans have experienced online harassment.
Researchers at University College London investigated what hunter-gatherers can tell us about social networks.
Research published in PNAS showed that emotion influences how content spreads online.
In 2016, Ars Technica reported a study showing how Twitter bots can reduce racist slurs.
Community Security Trust, a charity that protects British Jews from anti-Semitism, published a report about anti-Semitic content on Twitter in 2018.
____________________
Gaia Vince is a journalist, broadcaster and author specialising in science, the environment and social issues. Her article first appeared in Mosaic .
Why Good People Turn Bad Online by Gaia Vince is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License . | 5,738 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://human.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Literature_and_Literacy/Poetry_Plays_Essays_and_other_Genres/88_Open_Essays_-_A_Reader_for_Students_of_Composition_and_Rhetoric_(Wangler_and_Ulrich)/Open_Essays/77%3A_Why_Good_People_Turn_Bad_Online_(Vince) | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:3896 | https://human.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Literature_and_Literacy/Poetry_Plays_Essays_and_other_Genres/88_Open_Essays_-_A_Reader_for_Students_of_Composition_and_Rhetoric_(Wangler_and_Ulrich)/Open_Essays/77%3A_Why_Good_People_Turn_Bad_Online_(Vince) |
UBvWo1npF2bsbdLD | General Chemistry | Strengths of Ionic and Covalent Bonds (9.4)
OpenStax
By the end of this section, you will be able to:
- Describe the energetics of covalent and ionic bond formation and breakage
- Use the Born-Haber cycle to compute lattice energies for ionic compounds
- Use average covalent bond energies to estimate enthalpies of reaction
A bond’s strength describes how strongly each atom is joined to another atom and therefore how much energy is required to break the bond between the two atoms.
It is essential to remember that energy must be added to break chemical bonds (an endothermic process), whereas forming chemical bonds releases energy (an exothermic process). In the case of H2, the covalent bond is very strong; a large amount of energy, 436 kJ, must be added to break the bonds in one mole of hydrogen molecules and cause the atoms to separate:
H2(g) ⟶ 2H(g) bond energy = 436 kJ
Conversely, the same amount of energy is released when one mole of H2 molecules forms from two moles of H atoms:
2H(g) ⟶ H2(g) bond energy = −436 kJ
Bond Strength: Covalent Bonds
Stable molecules exist because covalent bonds hold the atoms together. We measure the strength of a covalent bond by the energy required to break it, that is, the energy necessary to separate the bonded atoms. Separating any pair of bonded atoms requires energy (see Figure 4.4). The stronger a bond, the greater the energy required to break it.
The energy required to break a specific covalent bond in one mole of gaseous molecules is called the bond energy or the bond dissociation energy. The bond energy for a diatomic molecule, DX–Y, is defined as the standard enthalpy change for the endothermic reaction:
For example, the bond energy of the pure covalent H–H bond, DH–H, is 436 kJ per mole of H–H bonds broken:
Molecules with three or more atoms have two or more bonds. The sum of all bond energies in such a molecule is equal to the standard enthalpy change for the endothermic reaction that breaks all the bonds in the molecule. For example, the sum of the four C–H bond energies in CH4, 1660 kJ, is equal to the standard enthalpy change of the reaction:
The average C–H bond energy, DC–H, is 1660/4 = 415 kJ/mol because there are four moles of C–H bonds broken per mole of the reaction. Although the four C–H bonds are equivalent in the original molecule, they do not each require the same energy to break; once the first bond is broken (which requires 439 kJ/mol), the remaining bonds are easier to break. The 415 kJ/mol value is the average, not the exact value required to break any one bond.
The strength of a bond between two atoms increases as the number of electron pairs in the bond increases. Generally, as the bond strength increases, the bond length decreases. Thus, we find that triple bonds are stronger and shorter than double bonds between the same two atoms; likewise, double bonds are stronger and shorter than single bonds between the same two atoms. Average bond energies for some common bonds appear in Table 9.3, and a comparison of bond lengths and bond strengths for some common bonds appears in Table 9.4. When one atom bonds to various atoms in a group, the bond strength typically decreases as we move down the group. For example, C–F is 439 kJ/mol, C–Cl is 330 kJ/mol, and C–Br is 275 kJ/mol.
|
Bond |
Bond Energy |
Bond |
Bond Energy |
Bond |
Bond Energy |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
|
H–H |
436 |
C–S |
260 |
F–Cl |
255 |
|
H–C |
415 |
C–Cl |
330 |
F–Br |
235 |
|
H–N |
390 |
C–Br |
275 |
Si–Si |
230 |
|
H–O |
464 |
C–I |
240 |
Si–P |
215 |
|
H–F |
569 |
N–N |
160 |
Si–S |
225 |
|
H–Si |
395 |
N = N |
418 |
Si–Cl |
359 |
|
H–P |
320 |
N ≡ N |
946 |
Si–Br |
290 |
|
H–S |
340 |
N–O |
200 |
Si–I |
215 |
|
H–Cl |
432 |
N–F |
270 |
P–P |
215 |
|
H–Br |
370 |
N–P |
210 |
P–S |
230 |
|
H–I |
295 |
N–Cl |
200 |
P–Cl |
330 |
|
C–C |
345 |
N–Br |
245 |
P–Br |
270 |
|
C = C |
611 |
O–O |
140 |
P–I |
215 |
|
C ≡ C |
837 |
O = O |
498 |
S–S |
215 |
|
C–N |
290 |
O–F |
160 |
S–Cl |
250 |
|
C = N |
615 |
O–Si |
370 |
S–Br |
215 |
|
C ≡ N |
891 |
O–P |
350 |
Cl–Cl |
243 |
|
C–O |
350 |
O–Cl |
205 |
Cl–Br |
220 |
|
C = O |
741 |
O–I |
200 |
Cl–I |
210 |
|
C ≡ O |
1080 |
F–F |
160 |
Br–Br |
190 |
|
C–F |
439 |
F–Si |
540 |
Br–I |
180 |
|
C–Si |
360 |
F–P |
489 |
I–I |
150 |
|
C–P |
265 |
F–S |
285 |
|
|
|
Bond |
Bond Length (Å) |
Bond Energy (kJ/mol) |
|---|---|---|
|
C–C |
1.54 |
345 |
|
C = C |
1.34 |
611 |
|
C ≡ C |
1.20 |
837 |
|
C–N |
1.43 |
290 |
|
C = N |
1.38 |
615 |
|
C ≡ N |
1.16 |
891 |
|
C–O |
1.43 |
350 |
|
C = O |
1.23 |
741 |
|
C ≡ O |
1.13 |
1080 |
The bond energy is the difference between the energy minimum (which occurs at the bond distance) and the energy of the two separated atoms. This is the quantity of energy released when the bond is formed. Conversely, the same amount of energy is required to break the bond. For the H2 molecule shown in Figure 5.2, at the bond distance of 74 pm, the system is 7.24 × 10−19 J lower in energy than the two separated hydrogen atoms. This may seem like a small number. However, as we will learn in more detail later, bond energies are often discussed on a per-mole basis. For example, it requires 7.24 × 10−19 J to break one H–H bond, but it takes 4.36 × 105 J to break 1 mole of H–H bonds. A comparison of some bond lengths and energies is shown in Figure 5.2 and Table 9.3. We can find many of these bonds in a variety of molecules, and this table provides average values. For example, breaking the first C–H bond in CH4 requires 439.3 kJ/mol, while breaking the first C–H bond in H–CH2C6H5 (a common paint thinner) requires 375.5 kJ/mol.
As seen in Table 9.3 and Table 9.4, an average carbon-carbon single bond is 347 kJ/mol, while in a carbon-carbon double bond, the π bond increases the bond strength by 267 kJ/mol. Adding an additional π bond causes a further increase of 225 kJ/mol. We can see a similar pattern when we compare other σ and π bonds. Thus, each individual π bond is generally weaker than a corresponding σ bond between the same two atoms. In a σ bond, there is a greater degree of orbital overlap than in a π bond.
We can use bond energies to calculate approximate enthalpy changes for reactions where enthalpies of formation are not available. Calculations of this type will also tell us whether a reaction is exothermic or endothermic. An exothermic reaction (ΔH negative, heat produced) results when the bonds in the products are stronger than the bonds in the reactants. An endothermic reaction (ΔH positive, heat absorbed) results when the bonds in the products are weaker than those in the reactants.
The enthalpy change, ΔH, for a chemical reaction is approximately equal to the sum of the energy required to break all bonds in the reactants (energy “in,” positive sign) plus the energy released when all bonds are formed in the products (energy “out,” negative sign). This can be expressed mathematically in the following way:
In this expression, the symbol Ʃ means “the sum of,” and D represents the bond energy in kilojoules per mole, which is always a positive number. The bond energy is obtained from a table (like Table 9.4) and will depend on whether the particular bond is a single, double, or triple bond. Thus, in calculating enthalpies in this manner, it is important that we consider the bonding in all reactants and products. Because D values are typically averages for one type of bond in many different molecules, this calculation provides a rough estimate, not an exact value, for the enthalpy of reaction.
Consider the following reaction:
or
To form two moles of HCl, one mole of H–H bonds and one mole of Cl–Cl bonds must be broken. The energy required to break these bonds is the sum of the bond energy of the H–H bond (436 kJ/mol) and the Cl–Cl bond (243 kJ/mol). During the reaction, two moles of H–Cl bonds are formed (bond energy = 432 kJ/mol), releasing 2 × 432 kJ, or 864 kJ. Because the bonds in the products are stronger than those in the reactants, the reaction releases more energy than it consumes:
[latex]$\Delta H=\Sigma \mathrm{D}_{\text {bonds broken }}-\Sigma \mathrm{D}_{\text {bonds formed }}$[/latex]
[latex]$\begin{aligned} \Delta H &=\left[\mathrm{D}_{\mathrm{H}-\mathrm{H}}+\mathrm{D}_{\mathrm{Cl}-\mathrm{Cl}}\right]-2 \mathrm{D}_{\mathrm{H}-\mathrm{Cl}} \\ &=[436+243]-2(432)=-185 \mathrm{kJ} \end{aligned}$[/latex]
This excess energy is released as heat, so the reaction is exothermic. Appendix G gives a value for the standard molar enthalpy of formation of HCl(g), ΔH°f, of –92.307 kJ/mol. Twice that value is –184.6 kJ, which agrees well with the answer obtained earlier for the formation of two moles of HCl.
EXAMPLE 9.16
Using Bond Energies to Calculate Approximate Enthalpy Changes
Methanol, CH3OH, may be an excellent alternative fuel. The high-temperature reaction of steam and carbon produces a mixture of the gases carbon monoxide, CO, and hydrogen, H2, from which methanol can be produced. Using the bond energies in Table 9.4, calculate the approximate enthalpy change, ΔH, for the reaction here:
Solution
First, we need to write the Lewis structures of the reactants and the products:
From this, we see that ΔH for this reaction involves the energy required to break a C–O triple bond and two H–H single bonds, as well as the energy produced by the formation of three C–H single bonds, a C–O single bond, and an O–H single bond. We can express this as follows:
[latex]$\Delta H=\Sigma D_{\text {bonds broken }}-\Sigma D_{\text {bonds formed }}$[/latex]
[latex]$\Delta H=\left[D_{C \equiv 0}+2\left(D_{H-H}\right)\right]-\left[3\left(D_{C-H}\right)+D_{C-O}+D_{O-H}\right]$[/latex]
Using the bond energy values in Table 9.4, we obtain:
[latex]$\begin{aligned} \Delta H &=[1080+2(436)]-[3(415)+350+464] \\ &=-107 \mathrm{kJ} \end{aligned}$[/latex]
We can compare this value to the value calculated based on
Note that there is a fairly significant gap between the values calculated using the two different methods. This occurs because D values are the average of different bond strengths; therefore, they often give only rough agreement with other data.
Check Your Learning
Ethyl alcohol, CH3CH2OH, was one of the first organic chemicals deliberately synthesized by humans. It has many uses in industry, and it is the alcohol contained in alcoholic beverages. It can be obtained by the fermentation of sugar or synthesized by the hydration of ethylene in the following reaction:
Using the bond energies in Table 9.4, calculate an approximate enthalpy change, ΔH, for this reaction.
Answer: –35 kJ
Ionic Bond Strength and Lattice Energy
An ionic compound is stable because of the electrostatic attraction between its positive and negative ions. The lattice energy of a compound is a measure of the strength of this attraction. The lattice energy (ΔHlattice) of an ionic compound is defined as the energy required to separate one mole of the solid into its component gaseous ions. For the ionic solid MX, the lattice energy is the enthalpy change of the process:
Note that we are using the convention where the ionic solid is separated into ions, so our lattice energies will be endothermic (positive values). Some texts use the equivalent but opposite convention, defining lattice energy as the energy released when separate ions combine to form a lattice and give negative (exothermic) values. Thus, if you are looking up lattice energies in another reference, be certain to check which definition is being used. In both cases, a larger magnitude for lattice energy indicates a more stable ionic compound. For sodium chloride, ΔHlattice = 769 kJ. Thus, it requires 769 kJ to separate one mole of solid NaCl into gaseous Na+ and Cl– ions. When one mole of gaseous Na+ and Cl– ions form solid NaCl, 769 kJ of heat is released.
The lattice energy ΔHlattice of an ionic crystal can be expressed by the following equation (derived from Coulomb’s law, governing the forces between electric charges):
in which C is a constant that depends on the type of crystal structure, Z+ and Z– are the charges on the ions, and Ro is the interionic distance (the sum of the radii of the positive and negative ions). Thus, the lattice energy of an ionic crystal increases rapidly as the charges of the ions increase and the sizes of the ions decrease. When all other parameters are kept constant, doubling the charge of both the cation and anion quadruples the lattice energy. For example, the lattice energy of LiF (Z+ and Z– = 1) is 1023 kJ/mol, whereas that of MgO (Z+ and Z– = 2) is 3900 kJ/ mol (Ro is nearly the same—about 200 pm for both compounds).
Different interatomic distances produce different lattice energies. For example, we can compare the lattice energy of MgF2 (2957 kJ/mol) to that of MgI2 (2327 kJ/mol) to observe the effect on lattice energy of the smaller ionic size of F– as compared to I–.
EXAMPLE 9.17
Lattice Energy Comparisons
The precious gem ruby is aluminum oxide, Al2O3, containing traces of Cr3+. The compound Al2Se3 is used in the fabrication of some semiconductor devices. Which has the larger lattice energy, Al2O3 or Al2Se3?
Solution
In these two ionic compounds, the charges Z+ and Z– are the same, so the difference in lattice energy will depend upon Ro. The O2– ion is smaller than the Se2– ion. Thus, Al2O3 would have a shorter interionic distance than Al2Se3, and Al2O3 would have a larger lattice energy.
Check Your Learning
Zinc oxide, ZnO, is a very effective sunscreen. How would the lattice energy of ZnO compare to that of NaCl?
Answer: ZnO would have the larger lattice energy because the Z values of both the cation and the anion in ZnO are greater, and the interionic distance of ZnO is smaller than that of NaCl.
The Born-Haber Cycle
It is not possible to measure lattice energies directly. However, the lattice energy can be calculated using the equation given in the previous section or by using a thermochemical cycle. The Born-Haber cycle is an application of Hess’s law that breaks down the formation of an ionic solid into a series of individual steps:
- ΔH°f, the standard enthalpy of formation of the compound
- IE, the ionization energy of the metal
- EA, the electron affinity of the nonmetal
- ΔH°s, the enthalpy of sublimation of the metal
- D, the bond dissociation energy of the nonmetal
- ΔHlattice, the lattice energy of the compound
Figure 9.25 diagrams the Born-Haber cycle for the formation of solid cesium fluoride.
We begin with the elements in their most common states, Cs(s) and F2(g). The ΔH°s represents the conversion of solid cesium into a gas, and then the ionization energy converts the gaseous cesium atoms into cations. In the next step, we account for the energy required to break the F–F bond to produce fluorine atoms. Converting one mole of fluorine atoms into fluoride ions is an exothermic process, so this step gives off energy (the electron affinity) and is shown as decreasing along the y-axis. We now have one mole of Cs cations and one mole of F anions. These ions combine to produce solid cesium fluoride. The enthalpy change in this step is the negative of the lattice energy, so it is also an exothermic quantity. The total energy involved in this conversion is equal to the experimentally determined enthalpy of formation, ΔH°f, of the compound from its elements. In this case, the overall change is exothermic.
Hess’s law can also be used to show the relationship between the enthalpies of the individual steps and the enthalpy of formation. Table 9.5 shows this for cesium fluoride, CsF.
|
Enthalpy of sublimation of Cs(s) |
Cs(s) ⟶ Cs(g) |
ΔH = ΔH°s = 76.5kJ/mol |
|---|---|---|
|
One-half of the bond energy of F2 |
[latex]\frac{1}{2}[/latex] F (g) ⟶ F(g) |
ΔH = 1 D = 79.4kJ/mol 2 |
|
Ionization energy of Cs(g) |
Cs(g) ⟶ Cs+(g) + e− |
ΔH = IE = 375.7kJ/mol |
|
Negative of the electron affinity of F |
F(g) + e− ⟶ F−(g) |
ΔH = −EA = −328.2kJ/mol |
|
Negative of the lattice energy of CsF(s) |
Cs+(g) + F−(g) ⟶ CsF(s) |
ΔH = −ΔHlattice = ? |
|
Enthalpy of formation of CsF(s), add steps 1–5 |
ΔH = ΔH°f = ΔH°s + [latex]\frac{1}{2}[/latex]D + IE + (−EA) + (-ΔHlattice) Cs(s) + [latex]\frac{1}{2}[/latex]F2(g) ⟶ CsF(s)2 |
|
|
|
ΔH = −553.5kJ/mol |
|
|
|
|
Thus, the lattice energy can be calculated from other values. For cesium fluoride, using this data, the lattice energy is:
The Born-Haber cycle may also be used to calculate any one of the other quantities in the equation for lattice energy, provided that the remainder is known. For example, if the relevant enthalpy of sublimation ΔH°s, ionization energy (IE), bond dissociation enthalpy (D), lattice energy ΔHlattice, and standard enthalpy of formation ΔH°fare known, the Born-Haber cycle can be used to determine the electron affinity of an atom.
Lattice energies calculated for ionic compounds are typically much higher than bond dissociation energies measured for covalent bonds. Whereas lattice energies typically fall in the range of 600–4000 kJ/mol (some even higher), covalent bond dissociation energies are typically between 150–400 kJ/mol for single bonds. Keep in mind, however, that these are not directly comparable values. For ionic compounds, lattice energies are associated with many interactions, as cations and anions pack together in an extended lattice. For covalent bonds, the bond dissociation energy is associated with the interaction of just two atoms. | 4,078 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://louis.pressbooks.pub/chemistry1/chapter/9-4-strengths-of-ionic-and-covalent-bonds/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:64179 | https://louis.pressbooks.pub/chemistry1/chapter/9-4-strengths-of-ionic-and-covalent-bonds/ |
cxtfDv8WQUckgHNN | Student Success | 39 6.5 The Honest Truth
Academic Integrity and Academic Dishonesty
Throughout this book, we have focused on the active process of learning, not just on how to get good grades. The attitude of some students that grades are the be-all and end-all in academics has led many students to resort to academic dishonesty to try to get the best possible grades or handle the pressure of an academic program. Some cultures have a much more relaxed attitude towards cheating, and with the rise of international students in Canadian post-secondary institutions, students must be aware that Canadian institutions take this very seriously. No matter what your reason, it is never OK to cheat.
Although you may be tempted if you’ve heard people say, “Everybody does it,” or “It’s no big deal at my school,” you should be mindful of the consequences of cheating:
- You don’t learn as much. Cheating may get you the right answer on a particular exam question, but it won’t teach you how to apply knowledge in the world after school, nor will it give you a foundation of knowledge for learning more advanced material. When you cheat, you cheat yourself out of opportunities.
- You risk failing the course or even expulsion from school. Each institution has its own definitions of and penalties for academic dishonesty, but most include cheating, plagiarism, and fabrication or falsification. The exact details of what is or is not allowed vary somewhat among different universities and colleges, and even among instructors, so you should be sure to check your school’s website and your instructor’s guidelines to see what rules apply. Ignorance of the rules is seldom considered a valid defense.
- Cheating causes stress. Fear of getting caught will cause you stress and anxiety; this will get in the way of performing well using the information you do know.
- You’re throwing away your money and time. You’re simply not getting your full value when you cheat, because you don’t learn as much.
- You are trashing your integrity. Cheating once and getting away with it makes it easier to cheat again, and the more you cheat, the more comfortable you will be giving up your integrity in other areas of life—with perhaps even more serious consequences.
- Cheating lowers your self-esteem. It also robs you of the feeling of satisfaction from genuine success.
Technology has made it easier to cheat. Your credit card and an internet connection can procure a paper for you on just about any subject and length. You can copy and paste for free from various websites. Students have made creative use of texting and video on their cell phones to gain unauthorized access to material for exams, but be aware that technology has also created ways for instructors to easily detect these forms of academic dishonesty. Most universities make these tools available to their instructors. Instructors are also modifying their testing approaches to reduce potential academic misconduct by using methods that are harder to cheat at (such as in-class essays that evaluate your thinking and oral presentations).
If you feel uneasy about doing something in your university or college work, trust your instincts. Confirm with the instructor that your intended form of research or use of material is acceptable. Cheating just doesn’t pay.
Examples of Academic Dishonesty
Academic dishonesty can take many forms, and you should be careful to avoid them. The following list is a clear and complete compilation of what most institutions will consider unacceptable academic behaviour:
- Cheating: using unauthorized notes, study aids, or information on an examination; altering a graded work after it has been returned, then submitting the work for regrading; allowing another person to do one’s work and submitting that work under one’s own name; submitting identical or similar papers for credit in more than one course without prior permission from the course instructors.
- Plagiarism: submitting material that in part or as a whole is not entirely one’s own work without attributing those same portions to their correct sources.
- Fabrication: falsifying or inventing any information, data or citation; presenting data that were not gathered in accordance with standard guidelines defining the appropriate methods for collecting or generating data and failing to include an accurate account of the method by which the data were gathered or collected.
- Obtaining an Unfair Advantage: stealing, reproducing, circulating or otherwise gaining access to examination materials prior to the time authorized by the instructor; stealing, destroying, defacing or concealing library materials with the purpose of depriving others of their use; unauthorized collaboration on an academic assignment; retaining, possessing, using or circulating previously given examination materials, where those materials clearly indicate that they are to be returned to the instructor at the conclusion of the examination; intentionally obstructing or interfering with another student’s academic work; or otherwise undertaking activity with the purpose of creating or obtaining an unfair academic advantage over other students’ academic work.
- Aiding and Abetting Academic Dishonesty: providing material, information, or other assistance to another person with knowledge that such aid could be used in any of the violations stated above, or providing false information in connection with any inquiry regarding academic integrity.
- Falsification of Records and Official Documents: altering documents affecting academic records; forging signatures of authorization or falsifying information on an official academic document, grade report, letter of permission, petition, drop/add form, ID card, or any other official university document.
- Unauthorized Access: accessing computerized academic or administrative records or systems; viewing or altering computer records; modifying computer programs or systems; releasing or dispensing information gained via unauthorized access; or interfering with the use or availability of computer systems or information.
Key Takeaways
- Being dishonest can have major consequences that can affect not only your university career, but also your life beyond university.
- “Everybody does it” and “It’s no big deal at my school” are not valid reasons for cheating.
- When you cheat, you are primarily cheating yourself.
Exercise: Academic Dishonesty
- What are the most common forms of academic dishonesty you have heard about at your school? What should be done about them?
- What resources do you have on campus to learn about correct forms of referencing other people’s work in your own?
Text Attributions
- This chapter was adapted from “The Honest Truth” in University Success by N. Mahoney, B. Klassen, and M. D’Eon. Adapted by Mary Shier. CC BY-NC-SA. | 1,389 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://ecampusontario.pressbooks.pub/studentsuccess/chapter/the-honest-truth/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:56497 | https://ecampusontario.pressbooks.pub/studentsuccess/chapter/the-honest-truth/ |
2gFgP9i9JHngyOE9 | 1.2: Algebra Support | 1.2: Algebra Support Last updated Save as PDF Page ID 128477 Katherine Skelton Highline College 1.2.1: Real Numbers, Linear Inequalities, and Interval Notation 1.2.2: Basics of the Graphing Calculator 1.2.3: Polynomial Expressions 1.2.4: Adding and Subtracting Polynomial Expressions 1.2.5: Properties of Exponents 1.2.6: Multiplying Polynomial Expressions 1.2.7: The Greatest Common Factor and Factor by Grouping 1.2.8: Solving Polynomial Equations 1.2.9: Factoring ax² + bx + c when a =1 1.2.10: Factoring ax² + bx + c when a≠1 1.2.11: Factoring Special Products 1.2.12: General Strategy for Factoring Polynomials 1.2.13: Simplifying, Multiplying, and Dividing Rational Expressions 1.2.14: Adding and Subtracting Rational Expressions 1.2.15: Simplifying Complex Rational Expressions 1.2.16: Solving Rational Equations 1.2.17: Simplifying Expressions with Roots 1.2.18: Simplifying Radical Expressions 1.2.19: Simplifying Rational Exponents 1.2.20: Adding, Subtracting, and Multiplying Radical Expressions 1.2.21: Dividing Radical Expressions 1.2.22: Solving Radical Equations 1.2.23: Complex Numbers 1.2.24: Solving Quadratic Equations Using the Square Root Property 1.2.25: Solving Quadratic Equations by Completing the Square 1.2.26: Solving Quadratic Equations Using the Quadratic Formula 1.2.27: Solving Equations in Quadratic Form 1.2.EA: Exercises for Polynomials Expressions 1.2.EB: Exercises for Factoring Polynomial Expressions and Solving Polynomial Equations 1.2.EC: Exercises for Rational Expressions and Equations 1.2.ED: Exercises for Radical Expressions and Equations 1.2.EE: Exercises for Quadratic Equations | 267 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://math.libretexts.org/Courses/Coastline_College/Math_C097%3A_Support_for_Precalculus_Corequisite%3A_MATH_C170/1.02%3A_Algebra_Support | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:27325 | https://math.libretexts.org/Courses/Coastline_College/Math_C097%3A_Support_for_Precalculus_Corequisite%3A_MATH_C170/1.02%3A_Algebra_Support |
EySwTgM5oQh7n8Oe | Medical Terminology Student Companion | 38 U
ulnoradial (ŭl-nŏ-RĀD-ē-ăl): Pertaining to the ulna and nerve root.
ungual (ŬNG-gwăl): Pertaining to the nail.
unilateral (ū-nĭ-LĂT-ĕr-ăl): Pertaining to one side.
unipolar (ū-nĭ-PŌ-lăr): Shape of a neuron which has only one process that includes both the axon and dendrite.
upper respiratory infection ((ŬP-er RES-pĭr-ă-tō-rē ĭn-FEK-shun): Infection of the nasal cavity, pharynx and larynx cause by a virus.
ureterectomy (ū-rē-tĕr-ĔK-tō-mē): Excision of the ureter.
ureteritis (ū-rē-tĕr-Ī-tĭs): Inflammation of the ureter.
ureterocele (ū-RĒ-tĕr-ō-sēl): Protrusion of a ureter.
ureterolithiasis (ū-rē-tĕr-ō-lĭth-Ī-ăs-ĭs): Condition of stone(s) in the ureter.
ureteroscopy (ū-RĒT-ĕ-rō-skōp): Visual examination of the ureter(s).
ureterostomy (ū-rē-tĕr-ŎS-tō-mē): Creation of an artificial opening into the ureter.
ureterostenosis (ū-rē-tĕr-ō-stĕ-NŌ-sĭs): Narrowing of the ureter.
urethritis (ūr-ē-THRĪT-ĭs): Inflammation of the urethra.
urethrocystitis (ū-rē-thrō-sĭs-TĪ-tĭs): Inflammation of the urethra and the bladder.
urinal (Ū-rĭn-ăl): Receptacle for urine.
urinary (Ū-rĭ-nār-ē): Pertaining to urine.
urogram (Ū-rō-grăm): Radiographic image of the urinary tract.
urologist (ū-RŎL-ō-jĭst): Physician who studies and treats diseases of the urinary tract.
uterine fibroid (ŪT-ĕ-rīn FIB-royd): Benign tumor of the uterine muscle.
uterine prolapse (ŪT-ĕ-rīn PRŌ-laps): Downward displacement of the uterus into the vagina.
uterus (ŪT-ĕ-rŭs): A muscular organ that nourishes and supports the growing embryo; its functions are menstruation, pregnancy, and labor.
uvula (Ū-vyŭ-lă): The uvula is a small bulbous, teardrop-shaped structure located at the apex of the soft palate.
uvulectomy (ū-vyŭ-LEK-tŏ-mē): Excision of the uvula.
uvulitis (ū-vyŭ-LĪT-ĭs): Inflammation of the uvula.
uvulopalatopharyngoplasty (UPPP) ((ū-vyŭ-lō-pal-ăt-ō-fă-RING-gō-plăs-tē): Surgical repair of the uvula, palate, and pharynx. | 305 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://nicoletcollege.pressbooks.pub/studentcompaniontobuildingamedicaltermfound/chapter/u/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:24650 | https://nicoletcollege.pressbooks.pub/studentcompaniontobuildingamedicaltermfound/chapter/u/ |
OSwC5QNF3cTuktWG | Introduction to Healthcare Professions V1 | Chapter 2: Settings Where Healthcare is Delivered
Brandon Censon MPH, CPH, RRT-NPS, CPFT, CPT
Physician Clinics and Offices
The care that is provided at a Physician clinic or office is also referred to as ambulatory care, this type of healthcare setting provides health services to those who do not need to be admitted to a facility as an inpatient. The type of care that is provided depends greatly on the type of physician that is at the particular clinic. For example, if it is a primary care provider, a wide variety of services could be provided, such as, annual physicals, laboratory testing, immunizations, care for minor conditions such as the common cold, flu, high blood pressure, urinary tract infections, and minor injuries. In addition to treating acute illnesses, physician offices may also provide preventative care, such as immunizations. There are also a number of specialized clinics, providing specific care focusing on areas such as, cardiology, dermatology, gastroenterology, neurology, orthopedics, and gynecology – obstetrics. The specific services that are provided depend on the conditions that fall under their areas of practice.
Dental Offices
Dental offices provide specialized care, focusing on the prevention and treatment of dental disease. General dentistry offices provide an assortment of services that include, comprehensive exams, x-rays, and dental cleanings, fillings, root canals, tooth extractions, tooth implants, and preventative care. Some dental offices provide specialized dental care, such as orthodontists, who focus on dental devices that change the position of the teeth in the mouth. Another common dental specialty is oral and maxillofacial surgery, these offices specialize in oral surgery for patients who require a surgical intervention to correct a disease, injury, and defects of the jaw and surrounding structures.
Ambulatory Surgery Centers
Ambulatory surgical centers generally provide same-day surgical care that may include preventative and diagnostic procedures. Ambulatory surgical centers serve as a convenient alternative healthcare site for patients. These centers are essentially an outpatient facility that provides surgical services/care to patients, with an emphasis on minimizing cost. Some common procedures that are performed at an ambulatory surgical center include, knee arthroscopy, hand/wrist fracture reduction and fixation, carpal tunnel release, colonoscopies, cataract laser surgeries, wound or lesion repairs, biopsies, and many cosmetic surgical procedures.
Outpatient Rehabilitation Clinics
Outpatient rehabilitation clinics allow patients to receive therapy without having to be admitted to a hospital. The types of therapy services provided vary by the clinic, but commonly you will find physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, and cardiopulmonary rehab.
Patients who receive care from an outpatient rehabilitation clinic generally have conditions that are acute in nature, but are less medically-complex. Outpatient rehabilitation clinics work very well for patients who are needing to improve their mobility, stability and overall quality of life. The goal of the therapy tends to be restorative, to allow for them to get back to their normal daily activities.
Mental Health and Psychiatric Clinics
Mental health clinics provide specialized care for individuals who need treatment and services for their mental health. Some of the conditions that may be treated at this type of clinic may include, but are not limited to, depression, anxiety disorders, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and substance abuse disorders. In these clinics individuals may work with psychologists, psychiatrists, mental health counselors, and social workers. Either as a team or as an individual they work to diagnose mental health conditions, provide counseling, provide prescription medications, provide case management and other supportive services.
Skill Stitch: Using Telehealth to Improve Access to Quality Care
When we think of receiving care from a doctor or other partners in the healthcare team, oftentimes, we think of offices, hospitals, and clinics. However, with the advances in technology, access to quality healthcare is also changing. One major change is the introduction of telemedicine. Telemedicine can be defined as healthcare that is delivered using an electronic communication source. The care can be provided remotely, or from an alternative location (Telehealth.HHS.gov, 2023).
A common tool that is used is videoconferencing. Videoconferencing allows the care team to exchange important clinical information that informs the patient’s care plan and vital signs can be monitored in the remote setting. Telemedicine can be a very helpful tool in reducing health inequities, reducing costs, improving the continuity of care, and improving access to healthcare in general. Telemedicine continues to grow in rural communities where access to general care providers and specialists is very limited.
Attributions
- Figure 2.5: Lionel R. Lenox Building Outpatient Clinic by Stanford Medical History Center is released under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
Care provided by health care professionals in outpatient settings. | 982 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://openwa.pressbooks.pub/healthcarepilot/chapter/wa2-5/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:65378 | https://openwa.pressbooks.pub/healthcarepilot/chapter/wa2-5/ |
Bg4ygtqoHdm5KDuU | 1.5E: Piecewise-Defined Functions (Exercises) | 1.5E: Piecewise-Defined Functions (Exercises)
Section 1.5 Exercises
1. Let \( f(x)=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} {x+1} & {if} & {x<2} \\ {5} & {if} & {x\ge 2} \end{array}\right. \)
a) Evaluate \(f(1)\), \(f(2)\), \(f(3)\), and \(f(4)\)
b) Sketch a graph of the piecewise defined function.
2. Let \( f(x=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} {4} & {if} & {x<0} \\ {\sqrt{x} } & {if} & {x\ge 0} \end{array}\right.\)
a) Evaluate \(f(-1)\), \(f(0)\), \(f(1)\), and \(f(2)\)
b) Sketch a graph of the piecewise defined function.
3. Let \( f(x)=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} {3x-1 } & {if} & {x<1} \\ {x+2} & {if} & {x\ge 1} \end{array}\right. \)
a) Evaluate \(f(0)\), \(f(1)\), \(f(2)\), and \(f(3)\)
b) Sketch a graph of the piecewise defined function.
4. Let \( f(x)=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} {x^2} & {if} & {x<1} \\ {-2x+5 } & {if} & {x\ge 1} \end{array}\right.\)
a) Evaluate \(f(0)\), \(f(1)\), \(f(2)\), and \(f(3)\)
b) Sketch a graph of the piecewise defined function.
5. Sketch a graph of the piecewise defined function \( f(x)=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} {3} & {if} & {x\le -2} \\ {-x+1} & {if} & {-2<x\le 1} \\ {x+2} & {if} & {x>1} \end{array}\right.\). Then identify the domain and range of \(f\).
6. Sketch a graph of the piecewise defined function \( f(x)=\left\{\begin{array}{ccc} {2x+1} & {if} & {x\le 0} \\ {x+1} & {if} & {0<x\le 2} \\ {3} & {if} & {x>2} \end{array}\right.\) Then identify the domain and range of \(f\).
7. Write a formula for the piecewise function graphed below.
a) b)
8. Write a formula for the piecewise function graphed below.
a) b)
9. Write a formula for the piecewise function graphed below.
a) b)
10. Suppose a commercial cloud data plan charges $5 per year plus $2.5 per GB for the first 10 GB and then $1.5 per GB for each additional GB of data. Find a piecewise defined formula for the yearly cost \(C\) in terms of the data load \(D\) in GB.
11. Suppose a painting company charges $2.40 per \(\text{ft}^2\) to paint a house of up to 2000 \(\text{ft}^2\). For houses with more than 2000 \(\text{ft}^2\) to paint, they charge $2.10 per \(\text{ft}^2\) for each additional square foot of area above 2000 \(\text{ft}^2\). Find a piecewise defined formula for the yearly cost \(C\) in terms of the square footage painted \(A\).
12. Suppose an author of a new book receives $30,000 to write it. For the first 50,000 copies sold, they will make $1.24 per copy sold. After that, they will make $1.02 per copy sold. Find a piecewise defined formula for the amount made \(A\) in terms of the number of book copies sold \(b\).
- Answer
-
1. a) \(f(1)=2\), \(f(2)=5\), \(f(3)=5\), and \(f(4)=5\)
b)
3. a) \(f(0)=-1\) \(f(1)=3\) \(f(2)=4\) \(f(3)=4\)
b)
5.
7. a) \(f(x) = \begin{cases} 2 & if & -6 \le x \le -1 \\ -2 & if & -1 < x \le 2 \\ -4 & if & 2 < x \le 4 \end{cases}\)
b) \(f(x) = \begin{cases} -4 & if & -6 \le x \le -2 \\ 5 & if & -2 < x \le 1 \\ -3 & if & 1 < x \le 5 \end{cases}\)
9. a) \(f(x) = \begin{cases} 2x + 3 & if & -3 \le x < -1 \\ x - 1 & if & -1\le x \le 2 \\ -2 & if & 2 < x \le 5 \end{cases}\)
11. \(C =f(A) = \begin{cases} 2.40A & if & 0 \le A \le 2000 \\ 2.10A+600 & if & 2000 < A \end{cases}\) | 743 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://math.libretexts.org/Courses/Clovis_Community_College/Precalculus%3A__Describing_Relationships_Between_Quantities_in_the_World_Around_Us/01%3A_Describing_Relationships_with_Functions/1.05%3A_Piecewise_Defined_Functions/1.5E%3A_Piecewise-Defined_Functions_(Exercises) | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:12626 | https://math.libretexts.org/Courses/Clovis_Community_College/Precalculus%3A__Describing_Relationships_Between_Quantities_in_the_World_Around_Us/01%3A_Describing_Relationships_with_Functions/1.05%3A_Piecewise_Defined_Functions/1.5E%3A_Piecewise-Defined_Functions_(Exercises) |
mHaiw12DYTk9kdlU | 2.1: Mark-Up Problems | 2.1: Mark-Up Problems
Learning OUTCOME
- Use mathematical notation to solve markup problems
Ana runs Blue Boat Designs, where she makes colorful beaded earrings. She sells her earrings to boutiques around Los Angeles for \($18\). A shop called Treasure Hunt purchases Ana’s earrings for \($18\), marks them up \(50\%\) and then sells them to shop customers for \($27\).
Applications of mark-up are very common in retail settings. The price a retailer pays for an item is called the wholesale price . The retailer then adds a mark-up to the wholesale price to get the list price , the price he sells the item for. The mark-up is usually calculated as a percent of the wholesale price. The percent is called the mark-up rate . To determine the amount of mark-up, multiply the mark-up rate by the wholesale price. We summarize the mark-up model in the box below.
Mark-up
The mark-up is the amount added to the wholesale price.
amount of mark-up = mark-up rate \(\cdot\) wholesale price
list price = wholesale price + mark up
The list price should always be more than the wholesale price, or it would be a mark-down, not a mark-up.
The mark-up rate can be less than, equal to, or greater than \(100\%\).
example
Adam’s art gallery bought a photograph at the wholesale price of \(\text{\$250}\). Adam marked the price up \(\text{40%}\). Find the amount of mark-up and the list price of the photograph.
[reveal-answer q=”661316″]Show Answer[/reveal-answer]
[hidden-answer a=”661316″]
Solution
| ⓐ | |
| Identify what you are asked to find. | What is the amount of mark-up? |
| Choose a variable to represent it. | Let \(m=\) the amount of each mark-up. |
| Write a sentence that gives the information to find it. | The mark-up is \(40\text{%}\) of the wholesale price. |
| Translate into an equation. | |
| Simplify. | \(m=100\) |
| Check if this answer is reasonable. | |
| Yes. The markup rate is less than \(50\text{%}\) and \(\text{\$100}\) is less than half of \(\text{\$250}\). | |
| Write a complete sentence that answers the question. | The mark-up on the photograph was \(\text{\$100}\). |
| ⓑ | |
| Identify what you are asked to find. | What is the list price? |
| Choose a variable to represent it. | Let \(p=\) the list price. |
| Write a sentence that gives the information to find it. | The list price is the wholesale price plus the mark-up. |
| Translate into an equation. | |
| Simplify. | \(p=350\) |
| Check if this answer is reasonable. | |
| Yes. The list price, \(\text{\$350}\), is more than the wholesale price, \(\text{\$250}\). | |
| Write a complete sentence that answers the question. | The list price of the photograph was \(\text{\$350}\). |
[/hidden-answer]
try it
[ohm_question hide_question_numbers=1]146778[/ohm_question]
TRY IT
[ohm_question hide_question_numbers=1]978[/ohm_question]
EXAMPLE
A very common mark-up strategy in retail stores is to simply double the price they paid for the item. Let’s walk through how you would calculate the mark-up rate for this situation.
Braided Salon purchases natural hair dyes for \($38\) from a beauty supply wholesaler. If the owner plans to double the price before selling it to customers, what is the mark-up rate?
[reveal-answer q=”664216″]Show Answer[/reveal-answer]
[hidden-answer a=”664216″]
Solution
If Braided Salon purchases the hair dye for \($38\), they will charge customers \($56\)\((2 \cdot $38 = $56)\). The mark-up in this case is the difference between the final price tag and the wholesale cost: \($56 - $38 = $38\).
amount of mark-up = mark-up rate \(\cdot\) wholesale price
\($38 = x \cdot $38\)
\(x = 1\)
\(1 = 100%\)
The mark-up rate is \(100%\) when doubling the wholesale cost.
[/hidden-answer]
The next question refers to profit, which, in this case, is the same as mark-up amount.
TRY IT
[ohm_question hide_question_numbers=1]154749[/ohm_question]
Mark-up is one type of percent of change problem. In the next video we show an example of how to calculate the percent increase of a salary, which is similar to the process of marking-up the price of an item. | 885 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://biz.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Accounting/Accounting_for_Managers_(Lumen)/02%3A_Calculations_and_Solving_Equations/2.01%3A_Mark-Up_Problems | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:31551 | https://biz.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Accounting/Accounting_for_Managers_(Lumen)/02%3A_Calculations_and_Solving_Equations/2.01%3A_Mark-Up_Problems |
Q9oTJ1HyFbptL25h | The History of Painting in Italy, Vol. 5 (of 6)
From the Period of the Revival of the Fine Arts to the End of the Eighteenth Century | Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Carol Ann Brown,
http://www.pgdp.net
THE
HISTORY OF PAINTING
IN
ITALY.
VOL. V.
THE
HISTORY OF PAINTING
IN
ITALY,
FROM THE PERIOD OF THE REVIVAL OF
THE FINE ARTS
TO THE END OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY:
TRANSLATED
From the Original Italian
OF THE
ABATE LUIGI LANZI.
BY THOMAS ROSCOE.
_IN SIX VOLUMES._
VOL. V.
CONTAINING THE SCHOOLS OF BOLOGNA, FERRARA, GENOA,
AND PIEDMONT.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL,
STATIONERS'-HALL COURT, LUDGATE STREET.
1828
J. M'Creery, Tooks Court,
Chancery Lane, London.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIFTH VOLUME.
HISTORY OF PAINTING IN UPPER ITALY.
BOOK THE THIRD.
BOLOGNESE SCHOOL.
Page
EPOCH I. _The ancient masters_ 6
EPOCH II. _Various styles, from the time of Francia
to that of the Caracci_ 50
EPOCH III. _The Caracci, their scholars and their
successors, until the time of Cignani_ 96
EPOCH IV. _Pasinelli, and in particular Cignani,
cause a change in the style of Bolognese
painting. The Clementine academy and its
members_ 217
BOOK THE FOURTH.
SCHOOL OF FERRARA.
EPOCH I. _The ancient masters_ 281
EPOCH II. _Artists of Ferrara, from the time of Alfonso
I. till Alfonso II., last of the Este family in
Ferrara, who emulate the best Italian styles_ 301
EPOCH III. _The artists of Ferrara borrow different
styles from the Bolognese school--Decline
of the art, and an academy instituted in its
support_ 328
BOOK THE FIFTH.
EPOCH I. _The ancient masters_ 359
EPOCH II. _Perino and his followers_ 369
EPOCH III. _The art relapses for some time, and is
re-invigorated by the works of Paggi and
some foreigners_ 392
EPOCH IV. _The Roman and Parmesan succeed to
the native style--Establishment of an academy_ 424
BOOK THE SIXTH.
HISTORY OF PAINTING IN PIEDMONT AND THE
ADJACENT TERRITORY.
EPOCH I. _Dawn and progress of the art until the sixteenth
century_ 447
EPOCH II. _Painters of the seventeenth century, and
first establishment of the academy_ 466
EPOCH III. _School of Beaumont, and restoration of
the academy_ 483
HISTORY OF PAINTING
IN
UPPER ITALY.
BOOK III.
BOLOGNESE SCHOOL.
During the progress of the present work, it has been observed that the fame
of the art, in common with that of letters and of arms, has been
transferred from place to place; and that wherever it fixed its seat, its
influence tended to the perfection of some branch of painting, which by
preceding artists had been less studied, or less understood. Towards the
close of the sixteenth century, indeed, there seemed not to be left in
nature, any kind of beauty, in its outward forms or aspect, that had not
been admired and represented by some great master; insomuch that the
artist, however ambitious, was compelled, as an imitator of nature, to
become, likewise, an imitator of the best masters; while the discovery of
new styles depended upon a more or less skilful combination of the old.
Thus the sole career that remained open for the display of human genius was
that of imitation; as it appeared impossible to design figures more
masterly than those of Bonarruoti or Da Vinci, to express them with more
grace than Raffaello, with more animated colours than those of Titian, with
more lively motions than those of Tintoretto, or to give them a richer
drapery and ornaments than Paul Veronese; to present them to the eye at
every degree of distance, and in perspective, with more art, more fulness,
and more enchanting power than fell to the genius of Coreggio. Accordingly
the path of imitation was at that time pursued by every school, though with
very little method. Each of these was almost wholly subservient to its
prototype; nor was it distinguished in any other portion of the art than
that by which its master had surpassed all competitors. Even in this
portion, the distinction of these followers consisted only in copying the
same figures, and executing them in a more hasty and capricious manner, or
at all events, in adapting them out of place. Those devoted to Raffaello
were sure to exaggerate the ideal in every picture: the same in regard to
anatomy in those of Michelangiolo: while misplaced vivacity and
foreshortening were repeated in the most judicious historic pieces of the
Venetians and the Lombards.
A few, indeed, there were, as we have noticed, in every place, who rose
conspicuous above those popular prejudices and that ignorance which
obscured Italy, and whose aim was to select from the masters of different
states the chief merit of each; a method of which the Campi of Cremona more
especially furnished commendable examples. Yet these artists being unequal
in point of genius and learning, broken into different schools, separated
by private interests, accustomed to direct their pupils only in the exact
path they themselves trod, and always confined within the limits of their
native province, failed to instruct Italy, or at least to propagate the
method of correct and laudable imitation. This honour was reserved for
Bologna, whose destiny was declared to be the art of teaching, as governing
was said to be that of Rome; and it was not the work of an academy, but of
a single house. Gifted with genius, intent upon attaining the secrets more
than the stipends of their art, and unanimous in their resolves, the family
of the Caracci discovered the true style of imitation. First, they
inculcated it through the neighbouring state of Romagna, whence it was
communicated to the rest of Italy; so that in a little while nearly the
whole country was filled with its reputation. The result of their learning
went to shew that the artist ought to divide his studies between nature and
art, and that he should alternately keep each in view, selecting only,
according to his natural talents and disposition, what was most enviable in
both. By such means, that school, which appeared last in the series that
flourished, became the first to instruct the age; and what it had acquired
from each it afterwards taught to all: a school which, until that period,
had assumed no form or character to distinguish it from others, but which
subsequently produced almost as many new manners, as the individuals of the
family and their pupils. The mind, like the pen, would gladly arrive at
that fortunate epoch; aiming at the most compendious ways to reach it, and
studiously avoiding whatever may impede or divert its course. Let Malvasia
exclaim against Vasari as much as he pleases: let him vent his indignation
upon his prints, in which Bagnacavallo appears with a goat's physiognomy,
when he was entitled to that of a gentleman: let him farther vituperate his
writings, in which Bolognese professors are either omitted, dismissed with
faint praise, or blamed, until one Mastro Amico and one Mastro Biagio fall
under his lash:--to attempt to reconcile or to aggravate such feuds will
form little part of my task. Concerning this author I have sufficiently
treated in other places; though I shall not scruple to correct, or to
supply his information in case oaf need, on the authority of several modern
writers.[1] Nor shall I fail to point out in Malvasia occasional errors in
sound criticism, which seem to have escaped him in the effervescence of
that bitter controversy. The reader will become aware of them even in the
first epoch; in treating which, agreeably to my own method, I shall
describe the origin and early progress of this eminent school. Together
with the Bolognese, I shall also give an account of many professors of
Romagna, reserving a few, however, for a place in the Ferrarese School, in
which they shone either as disciples or as masters.
Footnote 1: No Italian school has been described by abler
pens. The Co. Canon. Malvasia was a real man of letters; and
his life has been written by Crespi. His two volumes,
entitled _Felsina Pittrice_, will continue to supply an
abundance of valuable information, collected by the pupils
of the Caracci, to whom he was known, and by whom he was
assisted in this work; charged, however, with a degree of
patriotic zeal at times too fervid.
Crespi and Zanotti were his continuators, whose merits are
considered in the last epoch. To these volumes is added the
work entitled, "Pitture, Sculture, e Architetture di
Bologna," of which the latest editions have been supplied
with some very valuable notices, (drawn also from MSS.) by
the Ab. Bianconi, already commended by us, and by Sig.
Marcello Oretti, a very diligent collector of pictoric
anecdotes, as well as by other persons. I cite this work
under the title of the _Guide_ of Bologna; in addition to
which I mention in Romagna that of Ravenna by Beltrami, that
of Rimini by Costa, and of Pesaro by Becci, which is farther
illustrated by observations upon the chief paintings at
Pesaro, and a dissertation upon the art; both very ably
treated by the pen of Sig. Canon. Lazzarini.
BOLOGNESE SCHOOL.
EPOCH I.
_The Ancients._
The new Guide of Bologna, published in the year 1782, directs our attention
to a number of figures, in particular those of the Virgin, which, on the
strength of ancient documents, are to be assigned to ages anterior to the
twelfth century. Of some of these we find the authors' names indicated; and
it forms, perhaps, the peculiar boast of Bologna to claim three of them
during the twelfth century: one Guido, one Ventura, and one Ursone, of whom
there exist memorials as late back as 1248. Most part, however, are from
unknown hands, and so well executed, that we are justified in suspecting
that they must have been retouched about the times of Lippo Dalmasio, to
whose style a few of them bear considerable resemblance. Yet not so with
others; more especially a specimen in San Pietro, which I consider to be
one of the most ancient preserved in Italy. But the finest monument of
painting possessed by Bologna, at once the most unique and untouched, is
the _Catino_ of San Stefano, on which is figured the Adoration of the Lamb
of God, described in the Apocalypse; and below this are several scriptural
histories; as the Birth of our Lord, his Epiphany, the Dispute, and similar
subjects. The author was either Greek, or rather a scholar of those Greeks
who ornamented the church of St. Mark in Venice with their mosaics; the
manner much resembling theirs in its rude design, the spareness of the
limbs, and in the distribution of the colours. It is besides, certain, that
these Greeks educated several artists for Italy, and among others the
founder of the Ferrarese School, of whom more in its appropriate place.
However this may be, the painter exhibits traces that differ from those
mosaic workers, such as the flow of the beard, the shape of the garments,
and a taste less bent on thronging his compositions. And in respect to his
age, it is apparent it must have been between the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, from the form of the characters, collated with other writings
belonging to the same period.
Entering upon the age of Giotto, the most disputed of all, on account of
the Florentines having declared themselves the tutors of the Bolognese, and
the aversion of the latter to admit that they have been instructed by the
Florentines;--I decline to dwell upon their writings, in which the heat of
controversy has effectually obscured the candour of real history. I shall
rather gather light from the figures of the _trecentisti_ dispersed
throughout the city and all parts of Romagna, and from the ample
collections which are to be seen in various places. Such is that of the
Padri Classensi at Ravenna, that of the Institute at Bologna, and in the
same place one at the Malvezzi palace, where the pictures of the ancient
masters are exhibited in long series, with their names; not always
inscribed, indeed, in ancient character, nor always equally genuine; but
still calculated to reflect honour upon the noble family that made the
collection. In all these I discovered paintings, some manifestly Greek;
some indisputably Giottesque; certain others of Venetian style; and not a
few in a manner which I never saw, except in Bologna. They possess a body
of colouring, a taste in perspective, a method of designing and draping the
figures, not met with in any other cities; as for instance, in several
places I saw scripture histories, where the Redeemer invariably appears
arrayed in a red mantle; while other characters appear in garments trimmed
in a certain novel style with gilt borders; trifles in themselves, yet not
apparent in any other school. From similar observations we seem to be
justified in concluding that the Bolognese of that age likewise had a
school of their own, not indeed so elegant, nor so celebrated, but
nevertheless peculiar, and so to say, municipal, derived from ancient
masters of mosaic, and also from those in miniature.
On this head, notwithstanding our proposed brevity, I must here refer to
the words of Baldinucci in his notices of the miniature painter, Franco:
"After Giotto, that very celebrated Florentine painter, had discovered his
novel and fine method by which he gained the name of the first restorer of
the art of painting, or rather to have raised it from utter extinction; and
after he had acquired with industrious diligence that fine mode of painting
which is called _di minio_,[2] which for the most part consists in
colouring very diminutive figures; many others also applied themselves to
the like art, and soon became illustrious. One of these was Oderigi
d'Agubbio, concerning whom we have spoken in his proper place among the
disciples of Cimabue. We discovered that this Oderigi, as we are assured by
Vellutello in his comment upon Dante, in the eleventh canto of the
Purgatorio,[3] was master in the art to Franco Bolognese, which assertion
acquires great credit from his having worked much in miniature in the city
of Bologna, according to these words that I find said of him by Benvenuto
da Imola, a contemporary of Petrarch, in his comment upon Dante: 'Iste
Odorisius fuit magnus miniator in civitate Bononiæ, qui erat valde vanus
jactator artis suæ.' From this Franco, according to the opinion of
Malvasia, the most noble and ever glorious city of Bologna received the
first seeds of the beautiful art of painting."
Footnote 2: _Di minio_, a peculiar red colour, used also in
oil painting, and well known to the ancients, who on festal
days were accustomed to ornament with it the face of Jove's
statue, as also that of the victors on days of triumph.
Pliny and others explain the ancient method of employing it.
The term, in its simple acceptation, means here the art of
designing and colouring in miniature, (from _di minio_)
early applied to the ornamenting and illuminating of ancient
works and MSS. R.
Footnote 3:
"Oh dissi lui non se' tu Oderisi,
L'onor d'Agubbio, e l'onor di quell'arte
Che alluminar è chiamata a Parisi?
Frate, diss'egli, più ridon le carte
Che pennellegia Franco Bolognese:
L'onor è tutto or suo, e mio in parte.
Ben non sarei stato sì cortese
Mentre ch'io vissi per lo gran disìo
Dell'eccellenza, ove mio cor intese.
Di tal superbia qui si paga il fio."
With this narrative does the author proceed, like a careful culturist,
gently sprinkling with refreshing drops his pictoric tree, whose seed he
had shortly before planted, in order to trace the whole derivation of early
artists from the leading stock of Cimabue. It has elsewhere been observed
that this famous tree can boast no root in history; that it sprung out of
idle conjectures, put together as an answer to the _Felsina Pittrice_ of
Malvasia, in which the Bolognese School is made to appear, as it were,
_autoctona_, derived only from itself. Now Baldinucci, in order to give its
origin to Florence, would persuade us that Oderigi, a miniaturist, and
master of Franco, the first painter at Bologna on the revival of the arts,
had actually been a disciple of Cimabue. His argument amounts to this: that
Dante, Giotto, and Oderigi, being known to have lived on the most intimate
terms together, and all three greatly devoted to the fine arts, must have
contracted their friendship in the school of Cimabue; as if such an
intimacy might not have sprung up at any other time or place amongst three
men who travelled. It is besides difficult to believe that Oderigi,
ambitious of the fame of a miniaturist in ornamenting books, should have
applied to Cimabue, who in those times was not the best designer of
figures, though the most eminent painter in fresco, and of grand figures.
A more probable supposition, therefore, is that Oderigi acquired the art
from the miniaturists, who then greatly abounded in Italy, and carried it
to further perfection by his own design. Neither are the epochs themselves,
fixed upon by Baldinucci, in favour of his system. He would have it that
Giotto, at ten years of age, being about the year 1286, began to design in
the school of Cimabue, when the latter had attained his forty-sixth year;
nor could Oderigi have been any younger, whose death happened about 1299,
one year before that of Cimabue, his equal in reputation, and in the
dignity of the pupil, who already surpassed the master. How difficult then
to persuade ourselves that a genius, described by Dante as lofty and full
of vaunting, should demean himself by deigning to design at the school of a
contemporary, near the seat of a mere child; and subsequently surviving
only thirteen years, should acquire the fame of the first miniaturist of
his age, besides forming the mind of a pupil superior to himself. It is no
less incredible that Oderigi, after having seen Giotto's specimens in
miniature, "_should in a short time become famous_." Giotto, in 1298, when
twenty-two years of age, was at Rome in the service of the pope; where,
observes Baldinucci, he also illuminated a book for the Car. Stefaneschi; a
circumstance not mentioned by Vasari, nor supported by any historical
document. Yet taking all this for granted, what length of time is afforded
for Oderigi to display his powers, on the strength of seeing Giotto's
models; for Oderigi, who having been already some time before deceased, was
found by Dante in purgatory, according to Baldinucci's computation, in the
year 1300?
I therefore refer this miniaturist to the Bolognese School, most probably
as a disciple, assuredly as a master; and, on the authority of Vellutello,
as the master of Franco, both a miniaturist and a painter. Franco is the
first among the Bolognese who instructed many pupils; and he is almost
deserving the name of the Giotto of this school. Nevertheless he approached
only at considerable distance, the Giotto of Florence, as far as we can
judge from the few relics which are now pointed out as his in the Malvezzi
museum. The most undoubted specimen is one of the Virgin, seated on a
throne, bearing the date of 1313; a production that may compare with the
works of Cimabue, or of Guido da Siena. There are also two diminutive
paintings, displaying much grace, and similar miniatures, ascribed to the
same hand.
The most eminent pupils educated by Franco in his school, according to
Malvasia, are by name, Vitale, Lorenzo, Simone, Jacopo, Cristoforo;
specimens of whose paintings in fresco are still seen at the Madonna di
Mezzaratta. This church, in respect to the Bolognese, exhibits the same
splendor as the Campo Santo of Pisa, in relation to the Florentine School;
a studio in which the most distinguished trecentisti who flourished in the
adjacent parts, competed for celebrity. They cannot, indeed, boast all the
simplicity, the elegance, the happy distribution, which form the excellence
of the Giottesque; but they display a fancy, fire, and method of colouring,
which led Bonarruoti and the Caracci, considering the times in which they
lived, not to undervalue them; insomuch that, on their shewing signs of
decay, these artists took measures for their preservation. In the
forementioned church, then, besides the pupils of Franco already named,
Galasso of Ferrara, and an unknown imitator of the style of Giotto,
asserted by Lamo in his MS. to have been Giotto himself, painted, at
different times, histories from the Old and New Testament. I am inclined
rather to pronounce the unknown artist to be Giotto's imitator; both
because Vasari, in Mezzaratta, makes no mention of Giotto, and because, if
the latter had painted, he would have ranked with the most eminent, and
would have been selected to pursue his labours, not in that corner
ornamented with paintings in the Florentine style, but in some more
imposing situation.
I ought not to omit to mention in this place, that Giotto employed himself
at Bologna. There is one of his altar-pieces still preserved at San Antonio
with the superscription of MAGISTER IOCTUS DE FLORENTIA. We, moreover,
learn from Vasari that Puccio Capanna, a Florentine, and Ottaviano da
Faenza, with one Pace da Faenza, all pupils of Giotto, pursued their
labours more or less at Bologna. Of these, if I mistake not, there are
occasional specimens still to be met with in collections and in churches.
Nor are there wanting works of the successors of Taddeo Gaddi, one of the
school of Giotto, which, as I have seen great numbers in Florence, I have
been able to distinguish with little difficulty among specimens of this
other school. Besides this style, another was introduced into Bologna from
Florence, that of Orcagna, whose Novissimi of S. Maria Novella were almost
copied in a chapel of San Petronio, painted after the year 1400; the same
edifice which Vasari on the strength of popular tradition, has asserted,
was ornamented by Buffalmacco. From this information, we are brought to
conclude that the Florentines exercised an influence over the art, even in
Bologna; nor can I commend Malvasia, who, in recounting the progress of his
school, gives them no place, nor makes them any acknowledgment. Their
models, which at that period were the most excellent in the art, there is
reason to suppose, may in those times have afforded assistance to the young
Bolognese artists, as those of the school of Caracci, in another age,
instructed the youth of Florence. It is time, however, to return to the
pictures of Mezzaratta.
The authors of those just recorded, were, some of them, contemporary with
the disciples of Giotto; others flourished subsequent to them; nor is there
any name more ancient than that of Vital da Bologna, called _dalle
Madonne_, of whom there are accounts from 1320 till the year 1345. This
artist, who painted for that church a picture of the Nativity, and from
whose hand one of S. Benedetto with other saints is seen in the Malvezzi
palace, had more dryness of design than belonged to the disciples of Giotto
at that period; and he employed compositions that differed from that
school, so extremely tenacious of Giotto's ideas. If Baldinucci ventured to
assert of him that his style, in every particular, agrees with that of his
Florentine contemporaries, he wrote on the faith of others; a sufficient
reason with him for affirming that he was pupil to Giotto, or to some one
of his disciples. I would not venture so far; but rather, to judge from the
hand of Vitale, which Baldi, in his Biblioteca Bolognese, entitles "manum
elimatissimam," from the dryness of design, and from his almost exclusive
custom of painting Madonnas, I argue that he had not departed much from the
example set by Franco, more of a miniaturist than a painter, and that his
school could not have been that school more elevated, varied, and rich in
ideas, formed by Giotto.
Lorenzo, an artist, as is elsewhere observed, of Venice more probably than
of Bologna,[4] who produced the history of Daniel, on which he inscribed
his name, painted during the same period, and attempted copious
compositions. He was greatly inferior to the Memmi, to the Laurati, to the
Gaddi, though he is represented as their equal in reputation by Malvasia.
He betrays the infancy of the art, no less in point of design than in the
expressions of his countenances, whose grief sometimes provokes a smile;
and in his forced and extravagant attitudes in the manner of the Greeks.
Hence it is here out of the question to mention Giotto, in whose school,
cautiously avoiding every kind of extravagance, there predominates a
certain gravity and repose, occasionally amounting to coldness; described
by the author of the Bolognese Guide as the statuary manner; and it is one
of those marks by which to distinguish that school from others of the same
age.
Footnote 4: Vol. iii. p. 16.
At a later period flourished Galasso, who is to be sought for in the list
of artists of Ferrara, along with the three supposed disciples of Vitale;
namely, Cristoforo, Simone, and Jacopo; all of whom, in mature age, were
engaged in pictures to decorate the church at Mezzaratta, which were
completed in 1404. Vasari writes that he is uncertain whether Cristoforo
belonged to Ferrara, or da Modena; and whilst the two cities were disputing
the honour, the Bolognese historians, Baldi, Masini, and Bumaldo, adjusted
the difference by referring him to their own Felsina. For me his country
may remain matter of doubt, though not so the school in which he
flourished; inasmuch as he certainly resided, and painted a great deal,
both on altar-pieces and on walls, at Bologna. At that period, he must have
attracted the largest share of applause; since to him was committed the
figure of the altar, which is still in existence, with his name. The
Signori Malvezzi, likewise, are in possession of one of his altar-pieces,
abounding with figures of saints, and divided into ten compartments. The
design of these figures is rude, the colouring languid; but the whole
displays a taste assuredly not derived from the Florentines, and this is
the principal difficulty in the question.
Simone, most commonly called in Bologna Da Crocifissi, was eminent in these
sacred subjects. At S. Stefano, and other churches, he has exhibited
several fine specimens, by no means incorrect in the naked figure, with a
most devotional cast of features, extended arms, and a drapery of various
colours. They resemble Giotto's in point of colouring, and in the posture
of the feet, one of which is placed over the other, but in other respects
they approach nearer the more ancient. I have seen also some Madonnas
painted by him; sometimes in a sitting posture, at others in half-size,
with drapery and with hands in the manner of the Greek paintings. In
features, however, and in the attitudes, they are both carefully studied
and commendable for those times; a specimen of which is still to be seen at
S. Michele in Bosco.
Among the Bolognese trecentisti Jacopo Avanzi is the most distinguished. He
produced the chief part of the histories at the church of Mezzaratta, many
in conjunction with Simone, and a few of them alone; as the miracle of the
Probation, at the bottom of which he wrote _Jacobus pinxit_. He appears to
have employed himself with most success in the chapel of S. Jacopo al
Santo, at Padua, where, in some very spirited figures, representing some
exploit of arms, he may be said to have conformed his style pretty nearly
to the Giottesque; and even in some measure to have surpassed Giotto, who
was not skilful in heroic subjects. His masterpiece seems to have been the
triumphs painted in a saloon at Verona, a work commended by Mantegna
himself as an excellent production. He subscribed his name sometimes
_Jacobus Pauli_; which has led me to doubt whether he was not originally
from Venice, and the same artist who, together with Paolo his father, and
his brother Giovanni, painted the ancient altar-piece of San Marco at that
place. The time exactly favours such a supposition; the resemblance between
the countenances in the paintings at S. Marco and at the Mezzaratta,
farther confirms it; nor can I easily persuade myself that Avanzi would
have entitled himself _Jacobus Pauli_, had there flourished another artist
at the same period, likely, from similarity of signatures, to create a
mistake. In the _Notizia_ of _Morelli_, p. 5, he is called _Jacomo Davanzo,
a Paduan, or Veronese, or as some maintain a Bolognese_, words which may
create a doubt of the real place of his birth. Without entering on such a
question, I shall only observe, that I incline to believe that his most
fixed domicile, at least towards the close of his days, was at Bologna; and
it has already been remarked, that some artists were accustomed to assume
their place of residence for a surname. It would seem that two painters of
this age derive their parentage from him: one who on an altar-piece at S.
Michele in Bosco signs himself _Petrus Jacobi_, and the same Orazio di
Jacopo mentioned by Malvasia. At all events it is observable in each
school, that, where an artist was the son of a painter, he gladly adopted
his father's name as a sort of support and recommendation of his own. One
Giovanni of Bologna, unknown in his own country, has left at Venice a
painting of S. Cristoforo, in the school of the Merchants at S. Maria
dell'Orto, to which he adds his name, though without date; and, from his
ancient manner, we are authorized to believe that he really belongs to the
place which is here assigned him.
Lippo di Dalmasio, formerly believed to be a Carmelite friar, until the
Turin edition of Baldinucci proved that he had died married, sprung from
the school of Vitale, and was named Lippo dalle Madonne. It is not true, as
reported, that he instructed the Beata Caterina Vigri in the art, by whom
there remain some miniatures, and an infant Christ painted on panel.
Lippo's manner scarcely varies from the ancient, except perhaps in better
harmony of tints and flow of drapery; to which last, however, he adds
fringes of gold lace tolerably wide, a practice very generally prevalent in
the early part of the fifteenth century. His heads are beautiful and novel,
more particularly in several Madonnas, which Guido Reni never ceased to
admire, being in the habit of declaring that Lippo must have been indebted
to some supernatural power for his exhibition in one countenance of all the
majesty, the sanctity, and the sweetness of the holy mother, and that in
this view he had not been equalled by any modern. Such is the account given
by Malvasia, who relates it, he adds, as he heard it. He moreover assures
us, on the authority of Guido, that Lippo painted several histories of
Elias in fresco, with great spirit; while, on the experience of Tiarini, he
would persuade us that he painted in oil at S. Procolo in via S. Stefano,
and in private houses; on which point he impugns the commonly received
opinion respecting Antonello, examined by us more than once. Contemporary
with Lippo must have flourished Maso da Bologna, painter of the ancient
cupola of the cathedral.
Subsequent to 1409, the latest epoch of the paintings of Lippo, the
Bolognese School began to decline; nor could it well be otherwise.
Dalmatio, an instructor of youth, was not by profession a painter of
history; and, as portrait painters never particularly promoted the progress
of any school, so on his part he conferred little benefit on his own. This
decline has been attributed to some specimens of art brought from
Constantinople, overcharged with dark lines in the contours and folds, and
in the remaining parts resembling rather the dryness and inelegance of the
Greek mosaic-workers, than the softness and grace then sought to be
introduced by the most eminent Italians in the art. Copies of these were
eagerly inquired for in Bologna, and in all adjacent cities, which produced
that abundance of them, still to be seen in the sale shops and private
houses throughout those districts, besides several in the city and state of
Venice.[5] But, in these instances, they were only copied; in Bologna they
were imitated likewise by several pupils of Lippo, who, either in part or
altogether, adopted that style in their own compositions. One Lianori,
usually inscribing his name _Petrus Joannis_, and known by some works
interspersed in different churches and collections, is most accused of this
extravagance; an Orazio di Jacopo, (perhaps dell'Avanzi) of whom there
remains a portrait of S. Bernardino, at the church of the Osservanza; a
Severo da Bologna, to whom is ascribed a rude altar-piece, in the Malvezzi
Museum; with several others, either little known or unmentioned, whose
names I am not surprised should be omitted by Vasari, who, in the same way,
passes over the least distinguished of his own country. It is true, he
makes mention of one Galante da Bologna, who, he avers, designed better
than Lippo, his master; but in this he is still taken to task by Malvasia,
who includes Galante among the inferior pupils of Dalmasio.
Footnote 5: The Greeks, during the earliest periods, having
uniformly represented the Virgin in so rude a style, were
always pleased with similar paintings. I state this to
remove a very prevalent error, that every Madonna of Greek
style, with distended eyes, long fingers, and dark
complexion, in the style of that of Pisa, called _Degli
Organi_, or those of Cimabue, is to be referred to the
remotest dates. Indeed I have seen specimens of the
sixteenth, seventeenth, and even eighteenth centuries,
particularly in the Classe Museum, in that of Cattaio, and
in the palaces of Venetian nobles. One in the possession of
the E. E. Signori Giustiniani Recanati, has, notwithstanding
its very antique air, red letters inscribed on a gold
ground, expressing, CHEIR EMMANOUÊL IEREÔS ..... a ... lx,
_Manus Emanuelis Sacerdotis_. an. 1660. From the hand of the
same Greek priest, well known to Venetian artists, there are
other altar-pieces with a similar inscription; and it is
still customary in that city to reproduce specimens of a
similar kind, to satisfy the continual inquiries of the
Greek merchants. To judge correctly, then, of the age of
such images, we must look for other indications besides
their design, such as the _letters_, (see vol. i. p. 49),
the fashion of the cornice, the method of colouring, or
those cherubs, holding a gold crown over the head of the
Virgin, in the edges and the folds of whose drapery are
imprinted marks of ages nearer to our own.
Nevertheless, the germ of good painting was not wanting, as far as the
times permitted it to exist, both in Bologna and throughout Romagna.
Malvasia commends one Jacopo Ripanda, who long flourished at Rome, where,
as is commemorated by Volterrano, he began to design the bassi-relievi of
the Trajan Column; one Ercole, a Bolognese, who somewhat improved the
symmetry of the human figure; one Bombologno, a carver of crucifixes, like
Simone, but of more refined composition. He more particularly celebrates a
Michel di Matteo, or Michel Lambertini; in whose commendation it may be
enough to state, that Albano praised one of his pictures, supposed to be in
oil, completed in 1443, for the fish-market, and even preferred it for its
softness to those of Francia. The few which we still possess in our own
times, both at the churches of S. Pietro and S. Jacopo, might be put in
competition with the contemporary works of almost any master.
But the artist who produced an epoch in his school is Marco Zoppo, who
having transferred his education under Lippo to the studio of Squarcione,
rose to equal eminence with Pizzolo and Dario da Trevigi; and, like them,
vied with the genius of Mantegna, and gave a farther spur to his exertions.
He also studied some time in the Venetian School, where he painted for the
Osservanti, at Pesaro, a picture of the Virgin on a Throne, crowned, with
S. Giovanni the Baptist, San Francesco, and other saints, and signed it
_Marco Zoppo da Bologna Dip. in Vinexia_, 1471. This is the most celebrated
production which he left behind him; from which, and a few other pieces in
the same church, and at Bologna, we may gather some idea of his style. The
composition is that common to the quattrocentisti, particularly the
Venetians, and which he probably introduced into Bologna, a style which
continued to the time of Francia and his school, for the most part
unvaried, except in the addition of some cherub to the steps of the throne,
sometimes with a harp, and sometimes without. It is not a free and graceful
style, like that of Mantegna, but rather coarse, particularly in the
drawing of the feet; yet less rectilinear in the folds, and bolder, and
more harmonious, perhaps, in the selection of the colours. The fleshes are
as much studied as in Signorelli, and in others of the same age; while the
figures and the accessories are conducted with the most finished care.
Marco was, likewise, a fine decorator of façades, in which kind of painting
he was assisted by his companion and imitator, Jacopo Forti, to whose hand
is ascribed a Madonna, painted on the wall, at the church of S. Tommaso, in
Mercato. In the Malvezzi collection there is also attributed to Jacopo a
Deposition of the Saviour from the Cross; a work which does not keep pace
with the progressive improvements of that age. The same remark will apply
to a great number of others, produced about the same period, in the same
city, which, towards the close of the century, displayed a striking
deficiency in good artists. It was owing to this circumstance that Gio.
Bentivoglio, then master of Bologna, wishing to ornament his palace, which,
had fortune favoured him, would one day have become that of all Romagna,
invited a number of artists from Ferrara and Modena, who introduced a
better taste into Bologna, besides affording an occasion for the grand
genius of Francia to develop itself likewise in the art of painting, as we
shall proceed to shew.
This artist, whose real name was Francesco Raibolini, _was_, according to
Malvasia, _esteemed and celebrated as the first man of that age_; and he
might have added, _in Bologna_, where many so considered him; being there,
as is attested by Vasari, _held in the estimation of a god_. The truth is,
that he had a consummate genius for working in gold; on which account the
medals and coins taken with his moulds rivalled those of Caradosso, the
Milanese; and he was also an excellent painter, in that style which is
termed modern antique, as may be gathered from a great number of
collections, where his Madonnas rank at the side of those of Pietro
Perugino and Gian Bellini. Raffaello, too, compares him with them, and even
greater artists, in a letter dated 1508, edited by Malvasia, in which he
praises his Madonnas, "never having beheld any more beautiful, more
devotional in their expression, and more finely composed by any artist."
His manner is nearly between that of these two heads of their schools, and
participates in the excellence of both; it boasts Perugino's choiceness and
tone of colours; while, in the fulness of its outlines, in the skill of the
folding, and ample flow of the draperies, it bears greater resemblance to
Bellini. His heads, however, do not equal the grace and sweetness of the
former; though he is more dignified and varied than the latter. In the
accessories of his landscapes he rivals both; but in landscape itself, and
in the splendor of his architecture, he is inferior to them. In the
composition of his pictures he is less fond of placing the divine infant in
the bosom of the Virgin than upon a distinct ground, in the ancient manner
of his school; and he sometimes adds to them some half figures of saints,
as was customary with the Venetians of that period. On the whole, however,
he approaches nearer to the Roman School; and, not unfrequently, as is
noticed by Malvasia, his Madonnas have been ascribed by less expert judges
to Pietro Perugino. He likewise produced works in fresco at Bologna,
commended by Vasari; and both there and elsewhere are many of his
altar-pieces yet remaining, displaying figures of larger dimensions than
those usually painted by Bellini and Perugino; the peculiar merit of the
Bolognese School, and by degrees extended to others, augmenting at once the
grandeur of painting and of the temples it adorned.
But the chief praise due to him yet remains to be recorded, and this is,
that he did not begin to exercise his pencil until he had arrived at
manhood, and, in the course of a few years, displayed the rare example of
becoming a scholar and a master, able to compete with the best artists of
Ferrara and Modena. These, as we have mentioned, were invited by Gio.
Bentivoglio, in order to decorate his palace. There, too, Francia was
employed; and he was afterwards commissioned to paint the altar-piece of
the Bentivogli chapel, in 1490, where he signed himself _Franciscus Francia
Aurifex_, as much as to imply that he belonged to the goldsmith's art, not
to that of painting. Nevertheless, that work is a beautiful specimen,
displaying the most finished delicacy of art in every individual figure and
ornament, especially in the arabesque pilasters, in the Mantegna manner. In
process of time he enlarged his style; a circumstance that induced
historians to make a distinction between his first and second manner.
Cavazzoni, who wrote respecting the Madonnas of Bologna, wishes to persuade
us that Raffaello himself had availed himself of Francia's models, in order
to dilate that dry manner which he imbibed from Perugino. We shall award
this glory to the genius of Raffaello, whose youthful performances at San
Severo of Perugia, display a greater degree of softness than those of his
master and of Francia; and after his genius, to the examples of F.
Bartolommeo della Porta, and of Michelangiolo; leaving, we fear, no room to
include the name of Francia. When Raffaello, at Rome, was regarded rather
in the light of an angel than a man, and had already executed some works at
Bologna, he began a correspondence with Francia, urged to it by his
letters; Raffaello became his friend; and, on sending to Bologna his
picture of S. Cecilia, he intreated him, on discovering any error in it, to
correct it; an instance of modesty in our Apelles, more to be admired even
than his paintings. This occurred in 1518, in which year Vasari closes his
life of Francia, who he declares died with excess of passion, on first
beholding that grand performance. Malvasia, however, refutes him, by
proving Francia to "have lived many years afterwards, and when aged and
declining, even to have changed his manner;" and in what way, except upon
the models of Raffaello? In his new manner he painted and exhibited, in a
chamber of the Mint, his celebrated piece of S. Sebastian, which, according
to a tradition handed from the Caracci to Albano, and from the latter to
Malvasia, served as a studio for the Bolognese pupils, who copied its
proportions with as much zeal as the ancients would have done those of a
statue of Polycletes, or the moderns of the Apollo, or of the supposed
Antinous of Belvidere. Albani has added that Francia, on perceiving the
concourse of people increase round his picture, and diminish round the St.
Cecilia of Raffaello, then dead, apprehensive lest they should suspect him
of having executed and exhibited his own in competition with such an
artist, instantly removed and placed it in the church of the Misericordia,
where, at this time, there remains a copy of it. The precise year of his
decease, hitherto unknown, has been communicated to me by the Sig. Cav.
Ratti, who found on an ancient drawing of a female saint, now in possession
of Sig. Tommaso Bernardi, a noble of Lucca, a memorandum of this event
having occurred on the seventh day of April, 1533.
Francia, in addition to his cousin Giulio, who devoted himself but little
to painting, gave instructions in the art to his own son of the name of
Giacomo. It is often doubtful, as we find in the Gallery of the princes
Giustiniani, whether such a Madonna is by the hand of Francesco Francia, or
by that of his son, who, in similar pictures imitated closely his father's
style, although, in Malvasia's judgment, he never equalled it. In works on
a larger scale too, he is sometimes to be pronounced inferior, in
comparison with his father, as in S. Vitale, at Bologna, where Francesco
painted the cherubs round a Madonna, in his first manner, somewhat meagre,
perhaps, but still beautiful and full of animated movements, while Giacomo
drew the figures, representing a Nativity of our Lord, more soft in point
of design, but with features less beautiful, and in attitudes and
expressions bordering on extravagance. At other times, the son seems to
have surpassed the father, as at S. Giovanni, of Parma, where there is no
artist who would not wish to have produced that fine picture by Giacomo,
marked with the year 1519, rather than the Deposition from the Cross, by
Francesco. Elsewhere too, as in the picture of S. Giorgio, at the church of
San Francesco in Bologna, he rivals, perhaps, the finest works by his
father; insomuch that this specimen was ascribed to the latter, until there
was recently noticed the signature I., (meaning _Jacobus_) _Francia_, 1526.
He appears, from the first, to have practised a design approaching that of
the moderns; neither have I observed in his paintings such splendid
gildings, nor such meagre arms, as for some time distinguished the elder
Francia. He rather, in progress of time, continued to acquire a more free
and easy manner, insomuch that a few of his Madonnas were more than once
copied and engraved by Agostino Caracci. His heads were extremely animated,
though generally less select, less studied, and less beautiful, than his
father's. He had a son, named Giambatista, by whom there remains, at S.
Rocco, an altar-piece, and a few other specimens, displaying mere
mediocrity.
Among the foreign pupils of Francia, the Bolognese enumerated Lorenzo
Costa, and, indeed, he thus ranks himself, by inscribing under the portrait
of Gio. Bentivoglio, _L. Costa Franciae discipulus_. True it is, that such
inscriptions, as I have frequently found, might come from another hand; or
that, granting he wrote it, he may have done so more out of regard to such
a man, than for the sake of acquainting the world, as Malvasia contends,
that he had been his sole master. Vasari is of a different opinion,
introducing him to us at Bologna as an established artist, already employed
in several considerable cities, and bestowing the highest eulogium on his
earliest production, the S. Sebastiano at the church of S. Petronio,
declaring it the best specimen in water-colours that had, till then, been
seen in the city. Add to this, that Francia exhibited his first altar-piece
in the Bentivogli chapel in 1490, a few years after he had devoted himself
to the art; and there Costa placed the two lateral pictures, tolerably
excellent in point of composition, and filled with those very spirited
portraits of his in 1488. Now had he boasted only Francia for his master,
of what rapid improvement must we suppose him to have been capable!
Besides, would not his style almost invariably resemble that of Francia, at
least in the works he produced at Bologna? Yet the contrary is the case;
and from his less free, and sometimes ill drawn figures; from the coarser
expression of his countenances, his more hard and dull colouring, and his
abundance of architecture, with the taste shewn in his perspective, it is
evident he must have studied elsewhere. Still I believe that he received
the rudiments of his education in his own country; that then passing into
Tuscany, he formed himself, not by _the voice_, but, as Vasari avers, upon
the pictures of Lippi and Gozzoli; and that finally seeking Bologna, he
painted for the Bentivogli, and resided also with Francia rather in quality
of an assistant than a pupil. A farther proof I gather from Malvasia
himself; that in the journals of Francesco, in which he read the names of
two hundred and twenty pupils, he found no mention of Costa. In the rest,
however, I concur; as to his having availed himself of the works of
Francia, in imitation of whom a number of Madonnas are seen in the
collections at Bologna, much inferior to the paintings of the supposed
master; but occasionally not unworthy of being compared with them. Such is
an altar-piece, divided into several compartments, removed from Faenza into
the Casa Ercolani; a production characterized by Crespi, in his annotations
to Baruffaldi, as being executed "with a fervour, a refinement, softness,
and a warmth which may be pronounced altogether Raffaellesque." He
particularly shone in his countenances of men, as may be seen from those of
the apostles at S. Petronio, and from his San Girolamo, which there offers
the finest specimen of his art. He was less employed in his own country
than in Bologna, though he gave several pupils to the former; among others
the celebrated Dosso and Ercole of Ferrara. He mostly resided at Mantua, at
which court he was highly appreciated, although Mantegna had been his
immediate predecessor, and Giulio Romano succeeded him. I may refer to what
I there wrote respecting this artist.
A less doubtful pupil of Francia's was Girolamo Marchesi da Cotignola. His
portraits are much praised by Vasari, but his compositions much less so. He
was by no means happy in all; and in particular one which he produced at
Rimini, is severely criticised by the historian. There are various
altar-pieces by him at Bologna and elsewhere, all of the usual composition
of the quattrocentisti, which goes to redeem his fault. One of these,
exhibiting very beautiful perspective, is in possession of the Serviti at
Pesaro, where the Virgin is seen on a throne, before which, in a kneeling
posture, is the Marchesa Ginevra Sforza, with her son Constantius II.; nor
is this the only specimen of his works conducted in the service of royal
houses. The design is rather dry, but the colour very pleasing; the heads
grand, the draperies well disposed; and in short, were it the only
production of his hand, he would well deserve to rank among the most
illustrious painters in the old style. That he obtained no reputation at
Rome, or Naples, as Vasari observes, was owing to his arriving in those
cities too late, namely, in the pontificate of Paul III.; so that his style
being then regarded merely in the light of an article out of fashion, he
was unable to make his way. He died during the same pontificate, between
the interval of 1534 and 1549. Orlandi, who brings in the decease of
Cotignola as early as 1518, is not only refuted by the above dates marked
by Vasari, and, with slight difference, by Baruffaldi, but moreover by a
picture of S. Girolamo at the church of the conventual friars of S. Marino,
executed in 1520.
Amico Aspertini is enrolled by Malvasia (pp. 58, 59) in the school of
Francia, a fact that Vasari did not choose to notice, being wholly bent on
amusing posterity with a portrait of the person and manners of "Mastro
Amico," who was indeed a compound of pleasantry, eccentricity, and madness.
He had adopted a maxim in painting, which in regard to literature, was
commonly received in that age; to wit, that every individual ought to
impress upon his works the image of his own genius; and, like Erasmus, who
exposed to ridicule Cicero's imitators in writing, this artist was fond of
deriding those of Raffaello in painting. It was his leading principle to
take the tour of Italy, to copy here and there, without discrimination,
whatever most pleased him, and afterwards to form a style of his own, "like
an experienced inventor," to preserve an expression of Vasari. Conducted on
this plan is a Pietà by him, in the church of S. Petronio, which may be
compared with the trecentisti in point of forms, the attitudes, and the
grouping of the figures. We may add, however, with Guercino, that this
artist seemed to handle two pencils; with one of which he painted for low
prices, or out of despite, or for revenge; and this he made use of in S.
Petronio and several other pieces; the other he practised only on behalf of
those who remunerated him honourably for his labours, and were cautious how
they provoked him; and with this he displayed his art in various façades of
palaces, commended by Vasari himself; in the church of S. Martino; and in
many other works cited by Malvasia, who describes him as a good imitator of
Giorgione.
He had an elder brother of the name of Guido, a youth who employed uncommon
diligence and care, carried perhaps to excess, in his art. He died at the
age of thirty-five, and was lamented by his more poetical fellow citizens
in elegiac strains. Malvasia is of opinion, that, had he survived, he would
have equalled the fame of Bagnacavallo; such was the promise held forth by
a painting of the Crucifixion under the portico of S. Pietro, and by his
other works. According to the same biographer, it was Vasari's malice which
led him to assign Ercole of Ferrara for Guido's master, being jealous of
affording M. Amico the fame of forming such a pupil. I feel persuaded, with
Vasari, no less from the age of Guido than from his taste, and from the
date of 1491, which he inscribed on this highly commended picture, that
assuredly it cannot belong to the pupil of a pupil formed by Francia.
Similar critical errors we have already noticed in Baldinucci; and they are
not very easily to be avoided where a party spirit is apt to prevail.
Gio. Maria Chiodarolo, a rival of the preceding, and subsequently of
Innocenzo da Imola, in the palace of Viola, left behind him a name above
the generality of this school. Malvasia mentions twenty-four other scholars
of Francesco Francia, in which he was followed by Orlandi, when treating of
Lorenzo Gandolfi. By some mistake these pupils are referred by him to
Costa; while Bottari, misled by Orlandi, fell into the same error, although
he laments "that men, in order to spare trouble, are apt to follow one
another like sheep or cranes." Yet in very extensive and laborious works it
is difficult sometimes not to nod; nor should I occasionally note down
others' inequalities, except in the hope of finding readers considerate
enough to extend the same liberality towards mine. The forementioned names
will prove of much utility to those who, in Milan, in Pavia, in Parma, and
other places in Italy, may turn their attention to works in the ancient
Bolognese style, and may hear them attributed, as it often happens, to
Francia, instead of the pupils formed by him to practice in those
districts, and invariably tenacious of his manner. He had also others, who
from their intercourse with more modern artists, claim place in a better
epoch; and for such we shall reserve them.
We must previously however take a survey of some cities of Romagna, and
select what seems to belong to our present argument. We shall commence with
Ravenna, a city that preserved design during periods of barbarism better
than any other in Italy. Nor do we elsewhere meet with works in mosaic so
well composed, and in ivory, or in marble, cut in so able a manner; all
vestiges of a power and grandeur worthy of exciting the jealousy of Rome,
when the seat of her princes and exarchs was removed to Ravenna. This city
too having fallen from its splendour, and after many vicissitudes being
governed by the Polentani, was no less indebted to them for an illustrious
poet in the person of Dante, than a great painter in Giotto.[6] This artist
painted in the church called Porto di Fuori, several histories from the
evangelists, which still remain there; and at S. Francesco and other places
in the city, we may trace reliques of his pencil, or at least of his style.
The Polentani being expelled, and the state brought under the subjection of
Venice, from this last capital the city of Ravenna derived the founder of a
new school.
Footnote 6: It is remarkable that, a century previous to the
arrival of Giotto, we find in Ravenna one _Johannes Pictor_;
a fact supplied by the learned Count Fantuzzi, to whom both
Ravenna and the public owe so much valuable information. See
his "_Monumenti Ravennati_, during the middle ages, for the
most part inedited," vol. i. p. 347. In vol. ii. p. 210,
there is mention of a parchment of 1246, in which one
Graziadeo, a notary, orders that in the Portuense church
there be made "imagines magnæ et spatiosæ ad aurum," which
means mosaic, or painting upon a gold ground, a custom so
much practised in those times.
This was Niccolo Rondinello, mentioned by Vasari as one "who, above all
others, imitated Gian Bellini, his master, to whom he did credit, and
assisted him in all his works." In the life of Bellini, and in that of
Palma, Vasari gives a list of his best paintings, exhibited in Ravenna. In
these his progress is very perceptible. He displays most of the antique in
his picture of S. Giovanni, placed in that church, for which he also
executed one of the Virgin, upon a gold ground. His taste is more modern in
the larger altar-piece of San Domenico; whose composition rises above the
monotony of the age, giving a representation of saints in great variety of
attitudes and situations. The design is exact, though always inclining to
dryness, the countenances less select, and the colouring less vivid than
those of his master; with equal care in his draperies, richly ornamented
with embroidery in the taste of those times. It is, however, uncertain
whether he had obtained any idea of the last and most perfect style of
Bellini. He had a pupil and successor in his labours at Ravenna in
Francesco da Cotignola, whom Bonoli, in his history of Lugo, and that of
Cotignola, as well as the describer of the Parmese paintings, agree in
surnaming Marchesi, while in the Guide to Ravenna, he is denominated
Zaganelli. Vasari commends him, as a very pleasing colourist; although
inferior to Rondinello in point of design, and still more of composition.
In this he was not happy, if we except his celebrated Resurrection of
Lazarus, which is to be seen at Classe; his extremely beautiful baptism of
Jesus Christ, at Faenza, and a few other histories, where he checks his
ardour, and more carefully disposes his figures, for the most part fine and
well draped; occasionally whimsical, and in proportions less than life. One
of his most extraordinary productions is a large altar-piece at the church
of the Osservanti, in Parma, where he represented the Virgin between
several Saints, enlivened by several portraits in the background. He never,
in my opinion, produced any work more solid in conception, nor more
harmoniously disposed, nor more ingenious in the colonnade, and the other
accessary parts. Here he preserved the most moderate tints, contrary to his
usual practice, which was glowing and highly animated, and distributed more
in the manner of Mantegna, than of any other master. He had a brother named
Bernardino, with whom, in 1504, he painted a very celebrated altar-piece,
representing the Virgin between S. Francesco and the Baptist, placed in the
interior chapel of the Padri Osservanti, in Ravenna; and another to be seen
at Imola, in the church of the Riformati, with the date 1509. Bernardino,
likewise, displayed tolerable ability alone, and among the paintings at
Pavia, there is one at the Carmine, inscribed with his name; a fact that
may correct an error of Crespi, who names the elder brother Francesco
Bernardino, making the two into one artist.
Contemporary with him, Baldassare Carrari was employed at Ravenna along
with his son Matteo, both natives of that state. They painted for San
Domenico the celebrated altar-piece of S. Bartolommeo, with the grado,
containing very elegant histories of the Holy Apostle. Such is its merit,
as hardly to yield to the gracefulness of Luca Longhi, who placed one of
his own pictures near it. It was one of the earliest which was painted in
oil in Ravenna; and it deserved the eulogium bestowed by Pope Julius II.,
who on beholding it, in 1511, declared, that the altars of Rome could boast
no pieces which surpassed it in point of beauty. The painter there left his
portrait in the figure of S. Pietro, and that of Rondinello in the S.
Bartolommeo, somewhat older; an observance shewn in those times by the
pupils towards their masters. Yet I should not here pronounce it such, as
Vasari is not only wholly silent as to his school, but omits even his name.
At Rimini, where the Malatesti spared no expense to attract the best
masters, the art of painting flourished. It was at this time that the
church of San Francesco, one of the wonders of the age, was nobly erected,
and as richly decorated. A number of artists at Rimini had succeeded Giotto
in his school; and it is to them the author of the Guide ascribes the
histories of the B. Michelina, which Vasari conceived were from Giotto's
own hand.[7] At a later period one Bitino, whose name I am happy to rescue
from oblivion, was employed at the same place; an artist not perhaps
excelled in Italy, about the year 1407, when he painted an altar-piece of
the titular saint, for the church of S. Giuliano. Around it he represented
the discovery of his body, and other facts relating to the subject;
extremely pleasing in point of invention, architecture, countenances,
draperies, and colouring.[8] Another noble production is a S. Sigismondo,
at whose feet appears Sigismondo Malatesta, with the inscription,
_Franciscus de Burgo_, _f._ 1446; and by the same hand there is the
Scourging of our Saviour. Both these paintings are seen on the wall of S.
Francesco; abounding in perspectives and _capricci_, with character
approaching so nearly to the taste of Pietro della Francesca, then living,
as to induce me to believe, that they are either by him, and that he has
thus Latinized the name of his house, or by some one of his pupils, whose
name has perished. Not such has been the fate of Benedetto Coda, of
Ferrara, who flourished at Rimini, as well as his son Bartolommeo, where
they left a number of their works. Vasari, in his life of Gio. Bellini,
makes brief mention of them, describing Benedetto as Bellini's pupil,
"though he derived small advantage from it." Yet the altar-piece
representing the Marriage of the Virgin, which he placed in the cathedral,
with the inscription of _Opus Benedicti_, is a very respectable production;
while that of the Rosary, in possession of the Dominicans, is even in
better taste, though not yet modern. This, however, cannot be said of the
son, one of whose pictures I saw at S. Rocco da Pesaro, painted in 1528,
with such excellent method, as almost to remind us of the golden age. It
represents the titular saint of the church along with S. Sebastiano,
standing round the throne of the Virgin, with the addition of playful and
beautiful cherubs. Another pupil of Gio. Bellini is noticed by Ridolfi.
Lattanzio da Rimino, or Lattanzio della Marca, referred by others to the
school of Pietro Perugino, which, perhaps too, produced Gio. da Rimino, one
of whose pictures, bearing his signature, belongs to the grand Ercolani
collection at Bologna.[9]
Footnote 7: To this period belonged that _Joannes Rimerici
Pictor Arimini_, who is pointed out to us in 1386 by Count
Marco Fantuzzi, in his _Monumenti Ravennati_, vol. vi.
edited in the year 1804.
Footnote 8: In the above named volume (vi) we find mention
of the son of this distinguished man: "_Magister Antonius
Pictor quondam Mag. Bictini Pictoris de Arimino_, 1456."
Footnote 9: I made a mistake in my former edition in
supposing him to have been a pupil of Bellino, who died in
1516. Concerning this Gio. who subscribed himself likewise
Gio. Francesco, we observe that Oretti, in his _Memorie_,
_MSS._, points out two pictures with the dates of 1459 and
1461. He adds, that there are accounts of his having been
living in 1470.
Forli, as far as I can learn, boasts no artist earlier than Guglielmo da
Forli, a pupil of Giotto. His paintings in fresco, conducted at the
Francescani, no longer survive, nor in the church of that order could I
meet with any specimen of the thirteenth century, besides a Crucifix by
some unknown hand. From that period, perhaps, a succession of artists
appeared, there being no scarcity of anonymous paintings from which to
conjecture such a fact; but history is silent until the time of Ansovino di
Forli, who has already been included among the pupils of Squarcione. I have
my doubts whether this artist could be the master of Melozzo, a name
venerated by artists, inasmuch as he was the first who applied the art of
foreshortening, the most difficult and the most severe, to the painting of
vaulted ceilings. Considerable progress was made in perspective after the
time of Paolo Uccello, with the aid of Piero della Francesca, a celebrated
geometrician, and of a few Lombards. But the ornamenting of ceilings with
that pleasing art and illusion, which afterwards appeared, was reserved for
Melozzo. It is observed by Scannelli, and followed by Orlandi, that in
order to acquire the art he studied the works of the best ancient artists,
and though born to fortune, he did not refuse to lodge with the masters of
his times, in quality of attendant and compounder of their colours. Some
writers give him as a pupil to Pietro della Francesca. It is at least
probable, that Melozzo was acquainted with him and with Agostino
Bramantino, when they were employed at Rome by Nicholas V., towards the
year 1455. However this may be, Melozzo painted on the ceiling of the great
chapel, at Santi Apostoli, the Ascension of our Lord, where, says Vasari,
"the figure of Christ is so admirably foreshortened as to appear to pierce
the vault; and in the same manner the angels are seen sweeping through the
field of air in two opposite directions." This painting was executed for
Card. Riario, nephew to Pope Sixtus IV. about the year 1472; and when that
edifice required to undergo repairs, it was removed and placed in the
Quirinal palace in 1711; where it is still seen, bearing this inscription:
"Opus Melotii Foroliviensis, qui summos fornices pingendi artem vel primus
invenit vel illustravit." Several heads of the apostles which surrounded
it, and were likewise cut away, were deposited in the Vatican palace. Taken
as a whole, he approaches Mantegna and the Paduan School nearer than any
other in point of taste; finely formed heads, fine colouring, fine
attitudes, and almost all as finely foreshortened. The light is well
disposed and graduated, the shadows are judicious, so that the figures seem
to stand out and act in that apparent space; dignity and grandeur in the
principal figure, and white drapery that encircles it; with delicacy of
hand, diligence and grace in every part. What pity that so rare a genius,
pronounced by his contemporaries "an incomparable painter, and the
splendour of all Italy,"[10] should not have had a correct historian to
have described his travels and his pursuits, which must have been both
arduous and interesting, before they raised him to the eminence he
attained, in being commissioned by Card. Riario to execute so great a work.
At Forli, there is still pointed out the façade of an apothecary's shop,
displaying Arabesques in the first style; and over the entrance appears a
half-length figure, well depicted, in the act of mixing drugs, said to have
been the work of Melozzo. Vasari states, that in the villa of the Dukes of
Urbino, named the Imperial, Francesco di Mirozzo, from Forli, had been
employed a long while previous to Dosso; and it would appear that we are
here to substitute the name of Melozzo, to correct one of those errors
which we have so frequently before remarked in Vasari. In the lives of the
Ferrarese painters there is named a Marco Ambrogio, detto Melozzo di
Ferrara, who seems to be confounded with the inventor of foreshortening;
but it is my opinion that this was quite a different artist, of which his
name itself gives us reasons to judge. Melozzo di Forli was still alive in
1494: since F. Luca Paccioli, publishing the same year his "Summa
d'Aritmetica e Geometria," ranks him among painters in perspective, "_men
famous and supreme_," who flourished in those days.
Footnote 10: Morelli Notizie, p. 109.
Towards the beginning of the sixteenth century, or shortly afterwards,
Bartolommeo di Forli flourished in the same city, a pupil of Francia,
noticed by Malvasia, whose style was more dry than that of the generality
of his fellow pupils. Next to him I place Palmegiani, transformed by Vasari
into Parmegiano; a good, yet almost unknown artist, of whom, in books upon
the art, I have found mention only of two works, although I have myself
seen a great number. He was cautious too that posterity should not forget
him, for the most part inscribing his name and country upon his
altar-pieces, and upon pictures for private ornament, as follows: _Marcus
Pictor Foroliviensis_: or _Marcus Palmasanus P. Foroliviensis pinsebat_. He
seldom adds the year, as in two in possession of prince Ercolani, on the
first of which we find the date of 1513, and on the second that of 1537. In
the forementioned pictures, and more particularly in those of Forli, we may
perceive that he practised more than one style. His earliest was in common
with that of the quattrocentisti, in the extremely simple position of the
figures, in the gilt ornaments in study of each minute part, as well as in
the anatomy, which in those times consisted almost wholly in drawing with
some skill a S. Sebastian, or some holy anchorite. In his second manner he
was more artificial in his grouping, fuller in his outlines, and greater in
his proportions; though at times more free and less varied in his heads. He
was accustomed to add to his principal subject some other unconnected with
it, as in his picture of the Crucifixion, at S. Agostino di Forli, where he
inserted two or three groups on different grounds; in one of which is seen
S. Paul visited by S. Antony; in another, S. Augustine convinced by the
angel on the subject of the incomprehensibility of the Supreme Triad; and
in these diminutive figures, which he inserted either in the altar-pieces
or on the steps, he displays an art extremely refined and pleasing. His
landscape is likewise animated, and his architecture beautiful, while his
Madonnas and other portraits are superior in point of beauty to those of
Costa, but not equal to Francia, whose style of colouring he less resembles
than that of Rondinello; a circumstance which led Vasari to attribute to
the artist of Ravenna an altar-piece in the cathedral, undoubtedly from the
hand of Palmegiani. The works of the latter are very numerous in Romagna;
and exist in the state of Venice. One of his Madonnas was in possession of
the Ab. Facciolati, in Padua, and mentioned by Bottari; and another belongs
to the Sig. Dottore Antonio Larber, at Bassano. The select gallery of Count
Luigi Tadini, at Crema, possesses a third; the going up of Jesus to Mount
Calvary; and I saw a Dead Christ, between Nicodemus and Joseph, in the
Vicentini palace at Vicenza; a very beautiful picture, in which the dead
has truly the appearance of death, and those living of real life. I had
long entertained a curiosity to learn whose pupil so considerable an artist
could have been; until I was gratified by finding that Paccioli, in his
dedication of the above cited volume, addressed to Guidubaldo, Duke of
Urbino, calls him the "attached disciple of Melozzo."
I was made acquainted with an artist of Forli, who flourished at the period
of Palmegiani, by his Eminence Card. Borgia, who in the church of S. Maria
dell'Orto, at Velletri, transcribed the following inscription: "Jo.
Baptista de Rositis de Forlivio pinxit, I. S. O. O. de Mense Martii." The
picture is on panel, and displays both good design and good colouring. It
represents the Virgin, with the holy child in her arms, seated in a round
temple supported by four columns, and each of these columns is clasped by
an angel, as if bearing the temple in procession through the air. The
angels are wholly arrayed in heroic dress. For this description I am
indebted to the very worthy cardinal.
In respect to the other cities of Romagna, I can easily suppose that I am
rather in want of materials, than that these have had no artists to boast.
I have recorded, not long since, one Ottaviano, and also one Pace da
Faenza, pupils of Giotto; and there was pointed out to me as the production
of the latter, an ancient figure of our Lady, in a church of the same city,
an edifice formerly belonging to the Templars. Giacomo Filippo Carradori is
included, from his style, among the ancients; in other points it is hardly
possible that he could have reached the fifteenth century. There are more
especially two pictures, in which he exhibits a change of style, although
he never displayed the powers of a superior artist. One of them bears the
date of 1580; the other that of 1582.
Another artist of Faenza better deserved mention in the first edition, but
I had then no account of him. This was Giambatista da Faenza, one of whose
pictures is preserved in the Communal Collection of the Lyceum, with the
author's name, and dated 1506. It exhibits the Holy Virgin; on whose right
two angels support the mantle, and on the steps of the throne appear St.
John the Baptist, a youth, and another cherub, in the act of playing on the
harp. It is correct in point of design, the tints are very pleasing, and
the folds something similar to those of Albert Durer; in other respects,
equal to Costa, and perhaps, also, not inferior to Francia. He was the
father of Jacopone da Faenza, and of his brother, Raffaello, from whom
descended Gio. Batista Bertuzzi, likewise an artist.
There is a Francesco Bandinelli da Imola, a pupil of Francia, pointed out
by Malvasia; and one Gaspero, also of Imola, was employed in painting at
Ravenna. In his native state, there is to be seen, at the Conventual
friars, a picture of our Lady, between Saints Rocco and Francis, in a style
inclining to the modern, accompanied with two portraits, very animated in
point of expression.
SCHOOL OF BOLOGNA.
EPOCH II.
_Various styles from the time of Francia to that of the
Caracci._
Subsequent to the discovery of the new style, when every school of Italy
was devoted to its cultivation in the track of one of its masters, the
Bolognese artists having none at home from whom to acquire it, either
removed elsewhere to study it under the eye of living masters, or, if
remaining in their native place, they contrived to attain it from such
foreigners as had there conducted, or at least sent thither their works. Of
these they possessed, besides the St. Cecilia, and a few small paintings by
Raffaello, other productions by his pupils, such as the St. John, coloured
by Giulio, and the St. Zacchary, a work by Garofolo. Nor was it long before
the Lombard style was introduced into Bologna, Parmigianino having there
produced his St. Rocco and his St. Margaret, pictures which are enumerated
among his happiest efforts, and Girolamo da Carpi, and Niccolo dell'Abate
having long resided, and left there many fine specimens of their mixed
style, between the Lombard and the Roman. Another artist sojourning there
was Girolamo da Trevigi, an imitator of Raffaello, not without some mixture
of Venetian taste, some of whose productions are still seen at Bologna. A
still more constant resident there was Tommaso Laureti, a Sicilian, a
pupil, according to Vasari, of Sebastian del Piombo, and assuredly a more
powerful colourist than most of his age. He there conducted a number of
works, and among others the painting of a recess _di sotto in su_, for the
house of Vizzani, which Father Danti, commending Vignola's perspective,
pronounces perfectly unique in its kind. At the same place he left
compositions abounding in figures, displaying much fancy, not however to be
placed in competition with the history of Brutus, which he afterwards
completed, along with several more in the Campidoglio at Rome, where he
long resided and taught. At Bologna is also the altar-piece of Boldraffio,
pupil to Vinci, and various other pieces by a Florentine, who signs himself
_Iul. Flor._ read by some for _Julius_, and by others _Julianus_. Possibly
he might be that Giulian Bugiardini, poor both as inventor and composer,
but excellent in point of copying and colouring. Whoever he may have been,
the whole of his productions, particularly his St. John, which adorns the
Sacristy of St. Stephen's, shew him to have been an imitator of Vinci,
almost on a par with the Luini, and the best known Milanese artists.
Michelangiolo shone there in the character of a statuary in the time of
Julius II., but neither produced any paintings, nor left behind him, among
artists, any wish for his return, having for some little indiscreet word
treated Francia and Costa with the most sovereign contempt, in the same
manner as at another period he criticised Pietro Perugino. His style,
nevertheless, took root in Bologna within a very few years, no less from
the studies pursued by Tibaldi at Rome, as will be seen, than from the
examples left by Giorgio Vasari at San Michele in Bosco, in Bologna, in
Michelangiolo's style. Nor did these examples prove more useful to the
Bolognese than they had done to the Florentine artists; and here also they
opened the path to a less correct style. It is known that Vasari's works
were much commended there, and copied by young artists; that he had,
moreover, assistants among the Bolognese, such as Bagnacavallo, the
younger, and Fontana, who instructed not a few of his fellow citizens in
the art. To these causes we may attribute the circumstance, that those
Bolognese artists, nearest to the Caracci, were accustomed to colour, for
the most part, like the Florentines of the third epoch, that several were
extremely careless of the chiaroscuro, and frequently pursued the ideal and
the practical, more than nature and truth. Yet these complaints do not
apply either to so great a number of Bolognese, or to so long a period, as
to give a different aspect to the whole epoch. The one which we are now
about to describe, abounds with excellent artists; and to this shortly
succeeded the epoch of the Caracci, which improved the good, and brought
many extravagant artists into a correct method.
The earliest founders of the new school were Bartolommeo Ramenghi, called
Bagnacavallo, being sprung from thence, and Innocenzio Francucci da Imola.
Both educated by Francia, the former subsequently went to Rome, where we
have given an account of him among Raffaello's assistants; the latter to
Florence, where he attached himself to the school of Albertinelli, besides
studying very accurately, if I mistake not, the works of Frate and Andrea
del Sarto. Both, on returning to Bologna, met with rivals, though less with
the pencil than the tongue, in Aspertini and Cotignuola, artists whose
works present no instance of a style wholly modern. One master, Domenico, a
Bolognese, then flourished, equal to compete with the first names, but who
resided out of his native place. His name, lost during two or more
centuries, was brought to light, a few years ago, from the archives of S.
Sigismondo of Cremona, in whose church he executed, upon the ceiling, a
picture of Jonah ejected from the whale, which, in respect of the _di sotto
in su_, is most admirable. It was completed in 1537, when this art was yet
new in Italy; and I am at a loss to say whether Domenico acquired it from
Coreggio, or, as is more likely, from Melozzo, whose style he most
resembles of the two. I have seen no other work, nor met with any other
notice of this artist, unknown even to the Bolognese historians, perhaps on
account of his constant residence out of the place.
The first artist, therefore, who introduced a new style into Bologna, and
established it there, was Bagnacavallo, who had practised at Rome under
Raffaello, and not without advantage. He had not the depth of design
possessed by Giulio Romano, or Perino; but he nearly approached to the
latter, and was perhaps equal to him in taste of colouring, while, in the
gracefulness of his countenances, at least of the infantine and boyish, he
surpassed him. In his composition he most affected Raffaello, as may be
gathered from the celebrated Dispute of St. Augustine at the Scopetini,
where the maxims of the School of Athens, and of other copious and noble
conceptions of Sanzio, are apparent. Indeed in those subjects, treated by
the latter, Bagnacavallo contented himself with being a mere copyist,
declaring that it was madness to attempt to do better; in which it would
seem he followed Vida's opinion, and that of other poets of his age, who
inserted in their pages fragments of Virgil, because they despaired of
excelling him. Such a maxim, which, whatever truth it may contain, opens a
wide field for indolence and plagiarism, very probably injured him in the
eyes of Vasari, who confers on him the praise due to a good practitioner
rather than to a master grounded in the theory of his art. Still he
conducted some paintings, on the strength of his own invention, at S.
Michele in Bosco, at S. Martino, and at S. Maria Maggiore, which absolve
him from such an accusation; nor can I believe that the Caracci, Albano,
and Guido, would have copied from him and imitated his works, had they not
recognized in them the hand of a master.
There was a son of Bagnacavallo, named Gio. Batista, who was employed as an
assistant to Vasari in the palace of the chancery at Rome, and to
Primaticcio in the court of France. He likewise left various original works
in Bologna, more nearly inclining, if I judge rightly, to the decline of
the art in his own time, than to the examples of his father. In addition to
his son, mention ought here to be made of Bagnacavallo's companion, called
Biagio Pupini, and sometimes Maestro Biagio dalle Lamme, who, having been
at Rome with Ramenghi, contracted with him at Bologna a community of
labours and of interests, and assisted him in the Dispute just before
mentioned, as well as in other works. He formed the same connexion with
Girolamo da Trevigi and others, uniformly acquiring, if we are to credit
Vasari, more money than reputation, and at times injuring that of his
companion by his eagerness to finish. Whatever opinion we may entertain
regarding such facts, this artist by no means merits contempt; and perhaps
Vasari might have treated him with more lenity, had there not existed
between them mutual rivalship and disgust. In Pupini's style, where he
exerted his powers, we trace the manner of Francesco Francia, his master,
though a good deal enlarged, with the relief, and the various other
characteristics of the good age. Of this taste is a Nativity of our Lord
which he painted at Bologna, and which now adorns the institution of that
place.
Innocenzio, born at Imola, but residing always in Bologna, was admitted
into the school of Francia in 1506; from which we are not to infer, with
Malvasia, that he did not spend some years at Florence in company with
Albertinelli. This is attested by Vasari, and confirmed by the resemblance
of his style to that of the most distinguished Florentines of the age. He
produced several altar-pieces, composed in the taste of the fourteenth
century; but following the example of Frate and of Andrea, he placed the
Virgin above, without the ancient gildings, and with great art he grouped
and disposed the saints who attend her; while, with equal novelty, he
distributed the train of cherubs over the steps and through the surrounding
space. Sometimes, as in the extraordinary picture displayed in the
cathedral of Faenza, and another in possession of prince Ercolani, he added
some noble architecture, bold and drawn from the antique. In other
instances, as in the church of the Osservanti, at Pesaro, we observe the
most attractive landscape, combined with an aërial perspective, sufficient
to remind us of Vinci. He was accustomed too to insert little histories, as
in S. Giacomo at Bologna, where, at the foot of the picture, he painted a
Christ in the manger, of which it is enough to add, that it is perfectly
Raffaellesque. This, indeed, was the style to which he invariably aspired,
and so nearly attained, that very few of Raffaello's own pupils could equal
him. Those who may be desirous of convincing themselves, may examine the
altar-piece at Faenza in all its parts, and that of S. Michele in Bosco; to
say nothing of his Madonnas and his Holy Families, interspersed throughout
the Bolognese collections, and in the adjacent cities. He is preferred to
Francia and to Bagnacavallo, in all that relates to erudition, majesty, and
correctness. I am not aware that he executed compositions very new, or
subjects requiring fire and vigour, nor would they have been consistent
with his genius, which is described as of a gentle and tranquil cast.
The fame of the two masters, just celebrated, did not then extend far
beyond their native districts, being eclipsed by the celebrity of many
contemporaries, who swayed the regions of the art; in the list of whom was
Giulio Romano. His reputation drew to Mantua Francesco Primaticcio,
instructed in design by Innocenzio, and by Bagnacavallo in colouring. Under
Giulio he afterwards became a painter on a great scale, and a very copious
composer of large histories, as well as a decorator in wood and stucco in a
magnificent style suitable only for a palace. In this way, having studied
six years in Mantua, he was sent by Giulio to the court of the French king
Francis, and there, though Rosso the Florentine had arrived a year before,
and executed a variety of works, yet we learn that "the first stuccos and
the first works in fresco of any consideration in France, took their rise
from Primaticcio," in the words of Vasari. Nor has he omitted to mention,
that the king bestowed upon this artist the abbey of St. Martin, though he
did not add that it brought him an annual income of eight thousand crowns,
while Rosso possessed only a canonship worth one thousand. In regard to
this last omission he is severely taxed with malice by Malvasia, with what
reason the reader will best judge for himself. We farther learn from Vasari
that this artist employed himself, as well as his young assistants, in
decorating a number of the halls and chambers at Fontainebleau, that he
supplied the court with many ancient marbles, and many moulds of excellent
sculpture, from which he had casts afterwards taken in bronze; in a word,
that he was like another Giulio, if not in architecture, at least in every
other kind of knowledge appertaining to the arts. The works conducted by
him in France have been described by Felibien, and from the same pen is
that appropriate eulogy--"that the geniuses of France are indebted to
Primaticcio and to M. Niccolo, (dell'Abate) for many exquisite productions,
and that they are entitled to the fame of having been the first who
introduced Roman taste into France, with all the beau ideal of ancient
painting and sculpture." At the Te of Mantua there remains the frieze of
stuccos, so highly commended by Vasari, from Primaticcio's own hand, as
well as a few pictures, which last, however, are not so assuredly his. His
pictures indeed are objects of the utmost rarity in Italy, and in Bologna
itself. In the grand Zambeccari gallery there is a concert by him, with
three female figures, altogether enchanting; the forms, the motions, the
colouring, the taste of the lines and folding so easy and chaste, all
combined with a certain originality pervading the whole, are well
calculated to attract and rivet the eye at the first moment. When dying, he
assigned Niccolo Abati, called too dell'Abate, to continue his grand works,
because he had brought him from Bologna, and laid the ground-work of his
fortunes. An account of this delightful painter may be found in the
Modenese School. He was not Primaticcio's pupil, but one Ruggiero Ruggieri
was, and conducted by him into France, he left few paintings in his own
country; to whom we may perhaps add one Francesco Caccianemici, called by
Vasari his disciple, from whose hand, at Bologna, there only remain a few
doubtful specimens.
Much under the same circumstances as Primaticcio and Abati appeared
Pellegrino Pellegrini, whose patronymic was Tibaldi, a native of Valdelsa
in the Milanese; though residing from his childhood, educated, and
established at Bologna. He next filled the same situation at the court of
Spain, as the two preceding had done at that of France; he decorated it
with his paintings, improved its taste in architecture, formed pupils, and
rose in fortune until he at length became Marquess of that Valdelsa, where
his father and uncle had resided as poor masons before they went to
Bologna. It is not known who first imbued his liberal spirit with the
elements of learning; but Vasari traces his progress from some pictures of
his in the refectory of S. Michele in Bosco, copied by Tibaldi when young,
along with other select pieces at Bologna. From this place he follows him
to Rome in 1547, eager to study the finest works in that capital, where,
after three years' residence, he re-conducts him to Bologna, still very
young, but advanced in the knowledge of his art. His style was in great
part formed upon the models of Michelangiolo--vast, correct in drawing,
bold, and happy in his foreshortenings; yet, at the same time, tempered
with so much mellowness and softness, as to induce the Caracci to
denominate him the reformed Michelangiolo. The first work which he
conducted, subsequent to the year 1550, is in the Bolognese Institution,
and it is the most perfect, in Vasari's opinion, ever executed by him. It
contains in particular various stories from the Odyssey, and this work,
with that by Niccolino, mentioned elsewhere,[11] both executed for the
Institution, were afterwards finely engraved by Sig. Antonio Buratti of
Venice, accompanied with the lives of the two painters, written by Zanotti.
Both there, and in the great merchants' hall at Ancona, where he
subsequently represented Hercules, the monster-slayer, Tibaldi exhibited
the true method of imitating the terrible in the style of Michelangiolo,
which consisted in a fear of too nearly approaching him. Although Vasari
greatly commends these works, the Caracci, to whose judgment we would
rather defer, have bestowed higher praises on those executed by Pellegrino
for the church of S. Jacopo; and it was on these pictures that both the
Caracci and their pupils bestowed most study. In one is represented the
preaching of St. John in the desert; in another the separation of the elect
from the wicked, where, in the features of the celestial messenger
announcing the tidings, Pellegrino displayed those of his favourite
Michelangiolo. What a school for design and for expression is here! What
art in the distribution of such a throng of figures, in varying and in
grouping them! In Loreto too, and in different adjacent cities, he produced
other histories, less celebrated perhaps, but all nearly as deserving of
the burin as those executed at Bologna. Such is the Entrance of Trajan into
Ancona, in possession of the Marchese Mancinforte; and various exploits of
Scipio, belonging to the accomplished nobleman, Marchese Ciccolini, which
decorate one of his halls, where he himself pointed them out to me. It is a
work conceived in a more refined and graceful taste than we meet with in
other compositions of Tibaldi; and of the same composition I have seen some
of his pictures on a very small scale; but rare, like all his pieces in
oil; wrought with the exquisite finish of a miniaturist; mostly rich in
figures, full of fine spirit, vivid colouring, and decorated with all the
pleasing perspectives that architecture could afford. This indeed was his
favourite art; which, after he had afforded some beautiful specimens of it
in Piceno, and next at Milan, procured him an appointment from Philip II.
to superintend the engineers at the Spanish Court. There again, after the
lapse of twenty years, during which he never touched the easel, he resumed
the art of painting; and we meet with a list of his works in the Escurial
of Mazzolari.
Footnote 11: In vol. iv. p. 47.
Domenico Tibaldi de' Pellegrini, once conjectured to be the son, was the
pupil and brother of Pellegrino; and his name is in great repute among the
architects and engravers of Bologna. His epitaph at San Mammolo states him
also to have been a distinguished painter; but we must receive the
authority of epitaphs with some caution; and not even a portrait from his
hand is to be met with. Faberio speaks less highly of his powers, and in
the funeral oration upon Agostino Caracci, whose master he had been, he
mentions him as an able designer, engraver, and architect. Pellegrino's
pupils in painting, and no obscure artists, were Girolamo Miruoli,
commended by Vasari among the artists of Romagna, who left one of his
frescos at the Servi, in Bologna, and several other pieces at Parma, where
he filled the office of court-painter, and there died; and secondly, Gio.
Francesco Bezzi, called Nosadella, who painted a great deal at Bologna and
in other cities, in the style of his master, exaggerating it in point of
power, but not equalling it in care, and in short, reducing it to mere
mechanic labour and despatch.
Vasari, in his life of Parmigianino, has mentioned with praise Vincenzio
Caccianemici, of a good family in Bologna, respecting whom there have been
some discussions, to avoid confounding him with Francesco, who bore the
same surname. The correctors of the old _Guide_ suppose him to be the
author of a Decollation of St. John, placed at S. Petronio, in the family
chapel; a picture well designed and better coloured, and executed, as they
observe, in the style of Parmigianino.
Whilst the three great geniuses of the Bolognese School were residing
abroad, the two first mentioned in France, and the third in Milan, and
afterwards in Spain, the art continued stationary, or, more correctly,
declined in Bologna. In the year 1569 three masters are pointed out by
Vasari, namely, Fontana, Sabbatini, and Sammachini, whom he calls
Fumaccini. For what reason he excluded Ercole Procaccini, an artist, if not
of great genius, at least of finished execution, I am unable to say.
Certain it is that Lomazzo, whilst he resided with him in Milan, mentioned
him in the highest terms, and enumerated in the list of his pupils
Sabbatini, and Sammachini too. I shall not here repeat what I have detailed
in the Milanese School respecting Ercole and his sons; but, passing on to
the others, I shall begin with Fontana, the principal cause of the decline
above alluded to.
The long protracted life of this artist comprehended the whole of the
period now under our view, and even extended beyond it. Born in the time of
Francia, educated by Imola, who at his death selected him to finish one of
his pictures, and subsequently employed for a long period as the assistant
of Vaga, and of Vasari, he continued to labour and to teach without
intermission, until the Caracci, once his disciples, drew all his
commissions and followers to themselves. For this result he was indebted to
his own conduct. Devoted to pleasure (the most fatal enemy to an artist's
reputation) he could only provide the means of gratification by burthening
himself with works, and executing them with little care. He possessed a
fertility of ideas, a vehemence, and a cultivation of mind, well adapted
for works of magnitude. Abandoning, therefore, the careful finish of
Francucci, he adopted the method of Vasari, and like him covered with his
works a vast number of walls in a short space of time, and nearly in the
same taste. In design he is more negligent than Vasari, in his motions more
energetic; his colours have the same yellow cast, but rather more delicacy.
In Città di Castello a hall of the noble family of Vitelli is filled with
family histories, painted by him in a few weeks, as Malvasia informs us,
and the work confirms the assertion. Similar specimens, or but little
superior, are met with in Rome, at the Villa Giulia, and at the Palazzo di
Toscana, in the Campo Marzio, and in various houses in Bologna. Yet in
other places he appears an artist of merit for a declining age; as in his
Epiphany, at the Grazie, where he displays a facility, a pomp of drapery,
and a magnificence nearly approaching the style of Paul Veronese. This work
bears the name of the painter written in letters of gold. But his best
claim to distinction is founded on his portraits, which are more highly
prized in cabinets than are his compositions in the churches. It was this
talent which induced Michelangiolo to present him to Julius III. by whom he
was pensioned as one of the Palatine painters of his time.
He had a daughter and a pupil in Lavinia Fontana, named also Zappi, from
the family of Imola, into which she was married. This lady executed several
altar-pieces at Rome and at Bologna in the paternal style, as far as
regards colouring; but less successful in point of design and composition.
She felt the inferiority, as is observed by Baglione, and sought reputation
from portrait-painting, a branch in which she is preferred by some to
Prospero. It is certain that she wrought with a sort of feminine
perseverance, in order that her portraits should more faithfully express
every line and feature of nature in the countenances, every refinement of
art in the drapery. She became painter to Pope Gregory XIII., and was more
particularly applied to by the Roman ladies, whose ornaments she displayed
more perfectly than any male artist in the world. She attained to so high a
degree of sweetness and softness in the art, especially after knowing the
works of the Caracci, that one or two of her portraits have been attributed
to Guido. With equal ability she produced a number of cabinet pictures,
such as that Holy Family for the Escurial, so much commended by Mazzolari,
and her Sheba at the throne of Solomon, which I saw in the collection of
the late Marchese Giacomo Zambeccari. She has there expressed, in the form
of allegory, the Duke and Duchess of Mantua, surrounded by many lords and
ladies of their court, arrayed in splendid style; a painting that would
reflect credit on the Venetian School. Gifted with such genius, she was by
no means chary of her own likenesses executed by herself, which ornament
the royal gallery of Florence and other collections. But there remains no
specimen more truly speaking and delightful than the one belonging to the
Conti Zappi, at Imola, where it is accompanied by the portrait of Prospero
in his declining days, also painted by her.
Lorenzo Sabbatini, called likewise Lorenzin di Bologna, was one of the most
graceful and delicate painters of his age. I have heard him enumerated
among the pupils of Raffaello by keepers of the galleries, deceived
doubtless by his Holy Families, designed and composed in the best Roman
taste, although invariably more feebly coloured. I have also seen some of
his Holy Virgins and Angels painted for private ornament, which resemble
Parmigianino. Nor were his altar-pieces inferior; the most celebrated of
which is that of St. Michael, engraved by Agostino Caracci, from an altar
of S. Giacomo Maggiore; and this he held up as an example of gracefulness
and beauty, to his whole school. He was, moreover, a fine fresco painter,
correct in design, of copious invention, universal master in the subjects
of the piece, and what is still more remarkable, most rapid in point of
execution. Endowed with such qualities, he was engaged by many noble houses
in his native place; but on proceeding to Rome in the pontificate of
Gregory XIII., according to Baglione, he there met with success; insomuch,
that even his fleshes and naked figures were highly commended, though this
was by no means a branch of his pursuits at Bologna. In the Capella
Paolina, he represented the histories of St. Paul; in the royal hall, the
picture of Faith, shewn in triumph over Infidelity; in the gallery and the
lodges a variety of other pieces, always in competition with the best
masters, and always with equal applause. Hence, in the immense list of
artificers at that period congregated at Rome, he was selected to preside
over the labours of the Vatican, in the enjoyment of which honourable post
he died at an early age in 1577.
It is difficult to believe, as asserted by some writers, that Giulio
Bonasone was his pupil, an artist who practised engraving in copper as
early as 1544. On reaching a more mature age, he seems to have devoted
himself to painting, leaving several paintings on canvass, but feeble and
varying in their style. At S. Stefano there is one of Purgatory, in the
style of Sabbatini, extremely fine, and composed, as it is conjectured,
with the assistance of Lorenzino. The productions, also, of Cesare Aretusi,
of Felice Pasqualini, and of Giulio Morina, are in existence, though the
name of Sabbatini might perhaps be justly substituted for theirs; such was
the part he took in their labours. The latter, with Girolamo Mattioli,
after the celebrity gained by the Caracci, became their eager followers.
The labours of Mattioli, who died young, were distributed among different
private houses, particularly in that of the noble family of Zani: those of
Morina are seen in various churches at Bologna, and for the most part
betray a degree of affectation of the style of Parma, at which city he some
time painted in the service of the duke.
Orazio Samacchini, the intimate friend of Sabbatini, his contemporary, and
who followed him at a short interval to the tomb, began his career by
imitating Pellegrino and the Lombards. Proceeding next to Rome, and
employed in painting for the royal hall, under Pius IV.; he succeeded in
catching the taste of the Roman School, for which he was praised by Vasari,
(who calls him Fumaccini) and afterwards by Borghini and Lomazzo. In the
display of this his new style, however, he contrived to please others more
than himself; and returning to Bologna, he was accustomed to lament that he
had ever removed from upper Italy, where he might have carried his early
manner to greater perfection, without deviating in search of a new. Still
he had no reason to feel dissatisfied with that which he had thus formed of
various others, and so moulded by his own genius, as to exhibit something
singular in its every character. In his altar-piece of the Purification, at
S. Jacopo, it is all exquisite delicacy, in which the leading figures
enchant us with at once a majestic and tender expression of piety; while
those infant figures seen conversing near the altar, and that of the young
girl holding a little basket with two doves, gazing on them in so peculiar
a manner, delight us with their mingled simplicity and grace. Skilful
judges even can take no exceptions but to the display of too great
diligence, with which, during several years, he had studied and polished
this single painting. This, however, as one of the most celebrated of its
school, was engraved by Agostino, and it would seem that even Guido availed
himself of it in his Presentation, painted for the cathedral of Modena, yet
he was an equally powerful artist where his subjects required it of him.
His chapel, of which we gave an account in the Parmese School, is highly
commended, though his most vigorous effort is shewn in the ceiling of S.
Abbondio, at Cremona. The grand and the terrible seem to strive for mastery
in the figures of the prophets, in all their actions and positions; the
most difficult from confinement of space, yet the best arranged and
imagined. There is, moreover, a truth in the shortenings, and a skilful use
of the _sotto in su_,[12] which appears in this instance to have selected
the most difficult portion of the art, in order to triumph over it. His
forte is believed to have consisted in grand undertakings in fresco, on
which he impressed, as it were, the seal of a vast spirit, at once resolute
and earnest, without altering it by corrections and retouches, with which
he laboured his paintings in oil, as we have stated.
Footnote 12: Foreshortening figures; here meant on a ceiling.
Bartolommeo Passerotti has been commended by Borghini and Lomazzo; and he
is casually named also by Vasari among the assistants of Taddeo Zuccaro;
indeed, it may rather be said, this is the artist with whom Vasari ceases
to write, and Malvasia to inveigh.[13] He possessed excellent skill in
designing with his pen; a gift which drew to his school Agostino Caracci,
and which assisted the latter as a guide in the art of engraving. He
likewise wrote a book, from which he taught the symmetry and anatomy of the
human body, essential to the artist; and was the first who, to make a
grander display, began to vary scriptural histories at Bologna by drawing
the naked torsi. The finest of these specimens are, the Beheading of St.
Paul, at Rome, in the Tre Fontane; and at S. Giacomo, of Bologna, a picture
of the Virgin among various saints; a work meant to compete with the
Caracci, and embellished by their praise. One of his pictures too of
"Tizio" was much celebrated, which, being exhibited to the public, was
supposed by the professors of Bologna to have been the work of
Michelangiolo. This exquisite degree of diligence and refinement he rarely
used; most generally he was bold and free, somewhat resembling Cesare, only
more correct. In his portraits, however, he is by no means a common
painter. After Titian, Guido included him among the very first, not
preferring before him the Caracci themselves, whose name, indeed, in
several galleries, is attached to the portraits of Passerotti. The most
commendable of all however, are those he executed for the noble family
Legnani--entire figures extremely varied in costume, in action, and
attitudes; it being his usual custom to compose portraits, such as Ridolfi
described of Paris, which should appear ideal pictures. By means of such a
talent, which made him agreeable to the great, by his polite and refined
manners and malicious strictures, he became a match for the Caracci; for
whom he also prepared rivals in a number of his sons, whom he carefully
instructed in the art. Among these, Tiburzio possessed real merit, of which
his fine picture of the Martyrdom of St. Catherine, conducted in the taste
of his father, displays sufficient proof. Passerotto and Ventura, however,
were below mediocrity. Aurelio was a good miniaturist, and in the same
branch Gaspero, a son of Tiburzio, also met with success. In the works of
Bartolommeo we often meet with a sparrow, the symbol of his own name; a
custom derived from the ancients, and followed by many of our own artists.
It is a well-known fact relating to two sculptors, Batraco and Sauro, that
for their proper names they substituted, the former a frog, and the latter
a lizard.
Footnote 13: This worthy writer would appear to have been
aware that he sometimes exceeded due bounds. In the course
of that work we meet with other expressions highly
creditable to Vasari; and it is well known, that having
spoken contemptuously of Raffaello, by designating him
_boccalaio Urbinate_, the potter of Urbino, because some
vases there had been painted from his designs, "he repented
of the expression so much as to lead him to erase it from as
many copies of the work as he could meet with." _Lett.
Pitt._ vol. vii. p. 130.
Dionisio Calvart, born at Antwerp, and hence also called Dionisio the
Fleming, came, when young, into Bologna, and displayed some ability in
landscape painting. In order to become a figure painter, he entered first
the school of Fontana, and next that of Sabbatini, whom he greatly assisted
in his labours for the Vatican. But after quitting also this master, and
occupying himself, some little time, in designing from Raffaello's
pictures, he returned to Bologna, opened a studio, and there educated as
many as a hundred and thirty-seven masters in the art, some of whom were
excellent. He was a fine artist for his age; understood perspective well,
which he acquired from Fontana, and designed both correctly and gracefully
in the taste of Sabbatini. He moreover possessed the art of colouring, in
the taste of his own countrymen, a quality which induced the Bolognese to
regard him as a restorer of their school, which in this branch of painting
had declined. If there were some degree of mannerism in his style, some
action in his figures too little dignified, or too extravagant; the former
was the fault of his age, and the latter of his temperament, which is
described as extremely restless and violent. Notwithstanding, he instructed
his pupils with assiduous care, and from the cartoons of the most
celebrated inventors he gave them lectures in the art. Different
collections abound with his small pictures, painted chiefly on copper,
representing incidents from the Gospel, which attract by the abundance of
the figures, by their spirit, and by the lusciousness of their tints.
Similar commissions in this line were then very frequently given in
Bologna; most times proceeding from the noviciate nuns, who were in the
habit of carrying with them into the cloister similar little paintings to
decorate their lonely cells; and Calvart provided abundance of them, with
the assistance of his young men, whose pieces he retouched; and they
obtained immense circulation both in Italy and Flanders. In particular
those conducted by Albano and Guido, his two pupils, boast the most
attractive graces, and may be known by a certain superior decision,
knowledge, and facility. In the list of his altar-pieces, the S. Michele,
at S. Petronio, and the Purgatory, at the Grazie, bear the palm; and from
these, as well as others, the best disciples of the Caracci confessed the
assistance which they received.
On the rise of the new Bolognese School, the pupils of Calvart for the most
part changed their manner, attaching themselves some to one master, and
some to another. Those who preserved most evident traces of their former
education, in other words, who continued more feeble and less natural than
the Caracceschi, were but few. Malvasia enumerates Gio. Batista Bertusio in
this list, who vainly aspired at resembling Guido, leaving a variety of
paintings both at Bologna and its villages, displaying beauties more
apparent than real. Two other artists, Pier Maria da Crevalcore, a painter
in oil, and Gabriel Ferrantini, known by his frescos, called also Gabriel
degli Occhiali, seem both to have seen, and attempted to imitate the
Caracci. Emilio Savonanzi, a Bolognese noble, attached himself to the art
when nearly arrived at manhood, but he attended Cremonini more than
Calvart; and strongly addicted to changing masters, entered the school of
Lodovico Caracci, next that of Guido at Bologna, of Guercino at Cento, and
finally the studio of Algardi, an excellent sculptor at Rome. By such means
he became a good theorist and an able lecturer, applauded in every
particular of his art; nor was he wanting in good practice, uniting many
styles in one, in which however that of Guido most prevails. Still he was
not equally correct in all his pieces, even betraying feebleness of touch,
and not scrupling to denominate himself an artist of many hands. He resided
at Ancona, next at Camerino, at which places, as well as in the adjacent
districts, he left a variety of works. Of another Bolognese, who flourished
at the same period, there remains at Ancona a picture of the offering of
the Infant Jesus at the Temple, ornamenting the larger altar of S. Jacopo.
The inscription shews him to have resided at Brescia, _F. Tiburtius
Baldinus Bononiensis F. Brixiæ_, 1611. This date proves him to have
belonged to the present epoch. His taste, from what I am informed by Sig.
Cav. Boni, extremely well informed on subjects of the fine arts, reminds us
of the excellent school that flourished in 1500: magnificence in the
architecture, great copiousness of composition, and clearness of effect,
except that in the general tone of his tints, and in his fleshes, he is
somewhat cold. One artist there was, who declared that he had laid down for
himself a maxim, never to alter with other styles that of Calvart; and this
was Vincenzo Spisano, called likewise Spisanelli. He however is inferior in
solidity and truth of design, and displays quite as much caprice and
mannerism as any of the practitioners of his time. Nor does he always
preserve the colours peculiar to his school; but deadens them with a leaden
hue, which is still not unpleasing. His altar-pieces, executed at Bologna,
and in the neighbouring cities, are less celebrated than his small pictures
for private ornament, which abound in Bologna, and which he was in the
habit of enlivening with very attractive landscape. It has already been
observed that those who were mannerists in their style, like Zuccaro and
Cesari, always when working on a small scale, improved upon themselves.
Bartolommeo Cesi fills the rank also of head of a school, among those who
cleared the path to the good method pursued by the disciples of the
Caracci. From him Tiarini acquired the art of painting fresco, and his
works gave the first impulse to Guido in attaining to his sweet and
graceful manner. On examining a work by Cesi, it sometimes seems doubtful
whether it may not have been that of Guido when young. He dares little,
copies every thing from nature, selects fine forms of each period of life,
and makes sparing use of the ideal; his lines and folds are few, his
attitudes measured, and his tints more beautiful than strong. He has some
paintings at San Jacopo, and at San Martino, which are extremely pleasing;
and it is said that Guido, during his early youth, was in the habit of
sitting to contemplate them sometimes for hours. His frescos, perhaps,
display more power, where he has introduced many copious histories with
great judgment, variety, and mastery; and such are those of Æneas, in the
Favi palace. His Arch of Forli, painted for Clement VIII., with different
exploits, surprises us even more. Though exposed to the action of the open
air, during so many years, this piece retains the vividness of its tints to
a surprising degree. Malvasia's opinion, in commendation of this artist, is
very remarkable, that he had a manner which at once satisfies, pleases, and
enamours the beholder, as truly exquisite and sweet as any style of the
best Tuscan masters in fresco. In the larger chapel of the Bolognese
monastery of Carthusians, there are distinguished examples in both kinds of
painting; and the describer of the Carthusian monastery, in his account of
them, likewise enumerates Cesi's works for other monasteries of the same
order, those of Ferrara, of Florence, and Siena. He was held in esteem by
the Caracci, and very generally so by the different professors, no less for
the candour of his character, than for his love of the art. To his efforts
it was chiefly owing that the company of painters, in 1595, obtained a
separation from the artificers of swords, of saddles, and of scabbards,
with all of whom they had for centuries been united in the same
corporation, and that a new one being formed of painters and of cotton
manufacturers,[14] it not being possible wholly to exclude the latter, they
were to rank inferior to the artists, or, to use the words of Malvasia,
"that they should condescend to furnish to the amount of two hundred, or
more, crowns, rich purple cloaks to decorate the wearer of the laurel
crown, preceding their vice steward."[15]
Footnote 14: In the original the term used for these cotton
merchants is _bambagiai_.
Footnote 15: In the Italian called _promassaro_.
Cesare Aretusi, a son, perhaps, of Pellegrino Munari,[16] was distinguished
as a colourist in the Venetian taste, but in point of invention weak and
dull; while Gio. Batista Fiorini, on the other hand, was full of fine
conceptions but worthless in his colouring. Friendship, that introduces
community in the possessions of friends, here achieved what is narrated in
the Greek anthology of two poor rogues, one of whom was blind and stout,
and carried on his shoulders a sharp-eyed cripple, who thus provided
himself with a friend's pair of feet, while he afforded him the advantage
of as many eyes. So it fared with our two artists, who separately could
accomplish very little; though in uniting their powers they produced
paintings of considerable merit. In the _Guida di Bologna_ they are very
properly rarely divided from each other; and I believe, that in every
painting we find attributed to Aretusi, we ought farther to seek for some
companion of his labours. Of such kind is a Nativity of the Virgin at S.
Afra in Brescia, passing under his name, and painted in a very powerful
style. Respecting this picture, however, Averoldi is of opinion that it was
in part the workmanship of Bagnatore, in part of other painters, or,
perhaps, only painter; in other words that of his useful friend Aretusi.
Nevertheless in the branch of portrait, Cesare possessed merit above
sharing it with others, and in this capacity he was employed by different
princes, and he also succeeded in copying the works of excellent masters
better than any other of his age. He could assume the style of almost every
painter, and even pass off his imitations for the originals. In his
imitation of Coreggio, he was more particularly successful, and received a
commission to execute a painting from the celebrated Night, by that master,
for the church of S. Gio. di Parma, where it still remains. Mengs, who saw
it, declared that were the original at Dresden by any accident lost, it
might be well supplied by so fine a duplicate. It was this performance that
obtained him the honour of restoring the painting, formerly executed by
Coreggio for the same church, of which mention was made in the school of
Parma, and to which we here refer the reader. Here too we should add, that
such was the success of that picture, "from its accurate imitation of the
taste displayed in the original, of its conception, and of its harmony, as
to lead those unacquainted with the fact to suppose it to be the work of
Allegri." Such are the words of Ruta in his _Guida_.
Footnote 16: See vol. iv. p. 43.
Little attention seems to have been given to inferior branches of the art
during this epoch, if, indeed, we except that of portrait, whose leading
artists must not again be introduced here, having treated of their merits
in the proper place. Nor probably were there then wanting painters in oil,
who severally produced ornamental pieces of landscape and animals, besides
Cremonini and Baglione, whose ability in this line we shall shortly notice,
in the class of ornamental fresco painters; though none, as far as I can
learn, acquired celebrity. In one instance only I meet with handsome
eulogiums on a miniature painter, occasionally mentioned throughout this
work. He was called Gio. Neri, also Gio. degli Ucelli, from his peculiar
talent in delineating all kinds of birds from the life. With these, and
with fish of various species, with quadrupeds and other animals, he filled
seven folio volumes, which are cited by Masini in the studio of Ulisse
Aldovrandi.
Throughout the whole of this epoch we find no mention in Malvasia of any
ornamental or perspective painters, except, perhaps, some figurist, who
paid little attention to decorations. There is reason, however, to suppose
that the celebrated Sebastiano Serlio, while yet a youth, painted
perspectives. The Cav. Tiraboschi, in the seventh volume of his history,
remarks that "there is no account of Serlio's occupation during the early
part of his life." But the _Guida_ of Pesaro, p. 83, alludes to him at the
close of 1511, and subsequently in 1514, as residing in that city in
quality of an artist; and in what branch can we more probably suppose him
to have been engaged than in perspective? For this, indeed, was the
tirocinium of other able architects, where, previous to being entrusted
with the anxious duties of their profession, they were enabled, with more
facility, to sustain themselves, until their reputation permitted them to
assume the character of architects, and abandon the pursuit of painting.
Indisputably he could not have been an architect at Pesaro, otherwise there
would never have been written on a parchment of 1514, remaining in the
archives of the Servi:--_Sebastiano qu. Bartholomæi de Serlis de Bononia
pictore habitatore Pisauri_. And it is about 1534 that we have an account
of his being at Venice, no longer handling the pencil, but the square.
Masini, who had written his _Bologna Perlustrata_ only a short period
before the _Felsina Pittrice_, commends an Agostino dalle Prospettive, who
had reached such a degree of perfection in that art, as even to deceive
animals and men with his illusive staircases and similar works, executed at
Bologna. It is doubtful whether he did not belong to another school, and
may have been omitted by Malvasia as a foreigner. I suspected him to be a
Milanese in my fourth volume (p. 231), and pupil to the great Soardi, not
inferior to his master. Next to him, and to Laureti, Gio. Batista Cremonini
of Cento was employed in such commissions more than any other artist. He
had received rather superior instructions in the rules of perspective, and
respectable practice in the line of statues, figures, and histories, with
whatever went to give splendour and effect to a façade, a theatre, or a
hall; more particularly he succeeded in delineating animals, however
ferocious and wild. There was scarcely a house of any account in all
Bologna, which, if nothing more, could not boast some specimen of his
chiaroscuro, some frieze for ornament, chimney-piece, or vestibule,
decorated by Cremonini; to say nothing of his numerous works in fresco
which filled the churches. He was also employed for the adjacent cities,
and in different courts of Lombardy kept open school and instructed
Guercino, Savonanzi, Fialetti, who flourished in Venice as before stated.
He had for his companion Bartolommeo Ramenghi, cousin of Gio. Batista, with
whom also lived Scipione Ramenghi, son of Gio. Batista himself, and both
eminent ornamental painters during that period.
Cremonini had a rival in one Cesare Baglione, an artist in the same sphere,
and of the same eager and expeditious character in the art. He was,
moreover, a better painter of landscape, and even surpassed all others,
including the most ancient, in the method of drawing his foliage. In his
inventions too, both of a serious and comic kind, he displayed greater
novelty and variety than Cremonini. He thus became a favorite at Parma,
where in the ducal palace he left some of his best works, all in harmony
with the places which he painted; in the larder illusive eatables of every
kind, and cooks employed in dressing them; in the bakehouse utensils for
the bakers, and incidents relating thereto; in the washhouses women were
seen busied in their different duties, and all in dismay at some untoward
or comic accidents; works abounding in spirit and reality sufficient to
procure him reputation in his line, had he shewn less eagerness in the
execution. This praise will not apply, however, to his decorative taste,
which excited the ridicule of the Caracci, who were in the habit of
laughing at the fantastic ornaments of his capitals, and those arabesques,
most resembling, they declared, the staves of barrels; as well as that
custom of filling his compositions with useless ornaments, without rule or
discretion, which his own pupils afterwards proceeded to introduce,
especially Spada and Dentone. Several others were instructed by him in the
art, as Storali and Pisanelli, and some of less note, who painted well in
perspective, without aspiring to the reputation of figurists.
Thus we have taken a brief survey of the state of painting in Bologna from
the time of Bagnacavallo to the Caracci, who already rising into repute
about 1585, in some measure competed with the elder artists, and in some
measure by their example, and the spirit of emulation, tended to improve
them, of which more in the following epoch. Meanwhile, let us turn our
attention to what was passing during this period in Romagna.
Ravenna prides herself on the name of Jacopone, a pupil of Raffaello, who,
by his paintings at S. Vitale, introduced into that city the principles of
the modern style, and of whom we shall shortly state our opinion, not
without some degree of novelty. Another of Raffaello's disciples, if what
is averred of him be correct, nourished at Ravenna about 1550, called Don
Pietro da Bagnaia, a canon of the Lateran. In the church of his order he
painted the altar-piece of S. Sebastian; in the Refectory, the scriptural
history of the Loaves and Fishes, besides leaving in another place a
history-piece of the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ, abounding in figures
equal to the preceding. To these, enumerated by Orlandi, may be added the
picture of Padua, with the Virgin between St. John the Baptist and St.
Augustine, executed for the church of S. Giovanni di Verdara; in the
sacristy of which is a Holy Family by him, imbued with all the graces of
Raffaello in every feature and action, but sadly wanting in strength and
harmony of colouring. There is another Holy Family at the Lateran Friars in
Asti, on a larger scale, designed and composed with equal grace, but with
similar feebleness of tints, even more lifeless; and to both pieces is
appended an inscription, entreating the beholder to pray for the soul of
the painter. I am not aware whether this worthy ecclesiastic was in Ravenna
in 1547, at the period of Vasari's visit thither, but the latter makes no
mention of his name.
Yet he mentioned, among the excellent artists who still flourished there,
Luca Longhi, whose ability in the essentials of the art is highly praised.
He regrets, however, that he should always have resided in his native
place, which had he left for objects of improvement, he might have become a
very distinguished artist. He was a good portrait-painter, and produced a
great number of pictures for Ravenna. Some, too, he sent elsewhere, and
they are met with at San Benedetto in Ferrara, in the Abbey at Mantua, in
that of Praglia near Padua, at S. Francesco in Rimini, with the date of
1580, in Pesaro, and other places. They are chiefly composed in the ancient
manner, but on comparing some of the earlier with those that follow, a more
modern air is perceptible, a circumstance attributed by Vasari to his own
conversations with the artist. Longhi's style, however, was opposed to that
of Vasari, being very correct and highly finished; his conceptions sweet,
varied, and graceful; with a powerful union of colours; more nearly
resembling Innocenzo da Imola, if I mistake not, than any other artist of
the times, though inferior to him in point of grandeur and beauty. Luca's
most perfect pictures that I have met with in Ravenna are those of S.
Vitale, of S. Agata, of S. Domenico, all with a representation of the
Virgin between two or more saints, and with some graceful cherubs playing
above. There are others more laboured, which please us less, and
demonstrate that to succeed in grand compositions, it is previously
necessary to have studied the great schools. Luca had a daughter, named
Barbara, yet a child at the period when Vasari published his work, but who
had begun to paint "with a tolerable degree of grace and manner." From the
hand of this lady there is only a single specimen remaining in public.
Respecting a son of Luca, named Francesco, the historian is wholly silent,
being, doubtless, at the time he wrote, still younger than his sister, but
who became an artist in maturer years. In 1576 he produced a picture for
the church of the Carmine, and there are accounts of him, even down to
1610. He chiefly pursued the steps of his father, though he is more common
in his countenances, and more feeble in point of colouring, which he copied
rather from Vasari.
Francesco Scannelli mentions a pupil of Raffaello at Cesena, omitted by all
other historians, named Scipione Sacco. He painted a picture of S. Gregory
for the cathedral of Cesena, in a grand style,[17] and the Death of St.
Peter the Martyr for the church of S. Domenico. Doubtless he was of
Raffaello's school, and not remembered out of Romagna.
Footnote 17: On this picture is inscribed, _Cæsenas_, 1545.
_Oretti_, _Memorie_, MSS.
While the family of the Longhi was employed at Ravenna, that of the
Minzocchi, which was surnamed San Bernardo, was distinguishing itself at
Forli. Francesco, called also the elder di S. Bernardo, studied the works
of Palmigiani in his native place; and there remain pictures conducted in
his youth, but feeble in point of design, such as his Crucifixion at the
Padri Osservanti. But under Genga, according to Vasari, and, as some
writers add, under Pordenone, he changed his manner, assuming a more
correct style, graceful, animated, and of an expression which looks like
nature herself in these his subsequent productions. Among the works he
executed with most care are two lateral pictures at the cathedral of
Loreto, in a chapel of S. Francesco di Paola. These consist of a Sacrifice
of Melchisedec, and the miracle of the Manna, in which the prophets and the
principal characters boast all the dignity and nobleness of drapery
becoming the school of Pordenone. The crowd, however, is represented in the
most popular features and attitudes, sufficient almost to excite the envy
of Teniers, and the most natural artists of the Flemish school. His
delineations in these pictures, of numerous and various animals, are
expressed to the life, with baskets and different utensils like reality,
though the attempt to excite our mirth in treating serious subjects has a
bad effect. Scannelli extols a specimen of his works in fresco at S. Maria
della Grata in Forli, representing the Deity on the ceiling, surrounded by
a number of angels; figures full of spirit, majestic, varied, and painted
with a power and skill of foreshortening, which entitles him to greater
celebrity than he enjoys. He left a variety of productions, likewise, at S.
Domenico, at the cathedral, and at private houses in his native place,
where such is his reputation, that on the chapels being taken down, his
least celebrated frescos were carefully cut out, and replaced elsewhere.
Among his sons and pupils were Pietro Paolo, mentioned also by Vasari, and
Sebastiano, both artists of the same natural style, not very select, with
little relief, and mediocrity of invention. To Pietro Paolo belong several
figures at the Padri Francescani at Forli, of feeble execution; and to
Sebastiano a picture at S. Agostino, composed in 1593 in the ancient taste,
and of a style like his other works, inferior to the character of his age.
Subsequent to the elder Minzocchi, Forli produced two other artists
deserving commemoration; namely, Livio Agresti, conspicuous in the
histories of Vasari and Baglione, as a daring designer, a copious composer,
and universal in point of manner; the other, Francesco di Modigliana, an
artist of more limited genius, but still deserving to be known. Of Livio, I
spoke in the third epoch of the Roman School, to which, as pupil to Perino,
and resident in Rome, where he was employed at the Castello, in the
Vatican, at S. Spirito and elsewhere, he doubtless belongs. His native
place, however, seems to have culled the fairest fruit of his labours, Rome
possessing nothing nearly so Raffaellesque, as are his Scriptural Histories
in the public palace at Forli. Nor ought we to pass over that finely
decorated chapel in the cathedral, where he represented the Last Supper,
with some majestic figures of the prophets upon the ceiling; a work that
for depth and intricacy of perspective yields in nothing to Minzocchi. I
shall not stop to inquire, with Malvasia, whether having gone to Rome in a
moment of disgust and in haste, instead of there advancing himself, he
wholly failed; but of this I am convinced, that his history in the Cappella
Paolina, is by no means his masterpiece.
Francesco di Modigliana is said to have been pupil to Pontormo, in whose
school he almost fills the same rank as Bronzino in that of Florence; not
remarkably powerful, nor always consistent with himself, but very graceful
and beautiful, and deserving a place in our pictoric Lexicons, where his
name is wanting. His works at Urbino consist of those which are pointed out
under the name of Francesco da Forli; a picture of Christ taken down from
the cross, in oil, at S. Croce; and some angels in fresco at S. Lucia;
productions much commended, and resembling in style his best at the
Osservanti in Forli, and at the Rosario in Rimini. Here, perhaps, he most
distinguished himself; in his picture of Adam driven from Eden, his Deluge,
the Tower of Babel, with similar histories already treated by Raffaello at
Rome, and by Agresti in Forli, from imitating whom, if I mistake not, he
greatly improved and advanced himself. Dying suddenly he left his work
imperfect, afterwards continued by Gio. Laurentini, called Arrigoni, who
painted the Death of Abel at the same place.
After Bartolommeo da Rimini, who inclined more towards the modern than the
ancient style, I find no other artist of celebrity in that city besides
Arrigoni. Even his name has not been recorded by Orlandi, nor by his
continuator. He diligently employed himself in his native place, and two of
his pictures representing martyrdoms, met with surprising success; one of
St. John the Baptist, at the Augustine friars, and another of the Saints
John and Paul, at the church bearing their name. Yet they do not display
that _beau ideal_, so attractive at that period in the productions even of
the inferior disciples of the Roman School; but they convey the impression
of grand compositions, a vivacity of action, a boldness of hand, a splendor
in the retinue of horse and arms, and military ensigns, calculated to
compete with the chief part of the painters employed at Rome in the service
of Gregory and of Sixtus.
Faenza, too, at the opening of this epoch, boasted her Jacopone, or
Jacomone, of whom we treated among the assistants of Raffaello, and among
the masters of Taddeo Zuccaro. Vasari makes brief mention and smaller
account of this artist; recording only one of his productions, the tribune
of S. Vitale at Ravenna, and which has ceased to exist. In the cupola of
the church, however, subsequently repainted by another hand, there were
visible, in the time of Fabri, author of "Ravenna Ricercata," (researches
in that city) several figures of saints richly apparelled, bearing this
inscription: "Opus Jacobi Bertucci et Julii Tondutii Faventinorum. Pari
voto f. 1513."[18] At present I no longer doubt but that under this Jacopo
was concealed the name of Jacopone di Faenza, though according to Orlandi
they were two several painters, and though it has never occurred to
Baldinucci and Bottari, and other writers of pictoric history, to unite
them into one. My conjecture is founded upon a picture which I saw in the
church of the Dominican nuns in Faenza, representing the Birth of the
Virgin, with the name of Jacopo Bertucci of Faenza, and dated 1532. It is a
work which arrests the eye by its resemblance to the style of Raffaello,
though his harmonious gradations have not been well observed, and the
colouring inclines more to the strong than to the beautiful. The women
busied about the couch of St. Anne are beautiful, graceful, and animated
figures, and there are some animals, and in particular a fowl, which a
Bassano himself would not have been sorry to have painted. Now what other
Jacopo of Faenza could in the year 1532, have painted in this style, with
more shew of reason and probability than Jacopone da Faenza, whose family
would here appear to be discovered?
Footnote 18: Sig. Abbate Zannoni, a librarian in Faenza,
assisted by Sig. Zauli, a distinguished professor of design
in that Lyceum, has made some clever remarks upon that
school. They observe that this date of Fabri must be
erroneous, it not being possible for Jacopone to have
commenced painting in 1513, and much less Tonduzzi, pupil to
Giulio Romano, probably, in Mantua: I suspect that the order
of the last two figures should be inverted, so as to read
1531.
They inform me that I was misled in supposing the picture of
the Dominican Nuns to be from the hand of Jacopone, its
great height preventing me from distinguishing the name. It
belongs to his nephew and pupil, Gian Batista, and thus
resembles his style, though coloured with stronger tints in
the taste of Titian, whom he is known to have greatly
consulted in after years. Other pictures of Jacopone might
be cited, that still exist, but injured by time and by
retouches of other destroyers. Yet, they continue, all are
surpassed by a figure that was placed at the Celestini, and
is now in the general collection. It represents St. John
pointing out to the ecclesiastic who ordered the picture,
the Virgin crowned, between Saints Celestino and Benedetto;
a grand piece wonderfully preserved, formed upon the
composition of Raffaello, and coloured after Titian. On the
right side is written, "F. Jo. Bapt. Para Brasius hoc opus
ob devotionem fieri jussit anno domini 1565:" (the most
assured epoch of his life;) and on the left hand, "Et semper
Jacobius Bertusius F. (for Faventinus) invicto tandem Momo
faciebat." Who this Momo was, against whose desire (since we
must read _invito_) he completed the picture, I know not;
whether a painter, or perhaps a friar, whom Jacopone's
dilatoriness had offended, and who wished to substitute
another artist, in which good office he did not succeed.
The same city possesses a variety of other pieces by this Bertucci, and in
the soffitto of S. Giovanni, various histories, both of the Old and New
Testament, were pointed out to me as his. There too are several of inferior
character attributed to another Bertucci, his son, an artist who in his
heads repeats the same idea, even to satiety. Still his merit ought not, I
think, to be estimated from a single work, but rather from some pictures
cited by Crespi.[19] One of these is the Beheading of St. John the Baptist,
animated and high toned in its colours, beautiful in point of design and
character, and worthy of decorating the Ercolani collection at Bologna.
Upon it is inscribed "Bertucius pinxit, 1580." The other is at the
Celestini of Faenza, a singular work, as Crespi denominates it, from which
he appears to have learnt the proper name of this younger Bertucci, whom he
calls Giambatista. Baldinucci treats of Jacopone at the commencement of his
fifth volume, and on the credit of Count Laderchi, he enumerates his
different paintings, which then remained at Faenza. Of his surname he
mentions nothing; nothing of his altar-piece of the Nativity; nothing of S.
Vitale; nothing of the son, or the other artist of Faenza lately alluded
to. He adds, that works of Jacopone were to be seen up to the year 1570,
but I believe these last to have belonged to the son, inasmuch as the
father, at the period when Vasari wrote, was already deceased. Other
pictures by this artist are mentioned, painted in glowing and attractive
colours, and in particular the Baptizing of Christ, preserved in the public
collection, valuable from its giving the epoch of 1610, which must have
been towards the close of his days.
Footnote 19: Lettere Pittoriche, vol. vii. p. 66.
By Giulio Tonduzzi there is pointed out at Ravenna the Stoning of St.
Stephen, on the large altar of a church consecrated to that saint, a
beautiful picture, but not indisputably proved to be his. I conjecture it
to be a copy of the St. Stephen that decorates the church of Faenza, in
which the whole style of Giulio Romano is apparent; so much so, that it has
been attributed to him, a mistake arising from resemblance of names; but
Tonduzzi is known to have been Giulio's pupil. I omit other productions of
this excellent artist, though I ought to notice, that in the soffitto of S.
Giovanni, he also painted several sacred histories, in competition with all
the first artists, who then flourished at Faenza, on which account that
very cultivated city has preserved the whole of these paintings, although
much defaced by age, in the Lyceum collection, belonging to the commune,
mentioned in other places. I also find one M. Antonio da Faenza, commended
by Civalli for a very excellent picture, possessing fine relief, at the
church of the Conventuali of Monte Lupone, in the Marca, dated 1525.
Contemporary with these must have been Figurino da Faenza, enumerated by
Vasari among the best disciples of Giulio Romano, though I meet with no
mention of him elsewhere. It is conjectured, however, with good reason,
that Figurino was only a surname given to Marc Antonio Rocchetti, a painter
of great reputation at Faenza, who in youth took great delight in minute
drawing, producing, among other pieces, little histories of St. Sebastian,
for the ornament of that church, now destroyed, when they came into
possession of various individuals who treasure them up in the present day.
In maturer years he enlarged his manner, attaching himself to the imitation
of Baroccio, which he did with a simplicity of composition and sweetness of
tints, that made him conspicuous in different churches which he adorned, as
we may gather from the picture of the titular Saint at S. Rocco, with the
year 1604, the latest period which we find mentioned on his productions. In
the Communal collection, also, there is seen a picture of the Virgin, known
in Faenza under the name of the Madonna of the Angels, with a St. Francis,
a holy bishop, and two portraits below. It bears the inscription, _M.
Antonius Rochettus Faventinus pingebat, 1594_. It was requisite to mention
this picture, which I find extolled above all other specimens that have
remained. The name of Niccolo Paganelli, before unknown to us, is also met
with in the Oretti correspondence, contained in a letter of Zanoni, which
we cite in treating of Benedetto Marini. He is supposed to have been a good
pupil of the Roman School, and some attribute to him the fine picture of S.
Martino, in the cathedral of Faenza, the supposed work of Luca Longhi. His
genuine pictures are recognized by the initials N.+P.
Subsequent to the period of Jacopone, who never acquired fortune, Marco
Marchetti greatly distinguished himself. So at least he is named by
Baglione, or Marco da Faenza, according to Vasari, who observes that he was
"particularly experienced in regard to frescos; bold, decided, terrible;
and especially in the practice and manner of drawing grotesques, not having
any rival then equal to him." Nor perhaps has any artist since appeared who
equals him in this respect, and in happily adapting to grotesques little
histories, full of spirit and elegance, and with figures which form a
school for design. Such is the Slaughter of the Innocents, in the Vatican.
He succeeded Sabbatini in the works of Gregory XIII. and entered the
service of Cosmo I. for whom he decorated the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence.
He painted little in his own country, though a few pieces in oil are still
pointed out, and an arch in a public way, with festoons of flowers,
monsters, and capricci, resembling the work of an ancient artist. The whole
reminds us of mythology and erudition, while at subsequent periods it
became customary in this kind of painting to dare every extravagance and
excess. Perhaps his most finished piece adorns the Communal collection,
representing the Feast of Christ in the house of the Pharisee. His death
occurred in 1588. Contemporary with him flourished Gio. Batista Armenini,
also of Faenza, an able artist, and author of the "True Precepts of
Painting,"[20] published at Ravenna in 1587, a work that re-appeared in the
ensuing century at Venice. In fact Armenini was a better theorist than a
practitioner; nor has he any production in his native place, except a large
picture of the Assumption, on which he inscribed _Jo. Bapt. Armenini
primiliæ_, meaning, that it was among the first, or perhaps the very first
altar-piece which he ever painted. Perotti, the author of certain
_Farragini_,[21] which are still preserved in the library of the Seminary
at Faenza, there observes, that Armenini was a pupil of Perin del Vaga. Nor
is there a great interval between him and Cristoforo Lanconello, an artist
of Faenza, first discovered to us in the letter of Crespi, just before
cited. He is celebrated for his picture in the Casa Ercolani, in which the
Virgin appears crowned with a glory, attended by Saints Francis and Chiara,
and two more; a work displaying great freedom of hand, beauty of colouring,
fine airs of the heads, and altogether in the composition of Barocci.
Footnote 20: _Veri Precetti della Pittura._
Footnote 21: A mixture of all styles and subjects
We must not take our leave of the Cinquecentisti[22] without first noticing
a cavalier of Faenza, who flourished till the year 1620, in which he died
at the age of 83. His name was Niccolo Pappanelli, and such was his
enthusiasm for the art, that he attended all the most distinguished masters
then in vogue at Rome. On his return to his native place, he produced,
along with some pieces of mediocrity, a few of an exquisite character, such
as his picture of S. Martino at the cathedral, so well executed in point of
design, force of colouring, and expression, as to be truly admirable. He,
too, attempted to follow in the track of Barocci.
Footnote 22: Artists of the fifteenth century.
Other artists of Romagna, belonging to this period, are treated of in the
schools where they chiefly flourished, such as Ingoli of Ravenna, at
Venice, Zaccolini of Cesena at Rome, and Ardente, a native of Faenza, in
Piedmont.
BOLOGNESE SCHOOL.
EPOCH III.
_The Caracci, their Scholars, and their Successors, until
the time of Cignani._
To write the history of the Caracci and their followers would in fact be
almost the same as to write the pictoric history of all Italy during the
last two centuries. In our preceding books we have taken a survey of almost
every school; and everywhere, early or late, we have met with either the
Caracci or their pupils, or at least with their successors, employed in
overthrowing the ancient maxims, and introducing new, until we reach the
period when there was no artist who, in some respect or other, might not be
said to belong to their school. Now, as it is grateful to the traveller,
after long following the course of some royal river, to ascend still higher
to its source, so I trust it will, in like manner, prove delightful to my
readers, to be here made acquainted with those principles that conferred
this new style upon the world of art, and in a short time filled with its
specimens, and took the lead of every individual school. What, in my
opinion, too, is still more surprising is, that it should owe its origin to
Lodovico Caracci, a young artist, who appeared of a slow, inactive
intellect in early years, and better adapted to grind colours than to
harmonize and apply them. He was advised, both by Fontana, his master at
Bologna, and by Tintoretto, who directed his studies in Venice, to adopt a
new profession, as quite unqualified for the art of painting; his fellow
pupils likewise bantering him with the epithet of the ox, in allusion to
his extreme dulness and tardiness. Indeed, every thing seemed to conspire
to discourage him; he alone did not despair; from the obstacles he had to
encounter he only gathered courage, and inducements to rouse, not to alarm
himself. For this, his dilatory character, did not spring from confined
genius, but from deep penetration; he shunned the ideal of the art as a
rock on which so many of his contemporaries had suffered shipwreck; he
pursued nature every where; he exacted of himself a reason for every line
he drew; and considered it the duty of a young artist to aim only at doing
well, until at length it grows into a habit, and such habit assists him in
expediting his work.
Resolute, then, in his purpose, after having studied the best native
artists in Bologna, he proceeded to do the same under Titian and Tintoretto
at Venice. Thence he passed to Florence, and improved his taste from the
pictures of Andrea, and the instructions of Passignano. At that period, the
school of the Florentines had attained to that crisis, described in
treating of its fourth epoch. Nothing could be more advantageous to young
Lodovico than to observe there the competition between the partizans of the
old and the new style; nor could there be better means of ascertaining the
causes of the decline, and of the revival of the art. Such a scene was
assuredly of the greatest use to him, though hitherto not much noticed, in
attempting the reform of painting, and carrying it to a higher degree of
perfection. The most eminent Florentines, with the view of improving the
languid colouring of their masters, turned to the models of Coreggio and
his followers; and their example, I am of opinion, induced Lodovico to
leave Florence for Parma, where, observes his historian, he wholly devoted
himself to that master and to Parmigianino. On his return to Bologna,
although well received and esteemed as a good artist, he soon became aware
that a single individual, so reserved and cautious as he was, could ill
compete with an entire school; unless, following the example of Cigoli at
Florence, he were to form a party among the rising pupils at Bologna.
In the first instance, he sought support in his own relatives. His brother
Paolo cultivated the art, but was deficient both in judgment and in
ability, and calculated only to execute with mediocrity the designs of
others. On him he placed no reliance, but a good deal on two of his
cousins. He had a paternal uncle named Antonio, by profession a tailor, who
educated his two sons, Agostino and Annibale, at home. Such was their
genius for design, that Lodovico was accustomed to say in his old age, that
he had never had, during his whole professional career, a single pupil to
equal them. The first devoted his attention to the goldsmith's art--always
the school of the best engravers; the second was at once the pupil and
assistant of his father in his calling. Though brothers, their dispositions
were so opposite, as to render their society insufferable to each other,
and they were little less than enemies. Accomplished in letters, Agostino
always sought the company of learned men; there was no science on which he
could not speak; at once a philosopher, a geometrician, and a poet; of
refined manners, ready wit, and averse to the pursuits of the crowd.
Annibale, on the contrary, neglected letters, beyond the mere power of
reading and writing, while a natural bluntness of manner inclined him to
taciturnity, and when compelled to speak, it was mostly in a satirical,
contemptuous, or disputing tone.
On devoting themselves, at the suggestion of Lodovico, to the pictoric art,
they still found themselves opposed to each other in genius, as they were
in manners. Agostino was timid, and extremely select, backward in resolve,
difficult to please himself, and was never aware of a difficulty that he
did not encounter, and attempt to vanquish it. Annibal, in common with
numbers of artificers, was an expeditious workman, intolerant of doubts and
delays, eagerly seeking every remedy for the intricacies of the art, trying
the most easy methods, and to perform much in little time. Had they indeed
fallen into other hands, Agostino would have become a new Samacchini,
Annibal a new Passerotti; and painting would have owed no improvement to
their efforts. But their cousin's fine judgment led him, in their
education, to imitate Isocrates, who, instructing Ephorus and Theopompus,
was accustomed to say, that he was compelled to apply spurs to the one, and
a rein to the other. With similar views he consigned Agostino to Fontana,
as an easy and rapid master, and retained Annibal in his own studio, where
works were carried to higher perfection. By such means too he kept them
apart, until riper age should by degrees remove the enmity subsisting
between them, and convert it into a bond of amity, when devoted to the same
profession, they might unite their capital, and mutually assist each other.
In a few years he succeeded in reconciling them, and in 1580 he placed them
at Parma and at Venice, of which an account has been given under those
schools. During this period Agostino collected materials for his varied
learning, and enlarged his design; and as before leaving Bologna he had
made great progress in engraving under Domenico Tibaldi, he continued in
Venice to practise it under Cort with such success, as to excite his
master's jealousy, who drove him, but in vain, from his studio; for
Agostino was already esteemed the Marc Antonio of his time. Annibal,
devoted to a single aim, both at Parma and Venice continued to paint,
availing himself of the works and conversation of illustrious men, with
whom at that period the Venetian School abounded. It was then, or shortly
subsequent, that he executed his beautiful copies of Coreggio, Titian, and
Paul Veronese; in whose taste he also conducted some small pictures.
Several specimens of these I saw in possession of the Marchese Durazzo at
Genoa, displaying opposite, but very graceful styles.
Returning accomplished artists into their native place, they struggled long
and nobly with their fortunes. Their first undertakings consisted of the
exploits of Jason, in a frieze of the Casa Favi; these, though conducted
with the assistance of Lodovico, were vituperated with excessive scorn by
the old painters, as deficient both in elegance and correctness. To this
censure, the credit of these masters who had flourished at Rome, who were
extolled by the poets, adorned with diplomas, and regarded by the declining
age as pillars of the art, seemed to give weight. Their disciples echoed
their words, and the crowd repeated them; and such murmurs proceeding from
a public, gifted with as much volubility in conversation as would suffice
for purposes of declamation or controversy elsewhere, wounded the feelings
of the Caracci, overwhelmed and depressed them. I was informed by the
accomplished Cav. Niccolò Fava, that Lodovico's change of fortune, along
with that of his cousins, occurred on an occasion, and at a period little
differing from the above; which is supported by a tradition to the same
effect. The two cousins had executed the frieze in the same hall where Cesi
adorned another, in opposition to it, with histories of Æneas, which we
have already mentioned, (p. 74). The work, conducted in the old style, was
certainly beautiful, but Lodovico, in the new, painted another chamber with
other histories, twelve in number, of Æneas, of which mention is made in
the Guide of Bologna, (p. 14); histories in no way inferior to those in the
Casa Magnani. Here was the beginning of the Caracci's fortune, and of the
fall of the old masters, Bologna at length preparing to do justice to the
worth of that divine artist, and to verify in respect to Cesi that sentence
of Hesiod, of which, to the best of my ability, I here offer a version from
the Greek, as follows:
Folle chi al più potente fa contrasto!
Che perde la vittoria; e sempre al fine,
Oltra lo scorno, di dolor si è guasto!
_Opera_ V. 210.
Fool, that will dare to cross the path of one
More powerful! and ever to the loss
Of victory, at last add scorn and grief.
It was now that the Caracci, more than ever confident in their style,
answered the voice of censure only by works full of vigour and nature,
opposed to the works of older masters, feeble and void of truth. By such
means that revolution of style which had so long been meditated, at length
took place; but it became necessary, in order to accelerate it, to bring
over the students of the art to their party, the better to insure the hopes
of a new and improved era. This too the Caracci achieved, by opening an
academy of painting at their house, which they entitled _Degli
Incamminati_, supplying it with casts, designs, and prints, in the same
manner as those of their rivals; besides introducing a school for the
drawing of the naked figure, and for the study of anatomy and perspective:
in short, every thing requisite to the art; directing the whole with a
skill added to a kindness that could not fail to procure it abundance of
pupils. In particular, the fiery temper of Dionisio Calvart contributed to
fill it, who, being in the habit of striking, and even wounding his
disciples, drove Guido, Albano, and Domenichino, to transfer their talents
to the studio of the Caracci. Panico too entered it from the school of
Fontana, and from all sides the best young artists assembled, drawing after
them fresh ranks of students. Finally, the other academies were closed;
every school was left to solitude; every name gave way before that of the
Caracci; to them the best commissions, to them the meed of praise were
accorded. Their humbled rivals soon assumed another language, especially
when the grand hall of Magnani was thrown open, presenting the wonders of
the new Carraccesque art. It was then Cesi declared that he would become a
disciple of the new school; and Fontana only lamented that he was too
grey-headed to keep pace with it, while Calvart alone, with his usual
bravado, ventured to blame the work, being the last of all to recant, or at
least to become silent.
It is now time to record the pursuits and the maxims of an academy, which,
besides educating many illustrious pupils, perfected the art of their
masters; and confirmed the axiom, that the shortest method of learning much
is that of teaching. The three brothers were on the most perfect
understanding as to the art of teaching, as free from venality as from
envy; but the most laborious branches of the professorship were sustained
by Agostino. He had drawn up a short treatise of perspective and
architecture, from which he expounded to the school. He explained the
nature of the bones and muscles, designating them by their names, in which
he was assisted by Lanzoni the anatomist, who also secretly provided the
school with bodies for such dissections as were required. His lectures were
sometimes founded upon history, at others upon fictions; and these he
illustrated, and offered for designs, which being exhibited at stated
intervals, were examined by skilful judges, who decided upon their
respective merits; as we gather from a ticket written to Cesi, one of the
arbiters. The meed of fame was sufficient for the crowned candidates, round
whom the poets collected to celebrate their name; with whom Agostino
enthusiastically joined both with harp and voice, applauding the progress
of his scholars. These last were likewise instructed in true criticism, and
to give due praise or blame to the works of others; they were also taught
to criticise their own works, and whoever could not give good reasons for
what he had done, and defend his own work, must cancel it upon the spot.
Each, however, was at liberty to pursue what path he pleased, or rather
each entered upon that to which nature had best adapted him, which gave
rise to so many original manners from the same studio; yet each style was
to be founded upon reason, nature, and imitation. In all more doubtful
points, recourse was had to the opinion of Lodovico; the cousins presided
over the daily exercises of design, full of assiduity, industry, and
perseverance. Even the recreations of the academicians had a view to art;
to draw landscapes from nature, or to sketch caricatures, were the
customary amusements of Annibale and the disciples of the school, when they
wished to relax from study.[23]
Footnote 23: It must be observed that the two younger
Caracci visited Rome, where they continued to instruct their
pupils on the same plan. Passeri, in his life of Guido,
says, that they were joined by literary men, who proposed
history-pieces to them, with premiums for such as should be
best executed; and that on one occasion Domenichino, one of
the youngest, being preferred above all, Guido was seized
with the most lively emulation to eclipse him. The historian
adds, that the same method was soon adopted in the Roman
academy, and that Car. Barberini, nephew to Urban VIII.,
presided at the election of the first, and rewarded him with
money, and those that next followed, to the fourth member.
Moreover he gave the first a commission for a picture from
the same subject as the design. What a secret is here shewn
for promoting the fine arts.
The maxim of uniting together the study of nature, and the imitation of the
best masters, already touched upon in the outset of this book, formed the
real foundation of the school of Caracci; although they took care to modify
it according to particular talents, as we have seen. Their object was to
collect into one whatever they found most valuable in other schools, and in
this process they observed two methods. The first resembles that of the
poets, who, in several Canzoni, propose different models for imitation; in
one, for instance, borrowing from Petrarch, in another from Chiabrera, in a
third from Frugoni. The second method is like that of those, who, being
masters of these three styles, form and harmonize them into one, like
Corinthian metal, composed of various other kinds. Thus the Caracci, in
some of their compositions, were accustomed to present different styles in
a variety of different figures. So Lodovico, in his Preaching of St. John
the Baptist, at the church of the Certosini (where Crespi is especially
opposed to Paul Veronese), has exhibited the audience of the saint in such
a manner that a judge described them by these names:--the Raffaellesque,
the Tizianesque, and the imitator of Tintoretto. Annibal too, who had long
admired only Coreggio, having finally adopted Lodovico's maxim, painted his
celebrated picture for the church of St. George, where, in his figure of
the Virgin, he imitated Paolo; in that of the Divine Infant and St. John,
Coreggio; in St. John the Evangelist he exhibited Titian; and in the very
graceful form of St. Catherine, the sweetness of Parmigianino. Most
generally, however, they pursued the second path, and still more examples
might be adduced of less apparent and more free and mixed imitations, so
modified as to produce a whole of a perfectly original character. And the
ingenious Agostino, emulating the ancient legislators, who embodied all
their laws in a few verses, composed that very picturesque, rather than
poetical sonnet, in praise of Niccolino Abati, but which also well explains
the maxim of their school, in selecting the peculiar merits of each
different style. It has been handed down to us by Malvasia, in his life of
Primaticcio, and runs as follows:--
Chi farsi un buon pittor brama e desia
Il disegno di Roma abbia alla mano,
La mossa coll'ombrar Veneziano,
E il degno colorir di Lombardia;
Di Michelangiol la terribil via,
Il vero natural di Tiziano,
Di Coreggio lo stil puro e sovrano,
Di un Raffael la vera simmetria;
Del Tibaldi il decoro e il fondamento,
Del dotto Primaticcio l'inventare,
E un po' di grazia del Parmigianino:
Ma senza tanti studii e tanto stento
Si ponga solo l'opre ad imitare
Che qui lasciocci il nostro Niccolino.
To paint for fame, who nurtures high desire,
Will Rome's design keep ever in his view;
To the Venetian shade and action true,
Of Lombardy's whole colouring never tire;
Kindle at Michael's terrors, and his fire,
Seize Titian's living truth, who nature drew;
Allegri's pure and sovereign graces too;
To heavenly Raphael's symmetry aspire:
Tibaldi's solid sense, appropriate air,
And Primaticcio's learn'd inventive thought,
With Parmigiano's graceful sweetness fraught.
And should all these ask too much studious care,
Turn to our Niccolino's bright display
Of wondrous works, the envy of his day.
It is not easy to ascertain how far the Caracci may have carried this
project, though it must always reflect the highest degree of credit upon
them to have executed it in a superior manner to all other artists. In the
outset they most felt their deficiency in their imitation of the antique,
called by Agostino the design of Rome. He and Annibal, however, while
residing there as strangers, in some measure reproduced and restored it to
Roman artists themselves; and Lodovico, though remaining at Bologna, shewed
that he was by no means unacquainted with it. At first, observes Mengs,
they devoted much study to Coreggio, both in their ample outline and in
their general design, although they did not observe the same exact
equilibrium in their concave and convex lines, but rather affected the
latter. There were other points which they did not attempt to include in
such imitation, as in the shortening of the heads, and exhibiting them so
very frequently with that smile so much repeated by the Parmigiani, by
Barocci, and Vanni. They took their heads from life, and improved upon them
by general ideas of the beautiful. Hence Annibal's Madonnas, many of them
of a small size on copper, exhibit a peculiar and original beauty derived
from his studies; and the same may be said of Lodovico, who, in his softer
heads, often gives the portrait of a lady named Giacomazzi, celebrated for
her beauty at that time. The Caracci were extremely well-grounded in a
knowledge of anatomy, and of the naked figure; and it would be manifest
injustice not to give them credit for due estimation of Michelangiolo, whom
they also imitated. One of them indeed is known to have said, with some
acrimony towards the rival school, that Bonarruoti ought to have covered
his bones with a little flesh, in the manner of their own Tibaldi. It is
true they availed themselves less of the naked form in composition than the
Florentines, though more largely than the other schools. In their costume,
they were not so anxious to observe the exactness and richness of Paul
Veronese, as the grandeur of his folds and form; nor did any other school
give more ample flow of drapery, or arrange it with dignity more suitable
to the figures.
Yet Mengs denies that they were consummate colourists, though they studied
the Lombard and Venetian schools, an opinion confirmed by Lodovico's
paintings in oil, which are faded and almost gone. This arose, either from
the nature of his grounds, from too abundant use of oil, or from not
allowing due time between preparing his canvass and colouring it. The same
remark will not apply to his frescos, which, on a near view, exhibit a
boldness of hand equal almost to Paolo's; nor, in the opinion of Bellori,
was there any work which, in point of colouring, reflected higher credit on
the Caracci, and on the age, than their pictures in the Casa Magnani. They
boast a truth, force, mixture, and harmony of colours, such as to entitle
them also in this portion of the art to the praise of being reformers of
the age. They effectually banished those wretched yellows, and other weak,
washy tints, introduced from parsimony, in place of the azures and
different colours of higher price. In this Bellori accords most merit to
Annibal; declaring it was owing to him that Lodovico himself renounced his
first method of colouring, which was formed on that of Procaccini.
In action and expression they aimed at vivacity, but without ever losing
sight of propriety, of which they were extremely observant; and to which
they were ready to sacrifice any of the graces of the art. In taste of
invention and composition, they come near that of Raffaello. The Caracci
were not lavish of their figures, conceiving twelve sufficient for any
historical piece, except in crowds, or in battle-pieces, where they were
still moderate, in order to give greater relief to particular groups. That
they were competent to compose with judgment, learning, and variety, is
fully apparent from their sacred histories represented on altars, where
they avoided, as much as possible, the very trite representation of a
Madonna between various saints. This truth is still more remarkably shewn
in their profane histories, and in none better than those of Romulus, in
the family just before mentioned. The three relations there appear
universal in the art, as perspective, landscape, and ornamental painters,
masters of every style, and concentering in one point of view whatever is
most desirable in any single work. The three artists seem to disappear in
one; and the same is observed also in several galleries and churches of
Bologna. They followed the same maxims, and in the same studio designed in
union with one another, conferring and taking measures how best to complete
every work in hand. In several instances it still remains matter of doubt
whether pictures are to be attributed to Annibal or to Lodovico; and the
three scriptural histories of the Sampieri, in which the three relations
wished to display their respective powers, do not exhibit a diversity which
might essentially characterize their respective authors. Some indeed there
are who may detect in Lodovico a more general imitation of Titian, than is
observable in the cousins, Agostino inclining more to the taste of
Tintoretto, Annibal to that of Coreggio. It has sometimes been remarked
that the figures of the first of the three are light in form, those of the
third, robust; while those of Agostino hold a middle rank. At Bologna I
found Lodovico enjoying most repute for a certain elevation and grandeur;
Agostino for his inventive powers; Annibal for grace. Every one must judge,
however, according to his own views. It is now my duty to consider these
separately.
Lodovico, doubtless, rises into the sublime in many of his works at
Bologna. His picture of the "_Probatica_" so excellent both in point of
architecture and the design of the figures; that of S. Girolamo, who,
suspending his pen, turns towards heaven with a look and gesture so truly
impressive and dignified; his Limbo of holy fathers, which, as if to renew
his delight in it, he repeated in the cathedral of Piacenza, and sketched
also under a Crucifixion at Ferrara: these have ever been regarded in that
school as models of the sublime. Nevertheless, if we examine the
"Assumption," at the Teresiani, the "Paradise," at the Barnabiti, or the
"S. George," in which is represented that admirable virgin, who is seen
seized with terror in the act of flight, it will be allowed that Annibal
himself could not have exhibited more grace in his drawing of young maidens
or of boys. More excelling, therefore, than great, Lodovico may be said to
be transcendant in every character; and it would even seem that he had
aimed at this boast in the two frescos that have perished, with which he
decorated, at S. Domenico, the chapel of the Lambertini. In one he
exhibited the holy founder, with S. Francis, in a manner very easy and
pleasing to the eye, with few lights and as few shades, but both powerful,
and with few folds in the drapery; the countenances full of piety; insomuch
that the whole performance, in the words of Malvasia, "rose to a pitch of
grandeur not to be excelled." In the other piece he represented "Charity,"
in a style equally soft, graceful, and polished, and which was
subsequently, says the historian, esteemed "the model and the rule of
modern painting." He proceeds to relate, that Albani, Guido, and
Domenichino all derived their sweetness from this source, in the same way,
most probably, that Cavedoni took his first style from the S. Domenico; and
from his Paul at the Conventuali Guercino acquired his grand power of
chiaroscuro. In short, if we may give credit to history, Lodovico in his
own school ranks like Homer among the Greeks, _fons ingeniorum_. Individual
artists in him have recognized what constituted the character of their own
knowledge, because in every branch of painting he was truly profound.[24]
Footnote 24: See Crespi's analysis of the two pictures at
the church of the Certosa, (p. 32,) one representing the
Scourging of Christ, the other his Crown of Thorns, where
the most beautiful art of disposing the light to produce the
desired effect is remarkable; with an exquisite effect of
perspective, and a degree of invention not to be surpassed
in representing the suffering of our Redeemer.
The masterly dignity of his character appears to most advantage in the
cloister of S. Michele in Bosco, where, assisted by his pupils, he
represented the actions of St. Benedict and St. Cecilia in thirty-seven
separate histories. By his hand is the Conflagration of Mount Cassino, and
some other portions; the remaining parts are by Guido, by Tiarini, by
Massari, by Cavedoni, by Spada, by Garbieri, by Brizio, and other young
artists. These paintings have been engraved, and are worthy of the
reformers of that age. On beholding what we may term this gallery by
different hands, we should be almost inclined to bestow upon the school of
Lodovico this trite eulogy; that from it, as from the Trojan horse, there
issued only princes. What does him still more honour is, that his relatives
themselves, down to the least and last, uniformly venerated him as a
preceptor, insomuch that Annibal, on the completion of the Farnese gallery,
invited him to Rome, as the adviser, arbiter, and umpire of that work. He
remained there less than two weeks, and then returning to his beloved
Bologna, he survived Agostino seventeen years, and Annibal ten. Being
separated from the two cousins, he employed himself at an advanced age in a
manner less studied, but still exemplary and masterly. Nor ought a few
slight inaccuracies of design to detract from the praise due to him,
inaccuracies which he fell into about this period, as in the drawing of the
hand of the Redeemer, in the act of calling St. Matthew to follow him, or
in the foot of the Madonna of the Annunciation painted at S. Pietro, a
fault which he saw too late, and it may be added, for which he died of
affliction. Other less well founded criticisms advanced against him by a
traveller have been fully rebutted and confuted by the Can. Crespi.[25]
Footnote 25: _Lettere Pittoriche_, tom. vii. lettera 4.
Agostino, occupied for the most part in engraving, painted but little, this
employment supplying him at once with the means of subsistence, and of
shining in the class of artists. Doubtless painting here sustained a loss,
deprived of a genius equally calculated as his relations to promote the
art. His powers of invention surpassed those of the other Caracci, and many
rank him foremost in point of design. It is certain that in his engraving
he corrected and improved upon the outlines of his originals. On his return
from Venice he applied himself more effectually to colouring, and succeeded
in that of a horse, so far as to deceive the living animal, a triumph so
much celebrated in Apelles. He once competed with his brother Annibal for
an altar-piece intended for the church of the Carthusians. His design was
preferred; and it was then that in his Communion of S. Girolamo he produced
one of the most celebrated pictures of which Bologna can boast. Nothing can
be imagined finer than the expression of devotion in the aged saint, the
piety of the priest at the communion, the looks of the spectators, who
support the dying, who catch his last accents, committing them instantly to
writing, lest they escape; countenances finely varied and animated, each
breathing and speaking, as it were, peculiar mind. On its first exhibition,
the pupils thronged around the picture to make their studies, insomuch that
Annibal, urged by jealousy, assumed more of his brother's taste, becoming
more select and slow, contriving further to addict his brother to
engraving; a plan in which he succeeded. He returned, as a painter, to
Rome; and the fine representation of Poetry, so much admired in the Farnese
gallery, was, in great part, owing to his talent; and the same may be said
of the fables of Cephalus and Galatea, exquisitely graceful productions,
which seem dictated by a poet, and executed by a Greek artist. Hence it was
rumoured that in the Farnesian paintings the engraver had surpassed the
painter; at which Annibal, no longer able to subdue his envy, removed his
brother from the undertaking under a variety of false pretences; nor was
any humility on the part of Agostino, any advice of his elders, or any
mediation of the great, sufficient to appease him. Quitting Rome, Agostino
entered into the service of the Duke of Parma, for whom he painted
Celestial Love, Terrestrial Love, and Venal Love, to adorn one of the
halls, a very beautiful work, which he terminated only just before his
death. A single figure remained wanting, and this the duke would never
consent to have supplied by any other hand. At the point of death he was
seized with lively remorse, on account of his many licentious engravings
and prints, and even wept bitterly. At that period he designed a picture of
the Last Judgment, which, however, he was unable to complete. In the
account of his funeral, and in the oration recited on that occasion by
Lucio Faberio, mention is made of a head of Jesus Christ, in the character
of the universal judge, painted at that time, though unfinished, upon a
black ground. Such a head is pointed out in the Albani palace at Rome, and
duplicates exist elsewhere. In the features we see exhibited all that is at
once most majestic and most terrible within the limits of the human
imagination.
Annibal was greatly celebrated in Lombardy in every peculiar taste which he
chose to pursue. In his earliest works Mengs declares that he traces the
appearance, but not the depth and reality of Coreggio's style; but it is an
appearance so extremely plausible, that it compels us to pronounce him one
of the most perfect imitators of that consummate master. His Taking down
from the Cross, at the church of the Capuccini in Parma, may challenge the
most distinguished followers of the Parmese School. His picture of S. Rocco
is still more celebrated, comprising the perfections of different artists,
a piece engraved in aqua forte by Guido Reni. It was executed for Reggio,
thence transferred to Modena, and from the last place to Dresden. He
represented the saint, standing near a portico on a basement, and
dispensing his wealth to poor mendicants; a composition not so very rich in
figures as in knowledge of the art. A throng of paupers, as different in
point of infirmity as in age and sex, is admirably varied, both in the
grouping and the gestures. One is seen receiving with gratitude, another
impatiently expecting, a third counting his alms with delight; every object
is misery and humiliation, and yet every thing seems to display the
abundance and dignity of the artist. But proceeding to Rome in the year
1600, he entered on another career; "he checked his fire," observes Mengs,
"he improved the extravagance of his forms, imitated Raffaello and the
ancients, retaining at the same time a portion of the style of Coreggio to
support dignity." (Tom. ii. p. 19.) Albano makes use of nearly the same
words in a letter given by Bellori, (p. 44,) adding, that Annibal, in the
opinion of competent judges, "far surpassed his cousin, from a knowledge of
the works of Raffaello, in addition to that of the most beautiful ancient
statues." He was there employed in various churches, though his crowning
effort, and nearly the whole foundation of the art, as restored by his
means, are to be sought for in the Farnese palace. The subjects were
selected by Monsig. Agucchi; and together with the allegories may be read
in Bellori. In a small chamber he gave representations of the Virtues, such
as his _Choice of Hercules_, _Hercules sustaining the World_, _Ulysses the
Liberator_; in the gallery various fables of Virtuous Love, such as those
of Arion and Prometheus; with others of Venal Love, among which a wonderful
figure of a Bacchanal is one of the most conspicuous. The work is admirably
distributed and varied with ovals, cornices, and with a variety of
ornamental figures, sometimes in stucco, at others in chiaroscuro, where
the effect of his assiduous studies of the Farnesian Hercules is very
apparent, as well as of the _torso_ of the Belvidere, which he accurately
designed, without even having the model before him. The whole of the other
parts breathe Attic elegance combined with Raffaellesque grace, and
imitations not only of his own Tibaldi but of Bonarruoti himself, no less
than all the sprightly and the powerful added to the art by the Venetians
and Lombards. This was the earliest production, where, as in Pandora's box,
all the geniuses of the Italian schools united their several gifts; and in
its fit place I described the astonishment created by it at Rome, with the
revolution it occasioned in the whole art.
On account of this work he is ranked by Mengs next after the three leading
masters in the fourth degree, and even esteemed supereminent in regard to
the form of his virile figures. Poussin asserts, that after Raffaello there
were no better compositions than these, and he prefers the decorative heads
and figures already mentioned, with the other naked forms, in which the
artist was said to have surpassed himself, even to his fables so
beautifully painted. To him Baglione refers the method of colouring from
nature, which was nearly lost, as well as the true art of
landscape-painting, afterwards imitated by the Flemish. To these might
likewise be added the use of caricatures, which no one better than he knew
how to copy from nature, and to increase with ideal power. In the Roman
galleries many of Annibal's pictures are to be met with, conducted in this
new style; and there is one in the Lancellotti palace, small, and painted
_a colla_,[26] rivalling, I had almost said, the best pieces of Ercolani.
It is a Pan teaching Apollo to play upon the pipe; figures at once
designed, coloured, and disposed with the hand of a great master. They are
so finely expressive, that we see in the countenance of the youth,
humility, and apprehension of committing an error; and in that of the old
man, turning another way, peculiar attention to the sound, his pleasure in
possessing such a pupil, and his anxiety to conceal from him his real
opinion, lest he might happen to grow vain.[27]
Footnote 26: In colours, of which yolk of egg, or a kind of
glue, is the vehicle.
Footnote 27: See the _Dissertazione su la Pittura_, by the
Canon Lazzarini, in the Catalogue of Pictures at Pesaro, p.
118.
No other pieces so exquisitely finished are found by his hand at Bologna,
where there prevails the same strong party, commenced in the time of the
Caracci, and which prefers Lodovico to Annibal. When we reflect that
Annibal, in addition to the patrimony left by his school, conferred upon it
the riches which the genius of the Greeks, throughout many ages and many
places had collected to adorn their style; when we reflect on the progress,
which, on observing his new style at Rome, was made by Domenichino, Guido,
Albano, Lanfranco, with the new light which it afforded to Algardi,
according to the supposition of Passeri, in respect to sculpture, and the
improvement which by his means took place in the very pleasing and
attractive painting of Flanders and of Holland, we feel inclined to
coincide with the general sentiment entertained beyond the limits of
Bologna, that Annibal was the most eminent artist of his family. At the
same time we may allow, that Agostino was the greater genius, and Lodovico,
to whom we are indebted for both, the greater teacher of these three. As
such, too, the learned Ab. Magnani, librarian and lecturer upon eloquence
to the institution, assigns to him the office of teacher, in an able
oration upon the fine arts, printed at Parma by Bodoni, along with others
by the same author.
The three Caracci may be almost said to define the boundaries of the golden
age of painting in Italy. They are her last sovereign masters, unless we
are willing to admit a few of their select pupils, who extended that period
during the space of some years. Excellent masters, doubtless, flourished
subsequently; but after their decease, the powers of such artists appearing
less elevated and less solid, we begin to hear complaints respecting the
decline of the art. Nor were there wanting those who contended for a
secondary age of silver, dating from Guido down to the time of Giordano, as
well on account of the minor merit of the artists, as for the prices, so
much greater than formerly, which Guido introduced into the art. The
Caracci themselves had been only scantily remunerated. Count Malvasia
admits this fact, not omitting to point out the small dwelling, and to
describe the narrow circumstances in which Lodovico died, while his two
relatives left the world still more impoverished than himself. The Caracci,
moreover, did not, like other painters, leave legitimate sons to perpetuate
their school; they never married, and were accustomed to observe that the
art was sole partner of their thoughts. And this beloved mistress they
adored and served with a love so passionate, as to abandon almost all
worldly care for themselves. Even while sitting at their meals they had the
implements of their art before them; and wherever they observed an action
or gesture adapted to adorn it, they took instant note of it. And to this
their free estate, more than to any other cause, were they indebted for
their noble progress and improvement. Had they "taken to themselves a
wife," how easily would their agreeable friendship and attachment, from
which each of the three derived light and knowledge from the rest, have
been broken in upon by tattling and trifles beneath their care. Most
probably, too, it might have occasioned too great rapidity of hand, at the
expense of study; such at least having been the result with regard to many,
who, to indulge a woman's taste, or to provide for the wants of a family,
have addicted themselves to carelessness and despatch. At the period, then,
of the decease of the two cousins, and the advanced age of Lodovico, there
remained of the family only two youths, one, named Francesco, at Bologna,
the other, Antonio, in Rome.
Francesco was a younger brother of Agostino and Annibal. Confiding in his
connexions and in his own talent, excellent in point of design, and
reasonably good in colouring, he ventured to oppose a school of his own to
that of Lodovico, his master, inscribing upon the door: "This is the true
school of the Caracci." He enjoyed no reputation at Bologna, but was rather
held in dislike, on account of his opposition to and detraction of
Lodovico, to whom he owed what little he executed at that place, namely, an
altar-piece, with various saints, at S. Maria Maggiore, the whole of which
had been retouched by his kind and able cousin. Having gone to Rome, he was
first received with applause, but becoming better known he was soon
despised; and, without leaving a single specimen of his pencil, he died
there in his twenty-seventh year, in the hospital. Antonio Caracci, a
natural son of Agostino, and pupil to Annibal, was of a totally different
disposition. Prudent, affectionate, and grateful to his relatives, he
received Annibal's last sighs at Rome, bestowed upon him a splendid funeral
in the same church of the Rotonda, where Raffaello's remains had been
exhibited, and deposited his ashes at the side of that great artist. He
survived, a valetudinarian, during some years, and died at the age of
thirty-five, in Rome, where he left some works in the pontifical palace,
and at S. Bartolommeo. They are rarely met with in cabinets, though I saw
one in Genoa, a Veronica, in possession of the Brignole family. Bellori Had
written his life, which, although now lost, leads to the supposition that
he possessed great merit, inasmuch as that writer confined himself to the
commemoration of only first rate artists. Baldassare Aloisi, called
Galanino, a kinsman and scholar of the Caracci, yielded to few of his
fellow-pupils in his compositions. His picture of the Visitation, at the
church of the Carità in Bologna, so much extolled by Malvasia, to say
nothing of various other pictures, executed at Rome, and favourably
recorded by Baglione, affords ample proofs of it. His fortune, however, was
not equal to his merit; so that he wholly devoted himself to portraiture,
and as we have stated, in the Roman School, he there for some period
boasted the chief sway in the branch of portraits, which were uniformly
characterized by great power and strong relief.
Other Bolognese artists, educated in the same academy, took up their
residence also at Rome, or in its state; nor were they few in number,
since, as was observed in the fourth epoch of that school, they were
received there with distinguished favour. We shall commence with the least
celebrated. Lattanzio Mainardi, called by Baglione Lattanzio Bolognese, had
visited Rome previous to Annibal, and in the pontificate of Sixtus V.,
conducted several works for the Vatican, which augured well of his genius,
had he not died there very young; as well as one Gianpaolo Bonconti, at an
age still more immature, having vainly followed his master to Rome, where
he had only time to make a few designs, but conceived in the best taste.
Innocenzio Tacconi was kinsman, according to some, and assuredly enjoyed
the confidence of Annibale. From him he received designs and retouches,
tending to make him appear a more considerable artist than he really was.
To judge from some of his histories of St. Andrew, painted for S. Maria del
Popolo, and S. Angiolo, in the fish-market, he may be said to have rivalled
his best fellow-pupils. But abusing his master's goodness, and alienating
his regard from Agostino, from Albano, and from Guido, by
misrepresentations, he received the usual recompence of slanderers. Annibal
withdrew his support, deprived of which he gradually became more and more
insignificant. Anton Maria Panico early left Rome, and, entering the
service of Mario Farnese, resided upon his estates, being employed in
painting at Castro, at Latera, and at Farnese, in whose cathedral he placed
his picture of the mass, to which Annibal also put his hand, even
conducting some of the figures. Baldassare Croce is an artist enumerated by
Orlandi among the pupils of Annibal; by Malvasia, among the imitators of
Guido. Baglione describes him as superior in age to all three of the
Caracci, introducing him into Rome as early as the times of Gregory.
Towards reconciling the accounts of these writers, it might be observed,
that continuing to reside at Rome, he may have taken advantage, as he
advanced in age, of the examples afforded by his noble fellow-citizens. His
style, from what we gather of it in the public palace of Viterbo, and a
cupola of the Gesù, as well as from his large histories of S. Susanna, and
other places in Rome, is easy, natural, and entitling him to the name of a
good mechanist and painter of frescos, but not so easily to that of a
follower of the Caracci. Gio. Luigi Valesio entered, though late, into the
same school, and chiefly attached himself to engraving and to miniature.
Proceeding to Rome, he was there employed by the Lodovisi under the
pontificate of Gregory XV., and obtained great honours. We find him
commended in the works of Marini and other poets, though less for the art,
in which he only moderately excelled, than for his assiduity and his
fortune. He was one of those wits, who in the want of sound merit know how
to substitute easier methods to advance themselves; seasonably to regale
such as can assist them, to affect joy amidst utter humiliation, to
accommodate themselves to men's tempers, to flatter, to insinuate, and to
canvass interest, until they attain their object. By means like these he
maintained his equipage in Rome, where Annibal, during many years, obtained
no other stipend for his honourable toils, than a bare roof for his head,
daily pittance for himself and his servant, with annual payment of a
hundred and twenty crowns.[28] In the few pieces executed by Valesio at
Bologna, such as his Nunziata of the Mendicants, we perceive a dry
composition of small relief, yet exact according to the method of the
miniaturists. He appears to have somewhat improved at Rome, where he left a
few works in fresco and in oil, exhibiting his whole power, perhaps, in a
figure of Religion, in the cloister of the Minerva. To these artists of the
Caracci school it will be sufficient only to have alluded. They were indeed
no more than gregarious followers of those elevated standards of their age.
Footnote 28: See _Malvasia_, vol. i. p. 574.
The five, however, who next follow, deserve a nearer view, and more
accurate acquaintance with their merits. These, remaining indeed at Rome,
became leaders of new ranks, which from them assumed their name and device;
and hence we have alternately been compelled to record the disciples of
Albano, of Guido, and so of the rest. This repetition, however, in other
places, will now permit us to treat of them in a more cursory view.
Domenico Zampieri, otherwise Domenichino, is at this day universally
esteemed the most distinguished pupil of the Caracci; and has even been
preferred by Count Algarotti to the Caracci themselves. What is still more,
Poussin ranked him directly next to Raffaello; and in the introduction to
the life of Camassei, almost the same opinion is given by Passeri. During
the early part of his career his genius appeared slow, because it was
profound and accurate; and Passeri attributes his grand progress more to
his amazing study than to his genius. From his acting as a continual censor
of his own productions, he became among his fellow pupils the most exact
and expressive designer, his colours most true to nature, and of the best
_impasto_, the most universal master in the theory of his art, the sole
painter amongst them all in whom Mengs found nothing to desire, except a
somewhat larger proportion of elegance. That he might devote his whole
being to the art, he shunned all society, or if he occasionally sought it
in the public theatres and markets, it was in order better to observe the
play of nature's passions in the features of the people;--those of joy,
anger, grief, terror, and every affection of the mind, and to commit it
living to his tablets; and thus, exclaims Bellori, it was, he succeeded in
delineating the soul, in colouring life, and rousing those emotions in our
breasts at which his works all aim; as if he waved the same wand which
belonged to the poetical enchanters, Tasso and Ariosto. After several
years' severe study at Bologna, he went to Parma to examine the beautiful
works of the Lombards; and thence to Rome, where he completed his erudite
taste under Annibal, who selected him as one of his assistants.
His style of painting is almost theatrical, and he in general lays the
scene amidst some splendid exhibition of architecture,[29] which serves to
confer upon his compositions a new and elevated character in the manner of
Paul Veronese. There he introduces his actors, selected from nature's
finest models, and animated by the noblest impulses of the art. The
virtuous have an expression so sweet, so sincere, and so affectionate, as
to inspire the love of what is good. And in the like manner do the vicious,
with their guilty features, create in us as deep aversion to their vice. We
must despair to find paintings exhibiting richer or more varied ornaments,
accessaries more beautifully adapted, or more majestic draperies. The
figures are finely disposed both in place and action, conducing to the
general effect; while a light pervades the whole which seems to rejoice the
spirit; growing brighter and brighter in the aspect of the best
countenances, whence they first attract the eye and heart of the beholder.
The most delightful mode of view is to take in the whole scene, and observe
how well each personage represents his intended part. In general there is
no want of an interpreter to declare what the actors think and speak; they
bear it stamped upon their features and attitudes; and though gifted with
audible words, they could not tell their tale to the ear, more plainly than
they speak it to the eye. Surely, of this, we have proof in the Scourging
of St. Andrew, at S. Gregorio, at Rome, executed in competition with Guido,
and placed opposite to his St. Andrew, in the act of being led to the
gibbet. It is commonly reported that an aged woman, accompanied by a little
boy, was seen long wistfully engaged with viewing Domenichino's picture,
shewing it part by part to the boy, and next turning to the history by
Guido, she gave it a cursory glance, and passed on. Some assert, that
Annibal, being acquainted with the fact, took occasion from the
circumstance to give his preference to the former piece. It is moreover
added, that in painting one of the executioners, he actually threw himself
into a passion, using threatening words and actions, and that Annibal
surprising him at that moment, embraced him, exclaiming with joy, "To-day,
my Domenichino, thou art teaching me!" So novel, and at the same time so
natural it appeared to him, that the artist, like the orator, should feel
within himself all that he is representing to others.
Footnote 29: He was likewise very eminent in this branch,
being named by Gregory XV. as architect for the Apostolic
Palace.
Yet this picture of the Scourging is in no way to be compared with the
Communion of S. Jerome, or to the Martyrdom of S. Agnes, and other works,
conducted in his riper years. The first of these is generally allowed to be
the finest picture Rome can boast next to the Transfiguration of Raffaello;
while the second was estimated by his rival Guido at ten times the merit of
Raffaello's own pieces.[30] In these church paintings one great attraction
consists in the glory of the angels, exquisitely beautiful in feature, full
of lively action, and so introduced as to perform the most gracious offices
in the piece; the crowning of martyrs, the bearing palms, the scattering of
roses, weaving the mazy dance, and waking sweet melodies. In the attitudes
we often trace the imitation of Coreggio; yet the forms are different, and
for the most part have a flatness of the nose, which distinguishes them,
and gives them an air of comeliness. Much, however, as Domenichino
delighted in oil-painting, he is more soft and harmonious in his frescos;
some of which are to be seen, besides those in Naples, at Fano, but the
greatest part of them were destroyed by fire. They consist of scriptural
histories in a chapel of the cathedral; of mythological incidents in villa
Bracciano, at Frascati; the acts of S. Nilo, at Grotta Ferrata; and various
sacred subjects interspersed through different churches at Rome. In the
corbels of the cupolas at S. Carlo a' Catinari, and at S. Andrea della
Valle, he painted, at the former, the four Virtues, at the latter, the four
Evangelists, still regarded as models after innumerable similar
productions. At S. Andrea also are seen various histories of that saint in
the tribune, besides those of St. Cecilia, at S. Luigi; others at S.
Silvestro, in the Quirinal of David, and other scriptural subjects, which
in point of composition and taste of costume are by some esteemed superior
to the rest.
Footnote 30: The Cav. Puccini very justly condemns this
opinion in his _Esame Critico del Webb_, p. 49.
It seems almost incredible, that works like these, which now engage the
admiration of professors themselves, should once, as I have narrated, have
been decried to such a degree, that the author was long destitute of all
commissions, and even on the point of transferring his genius to the art of
sculpture. This was in part owing to the arts of his rivals, who
represented his very excellences as defects, and in part to some little
faults of his own. Domenichino was less distinguished for invention than
for any other branch of his profession. Of this, his picture of the Rosary
at Bologna affords an instance, which neither at that period nor since has
been fully understood by the public; and it is known not to have pleased
even his own friends, which led the author to regret its production.
Diffident thenceforward of his powers in this department, he often borrowed
the ideas of others; imitated Agostino in his St. Jerome, the S. Rocco, of
Annibal, in his almsgiving of St. Cecilia; and even other less eminent
artists; observing, that in every picture he found something good, as Pliny
said, that from every book we may cull some useful information. These
imitations afforded occasion for his rivals to charge him with poverty of
invention, procuring an engraving of Agostino's St. Jerome, of which they
circulated copies, denouncing Domenico Zampieri as a plagiarist. Lanfranco,
the chief agent in these intrigues, exhibited on the contrary only his own
designs, invariably novel, and made a display of his own celerity and
promptness of hand, as contrasted with his rival's want of resolution and
despatch. Had Domenichino enjoyed the same advantages of party as the
Caracci in Bologna, which he well deserved, he would soon have triumphed
over his adversaries, by proving the distinction between imitation and
servility,[31] and that if his works were longer in being brought to
perfection than his rival's, their reputation would be proportionally
durable. The public is an equitable judge; but a good cause is not
sufficient without the advantage of many voices to sanction it.
Domenichino, timid, retired, and master of few pupils, was destitute of a
party equal to his cause. He was constrained to yield to the crowd that
trampled him, thus verifying the observation of Monsig. Agucchi, that his
worth would never be rightly appreciated during his lifetime. The spirit of
party passing away, impartial posterity has rendered him justice; nor is
there a royal gallery but confesses an ambition for his specimens. His
figure pieces are in the highest esteem, and fetch enormous prices. He is
rarely to be met with except in capital cities; his David is a first rate
object of inquiry to all strangers visiting the college of Fano, who have
the least pretensions to taste; the figure of the king, as large as life,
being of itself sufficient to render an artist's name immortal.
Footnote 31: See the defence set up by Crespi, both for
Domenichino and Massari, another imitator of Agostino's
picture. It is inserted in the _Certosa di Bologna_,
described at p. 26. He has also been commended by Bellori
for his slowness of hand, who brings forward some of his
maxims, such as that, "no single line is worthy of a real
painter which is not dictated by the genius before it is
traced by the hand; that excellence consists in the full and
proper completion of works;" and he used to reproach those
pupils who designed in sketch, and coloured by dashes of the
pencil (p. 213). We meet with a third apology in Passeri,
(p. 4,) for some figures borrowed from the Farnese Gallery,
and imitated by Domenichino in the histories of St. Jerome
in the portico of S. Onofrio. At p. 9 too he defends him in
regard to the style of his folds, in which by some he was
thought too scanty, and too hard in their disposition.
There is a small, but inestimable picture of St. Francis, that belonged to
the late Count Jacopo Zambeccari, at Bologna. The saint is seen in the act
of prayer, and by the animated and flushed expression of the eyes, it
appears as if his heart had just been dissolved in tears. Two pictures,
likewise beautifully composed, I have seen at Genoa; the Death of Adonis
bewailed by Venus, in the Durazzo Gallery just before mentioned, and the S.
Rocco in the Brignole Sale, offering up prayers for the cessation of the
plague. The attitude of the holy man; the eagerness of those who seek him;
the tragic exhibition of the dying and the dead around him; a funeral
procession going by; an infant seen on the bosom of its dead mother, vainly
seeking its wonted nutriment; all shake the soul of the spectator as if he
were beholding the real scene. Among his pictures from profane history the
most celebrated is his Chase of Diana, in the Borghesi Palace, filled with
spirited forms of nymphs, and lively incidents. In the same collection are
some of his landscapes, as well as in that of Florence; and some of his
portraits in others. Here too he is excellent, but they are the least
difficult branches to acquire. Respecting his other works, and the most
eminent of his pupils, enough has been stated in the Roman and Neapolitan
schools. He educated for his native place Gio. Batista Ruggieri; and to his
numerous other misfortunes was added the pain of finding him ungrateful,
after having rendered him eminent in his art. This pupil united with Gessi
in quality of assistant; and as we shall shew, also took his denomination
from him. Passeri dwells on this disappointment of Domenichino incidentally
in his life of Algardi, (p. 198).
Next to Zampieri comes his intimate friend Francesco Albani, "who, aiming
at the same object," observes Malvasia, "and adopting the same means,
pursued the like glorious career." They agree in a general taste for select
design, solidity, pathetic power, and likewise in their tints, except in
Albani's fleshes being ruddier, and not unfrequently faded, from his method
of laying on the grounds. In point of original invention he is superior to
Domenichino, and perhaps to any other of the school; and in his
representation of female forms, according to Mengs, he has no equal. By
some he is denominated the Anacreon of painting. Like that poet, with his
short odes, so Albani, from his small paintings, acquired great reputation;
and as the one sings Venus and the Loves, and maids and boys, so does the
artist hold up to the eye the same delicate and graceful subjects. Nature,
indeed formed, the perusal of the poets inclined, and fortune encouraged
his genius for this kind of painting; and possessing a consort and twelve
children, all of surprising beauty, he was at the same time blest with the
finest models for the pursuit of his studies. He had a villa most
delightfully situated, which farther presented him with a variety of
objects, enabling him to represent the beautiful rural views so familiar to
his eye. Passeri greatly extols his talent in this branch, remarking, that
where others, being desirous of suiting figures to the landscape, or its
various objects to one another, most frequently alter their natural colour,
he invariably preserves the green of his trees, the clearness of his
waters, and the serenity of the air, under the most lovely aspect; and
contrived to unite them with the most enchanting power of harmony.
Upon such grounds, for the most part, he places and disposes his
compositions, although he may occasionally introduce specimens of his
architecture, in which he is equally expert. His pictures are often met
with in collections, or to speak more correctly, they re-appear, inasmuch
as both he himself made repetitions, and practised his pupils in them,
giving them his own touches. He exhibits few bacchanals, avoiding figures
that had already been so admirably treated by Annibal in many of his little
pictures, from which, if I mistake not, Albano drew the first ideas of his
style; adapting it to his own talent, which was not so elevated as that of
Annibal. His most favourite themes are the sleeping Venus, Diana in her
bath, Danae on her couch, Galatea in the sea, Europa on the bull, a piece
which is also seen on a large scale in the Colonna and Bolognetti
collections at Rome, and in that of the Conti Mosca at Pesaro. How
beautifully do those figures of the Loves throw their veil over the virgin,
in order to protect her from the sun's rays, while others are seen drawing
forward the bull with bands of flowers, or goading him in the side with
their darts. At times he introduces them in the dance, weaving garlands,
and practising with their bows at a heart suspended in the air for a
target. Occasionally he conceals some doctrine, or ingenious allegory,
under the veil of painting; as in those four oval pictures of the Elements
in the Borghesi palace, which he repeated for the royal gallery at Turin.
There too are Cupids seen employed in tempering Vulcan's darts; spreading
their snares for birds upon the wing; fishing and swimming in the sea;
culling and wreathing flowers, as if intended to represent the system of
the ancients, who referred every work of nature to Genii, and with Genii
accordingly peopled the world. To sacred subjects Albano devoted less
attention, but did not vary his taste. The entire action of such pieces was
made to depend on the ministry of graceful cherubs, in a manner similar to
that which was subsequently adopted by P. Tornielli in his marine
canzonettes, where, in every history of the Virgin and Holy Child, he
introduces a throng of them as a sacred train. Another very favourite
repetition of idea is that of representing the Infant Christ, with his eye
turned towards Heaven upon the angels, some in the act of bringing thorns,
some the scourge, some the cross, or other symbols of his future passion.
There is a picture of this kind in Florence, to which I alluded in the
_Description_ of the ducal gallery, and it is also found somewhat varied in
two fine pieces; one at the Domenicani in Forli, the other in Bologna, at
the Filippini. These, and other works of Albani, interspersed throughout
different cities, as in Matelica, in Osimo, in Rimini, besides his fresco
paintings in Bologna, at S. Michele in Bosco, at S. Jacopo, of the
Spaniards at Rome, with the design of Annibal; these sufficiently exhibit
his superior talent for large paintings, although he applied himself with
greater zest and vigour to those on a smaller scale.
Albani opened an academy for several years at Rome, and at Bologna,
invariably a competitor of Guido, both in his magisterial and his
professional capacity.[32] Hence arose those strictures upon his style
which Guido's disciples affected to despise as loose and effeminate,
wanting elegance in the virile forms, while those of the boys were all of
the same proportion, and his heads of the Holy Family, and of saints had
always one idea. Similar accusations, advanced likewise against Pietro
Perugino, are not calculated to depress so great an artist's merit, so much
as the esteem of Annibal, his own writings, and his pupils, serve to raise
him in our regard. It is matter of historical fact that Annibal, seized
with admiration of some of his small pictures, and among others a
bacchante, seen at a fountain pouring out wine, purchased it, and declared
that he had not even paid for the drops of water so exquisitely coloured by
the wine. Of his writings there remain only a few fragments, preserved by
Malvasia, not indeed reduced to method, a task that ought to devolve on
some other pen, but highly valuable from the information and maxims which
they contain. Among his pupils Sacchi and Cignani are in themselves
sufficient to reflect credit upon their master, the first of whom sustained
the art at Rome, the other at Bologna, and to whose efforts it was owing
that its reputation so long continued in both those schools. There,
moreover, we recounted the names of Speranza, and Mola, of Lugano, his
noble disciples; and to these, besides Cignani, to whom we refer elsewhere,
we can add a considerable number. Gio. Batista Mola, a Frenchman, long
continued with Albano, and, according to Boschini, resided with the other
Mola at Venice, where they copied a vast work of Paul Veronese for Cardinal
Bichi. He displayed surprising skill in drawing rural scenes and trees, and
being preferred by many in this branch to his master, he often added
landscape to his master's figures, and occasionally adapted figures to his
own landscape, very beautiful, in Albani's style, but without his softness.
In the excellent collection of the Marchesi Rinuccini, at Florence, is a
picture of the Repose in Egypt, by the same hand. Two other foreign pupils
also did him credit; Antonio Catalani, called Il Romano, and Girolamo
Bonini, also from his native place, entitled l'Anconitano, who, in
imitating Albani, was equalled by few, and who enjoyed his perfect
confidence and friendship. Settling at Bologna, they there employed
themselves with reputation in some elegant works, and left several
histories in fresco in the public palace. In this last branch, Pierantonio
Torri also distinguished himself, called, in Guarienti's lexicon, Antonio,
dropping Pietro on the authority of the Passagiere disingannato; and
Torrigli, in the Guide of Venice, where he painted the architectural parts
in the church of S. Giuseppe for the figures of Ricchi. Filippo Menzani is
known only as the attached disciple and faithful copyist of his master.
Gio. Batista Galli, and Bartolommeo Morelli, the former called from his
birth-place, Bibiena, the latter Pianoro, were similarly employed in taking
copies from him; though the second applied to it with extreme reluctance,
on account of Albani being "too highly finished, diligent, and laborious,
for the task of copying." Both these artists are commended by the
continuator of Malvasia. Bibiena, though he died early, conducted works
that might be ascribed to Albani, in particular the Ascension at the
Certosa, and his St. Andrew at the Servi in Bologna. Pianoro succeeded
admirably well in his frescos, more especially in the chapel of Casa Pepoli
at S. Bartolommeo di Porta, decorated by him throughout in such exquisite
taste, that, were history silent, it would be said to have been designed
and coloured by Albani's own hand.
Footnote 32: This rivalship is questioned in many places by
Malvasia, and denied by Orlandi, who in the article
Francesco Albano, designates him as the sworn friend of
Guido Reni, in close union with whom he prosecuted their
delightful art; but this can only apply to their early
years.
By some, Guido Reni is esteemed the great genius of the school; nor did any
other single artist excite so much jealousy in the Caracci. Lodovico was
unable to disguise it; and from a pupil he made him his rival, and in order
to humble him, bestowed his favour on Guercino, an artist in quite another
taste. Annibal too, after some years, on seeing him at Rome, blamed Albani
for inviting him thither; and, in order to depress him, he put Domenichino
in opposition to him. Even from the age of twenty, when he left the school
of Calvart, the Caracci discovered in him a rare genius for the art, so
elevated and ambitious of distinction, that he aspired to something great
and novel from the outset of his career. Some of his early efforts are to
be seen in the Bonfigliuoli palace, and in other choice collections,
displaying a variety of manner. He devoted much study to Albert Durer, he
imitated the Caracci, studied the forms of Cesi, and, like Passerotti,
aimed at giving strong relief and accuracy to the drawing of the muscles.
In some instances he followed Caravaggio, and in the aforesaid palace is a
figure of a sibyl, very beautiful in point of features, but greatly
overlaid with depth of shade. The style he adopted arose particularly from
an observation on that of Caravaggio one day incidentally made by Annibal
Caracci, that to this manner there might be opposed one wholly contrary; in
place of a confined and declining light, to exhibit one more full and
vivid; to substitute the tender for the bold, to oppose clear outlines to
his indistinct ones, and to introduce for his low and common figures those
of a more select and beautiful kind.
These words made a much deeper impression on the mind of Guido than Annibal
was aware of; nor was it long before he wholly applied himself to the style
thus indicated to him. Sweetness was his great object; he sought it equally
in design, in the touch of his pencil, and in colouring; from that time he
began to make use of white lead, a colour avoided by Lodovico, and at the
same time predicted the durability of his tints, such as they have proved.
His fellow pupils were indignant at his presuming to depart from the
Caracci's method, and returning to the feeble undecided manner of the past
century. Nor did he pretend to be indifferent to their remarks and advice.
He still preserved that strength of style, so much aimed at by his school,
while he softened it with more than its usual delicacy; and by degrees
proceeding in the same direction, he, in a few years, attained to the
degree of delicacy he had proposed. For this reason I have observed that in
Bologna, more than elsewhere, his first is distinguished from his second
manner, and it is made a question which of the two is preferable. Nor do
all agree with Malvasia, who pronounced his former the most pleasing, his
latter manner the most studied.
In these variations, however, he never lost sight of that exquisite ease
which so much attracts us in his works. He was more particularly attentive
to the correct form of beauty, especially in his youthful heads. Here, in
the opinion of Mengs, he surpassed all others, and, according to Passeri's
expression, he drew faces of Paradise. In these Rome abounds more richly
than Bologna itself. The Fortune in the capitol; the Aurora, belonging to
the Rospigliosi; the Helen to the Spada; the Herodias to the Corsini; the
Magdalen to the Barberini, with other subjects in possession of several
princes, are regarded as the wonders of Guido's art. This power of beauty
was, in the words of Albano, his most bitter and constant rival, the gift
of nature; though the whole was the result of his own intense study of
natural beauty, and of Raffaello, and of the ancient statues, medals, and
cameos. He declared that the Medicean Venus and the Niobe were his most
favourite models; and it is seldom we do not recognize in his paintings
either Niobe herself, or one of her children, though diversified in a
variety of manner with such exquisite skill, as in no way to appear
borrowed. In the same way did Guido derive advantage from Raffaello,
Coreggio, Parmigianino, and from his beloved Paul Veronese; from all of
whom he selected innumerable beauties, but with such happy freedom of hand
as to excite the envy of the Caracci. And, in truth, this artist aimed less
at copying beautiful countenances, than at forming for himself a certain
general and abstract idea of beauty, as we know was done by the Greeks, and
this he modulated and animated in his own style. I find mention, that being
interrogated by one of his pupils, _in what part of heaven, in what mould_
existed those wondrous features which he only drew, he pointed to the casts
of the antique heads just alluded to, adding, "You too may gather from such
examples beauties similar to those in my pictures, if your skill be equal
to the task." I find, moreover, that he took for model of one of his
Magdalens, the extremely vulgar head of a colour-grinder; but under Guido's
hand every defect disappeared, each part became graceful, the whole a
miracle. Thus too in his naked figures he reduced them, whatever they were,
to a perfect form, more especially in the hands and feet, in which he is
singular, and the same in his draperies, which he often drew from the
prints of Albert Durer, enriching them, freed from their dryness, with
those flowing folds or that grandeur of disposition best adapted to the
subject. To portraits themselves, while he preserved the forms and age of
the originals, he gave a certain air of novelty and grace, such as we see
in that of Sixtus V., placed in the Galli palace at Osimo, or in that
wonderful one of Cardinal Spada, in possession of some of his descendants
at Rome. There is no one action, position, or expression at all injurious
to his figures; the passions of grief, terror, sorrow, are all combined
with the expression of beauty; he turns them every way as he lists, he
changes them into every attitude, always equally pleasing, and every one
equally entitled to the eulogy of displaying in every action, and in every
step, the beauty which secretly animates and accompanies it.[33]
Footnote 33:
Illam quidquid agat, quoquo vestigia vertat,
Componit furtim, subsequiturque decor.--TIBUL.
What most surprises us is the variety which he infuses into this beauty,
resulting no less from his richness of imagination than from his studies.
Still continuing to design in the academy up to the close of his career, he
practised his invention how best to vary his idea of the beautiful, so as
to free it from all monotony and satiety. He was fond of depicting his
countenances with upraised looks, and used to say that he had a hundred
different modes of thus representing them. He displayed equal variety in
his draperies, though invariably preferring to draw the folds ample, easy,
natural, and with clear meaning, as to their origin, progress, and
disposition. Nor did he throw less diversity into the ornaments of his
youthful heads, disposing the tresses, whether loose, bound, or left in
artful confusion, always different, and sometimes casting over them a veil,
fillet, or turban, so as to produce some fresh display of grace. Nor were
his heads of old men inferior in this respect, displaying even the
inequality of the skin, the flow of the beard, with the hair turned as we
see on every side, and animating the features with a few bold, decided
touches, and few lights, so as to give great effect at a distance,
altogether with a surprising degree of nature; specimens of which are seen
at the Pitti palace, the Barberina and Albana galleries; and yet among the
least rare of this artist's productions. He bestowed similar attention to
varying his fleshes; in delicate subjects he made them of the purest white,
adding, moreover, certain livid and azure, mixed among middle tints, open
to a charge, at least by some, of mannerism.[34]
Footnote 34: The harmony and union of colour of this artist
would seem to excuse some trifling licenses, respecting
which see Lazzarini upon the Paintings of Pesaro, p. 29.
The preceding commendations, however, will not extend to the whole of
Guido's works. His inequality is well known, but not owing to any maxim of
his art. It arose from his love of play, a failing which obscured his many
moral qualities. His profits were great; but he was kept continually in a
state of indigence by his losses, which he endeavoured to repair by the too
negligent practice of his art. Hence we trace occasional errors in
perspective, and deficiency of invention, a defect so much insisted upon by
the implacable Albani. Hence too his incorrectness of design, the
disproportion of his figures, and his works put to sale before their
completion. Yet these are not excluded from royal cabinets, and that of
Turin possesses one of Marsyas, a finely finished figure, before which is
seen standing little more than the sketch of an Apollo. To form then a fair
estimate of Guido, we must turn to other efforts which raised him to high
reputation. Among his most excellent pieces I am of opinion that his
Crucifixion of St. Peter, at Rome, is a specimen of his boldest manner; the
Miracle of the Manna at Ravenna, the Conception at Forli, the Slaughter of
the Innocents at Bologna; and there too his celebrated picture of Saints
Peter and Paul in the Casa Sampieri. Specimens of his more tender manner
may be found in the St. Michael at Rome, the Purification at Modena, the
Job at Bologna, St. Thomas the Apostle at Pesaro, the Assumption at Genoa,
one of Guido's most studied pieces, and placed directly opposite the St.
Ignatius of Rubens.
Guido taught at Rome, and gave his pupils, as we have stated, to that city.
He educated still more for his native place, where he opened a school,
frequented by more than two hundred pupils, as we are informed by Crespi.
Nor are we by this number to measure the dignity of his character as a
master. He was an accomplished head of his school, who, in every place,
introduced into the art a more sweet and engaging manner, entitled in the
times of Malvasia the modern manner. Even his rivals took advantage of it,
the fact being indisputable that Domenichino, Albano, and Lanfranco, along
with their best disciples, derived that degree of delicacy, in which they
sometimes surpass the Caracci, from none but Guido. He would not permit the
scholars in his studio to copy in the first instance from his own works,
but exercised them in those of Lodovico, and the most eminent deceased
masters. It is conjectured also by Crespi, that he grounded his scholars in
the principles of the art of imitation, and all the first requisites,
without reference to the minutiæ, which are easily acquired in the course
of practice. Guido particularly prided himself on Giacomo Semenza, and
Francesco Gessi, whom he thought equal to any masters at that time in
Bologna. He employed them in that chapel of the cathedral at Ravenna, a
perfect miracle of beauty, and gave them commissions from the court of
Mantua and Savoy, assisting them also, both at Rome and his native place;
in return for all which he was repaid by Semenza with gratitude, but by
Gessi with bitter persecutions. He was followed by both in point of style,
and specimens are to be seen in some choice collections.
Semenza emulated Guido in both his manners, and displayed more correctness,
erudition, and strength. His pictures at Araceli and other places
sufficiently distinguish him from the immense crowd of fresco-painters at
Rome. There too are many of his altar-pieces, none more beautiful, perhaps,
than the S. Sebastian, at S. Michele in Bologna. Gessi surpassed him in
spirit, invention, and rapidity, for which last quality even Guido envied
him. This enabled him too, from the first, to vary his works in point of
manner until he hit upon the right one, as in his very beautiful St.
Francis at the Nunziata, little inferior to Guido, as well as in several
others conducted in his earlier and best days. To these he was indebted for
his name of a second Guido; but subsequently he abused his talents, as is
the case with those who are held in slight esteem for performing much and
rapidly. Thus Bologna abounds with his pictures, in which, with the
exception of their fine character and much delicacy, there is nothing to
commend; his pictures are cold, his colouring is slight; the shape and
features are often too large, and not seldom incorrect. He is known to have
invariably affected the second manner of Guido, and hence he is always more
feeble, dry, and less harmonious than his master. By these distinctions are
the differences between salesmen and purchasers usually decided, as to
whether such a piece be a poor Guido or a Gessi.
Yet Gessi had a numerous school at Bologna, on Guido's retiring, and formed
scholars of some reputation, such as Giacomo Castellini, Francesco
Coreggio, and Giulio Trogli, who, devoting himself to perspective, under
Mitelli, and publishing a work entitled Paradossi della Prospettiva, went
ever afterwards by the name of the _Paradox_. Ercole Ruggieri was a
faithful follower of Gessi's style, insomuch as at first sight to be
mistaken for his master. He was called Ercolino del Gessi, and his brother
Batistino del Gessi, an artist of rare talent, commended by Baglione, and
much esteemed by Cortona, in whose arms he breathed his last. Batistino was
first a pupil of Domenichino, as before mentioned; and might more properly
be named dello Zampieri than del Gessi, from his education and his style.
He accompanied Gessi to Naples, and subsequently became his rival, and
surpassed him at S. Barbaziano in Bologna. Finally he fixed his residence
at Rome, where remain some of his paintings in fresco, in the cloister of
the Minerva, in the Cenci palace, and elsewhere, which shew in him the
promise of a very distinguished artist; but he did not survive his
thirty-second year.
To Guido Reni belongs Ercole de Maria, or da S. Giovanni, called Ercolino
di Guido. So pliant was his genius to that of his master, that when the
latter had half completed a picture, his pupil made a copy and substituted
it for the original, and Guido continued the work, unsuspicious of the
cheat, as if it had been his own. He willingly employed him, therefore, in
multiplying his own designs, two of which copies are yet seen in public,
extremely beautiful, though not displaying the same freedom as others which
he conducted on private commission, at a more advanced age. In these there
appears a decision and flow of pencil which imposed upon the best judges, a
talent that procured him admiration at Rome, with an honour received by no
other copyist, being created a Cavalier by Urban VIII.; but this artist
also died in the flower of his age.
Another good copyist and master of Guido's style appeared in Gio. Andrea
Sirani. On his master's death he completed the great picture of St. Bruno,
left unfinished at the Certosini, with others throughout the city in the
same state. Whether owing to Guido's retouches, or want of freedom,
Sirani's earliest works bear much resemblance to that master's second
manner, more particularly his Crucifixion in the church of S. Marino, which
seems like a repetition of the S. Lorenzo in Lucina, or that in the
Modenese gallery, in whose features death itself appears beautiful. In
progress of time Sirani is supposed to have aimed at the stronger style of
Guido in his early career, and conducted in such taste are his pictures of
the Supper of the Pharisee, at the Certosa, the Nuptials of the Virgin, at
St. Giorgio, in Bologna, and the Twelve Crucifixions, in the cathedral of
Piacenza, an extremely beautiful painting, ascribed by some to Elisabetta
Sirani, a daughter and pupil of Gio. Andrea.
This lady adhered faithfully to Guido's second manner, to which she added
powerful relief and effect. She is nearly the sole individual of the
family, whose name occurs in collections out of Bologna. Anna and Barbara,
her two sisters, also artists, as well as their father himself, yield
precedence to her single name. How surprising that a young woman, who
survived not her twenty-sixth year, should have produced the number of
paintings enumerated by Malvasia, still more that she should execute them
with so much care and elegance; but most of all, that she could conduct
them on a grand scale and in histories, with none of that timidity so
apparent in Fontana, and in other artists of her sex. Such is her picture
of Christ at the River Jordan, painted for the Certosa; her St. Antony, at
S. Leonardo, and many other altar-pieces in different cities. In the
subjects which she most frequently painted by commission, she still
improved on herself, as we perceive in her Magdalens and figures of the
Virgin and infant Christ, of which some of the most finished specimens are
in the Zampieri, Zambeccari, and Caprara palaces, as well as in the Corsini
and Bolognetti collections at Rome. There are also some small paintings of
histories on copper, extremely valuable, from her hand, as that of Lot, in
possession of Count Malvezzi, or the St. Bastian, attended by S. Irene, in
the Altieri palace; the former at Bologna, the latter at Rome. I have also
discovered some portraits, no unfrequent commissions which she received
from a number of sovereigns and innumerable distinguished personages
throughout Europe. Of this class I saw a singularly beautiful specimen at
Milan, being her own likeness crowned by a young cherub. It is in the
possession of Counsellor Pagave. Elisabetta died by poison, administered by
one of her own maids, and was bewailed in her native place with marks of
public sorrow. She was interred in the same vault which contained the ashes
of Guido Reni. Besides her two sisters, who imitated her in the art, were
many other ladies; Veronica Franchi, Vincenzia Fabri, Lucrezia Scarfaglia,
Ginevra Cantofoli; of which last, as well as of Barbara Sirani, there
remain some fine pictures, even in some churches of Bologna.[35]
Footnote 35: See Crespi, p. 74.
Among the Bolognese pupils of Guido, Domenico Maria Canuti obtained great
celebrity. He was employed by the Padri Olivetani, (an order the most
distinguished for its patronage of first rate artists,) in several
monasteries, more particularly at Rome, Padua, and Bologna, whose library
and church he decorated with numerous paintings. One of these, the Taking
down from the Cross by torch-light, is greatly admired, several copies of
which are met with, in general called the Night of Canuti; also a St.
Michael, painted in part within the arch, and in part on the exterior, is
considered a rare triumph of the power of perspective. His entire work in
that library was afterwards described and printed by the Manolessi. He left
immense works also in two halls of the Pepoli palace, in the Colonna
gallery at Rome, in the ducal palace at Mantua, and elsewhere, being
esteemed one of the best fresco painters of his time. His fertility and
vivacity please more than his colouring, while his individual figures are,
perhaps, more attractive than the general effect of the picture. He was
excellent too in oil, and succeeded admirably in copying Guido, whose
Magdalen of the Barberini was taken so exactly, that it appears the best
among all the copies seen at S. Michele in Bosco. Canuti opened school at
Bologna; but his pupils, during his tour to Rome, attached themselves
chiefly to Pasinelli, in whose school, or in that of Cignani, they will be
found included during the last epoch.
Other of Guido's scholars are indicated by Malvasia, among whom he highly
extols Michele Sobleo, or Desubleo, from Flanders, though resident at
Bologna. But he left little in public there, and that is a mixture of
Guercino and of Guido. Several churches at Venice were decorated by his
hand, and the altar-piece at the Carmelite friars, representing also
various saints of that order, is among his most celebrated works. From the
same country was Enrico Fiammingo, whom we must not confound with Arrigo
Fiammingo, an artist made known to us by Baglione. Both fixed their abode
in Italy, and the follower of Guido, formerly pupil to Ribera, painted some
pictures at S. Barbaziano in Bologna, that may compete with those of Gessi,
were it not for the fleshes being of a darker tinge. A few pictures by
another foreigner are preserved at the Capuccini and elsewhere; his name,
Pietro Lauri, or rather De Laurier, a Frenchman, whose crayons were
frequently retouched by Guido, and whose oil pictures also shew traces of
the same hand. Respecting another, whose name only remains, it will be
sufficient to mention an altar-piece of the Magdalen, placed in the oratory
of S. Carlo, at Volterra, relating to which is a letter of Guido to the
Cav. Francesco Incontri, stating that he had retouched it, particularly in
the head; but that, with the aid of Guido's design, it was painted by the
Signor Camillo. He is said to have been a member of that noble family, of
whom memorials have been preserved by his house.
Returning to the Bolognese artists, Gio. Maria Tamburini will be found to
hold a high rank, the author of many fresco histories in the portico of the
Conventuals, and of the Nunziata at the Vita, a very graceful painting
drawn from his master's sketch. Yet he was surpassed by Gio. Batista
Bolognini, by whose hand there is a S. Ubaldo at S. Gio. in Monte,
altogether in the style of Guido. This artist had a nephew and pupil in
Giacomo Bolognini, who painted large pictures and capricci, and is
mentioned by Zanotti and Crespi. Bartolommeo Marescotti is hardly deserving
notice; at S. Martino he appears only as a hasty imitator, or rather a
corrupter of the Guido manner. Mentioned, too, by various writers, is a
Sebastiano Brunetti, a Giuliano Dinarelli, a Lorenzo Loli, and in
particular a Pietro Gallinari, on whom his master's predilection conferred
also the name of Pietro del Sig. Guido. His earliest pieces, retouched by
Reni, are held in high esteem, and others which he produced for the court,
and in various churches at Guastalla, are valuable. He was an artist of the
noblest promise, but cut off prematurely, not without suspicion of poison.
Many foreigners who acquired the art from Guido, particularly at Bologna,
were dispersed throughout various schools, according to the places where
they resided; such were Boulanger, Cervi, Danedi, Ferrari, Ricchi, and
several more. Two artists who chiefly dwelt in Bologna and Romagna in high
esteem, I have reserved for this place, named Cagnacci and Cantarini. Guido
Cagnacci, referred by Orlandi to Castel Durante, though the Arcangelesi
more properly claim him for their fellow-citizen, was a rare exception to
Italian artists, in having sought his fortunes in Germany, where he was
highly deserving of the success he met with at the court of Leopold I. What
he has left in Italy, such as his St. Matthew and St. Teresa, in two
churches of Rimini, or the Beheading of St. John, in the Ercolani palace at
Bologna, shew him to have been a diligent and correct, as well as a refined
artist, in his master's latest style. Malvasia was of opinion that he
carried the colour of his fleshes, now rather faded, somewhat too high; to
others it appeared that he drew the extremities too small in proportion to
his figures; while some have remarked a capricious degree of freedom, shewn
in sometimes representing his angels at a more advanced age than was
customary. All, however, must acknowledge Guidesque beauties apparent in
every picture, added to a certain original air of nobility in his heads,
and fine effect of his chiaroscuro. His pictures for the most part were
painted for the ornament of cabinets, such as are seen in the ducal gallery
at Modena, and in private houses. There is his Lucretia in the Casa
Isolani, and his magnificent David, which is esteemed one of the noblest
pieces, in possession of the princes Colonna; two pictures abundantly
repeated both in the Bolognese and Roman Schools, and of which, indeed, I
have seen more copies than even of the celebrated David by Guido Reni.
Simone Cantarini da Pesaro became an exact designer under Pandolfi, greatly
improved in the school of Claudio Ridolfi, and by incessant study of the
Caracci engravings. For colouring he studied the most eminent Venetian
artists, and, more than all, the works of Barocci. In one of his Holy
Families he shews great resemblance to this last artist, a picture
preserved in Casa Olivieri, along with several others, and some portraits,
of different taste, but by the same hand. This was caused by the arrival of
the grand pictures by Guido, of St. Thomas at Pesaro, and the Nunziata, and
the St. Peter, in the adjacent city of Fano, after which he so wholly
devoted himself to the new style, as to induce him to emulate, and, if
possible, to attempt to surpass that artist. In the same chapel where Guido
placed his picture of St. Peter receiving the Keys, Simone displayed his
miracle of the Saint at the Porta Speciosa, where he so nearly resembled,
as to appear Guido himself; and even in Malvasia's time, foreigners were
unable to detect any difference of hand. It is certain he possessed much of
that artist's more powerful manner, which is shewn in his principal
picture; the heads very beautiful and varied, the composition natural; fine
play of light and shade, except that the chief figure of his history is too
much involved in the latter. The better to approach his prototype, Simone
proceeded to Bologna, and became Guido's disciple, affecting at first much
humility and deference, while he artfully concealed the extent of his own
skill. Then gradually developing it, he soon rose in high esteem, no less
with his master than the whole city, aided as he was by his singular talent
for engraving. Shortly he grew so vain of his own ability, as to presume to
censure not only artists of mediocrity, but Domenichino, Albano, and even
Guido. To the copies made by the pupils from their master's pieces, he gave
bold retouches, and occasionally corrected some inaccuracy in their model,
until at length he began to criticise Guido openly, and to provoke his
resentment. Owing to such arrogance, and to negligence in executing his
commissions, he fell in public esteem, left Bologna for some time, and
remained like a refugee at Rome. Here he studied from Raffaello, and from
the antique, then returned and taught at Bologna, whence he passed into the
Duke of Mantua's service. Still to whatever country he transferred his
talents, he was accompanied by the same malignant disposition; a great
boaster, and a despiser of all other artists, not even sparing Giulio and
Raffaello, insomuch that the works could not be so greatly esteemed as the
man was detested. Incurring also the duke's displeasure, and not succeeding
in his portrait, his pride was so far mortified as to throw him ill, and
passing to Verona, he there died, aged 36, in 1648, not without suspicion
of having been poisoned, no very rare occurrence with defamers like him.
Baldinucci, supported by most of the dilettanti, extols him as another
Guido; and assuredly he approaches nearer to him than to any other, and
with a decision which belonged to few imitators. His ideas are not so
noble, but in the opinion of many they were even more graceful. He is less
learned, but more accurate; and may be pronounced the only artist who in
the hands and feet very assiduously studied the manner of Lodovico. He was
extremely diligent in modelling for his own use, and one of his heads in
particular is commended, from which he drew those of his old men, which are
extremely beautiful. From the models, too, he derived his folds, though he
never attained to the same majestic and broad sweep as Guido and Tiarini, a
truth which he as candidly admitted. In point of colouring he is varied and
natural. His greatest study was bestowed upon his fleshes, in which, though
friendly to the use of white lead, he was content with moderate white,
avoiding what he called the cosmetics of Domenichino and the shades of the
Caracci. In his outlines and shadows, dismissing the use of the lacca and
terra d'ombra,[36] he introduced ultramarine and terra verde, so much
commended by Guido. He animated his fleshes with certain lights from place
to place, never contrasting them with vivid colours, except in as far as he
frequently studied to give them from depth of shadow, that relief which
serves to redouble their beauty. If there was nothing decidedly bold in his
painting, yet he covered the whole with an ashy tone, such as Guido applied
in his St. Thomas, and which became so perfectly familiar to Cantarini as
to acquire for him from Albani the surname of _pittor cenerino_. Spite of
this opinion, however, he is considered by Malvasia as _the most graceful
colourist_, and he adds, the _most correct designer_ of his age. His most
beautiful pictures that I have seen, in which his heads of saints are
always conspicuous for beauty and expression, are the St. Antony, at the
Franciscans di Cagli; the St. James, in the church of that name in Rimini;
the Magdalen, at the Filippini of Pesaro; and, in the same city, his St.
Dominick, at the Predicatori; in whose convent are also two Evangelists,
half-size figures, animated to the life. There is also a S. Romualdo, in
possession of the noble Paolucci, a figure that seems to start from the
canvass, and at the Casa Mosca, besides various other works, is a portrait
of a young nun that rivets every beholder. Many of his Holy Families also
are to be seen in Bologna, in Pesaro, and at Rome; nor are his heads of St.
John very rare, any more than his half-figures, or heads of apostles, a
specimen of which is to be seen in the Pitti palace.
Footnote 36: Lacca, a dark red; terra d'ombra, umber.
Simon Cantarini educated a few of his fellow-citizens to the art. One of
these was Gio. Maria Luffoli, many of whose paintings, which display the
school, are to be met with in his native place, particularly at S. Giuseppe
and at S. Antonio Abate. Gio. Venanzi (or Francesco) had been already
instructed by Guido, when he entered the school of Cantarini, though he
resembles neither of these masters so nearly as he does the Gennari. When
we inspect the two beautiful histories of St. Antony, in the church of that
name, we might pronounce him their disciple. An ancient MS. of Pesaro,
edited along with the pictures of the city,[37] places him at the court of
Parma, most probably for the purpose of decorating the palace, there being
nothing from his hand in the churches. In the same MS. mention is made of
Domenico Peruzzini, as born at Pesaro, and the pupil of Pandolfi. In
Orlando's Lexicon and other books there is frequent mention made of one
Cav. Giovanni, and he is given out as belonging to Ancona, and a disciple
of Simone. The Pesarese Guide, in which the very diligent Can. Lazzarini
indisputably took part, informs us that these artists were brothers, both
born at Pesaro, and that they transferred their services to Ancona, their
adopted country, (p. 65). From the dilettanti of Ancona I could gather
tidings of only one Peruzzini; and I doubt whether his being named Domenico
by the author of the MS. may not have arisen from mistake, as he proceeds
to relate matters chiefly appertaining to Giovanni. However this be, there
is a picture of S. Teresa by Peruzzini at the Carmelite Friars in Ancona,
bearing some traces of Baroccio's manner. That of the Beheading of St.
John, at the hospital, is extremely beautiful; and here he appears rather a
disciple of the Bolognese. He seems to have displayed a similar character
elsewhere; it being known that this artist, after forming a style
participating of those of the Caracci, of Guido, and of Pesarese, took to a
wandering life, and painted in various theatres and churches, if not with
much study, with tolerable correctness, a knowledge of perspective, in
which he was excellent, and with a certain facility, grace, and spirit,
which delight the eye. His paintings are dispersed through various places
in the Picenum, even as far as Ascoli on the confines, where are a number
of works by his hand. There are some at Rome and at Bologna, where he
painted in the cloister of the Servi a lunette,[38] very fairly executed
within twenty-four hours; at Turin, where he was made a cavalier; and in
Milan, where he died. At Rome are some specimens too from the hand of his
son and pupil, Paolo, entitled in the aforesaid MS. a good and decided
painter.
Footnote 37: See p. 75. This MS. is said to have been drawn
up previous to 1680. I believe it must be somewhere about
1670, Venanzi being therein described as still young.
Notices of the artists of Pesaro and Urbino, collected by
Giuseppe Montani, a good landscape-painter, who flourished
some time at Venice, are now lost. (Of him, see Malvasia,
vol. ii. p. 447.) I have recently read a letter from Sig.
Annibale Olivieri to the Prince Ercolani, in which,
computing the age of Venanzi, he is unable to make him out a
pupil of Cantarini; from which it would appear that he was
ignorant of the date of Venanzi's birth, which was about
1628. I admit that he could not have been long instructed by
him, nor by Guido, and am more than ever confirmed in my
conjecture that he was pupil to Gennari.
Footnote 38: Lunetta, an architectural term; meaning that
semicircular space, or any other portion of a circle, placed
in the walls between the different supports of ceilings.
An undoubted scholar of Simone was Flamminio Torre, called _dagli
Ancinelli_, who came from the studio of Cavedone and Guido. His chief
talent consisted in an easy perfect imitation of every style, which brought
him as high a price for his copies as was given for the originals of
eminent artists, sometimes even more. Though not learned in the theory of
the art, by his practical ability he acquired the manner of Cantarini,
dismissing, however, his ashy colour, and often turning to the imitation of
Guido. He was court-painter at Modena; and at Bologna in particular are
preserved both scriptural and profane histories, displaying very pleasing
figures as large as Poussin, or on the same scale. Some I saw in possession
of Monsig. Bonfigliuoli, others in the collection of the librarian Magnani;
and some still more firm, and in the best style of colouring, in the Ratta
palace. Yet we rarely meet with them uninjured by the use of rock oil,
which he carried to excess; and his church paintings, such as a Depositing
from the Cross at S. Giorgio, as they have been least attended to, have
suffered the most. On the death of Simone, as his first pupil, he succeeded
to his magisterial office, and promoted the progress of the scholars whom
he left. Girolamo Rossi succeeded better in engraving than in painting.
Lorenzo Pasinelli became an excellent master, but of a different style, as
we shall see in another epoch. The most eminent among Torre's disciples was
Giulio Cesare Milani, rather admired in the churches of Bologna, and
extolled in many adjacent states. But it is now time to turn our attention
from Guido and his disciples to Guercino, which will afford the same
pleasure, I trust, to my readers, as the dilettanti enjoy, in beholding two
styles, so strikingly opposed, immediately contrasted. In a similar manner,
to adduce an instance taken from the Spada Gallery, it yields delight to
turn our eye from Guido's Rape of Helen to the funeral pyre of Dido,
painted by Guercino, and placed directly opposite.
Gio. Francesco Barbieri, surnamed Guercino da Cento, would, to speak with
precision, be better ranked among the artists of Ferrara, to which city
Cento is subject; but we must observe the almost universal custom of
including him among the Caracci's disciples. This has arisen either from a
tradition that his genius at an early age received some bias towards design
from the Caracci, which but ill accords with the epoch of his age, or from
the circumstance of his having taken one of Lodovico's pictures for a
model, which is slight ground enough for attaching him to the school.
Moreover, he never frequented the Caracci's academy; but, after staying a
short time with Cremonini, his fellow-countryman, at Bologna, he returned
to Cento, and there resided with Benedetto Gennari the elder, first as his
pupil, next his colleague, and lastly his kinsman. Some too would contend
that one among the masters of Gio. Francesco was Gio. Batista Gennari, who
in 1606 painted for S. Biagio, in Bologna, a Madonna among various saints,
in a style resembling Procaccini. And indeed the Paradise, at S. Spirito in
Cento, and an altar-piece at the Capuccini, with other early works by
Guercino, partake of the old style. Subsequently he studied, along with
Benedetto, to find by experiment what constituted grand effect in the art,
in which taste I cannot distinguish, with the generality of dilettanti and
writers, two manners only; he having openly professed three, as we learn
from Sig. Righetti, in his Description of the paintings of Cento.
Of these the first is the least known, consisting of abundance of strong
shades, with sufficiently animated lights, less studied in the features and
in the extremities, with fleshes inclining to the yellow; in the rest less
attractive in point of colouring; a manner distantly resembling that of
Caravaggio, in which kind are to be found several specimens both at Cento
and in S. Guglielmo a' ministri degl'Infermi at Bologna. From this he
passed to his second manner, which is by far the most pleasing and
valuable. He continued to improve it during several years, with the aid of
other schools; in this interval often visiting Bologna, residing for some
time at Venice, and remaining many years at Rome along with the most
eminent followers of Caracci, and entering into terms of friendship with
Caravaggio. His taste is mainly founded on the style of this last master;
displaying strong contrast of light and shadow; both exceedingly bold, yet
mingled with much sweetness and harmony, and with powerful art of relief, a
branch so greatly admired by professors.[39] Hence some foreigners have
bestowed on him the title of the magician of Italian painting; for in him
were renewed those celebrated illusions of antiquity, such as that of the
boy who stretched forth his hand to snatch the painted fruit. From
Caravaggio too he borrowed the custom of obscuring his outlines, and
availed himself of it for despatch. He also imitated his half-sized figures
upon one ground, and for the most part composed his historical pictures in
this method. Yet he studied to become more correct in point of design, and
more select than Caravaggio; not that he ever attained peculiar elegance or
peculiar dignity of features, though most frequently he drew his heads,
like a sound observer of nature, with graceful turns, easy natural
attitudes, and a colouring, which if not the most delicate, is at least the
most sound and most juicy. Often in comparing the figures of Guido with
Guercino's, one would say that the former had been fed with roses, as
observed by one of the ancients, and the latter with flesh. How far he
excelled as a colourist in his draperies, formed in the taste of the best
Venetians, in his landscape, and in his accessories, will sufficiently
appear on beholding his S. Petronilla in the Quirinal, or his picture of
Christ risen from the Dead, at Cento,[40] or his St. Helen, at the
Mendicants in Venice; excellent specimens of his second manner. To the same
belong in general all that he left at Rome, even his greater works, such as
the S. Gio. Grisogono in the soffitto of that church, or the Aurora,
adorning the villa Lodovisi. Yet he surpassed even these, to the surprise
of all, in the cupola of the Piacenza cathedral; and in the same city he
appears to have competed with Pordenone, and in point of vigour of style to
have gone beyond him.
Footnote 39: "To me it seems that painting ought to be
considered excellent, the more it inclines towards relief."
Bonarruoti, Letter to Varchi, inserted among the Lettere
Pittoriche, vol. i. p. 7.
Footnote 40: There is a description of this painting
contained in a letter of Algarotti, addressed to the learned
Zanotti, dated Sept. 1760, in which, though in other works
he observes Guercino to have excelled more in colouring than
in design, yet respecting this specimen he declares, "that
Pesarese himself would here have detected little or nothing
to which to object. The folds, especially those of a cloth
wrapped round the body of Christ, are admirable. The force
and sweetness of his tints are equal to the bold relief of
the picture, and the passion with which it is conducted....
I never beheld two figures better set off in one picture,
nor did ever Guercino's close light and shade so well unite
perhaps in effect as here; whilst the figures are pourtrayed
within an apartment, in which that kind of light which
affords such strong relief to objects, is represented with
an admirable degree of truth."
Some years having elapsed, after his return from Rome to Cento, he began to
emulate Guido, perceiving that his sweetness of manner obtained such
distinguished applause. By degrees he softened down that power of hand just
noticed, and painted more open and vividly. He added somewhat more
attraction and variety to his heads, and a certain study of expression,
almost indescribable, which is surprising in some of his pictures of this
period. Some have assigned such a change of manner to the time of Guido's
decease, when Guercino, perceiving that he could take the lead at Bologna,
left Cento, in order to fix his residence in that great city. But several
pictures which he had conducted in his third manner, previous to Reni's
death, fully confute such an opinion. On the contrary, it was rumoured that
Guido remarked this change, which he construed into commendation of
himself, declaring that he had avoided Guercino's style as much as
possible, whilst the latter approached as nearly as he could to Guido's. In
this taste, though partaking of the preceding, is the Circumcision of
Jesus, placed in the church of Gesù e Maria, in which the study of
architecture and drapery vies with that of the figures; and it is difficult
to decide whether these most please by their form, or by their expression.
We might add the Nuptials of the Virgin, at S. Paterniano in Fano, the S.
Palazia in Ancona, the Nunziata at Forli, the Prodigal Son in the royal
palace at Turin, a history piece of entire figures, which is met with in
half figures in many galleries. However attractive this last manner may be
found, skilled judges would have wished Guercino not to have swerved from
the vigour of the second, to which his genius was moulded, and in which he
shone unrivalled and unique.
The frequency of his commissions contributed, perhaps, to put him upon a
more easy method, no less than his own incredible genius for execution and
despatch. He produced a hundred and six altar-pieces, and a hundred and
forty-four large pictures for princes and other persons of distinction,
without including numbers of others painted for private persons, Madonnas,
portraits, half-length figures, and landscapes, in which the rapidity of
execution is highly original. Hence he is by no means rare in collections.
The noble Zolli family at Rimino possesses about twenty of his pieces,
Count Lecchi at Brescia also a great number; all perfect and polished
according to his manner. Among these is a portrait of a friar of the
Osservanti, his father confessor, quite a miracle of art.
Guercino's school greatly flourished at Cento, in Bologna not so much,
owing to his own choice of having his two nephews the Gennari, and a few
other intimate friends with him, which led him to exclude strangers in some
degree from his studio. Few Bolognese artists, therefore, belong to this
master; such as Giulio Coralli, whom Orlandi, a contemporary writer, gives
as pupil to Guercino at Bologna, and of Cairo at Milan, and who, Crespi
adds, was much employed at Parma, at Piacenza, and at Mantua. He was a
better portrait-painter, if I mistake not, than a composer. Fulgenzio
Mondini was an artist of more merit; he painted two fresco histories in the
church of S. Petronio at Bologna, relating to the Paduan saint. He died
young at Florence, where, after having painted some time for the court, he
was employed by the Marchesi Capponi to decorate their villa of Colonnata,
and his memory has been honoured with a long eulogy by Malvasia. The latter
declares that he knew none gifted with qualities that promised so much in
that age, and conjectures that had he survived he would have become the
first fresco painter of his age.
The two young Gennari were sons of Gio. Francesco's sister, and of Ercole,
son of Benedetto Gennari. Respecting Ercole, it is stated that no more
exact copyist of the works of Guercino was to be met with. His sons,
Benedetto and Cesare, likewise distinguished themselves in copying the
original compositions of their uncle, and the numerous repetitions of
Guercino's sibyls, of his pictures of St. John, of his Herodiads, and
similar pieces, are ascribed more particularly to them. They may all be
recognized, however, by a more feeble tone in their tints; and I once saw
in the Ercolani palace a Bathsheba of Guercino, along with a copy by one of
the Gennari. The former appeared as if newly painted at the time, the
latter as if many years previously, such was its inferiority in strength of
hand. The two brothers were employed in Cento, in Bologna, and in other
cities of Italy; while Benedetto, the ablest of them, was engaged also in
England, as court-painter under two reigns. Both would seem to have
inherited the style along with the fortune of Gio. Francesco, and, I may
also add, his studies; because in the manner of sectaries, they made
repeated copies of the heads of his old men, women, and boys, which he
himself was in the habit of repeating on his canvass too frequently. There
is a S. Leopardo by Benedetto in the cathedral at Osimo, and a S. Zaccaria
at the Filippini in Forli, which might have been mistaken for the uncle's,
had the nephew displayed somewhat more strength and power of relief. In the
same way Cesare, in a Mary Magdalen of the Pazzi, at S. Martino in Bologna,
and in other pieces, has succeeded in giving the features better than the
spirit of Barbieri. It ought to be observed that Cesare preserved his first
manner to the close of his life, and that he was assiduous in teaching at
Bologna, where his school was frequented also by foreigners, among whom
Simon Gionima distinguished himself as a follower of Guercino, and was well
received at Vienna. Benedetto subsequently formed for himself a style in
England, both more polished and careful, and exemplified it more
particularly in his portraits, which he conducted there for Charles II. and
the royal family. On the expulsion of that family he returned to Italy,
almost transformed into a Dutch or Flemish painter, such was the truth with
which he imitated velvets, lawns, lace, gems, and other ornaments in gold,
indeed all that can enrich a portrait, besides drawing it extremely like,
and artfully freed from any blemishes in the original. By means of this
taste, new in Italy, Benedetto obtained much applause and much employment
in portrait, both from princes and individuals. We may here add a
Bartolommeo Gennari, brother to Ercole, who resembles Guercino less than
any of the three preceding, though extremely natural and spirited. He has a
picture of St. Thomas at the Rosario di Cento, in the act of putting his
hand to our Saviour's side, and the admiration both of him and the other
apostles is very finely expressed. The pupil, and probably the relation of
Guercino, was one Lorenzo Gennari di Rimini, at which place is one of his
pictures at the Capuccini, very fairly executed.
Francesco Nagli, surnamed, from his country, Centino, was much employed at
the Angeli and in other churches at Rimini. He was an excellent imitator of
Barbieri, in point of colouring and chiaroscuro; in the rest somewhat dry
in design, cold in his attitudes, and no way novel in his ideas. To the
same district belonged Stefano Ficatelli, a painter of good invention, who
decorated several churches of Ferrara; but more especially an excellent
copyist of Guercino, not inferior in this respect to Francesco Bassi, of
Bologna, so highly commended by Crespi. Among Guercino's copyists, Gio.
Francesco Mutii, or Mucci, of Cento, son of a sister of Guercino,
distinguished also as an engraver, held a high rank. Stefano Provenzali,
likewise from Cento, and a pupil of Barbieri, applied his talents to
battle-pieces, much extolled by Crespi, from whose MSS. I have borrowed
several of my notices of the Centese artists.
Two of these, followers of Guercino, are mentioned by Malvasia. They are
Cristoforo Serra, a faithful and excellent imitator of Gio. Francesco, and
preceptor of Cristoforo Savolini, who has a fine picture of the saint at S.
Colomba in Rimini; and Cesare Pronti, an Augustine, born at Rimini, if we
give credit to the author of its city guide, and called _da Ravenna_, on
account of his long residence at that place. Both the above cities exhibit
his altar-pieces, much extolled, and some chiaroscuri happily enough
disposed; in particular those histories of St. Jerome painted in the
Confraternity of his name at Rimini, with abundant grace and spirit. In
Pesaro, also, he exhibited in the church of his order a St. Thomas da
Villanova, with beautiful specimens of architecture, and in a more original
taste than the two Gennari. The life of this able ecclesiastic has been
written by Pascoli, who knew him, insomuch that we may give him credit when
he declares that he was born at the Cattolica, of the family of the
Baciocchi, afterwards assuming the name of Pronti, the maiden name of his
mother. He gives other anecdotes of him; and what is more interesting is
the account of his first passion for the art, on contemplating, when a boy,
a collection of fine pictures in a shop at the fair of Sinigaglia. He gazed
upon them during several hours, unmindful of his meals, and of his parents,
who were in search of him through the city, and who on finding him could
with difficulty tear him from the spot. They were unable, however, to
destroy the fixed determination of his soul to become a painter; the
impression was indelible, and he set out for Bologna. There he first
entered the school of Barbieri; and afterwards, as we have already
remarked, the cloister. Respecting different scholars of Guercino, such as
were Preti, Ghezzi, and Triva, it is unnecessary here to repeat what has
already been stated in several other schools.
Gio. Lanfranco, one of those distinguished disciples of the Caracci who
followed Annibal to Rome, was born at Parma. He was early employed by the
Conti Scotti in Piacenza, where, for mere pastime, drawing some figures in
charcoal upon a wall, his rare genius shone forth, and was assigned to the
cultivation of Agostino Caracci. Frequent mention of him is made in the
course of this work. At Parma the reader finds him a pupil to Agostino, and
on his death under the care of Lodovico, after which he pursued his studies
under Annibal at Rome. Both there and in Naples we have seen him celebrated
as a professor and preceptor in both schools. The character of his genius
was sought, conceitedly perhaps, but still with truth, by Bellori, in his
name; and doubtless it would be difficult to find an artist more bold and
striking, alike in conception and in execution. He had formed a peculiar
manner, which both in design and expression partakes of the Caracci's,
while the composition is drawn from Coreggio. It is a manner at once easy,
and elevated by the dignity of the countenances and actions, by the ample
and well disposed masses of light and shade, by the nobleness of the
drapery and its imposing folds, broad and wholly novel in the art. For this
precise reason its grandeur is without that last finish which adds to the
worth of other artists, but would in him diminish it. In such a style he
was enabled to be less exact without displeasing us, possessing so many
admirable qualities, rare conceptions, colours wonderfully harmonized, if
not animated; very beautiful foreshortening; contrasts of parts and
figures, which have served as models, as is observed by Mengs, for the
tasteful style of the moderns.
He adopted this style in a number of pictures for private ornament, both
for the Dukes Farnesi, in whose palace at Rome he first began to paint, and
for other noblemen. His Polyphemus, conducted for the Casa Borghese in that
city, is highly extolled, as well as his scriptural histories at S.
Callisto. There are many pictures also from his hand; his St. Andrea
Avellino at Rome, enriched with splendid architecture, boasts singular
merit; his Dead Christ at Foligno, with the "Padre Eterno," a figure, which
though in human form, nevertheless impresses us with grand ideas of the
Divine Being; the Transit of our Lady, in Macerata; the S. Rocco, and the
S. Corrado, in Piacenza; perhaps the most finished among Lanfranco's
productions, and deservedly the most celebrated. But he exhibited this
style still more fully in cupolas and other scenes on a grand scale,
according to Coreggio's example. When young, he executed a small coloured
model of the cupola of the cathedral at Parma, emulating his whole style,
in particular that grace of motion, of all by far the most difficult. He
imitated it too at S. Andrea della Valle at Rome, and in his picture
availed himself of the example afforded by Michelangiolo in architecture,
when unable to execute a more beautiful cupola than Brunelleschi's, and
desirous of differing from it, he worked from a new design, and succeeded
to admiration. This production forms an epoch in the art, inasmuch "as he
was the first," says Passeri, "to irradiate the opening of a celestial
glory with a splendour of light, of which there was formerly seen no
example." ... "Lanfranco's cupola remains a solitary specimen in the way of
glories; because, in respect to its celestial idea, in the opinion of the
most dispassionate judges, he has attained the highest degree, as well in
the harmony of the whole, its chief object, as in the distribution of the
colours, in the parts, and in force of chiaroscuro," &c. Nor was this, on
which he spent four years, the sole example he left of a fecundity of idea
and rare elevation of mind, of which we meet with no account in any other
artist, even among the ancient painters. Add to this, the cupolas at the
Gesù, and at the Tesoro of S. Gennaro at Naples, where he succeeded
Domenichino, with various tribunes and chapels in Rome and Naples, adorned
with equal majesty, and which have given to Lower Italy the most genuine
examples in this kind, of which the art can boast. From him it was that the
Machinists acquired the power of gratifying the eye at larger distances,
painting only in part, and in part leaving the work, as he was accustomed
to express it, for the air to paint. In the two schools above-mentioned we
have embraced his best disciples: to the Bolognese he gave no pupils, as
far as I learn, any more than to Romagna and its dependencies; if we except
Gio. Francesco Mengucci, of Pesaro, who assisted him in the cupola of St.
Andrea; a painter, I believe, for collections, who has been much extolled
by Malvasia.
Next to the five heads of schools hitherto recorded, ought to be mentioned
Sisto Badalocchi; and the more as he was Annibal's disciple, and long
resided with him at Rome. He was fellow citizen, and a faithful companion
too of Lanfranco, whose style he approached very nearly. Sisto designed
admirably, being preferred by Annibal in this branch to any of his fellow
pupils, and even, with singular modesty, to himself. Ample testimony of his
ability is proclaimed in the engravings of Raffaello's _loggie_, executed
in conjunction with Lanfranco, and dedicated to Annibal; besides the six
prints of Coreggio's grand cupola, a work which, to the public regret, was
left incomplete. He was also selected by his master to decorate the chapel
of S. Diego, where he directed him to paint from one of his cartoons a
history of that saint. In point of invention he was not equal to the
leaders of his school; so that, employed in filling up the secondary parts,
he assisted Guido and Domenichino at S. Gregorio; and attended Albani at
the Verospi palace; although his picture of Galatea left there is worthy of
the hand of a great master. He appears to advantage in competition, and
mostly excels, as we may gather from the church of St. Sebastian at Rome,
where he painted along with Tacconi; and at Reggio, where he rivalled some
of the less distinguished artists of Bologna. Besides his other works, that
city has to boast the rich cupola of S. Giovanni, on which Sisto conducted
a small, but very beautiful copy of that in the cathedral at Parma. Other
of his specimens are to be met with in the Modenese state, particularly in
the ducal palace at Gualtieri, where he represented in one chamber the
Trials of Hercules. Of his pictures at Parma the most celebrated is that of
St. Francis, at the Cappuccini; a painting, both in point of figures and
landscape, composed in the best taste of the Caracci. For the rest, we may
add what has been said of Lanfranco, that he most frequently executed much
less than he knew.
So far we have treated of the followers of the Caracci employed at Rome;
and these in general, judging from their style, shewed more deference to
Annibal than any other of the family. Many others remained at Bologna, who
either never visited Rome, or produced nothing there worthy of
consideration. These were chiefly attached to Lodovico, in whose studio
they had been educated, with the exception of Alessandro Tiarini, who
sprung from another school, though he benefited by his advice and example,
as much as if Lodovico had really been his master. But he was pupil to
Fontana, subsequently of Cesi, and finally also of Passignano at Florence.
He had fled thither from his native place on account of a quarrel; and
after a lapse of seven years, through the intervention of Lodovico, he was
enabled to return to Bologna, leaving at Florence and some places in the
state a few paintings in his first easy style, resembling Passignano's. In
such style he conducted his S. Barbara, at S. Petronio, a work which failed
to please the Bolognese public. To give it greater attractions, he next
proceeded to copy from, and to consult Lodovico, not in order to attain his
manner, but with the view of improving his own. This task was short to a
man of genius, well grounded in the theory of his art, and perhaps more
philosophical than any other artist of Bologna. He soon became a different
painter, and in his novel taste of composing, of distributing his lights
and expressing the passions, he shone like a disciple of the Caracci.
Nevertheless he preserved a character distinct from the rest, grounded upon
his naturally severe and melancholy disposition. All in him is serious and
moderate; the air of his figures, his attitudes, his drapery, varied with
few, but noble folds, such as to excite the admiration of Guido himself. He
avoids, moreover, very gay and animated colours, chiefly contenting himself
with light violets or yellows, and tawny colours, tempered with a little
red; but so admirably laid on and harmonized, as to produce the finest
feeling of repose to enchant the eye. His subjects, too, are well adapted
to his taste, as he generally selected, when he could, such as were of a
pathetic and sorrowful cast. For this reason his Magdalens, his S. Peters,
and his Madonnas in grief--one of which, presented to the Duke of Mantua,
drew tears from his eyes--are held in high esteem.
Subsequently he became expert in foreshortening, and all the intricacies of
the art, more particularly in point of invention. There is scarcely one of
his works to be met with, that does not exhibit a certain air of novelty
and originality of idea. On occasion of representing the Virgin in grief,
in the church of S. Benedict, he drew her seated together with St. John and
the Magdalen; the one upright, the other kneeling, in the act of
contemplating the Redeemer's crown of thorns. Other incidents of his
passion also are alluded to; all are silent indeed, but every eye and
attitude is eloquent in its silence. Obtaining a commission for an
altar-piece in S. Maria Maggiore, to represent St. John and St. Jerome, he
shunned the trite expression of drawing them in a glory; but he feigned an
apparition, through which the holy doctor, while intent at his studies,
appears to receive from the beatified evangelist lectures in theology. His
most distinguished production, however, is at S. Domenico, the saint seen
raising a man from the dead; a picture abounding with figures varied in
point of feature, attitude, and dress; every thing highly select. Lodovico
expressed his astonishment at it, and declared that he knew of no master
then to compare with Tiarini. It is true that, in this instance, having to
compete with Spada, he raised his tone of colouring, and shunned every
common form; two precautions which, had he introduced into every work,
would have left him perhaps second to none of the Bolognese. He survived
until his ninetieth year, and during a long period dwelt at Reggio, whence
he had often occasion to proceed to other cities of Lombardy, which
preserve many of his altar-pieces, and cabinet pictures. The Modenese
gallery abounds with them, his St. Peter being more particularly extolled,
seen struck with remorse as he stands outside the prætorium. The
architecture, the depth of night lighted up with torches, Christ's judgment
beheld in the distance, all conspire to raise the tragic interest of the
scene. He was employed also by the Duke of Parma, for whose garden he
painted some incidents from the Jerusalem Delivered, conducted in fresco;
but which, though much extolled, are no longer met with. In short Tiarini
was one of the most eminent artists next to the Caracci, at least in point
of composition, expression of features and of the passions, perspective,
power and durability of colouring, if not of the most exact elegance.
Lionello Spada was one of the leading geniuses of the school. Sprung from
the lowest origin, and employed by the Caracci as a grinder of colours, by
dint of hearing their conferences, and observing the process of their
labours, he began to design; first under them, and next with Baglione, he
acquired a knowledge of the art; during several years studying no other
models besides the Caracci. He lived on familiar terms with Dentone, and
thus became skilful in the use of perspective. Incensed by a jest of
Guido's, he determined to seek revenge by opposing his delicacy of manner
with another more full and strong; for which purpose going to Rome, he
studied both there and in Malta under Caravaggio, and returned home master
of a new style. It does not indeed lower itself to every form, like his,
but still is not so elevated as that of the Caracci: it is studied in the
naked parts, but not select; natural in point of colouring, with good
relief in the chiaroscuro, but too frequently displaying a ruddy tone in
the shadows, giving an expression of mannerism. One of Lionello's most
characteristic marks is a novelty and audacity, the result of his natural
disposition, which was equally agreeable for its pleasantry, and hateful
for its insolence. He often competed with Tiarini, always superior in point
of spirit and force of colouring; but inferior in all the rest. Thus at S.
Domenico, where he represented the saint in the act of burning proscribed
books; and this is the best picture on canvass which he exhibited at
Bologna. At S. Michele in Bosco also is seen his Miracle of St. Benedict,
which the young artists call the Scarpellino of Lionello; a picture so
wholly novel as to induce Andrea Sacchi, who was greatly struck with it, to
copy the design. In a similar way at the Madonna di Reggio, where both
artists painted as usual in competition, as well in oils as in fresco, they
appeared, as it were, to go beyond themselves. We often meet with specimens
of Spada in private galleries; holy families and scripture histories in
half-length figures, like those of Caravaggio and Guercino; his heads full
of expression, but not very select. He seems most frequently to have
repeated the decollation of St. John the Baptist, often met with in the
Bolognese galleries, and the best perhaps is in that of the Malvezzi.
He became painter to Duke Ranuccio at Parma, where he decorated that
admirable theatre, which then stood unrivalled. In that city, and at
Modena, as well as other places, I have seen some of his pictures in a
taste wholly opposed to those of Bologna, displaying a mixture of the
Caracci and of Parmigianino. His histories in the ducal gallery at Modena
are highly beautiful; such as the Susanna and the Elders, and the Prodigal
Son. One of his most remarkable is the Martyrdom of a Saint, at S. Sepolcro
in Parma, and the St. Jerome, in the Carmelitani, in the same city.
Specimens such as these must have been among his last, at a period when he
was residing in affluence at court, and enabled to conduct his works at
leisure. His good fortune terminated with the life of Ranuccio; for with
the loss of such a patron his talent, too, seemed to have deserted him, and
he shortly followed to the tomb. The names of some of his scholars occur in
the schools of Lombardy. Here too we ought to add that of Pietro Desani of
Bologna, who following him into Reggio, there established himself; a young
artist of rapid hand and quick genius, whose works are to be met with very
frequently in Reggio and its vicinity.
Lorenzo Garbieri was an artist of more learning and caution than Lionello,
though resembling him in point of style. His austere, and almost fiery
disposition, with an imagination abounding in wild and mournful ideas,
impelled him to a style of painting less open than that of the Caracci. To
this cause must be added his emulation of Guido, whom, like Lionello, he
wished to humble, by adopting a very powerful manner; and, though he did
not put himself under Caravaggio, he eagerly copied his pictures, including
all the best at Bologna. Garbieri was one of the most successful imitators
of Lodovico; less select in the heads, but grand in the forms, expressive
in the attitudes, and studied in his large compositions; insomuch that his
paintings at S. Antonio in Milan, which are less loaded with shade, were
attributed by Santagostini in his Guide to the Caracci. To this style of
the Caracci he added the daring character of Caravaggio, and he was skilful
in selecting always funereal subjects most suitable to his genius; so that
we meet with little else than scenes of sorrow, slaughter, death, and
terror, from his hand. At the Barnabiti, in Bologna, he painted for the
chapel of S. Carlo an altar-piece with two lateral pictures; it presents us
with the horrors of the Milanese plague, amidst which is seen the saint
visiting the sick, and conducting a penitential procession. He painted also
at the Filippini in Fano a picture of St. Paul, near the St. Peter of
Guido, in the act of raising the young man from the dead; a work of such
power of hand and expression as to excite at once terror and pity in the
beholders. At S. Maurizio, in Mantua, he exhibited in a chapel the
Martyrdom of S. Felicita and her seven children; a piece inferior indeed to
the Miracle of St. Paul in point of vigour, but containing such variety of
images, and such deathly terror, as not to be surpassed in tragic interest
by any thing from the same school. He had the choice of establishing
himself as court-painter at Mantua, an office he rejected, preferring to
take a wife with a handsome dowry at Bologna. This step was a loss,
however, to the art, as mentioned by Malvasia; since from that period
finding himself rich, and occupied with family cares, he painted little,
and with as little study, leaving his final labours by no means equal to
the preceding. His son Carlo applied still less than his father to the
profession, though he gave proofs in several works exhibited in public,
that in time he would have equalled his father. Lorenzo educated few other
pupils, but he was highly esteemed for his profound knowledge, and for his
method of communicating it, at once easy and precise, resting upon few but
comprehensive maxims.
Giacomo Cavedone was from Sassuolo, and hence included among the artists of
the Modenese state by Tiraboschi, in whose work we may read the origin of
his career. His genius was more limited, his spirit less animated, than
those of the preceding; but being assisted by the Caracci in the right
path, he attained to equal, and even greater celebrity. Leaving the
intricacies of the art to the more enterprising, he fixed upon attitudes
comparatively easy and devoid of foreshortening, gentle expressions
distinct from the stronger passions, correct design in his figures, and
more particularly in the hands and feet. Nature had endued him with
promptness and facility; so that on occasion of designing models, or
copying pictures, he with rare exactness took the substance of the subject,
and afterwards reduced the whole by a more easy method in his own
peculiarly resolute and graceful touch, in which he has always remained
original. He was equally novel in his frescos; employing few tints, but so
attractive, that Guido was induced to make him his pupil, and retained him
at Rome as his assistant. Another striking characteristic was his strength
of colouring, which he acquired from those Venetians themselves, who shone
the masters of his masters. Here he attained to such excellence, that
Albani, when asked whether there were any pictures of Titian's at Bologna,
replied, there were not; but we may substitute the two at S. Paolo by
Cavedone (a Nativity and an Epiphany) which look like Titian's, and are
executed with a bolder hand. One of his most distinguished productions at
Bologna is the S. Alò at the Mendicanti, in which Girupeno discovers,
besides its fine design, a Titianesque taste that excites astonishment; and
a French tourist entitles it a most admirable work, such as might be fairly
attributed to the Caracci. The mistake indeed has occurred to persons of
first rate tact, most frequently at Imola, on contemplating the beautiful
picture of St. Stephen at that church; and yet more out of Italy, in regard
to his pictures of private ornament, in which he is more than usually
attractive and perfect. Judges know how to recognize Cavedone's hand by his
very compendious manner of treating the hair and beards, as well as by that
graceful and rapid touch, loaded with much lightish yellow, or burnt terra
gialla. Length of proportions is likewise considered another peculiarity,
with a flow of the folds more rectilinear than in other artists of the same
school. Such ascendancy in the art was maintained by Cavedone during some
years, till the death of a favourite son, who had early distinguished
himself in the same career, united to other heavy sorrows, deprived him of
his powers, and he subsequently executed nothing of importance. A specimen
of that period is in possession of the fathers of S. Martino; an Ascension
that excites only our compassion, with similar pieces met with throughout
Bologna, that can boast no glimpse of grace. Still deteriorating, he was at
length deprived of commissions and reduced to penury, which, in his old
age, attended him to the tomb.
Lucio Massari possessed a more joyous spirit, ever glad and festal; devoted
to the theatre and to the chase, rather than to his academy and his pallet;
being usually impatient and averse to commence his subjects, until his
genius and good humour were propitious. For this reason his works are few,
but conducted in a happy vein, graceful and finished, both in colour and in
taste appearing to breathe of cheerfulness. His style most resembles
Annibal's, whose works he copied to admiration, and after whose example,
while a few months at Rome, he designed the most finished and noble
remnants of Grecian sculpture. There shines also in his countenances the
spirit of Passerotti, his earliest master, and more frequently the
gracefulness of his near friend, Albani, whose society he enjoyed both in
his studio and his villa, and in works undertaken in conjunction. His S.
Gaetano, at the Teatini, is crowned with a glory of exquisitely graceful
cherubs, that seem from the hand of Albani; and in his other pictures we
often recognise those full countenances, those delicate fleshes, that
sweetness, and those sportful expressions, in which revelled the genius of
Albani. In point of beauty, the _Noli me tangere_, at the Celestini, and
the Nuptials of St. Catherine, at S. Benedetto, are among his most esteemed
pieces; to say nothing of his histories at the Cortile of S. Michele in
Bosco, where he left many very elegant specimens.
On occasion of treating strong or tragic subjects, he did not shrink from
the task; and although he had a real knowledge of the art, he conducted
them without that extreme study of foreshortenings and naked parts, of
which others make so lavish a display. He shewed noble clearness and
decision, fine colouring, a grand spirit, enlivening them with light and
graceful figures, more particularly of women. Such is the Slaughter of the
Innocents, at the Bonfigliuoli palace, and the Fall of Christ, at the
Certosini, a most imposing production, from the number, variety, and
expression of the figures, whose pictoric fire surpasses all we could
mention from the hand of Albani. He has left some cabinet pictures, always
in good design, and mostly possessing soft and savoury tints; so that all
we would farther look for is, occasionally, a more gradual distribution of
tints in the background of his pieces. Among other pupils, he instructed
Sebastiano Brunetti, polished by Guido, a sweet and delicate artist, but of
brief career; and Antonio Randa of Bologna. Malvasia has observed, that
there is little good to be said respecting him, apparently alluding to a
deed of homicide committed by him at Bologna. In other respects, he
includes him among the best pupils, first of Guido, next of Massari, to
whose style he became attached. On account of his reputation the Duke of
Modena granted him an asylum in his state, declaring him, according to
Orlandi, his court-painter, in 1614. Here he was much employed, and
subsequently at Ferrara, for the most part at S. Filippo; also in many
places of the Polesine, where I find his Martyrdom of S. Cecilia, in
possession of the Sign. Redetti, at Rovigo, the most celebrated of his
productions. Finally, he betook himself to the cloister, a fact unnoticed
by Malvasia, which might have induced him to speak of him in milder terms.
Pietro Facini entered late into the profession, at the suggestion of
Annibal Caracci, who from one of his playful sketches in charcoal, declared
how excellent a painter he would become, if he were to enter his school.
Annibal subsequently regretted the discovery, not only because Facini's
progress excited his jealousy, but, because, on leaving the academy, he
became his rival in educating young artists, and even plotted against his
life. He has two striking characteristics, vivacity in his gestures, and in
the expression of his heads, such as to place him on a footing with
Tintoretto, and a truth of carnations, which induced Annibal himself to
observe, that he seemed to have ground human flesh in his colours. With
this exception, he has nothing superior; feeble in point of design, too
large in his naked figures of adults, incorrect in the placing of his hands
and heads. Neither had he time to perfect himself, dying young, and before
the Caracci, in 1602. There is a picture of the Patron Saints, at S.
Francesco, in Bologna, with a throng of cherubs, which is indeed among his
best works. In the Malvezzi collection, and in others of the city, are much
esteemed some of his Country Dances, and Sports of Boys, in the manner of
Albani, but on a larger scale. He had a pupil in Gio. Mario Tamburini, who
afterwards attached himself to Guido, forming himself on his manner, as we
have already stated.
Francesco Brizio, gifted with rare genius, was, up to his twentieth year,
employed as a shoe-maker's boy. Impelled, at length, by his bias for the
art, he acquired a knowledge of design from Passerotti, and of engraving
from Agostino Caracci. Lastly, he commenced painting under Lodovico, and
very soon arrived at such celebrity, that by some he has been pronounced
the most eminent disciple of the Caracci. Doubtless, if we except the
previous five, he was equal to any others, and, excepting Domenichino,
gifted with the most universal genius. He was not deficient, like Guido, in
perspective; nor in the branch of landscape, like Tiarini; nor in splendour
of architecture, like so many others. In these accessaries he surpassed all
his rivals, as we gather from his histories, painted for S. Michele in
Bosco; at least such was the opinion of Andrea Sacchi. He is extremely
correct in his figures, and perhaps approached Lodovico more closely than
any other artist. The graceful beauty of his cherubs excites admiration, an
excellence at that period so greatly studied by all the school; and here,
in the opinion of Guido, he outshone even Bagnacavallo. His chief talent
lay in imitation; owing to which, and his character for indecision, in
addition to the number of great artists, superior to him in manners, he was
deprived of assistants and commissions, and reduced to execute such as he
had solicited at very insignificant prices. One of the most extensive
altar-pieces in the city is from his hand, representing the Coronation of
the Virgin, at S. Petronio, with a few figures in the foreground truly
joyous and well arranged; besides others in the distance grouped and
diminished with art; a picture of great merit even in strength of
colouring. He produced also for the noble family Angelelli the Table of
Cebes, in one grand painting; the work of an entire year, which displayed
all the depth, imagination, and genius of a great artist. There are also a
number of small engravings from his hand, in which he often approaches
Guido.
His son Filippo and Domenico degli Ambrogi, called Menichino del Brizio,
were his most distinguished disciples. These artists painted more for
private ornament than for that of the churches. The latter became
celebrated for his design; was employed chiefly in friezes for chambers, in
architecture, and landscape in fresco, sometimes in conjunction with
Dentone and Colonna, sometimes alone. He was also a finished artist of
pictures for private rooms, occasionally exhibiting there copious
histories, as in that we read of in the full and well drawn up catalogue of
the Sig. Canon Vianelli's pictures at Chioggia. It presents us with the
entrance of a pontiff into the city of Bologna. It is not surprising that
he should be acknowledged and esteemed even in the Venetian territories,
having been the preceptor of Fumiani, and master of Pierantonio Cerva, who
painted a good deal for the Paduan state.
Gio. Andrea Donducci, called from his father's profession Mastelletta,[41]
inherited a genius for the art. Impatient, however, of the precepts of the
Caracci, his masters, he neglected to ground himself in the art, was
unequal to designing naked figures, and far from producing any masterpiece.
His method was short, and wholly intent upon attracting the eye by effect;
loading his pictures with shadow in such a way as to conceal the outlines,
and opposing to his shadows masses of light sufficiently strong, thus
succeeding in disguising from judges the inaccuracies of his design, and
gratifying the multitude with a display of apparent novelty. I have often
imagined that this artist had great influence with the sect of the
Tenebrosi, which afterwards spread itself through the Venetian state, and
almost every district in Lombardy. He was enabled to support his credit by
a noble spirit of design, by a tolerable imitation of Parmigianino, the
sole artist adapted to his disposition, and by a natural facility that
enabled him to colour a very large extent of canvass in a short time. Among
such specimens are the Death, and the Assumption of the Virgin, at the
Grazie, and some similar histories, not unfrequent in Bologna. Perhaps his
picture of S. Irene, at the Celestini, is superior to any other. When
advanced in life, hearing the applause bestowed on the clear, open style,
he began to practise it, but with no kind of success, not possessing
ability to appear to advantage out of his own obscure manner. In his former
one he had painted at S. Domenico two miracles of the saint, which were
esteemed his masterpieces; but these he altered according to his new
method, and they were thenceforth regarded among his most feeble
performances. In his half-figures the same diversity of manner is
observable; and those executed in the first, such as his Miracle of the
Manna, in the Spada palace, with others at Rome, are justly held in esteem.
The same may be said of his landscapes, which, in many galleries, are
attributed to the Caracci; but the taste in the rapidity of touch, very
original and remarkable in Mastelletta, is sufficient to distinguish them.
Annibal was so well pleased with these pictures for galleries, that, having
his company at Rome, he advised him to settle there and confine himself to
similar labours; advice by no means pleasing to Donducci. But he a good
deal frequented the studio of Tassi, and these artists mutually assisted
each other, freely communicating between themselves what they knew. Soon
after he returned to Bologna, and resumed his more extensive works; but met
with serious disappointments, such as to induce him to enter as a friar,
first among the Conventuals, next with the canons of S. Salvatore. He
educated no pupils of merit, except that one Domenico Mengucci, of Pesaro,
resembled Mastelletta a good deal in his landscape; an artist better known
at Bologna than in his native place.
Footnote 41: A pail or bucket maker.
Besides the forementioned disciples of the Caracci academy, several others
are entitled to consideration; such as Schedone and more names recorded in
the schools already described, with a few yet left to mention in those of
which we have to treat. Many names will also find a place among the
Bolognese painters of landscape, or those of perspective. A few others, who
devoted themselves to figures, have been scarcely alluded to by Malvasia,
either because then living, or not so distinguished as some of the
preceding; nevertheless they are not despicable, for to hold a second or
third rank, where Domenichino and Guido are the foremost, is a degree of
honour not to be regretted. One of these is Francesco Cavazzone, a writer
too on the art, of whom the Canon Crespi subsequently collected very ample
notices, in particular extolling a Magdalen kneeling at the feet of the
Redeemer, a truly imposing picture, that ornamented the church of that
saint in via S. Donato. Of much the same degree of merit was Vincenzio
Ansaloni, who gave only two altar-pieces to the public, but sufficient to
establish his title to the character of a great artist. Giacomo Lippi,
called also Giacomone da Budrio, was another distinguished artist, of
universal genius, in whose fresco histories at the portico of the Nunziata
we trace the pupil of Lodovico, not very select, but of prompt and
practised hand. Some pictures in fresco too by Piero Pancotto, at S.
Colombano, gave rise to feelings of disgust from the ridicule attempted to
be cast on his own parish priest, caricatured by him in the features of a
holy evangelist, though as an artist he could not be despised.
Among the histories at S. Michele in Bosco, already described, is seen the
Sepulture of the SS. Valeriano and Tiburzio by Alessandro Albini, a painter
of spirit; the Giving Alms of S. Cecilia, by Tommaso Campana, who
afterwards followed Guido; the St. Benedict among the Thorns, by Sebastiano
Razali; the Conference between Cecilia and Valeriano, by Aurelio Bonelli;
all respectable artists, except that Malvasia blames the last mentioned as
unworthy of a school productive of so many noble disciples; but it is rare
that in such rich abundance some abortive specimen does not appear. Florio
and Gio. Batista Macchi, Enea Rossi, Giacinto Gilioli, Ippolito Ferrantini,
Pier-Maria Porettano, Antonio Castellani, Antonia Pinelli;[42] all these
gave to the Bolognese public some superior specimens of their skill, and
more in the adjacent places; and we may add Gio. Batista Vernici, who was
subsequently employed by the Duke of Urbino. Nothing remains there from the
hand of Andrea Costa, or of Vincenzio Gotti; of whom the former, according
to Malvasia, painted for the S. Casa of Loreto some admirable pieces, now
known, if I mistake not, under another name. The latter resided in the
kingdom of Naples, mostly at Reggio, an artist of singular rapidity, whose
altar-pieces in that city alone amount to the number of two hundred and
eighteen. Other followers of the Caracci are known to have renounced
painting in favour of engraving and sculpture. The academy was closed on
Lodovico's death; and the casts, with other requisites for the art,
remained for a long period at Bologna. Domenico Mirandola, on the opening
of Facini's academy, quitted that of Lodovico, became a celebrated
sculptor, enriched himself with the spoils of both, and kept an open
studio, regulated according to the method of his first masters; called for
this reason by some the studio of the Caracci. Names, however, are not
realities; and correctness of design was not maintained in this
_soi-disant_ academy, but gradually deteriorated; the honour of its revival
being reserved for the genius of Cignani, of whom we shall say more in our
fourth epoch.
Footnote 42: The wife of Bertusio, and admired by Lodovico
Caracci for her singular modesty and attachment to the art.
Her finest production adorns the Nunziata, composed from
Lodovico's design, in which she drew her own portrait with a
bonnet, and that of her husband.
The review of the Bolognese artists is here complete. In the year 1617 the
state of Ravenna had to boast a Guarini, an artist of a sound style, not
far removed from that of the Caracci, if we may judge from a Pietà, at S.
Francesco, in Rimini, to which place he belonged. There too was one Matteo
Ingoli, who is mentioned in the Venetian School, to which he wholly devoted
his talents. To the same state belonged the family of Barbiani, who have
continued down to this period their services to their country. Giambatista,
the most ancient, is mentioned by Orlandi; his school is not known, though
he possesses an attractive manner, much resembling Cesi's, but differing
from him in the study of each figure, and on this account unequal with
himself. His St. Andrew, and his St. Joseph, on two altars at the
Francescani; his S. Agatha, in the church of that name, with other pieces
in different places, are well executed in oil. In the chapel of N. Signora
del Sudore, in the cathedral, is the vaulted ceiling painted by him with an
Assumption of the Virgin, which, even compared with Guido's cupola at
Ravenna, does not displease. A son of Gio. Batista succeeded him in his
profession, not in his reputation; from whom, or some other member of the
family, sprung Andrea Barbiani, who, on the corbels of the said ceiling,
coloured the four evangelists, and painted several altar-pieces both at
Ravenna and at Rimini. After examining his manner, and in particular his
tints, I believe him to have been a pupil, or at least a disciple of P.
Pronti of Rimini, shortly before commended among Guercino's disciples along
with Gennari, also from that place. Here likewise we shall mention a third,
sprung from the school of Padovanino, but residing in his native place; a
painter more of pictures for private ornament than for churches. His name
was Carlo Leoni, and he competed with Centino in his picture of the
Penitence of David, at the Oratorio, and with other excellent figurists who
then flourished in Romagna. Among Guercino's disciples will be found also
natives of Cesena; and I am convinced that many other artists of Romagna
were retained by him at Cento; a fact which is alluded to in his life,
without any mention of the names.
At Faenza, in the time of the Caracci, flourished one Ferraù da Faenza,
with the additional family appellation of Fanzoni, or Faenzoni, derived
probably from his country. According to Titi he was pupil to Vanni, but
left nothing at Rome besides his fresco paintings at the Scala Santa, at S.
Gio. Laterano, and in great number at S. Maria Maggiore. They consist of
scripture histories, of exact design, very pleasing tints, and good mixture
of colours; mostly executed in competition with Gentileschi, Salimbeni,
Novara, and Croce. From his hand is the S. Onofrio, in the cathedral at
Foligno, with several pieces at Ravenna and Faenza, where however his
manner seems to have changed. There I heard him included among the pupils
of the Caracci, from whom perhaps he some time studied. Nor is this at all
difficult to believe on contemplating the chapel of S. Carlo, in the
cathedral, or his Deposition from the Cross, at the nunnery of S. Domenico;
or his Probatica, at the confraternity of S. Giovanni, which is the best
preserved of all his pictures in the district, and nearest resembling
Lodovico's style. I am assured that his real family was the Fenzoni, of
noble origin, now extinct at Faenza; and that he died in his native place
in 1645, aged 83. It is related that he perpetrated an atrocious deed,
having assassinated, out of mere professional jealousy, one Manzoni of
Faenza, a young artist of rising reputation, as is apparent from several of
his pictures, of which two are in the possession of the Ab. Strocchi,
Giudice di Pace, in Faenza. Nor is he less esteemed for his altar-pieces,
particularly that of the Martyrdom of S. Eutropio Vescovo, exhibited in
that church. He would have shone a distinguished ornament of the art, had
not his career been thus untimely cut short by envy. The assassin artist
failed to restore to Painting that of which he had deprived her, even by
educating his two young daughters, Teresa, who painted much for her native
place, and Claudia Felice, perhaps her superior, at Bologna, where she died
in 1703.
One Tommaso Misciroli left several specimens of his hand at Faenza, known
generally by the name of Pittor Villano. He flourished after Ferraù, and
owed his reputation to his genius rather than to any precepts of the art.
Neither in his design, his expression, nor his costume, has he any thing to
recommend him, and in these he often errs. But in the vivacity of his
attitudes, in his colouring, acquired from Guido, his draperies from the
Venetians, he is equal to many of this school; yet this remark applies only
to a few works executed with much care. The best of these is at the church
of S. Cecilia, where he has exhibited the martyrdom of that saint; and in
the scene is introduced an executioner stirring up the flames, a figure
almost copied from the grand picture by Lionello, at the church of S.
Domenico in Bologna.
Gaspero Sacchi da Imola is known to me only from some pictures he conducted
at Ravenna, and recorded first by Fabbri, next by Orlandi. It is uncertain
to what country the Cav. Giuseppe Diamantini belonged, called by some in
mistake Giovanni; but generally acknowledged to have been a native of
Romagna. In the twenty-eighth volume of the _Antichità Picene_ it is
asserted that he came from Fossombrone. He resided at Venice, and left at
S. Moisè an Epiphany, in which he displays great freedom of hand, and a
bold effect in the execution. He is more celebrated in collections
belonging to the Venetian state than in churches, being met with at Rovigo
and at Verona, where, in Casa Bevilacqua, are some heads of philosophers in
a very novel manner. His character indeed consisted in this kind of
painting, and he would seem to have derived his idea of them from Salvator
Rosa.
We shall now proceed to treat of the landscape, flower, and perspective
painters; all artists in short connected with minor branches of the art. On
this subject the historians who preceded me have attributed no improvement
to the Caracci, except in landscape; though I believe that their prevailing
maxim of shunning all caprice and fallacy, and confining themselves to
representations of truth and nature in the art, spread its influence from
the human figure down to the insect, from the tree to the fruit, from the
palace to the cottage. In a similar way too was introduced the maxim of
avoiding in literature that affectation, prevalent in the sixteenth
century, in favour of the purity of better ages; owing to which the style
of writing, from that of history even to familiar correspondence, from the
poetry of the epic to the sonnet, shone with real lustre.
Gio. Batista Viola and Gio. Francesco Grimaldi were the two leading
painters of landscape at that period, in the manner of the Caracci. Viola
was among the first to exclude from painting that hard, dry style so much
practised by the Flemish. He has been mentioned as being at Rome, where he
established himself, and decorated with landscape-frescos different villas
belonging to those nobles; in particular the Villa Pia. But portable
pictures of this artist are rarely to be met with, except, that being in
company with Albani at Rome, his landscapes were frequently introduced into
the pictures of the latter, and may be recognized in that city by judges as
those of Viola, like Mola's in other pieces of Albani at Bologna. Grimaldi
continued many years in the service of different pontiffs at Rome; and some
years in that of the Car. Mazarini at Paris, and of Louis XIV. He surpassed
Viola in good fortune as well as science; a noble architect, excellent in
perspective, in figures, and as an engraver of Titian's landscapes and of
his own. His prints display singular judgment in the individual parts, and
great beauty in their edifices; he is also much more ample in drawing the
foliage than the Caracci, and also very different; as is observed in the
_Lettere Pittoriche_.[43] His design always answers to the workmanship; his
touch is light, his colouring very strong, only partaking too much of the
green. He was employed by Innocent X., in competition with other artists,
in the Quirinal and in the Vatican palace; and was also selected to
decorate some churches, in particular at S. Martino a' Monti. The Colonna
gallery is enriched with his views, and he is often met with in others,
though not so much sought after in foreign parts as Claude and Poussin.
Such is their number, that I doubt not some of his works were executed by
his son Alessandro, who, according to Orlandi, was a disciple and follower
of Gio. Francesco. His specimens are not equally abundant at Bologna,
where, about the same period, other landscape painters are known to have
flourished.
Footnote 43: Vol. ii. p. 289.
We have extolled Mastelletta, and now for a similar taste we must praise
Benedetto Possenti, a pupil of Lodovico, and also a spirited painter of
figures. His landscapes present us with seaports, embarkations, fairs,
festivals, and the like objects. Bartolommeo Loto, or Lotti, was also held
in high esteem, first a disciple and next competitor of Viola, one who
invariably adhered to the taste of the Caracci. Paolo Antonio Paderna, a
pupil of Guercino, afterwards of Cignani, displayed in his landscape
admirable imitation of Guercino's manner. There was likewise Antonio dal
Sole, from the circumstance of painting with his left hand, denominated il
Monchino de' Paesi,[44] Francesco Ghelli, and Filippo Veralli, all sprung
from the school of Albani, and all much prized for their rural views in
different collections.
Footnote 44: The handless landscape painter.
Annibal formed, as stated in the second volume, a Gio. da Udine of his own,
in a distinguished painter of fruits, called il Gobbo di Cortona, or il
Gobbo de' Caracci. Similar reputation was acquired by two Bolognese
artists, Antonio Mezzadri, whose flowers and fruits are in abundance at
Bologna; and Anton Maria Zagnani, who received commissions even from
princely foreigners. Both were excelled by Paolo Antonio Barbieri, as
famous for his representation of animals, flowers, and fruits, as his
brother Gio. Francesco for the human figure. He bestowed, however, little
study on the art, being too much occupied with his family affairs.[45]
There was a pupil of Guido, by birth a Milanese, but settled at Bologna,
named Pierfrancesco Cittadini, commonly called il Milanese, who surpassed
all his fellow scholars. Some of his altar-pieces shew him to have been
capable of greater performances; but following the genius and example of
several artists whom he saw at Rome, he restricted himself to painting
small pictures on canvass, and small branches of histories and landscapes.
Yet these were excelled by his specimens of fruits and flowers, with birds
of every kind, to which he occasionally added portraits and very graceful
figures, in the same piece. Bologna abounds with his paintings, as such a
line of study proved useful to the quadraturists,[46] who were often
desirous to secure Cittadini's assistance and that of his pupils in their
ornamental labours.
Footnote 45: As the head of the domestic establishment, he
inserted in a book the pictures on which he and his brother
were employed, with the prices which they obtained. On his
death this was continued by Benedetto and Cesare Gennari,
who recorded the works conducted by their surviving uncle.
Such a registry was very useful to ascertain the dates and
prices of the Guercinesque pictures; from the family of
Gennari it came into possession of the Prince Ercolani, who
made a valuable collection of MSS. and very rare books on
the fine arts.
Footnote 46: Ornamental and architectural painters.
For portraits drawn from life, without any other accessaries, Gio.
Francesco Negri, pupil of Fialetti, in Venice, was then in credit at
Bologna; where he had for his fellow pupil Boschini, who finally became a
designer and engraver in copper. Commendations of Negri are met with in the
volumes of Malvasia and of Crespi.
Bologna had to boast little that was great in regard to ornamental
architecture up to the time of Dentone (Girolamo Curti), who became its
restorer also in other parts of Italy. I say restorer, inasmuch as Gio. and
Cherubino Alberti at Rome, and the Sandrini at Brescia, with the Bruni in
Venice, had produced some fine specimens. Nor, if we consider the times,
were Agostino dalle Prospettive and Tommaso Lauretti, in Bologna itself,
destitute of merit, as we have already stated. But their models being
either neglected or corrupted by their successors, produced no solid
advantage to the art; so that there were either no quadraturists in any
cities of Italy, or they were extremely rare, and esteemed only as the
refuse of the figurists. Dentone, with his companions, not only revived,
but elevated and enlarged this art. Sprung from a spinning manufactory of
the Signori Rizzardi, he commenced under Lionello Spada to attempt the
design of figures; and finding this too difficult, he turned to ornamental
painting, and acquired from Baglione the use of the rule, and to draw the
lines. He proceeded no farther with this master; but, having purchased the
works of Vignola and Serlio, he in these studied the different orders of
architecture, grounded himself in perspective, formed a solid and well
regulated taste, which he farther improved with what he saw at Rome, among
the remains of ancient architecture. He attempted much in the form of
relief, which is indeed the soul of this profession. His fine illusions of
cornices, colonnades, lodges, balustrades, arches, and modiglioni, seen
with the effect of foreshortening, have led to the supposition of his being
assisted by stuccos, or some materials of strong relief; while the whole is
produced by the effect of chiaroscuro, brought to a facility, truth, and
grace never before seen. In his colours he preserved those of the stones
and marbles; avoiding those tints of gems and precious stones, afterwards
introduced at the expense of all verisimilitude. It was an invention of his
to lay gold-leaf over his works in fresco. He made use of burnt oil, with
turpentine and yellow wax, melted together, and placed, in a dissolved
state, with a fine pencil, on the parts where the lights occur, and where
the gold leaf is applied. Still he but sparingly availed himself of such
discovery, consigning its abuse to his followers. Anxious for durability,
he was accustomed to rough sketch, and afterwards to fill up with other
layers, then making of the whole one solid impasto, or mingled layers of
colours; while in the most exposed spots, not trusting wholly to the
plaster, he united very fine portions of white marble, as subtly inserted
as we see in the façade of the Grimaldi palace. He thus conferred fresh
lustre on both palaces and churches; and next proceeding to the theatres,
he exhibited novel spectacles in them. The nearmost scenes he painted with
the most commanding power of shade, and diminishing its depth by degrees,
conducted the eye to the most remote with sensations of harmony and
delight. This contrast of depth and sweetness gave the illusion of an
immense prospect in small space; and such was the degree of relief in the
edifices there represented, that numbers, on the first appearance, went
upon the stage in order to explore the reality more nearly. His excellence
in this respect soon obtained him commissions out of Bologna; from the
Card. Legate, at Ravenna, from the sovereigns of Parma and Modena, and at
Rome from Prince Lodovisi, for whom he painted a hall, which outshone the
Sala Clementina, decorated by Gio. Alberti, until then esteemed the most
admirable of its kind.
It was Dentone's custom to retain the services of a figurist, in order to
model his statues, prepare his chiaroscuri, figures of boys, and sometimes
even animals and flowers, with all which he ornamented, not always with
discreetness, his architectural views. The most erudite among the young
artists here vied in offers of their services, desirous of profiting by the
same art, and acquiring reputation. In the hall of the Conti Malvasia, at
Trebbio, he was assisted by Brizio, Francesco and Antonio Caracci, and
Valesio; also by Massari, in the grand chapel of S. Domenico, who attended
him as well in the library of the fathers of S. Martino, where he painted
the celebrated Dispute of S. Cirillo. In the Tanara palace he even engaged
Guercino, who there exhibited his grand Hercules; while elsewhere he was
assisted by Campana, Galanino, and Spada, and a few cartoons were afforded
him by Guido himself. But his most useful colleague was Angiol Michele
Colonna, who arriving at an early age from Como, and having studied some
time under Ferrantini, finally united himself with Dentone, and became
celebrated throughout Europe. This artist, according to Crespi, enjoyed the
reputation of the greatest fresco painter of whom Bologna could boast; such
was his spirited drawing both of men and animals, such his eminence in
perspective, and every species of ornamental work, that he was himself
alone equal to any grand undertaking, and painted alone an entire chamber
at the Florentine court, and a chapel at S. Alessandro, in Parma. The
perspectives in the tribune of that church were by his hand; the figures by
Tiarini; and in several other places the perspectives were by Dentone, the
figures by Colonna. It formed his peculiar talent, with whatever painter he
might engage, so to adapt himself to the style and spirit of his colleague,
that the entire work seemed the idea of the same mind, the product of a
single hand. Nor did he require any delay; for whilst his companion
proceeded with his own portion, he, with wonderful velocity, consistency,
and admirable harmony, despatched the work; a gift for which he was very
generally sought after, and more particularly by Dentone, who retained him
after his return from Rome, until the period of his decease.
Whilst these two celebrated men thus promoted their profession, there was
rising into notice one Agostino Mitelli, a youth of very prolific genius,
not unacquainted with the figure, which Passeri supposes he acquired from
the Caracci, and well-grounded in perspective and architecture, under
Falcetta. When the two friends were engaged in decorating the
archiepiscopal palace at Ravenna, and at the courts of Parma and Modena,
Mitelli alternately assisted the figurist and the quadraturist. This last,
however, was the art he most affected, and to which, on separating from his
masters, he finally devoted himself. His first labours proved very
attractive to the public; not that they equalled the force, solidity, and
reality of Dentone, but on account of their peculiar grace and beauty, such
as almost to obtain for him the fame of the Guido of the quadraturists.
Employing his own taste, he softened down the harder features of the art,
made the elevations more delicate, the tints more mild, and added a style
of foliage, scrolls, and arabesques, decorated with gold, such as seemed to
breathe of grace. The play of the ornaments varied with the nature of the
edifices; some ideas were adapted to halls, some to churches, and others to
theatres. Each ornament filled its appropriate place, at just intervals;
the entire work finally according with a delightful symmetry and harmony,
so as to take by surprise people not yet familiar with similar illusions,
and to remind them, as it were, of the enchanted palaces of the romancers.
Mitelli's first assistants were two of his fellow pupils in this art,
Andrea Sighizzi and Gio. Paderna, with occasionally the figurist Ambrogi;
names not unworthy of a place in the history of the arts, though unequal to
compete with such a colleague.
Colonna alone seemed born to associate with him, as he did after the death
of his favourite Curti. An intimacy ensued, which was like the second act
of Angiol Michele's life; an intimacy which, strengthened by mutual esteem
and interest, and cherished by habit and kind offices, continued during
twenty-four years, until terminated by the death of Mitelli. These two
friends added greatly to the excellent models of the art at Bologna; and
among their most celebrated labours are the chapel of Rosario, and the hall
of the Conti Caprara. Elsewhere, as in the Bentivogli and Pepoli palaces,
Agostino produced only specimens of architecture; and in others we see his
pictures of perspective conducted _a guazzo_, with figures by Gioseffo, his
son, a disciple of Torre, who engraved even better than he painted. In
their commissions beyond Bologna, Mitelli and Colonna were always invited
together; as to Parma, to Modena, to Florence, by their respective rulers;
by the Marchesi Balbi to Genoa, and by Cardinal Spada to Rome, whose ample
hall they enlarged, as it were, and dignified by means of feigned
colonnades, artful recesses, and magnificent steps, where numbers of
figures, arrayed in varied and novel drapery, were seen ascending and
descending. Called subsequently to the court of Philip IV., they decorated
three chambers and a magnificent hall in Madrid, where Colonna, too,
produced his so highly extolled Fable of Pandora. They here sojourned for
the space of two years, the last of Mitelli's life, who died much regretted
by the whole court, and by the Spanish artists, at whose head stood Diego
Velasquez.
Colonna returned into Italy, and as a third act of his life, we may record
the twenty-seven years which he afterwards lived; during the earlier
portion, availing himself, for his architectures, of the services of
Giacomo Alboresi, Mitelli's great pupil; and in the latter, of Giovacchino
Pizzoli, his own scholar, known also among painters of landscape. Crespi
adds the name of Gio. Gherardini, and Antonio Roli, or Rolli according to
the Cav. Titi, whose specimens in this branch, at the Certosa of Pisa, he
extols as perfect miracles of the art (p. 301). In this trio are included
all belonging to Colonna's school. It is observed by Malvasia, that from
Mitelli's society, Angiol Michele himself derived utility, as regarded
architecture; not that he ever equalled his deceased friend, but from
adopting thenceforward a more elegant manner. This progress is apparent in
the cupola of S. Biagio; as well as in the ceiling and in a chapel of S.
Bartolommeo, decorated by him after his return from Spain. Other specimens
he produced at this period, at Ponzacco, a villa of the Marchese Nicolini,
of Florence; in the Morisini palace, at Padua, and at Paris, for M. Lionne,
state secretary to the French king. Colonna attained the age of eighty-six,
and left, at his death, numerous professors of an art, which he and his two
colleagues may almost be said to have invented, and given to the public.
I have enumerated different young artists of these schools; and they, too,
united together, traversing Italy in the service of princes and nobles, and
forming pupils in every place; so that no art ever spread more rapidly.
Gio. Paderna, pupil to Dentone, and next an accomplished imitator of
Mitelli, became the colleague of Baldassare Bianchi; and the latter, at the
death of Paderna, having become Mitelli's son-in-law, was placed companion,
by the father-in-law, with Gio. Giacomo Monti. This partnership also met
with success in Italy, in particular at Mantua, where they both received
regular salaries. Their figure-painter was Gio. Batista Caccioli, of
Budrio, pupil to Canuti, and a good disciple of Cignani, who left frescos,
altar-pieces, and private pictures; in particular, his heads of old men, in
high request. Another son-in-law of Mitelli, Giacomo Alboresi, was much
employed at the court of Parma, in that of Florence, and in the villa
Capponi, of Colonnata. He was assisted in his figures by Fulgenzio Mondini,
and on his death, by Giulio Cesare Milani, who was esteemed the best pupil
of Torre. Domenico Santi, named Mengazzino, was also one of the ablest
among Mitelli's pupils, and left, at the Servi, in S. Colombano, and in the
Ratta palace, some fine works in perspective, with figures by Giuseppe
Mitelli, by Burrini, and most of all by Canuti, never having left his
native place. His perspectives, on canvass, are highly esteemed in
cabinets, and are sometimes hardly to be distinguished from those of
Agostino. Andrea Sighizzi, the father and master of three artists, was
employed also at Turin, Mantua, and Parma, where he received a salary from
the court, and had Pasinelli for his best companion. It would carry us too
far, to recount all the quadraturists sprung from these schools; nor would
all, perhaps, deserve commemoration. Though no art was more rapidly
extended, none sooner degenerated; caprice usurped the place of sound rules
of architecture, and was carried to a pitch of extravagance and
impertinence, when the Borrominesque taste began to extend through Italy.
Architecture itself, which forms the basis of this profession, began, in
course of time, to be regarded as an accessary; a greater share of study
was employed in the vases of flowers, in festoons, in fruits, and foliages,
and certain novelties of grotesque, against which both Algarotti and Crespi
have so justly and successfully inveighed.
We cannot close this account without the name of Giovannino da Capugnano,
an artist very fully treated of by Malvasia and Orlandi, and highly
extolled in the studies of the painters, even in our own days. Misled by a
pleasing self-delusion, he believed himself born to become a painter; like
that ancient personage, mentioned by Horace, who imagined himself the owner
of all the vessels that arrived in the Athenian port. His chief talent lay
in making crucifixes, to fill up the angles, and in giving a varnish to the
balustrades. Next, he attempted landscape in water-colours, in which were
exhibited the most strange proportions, of houses less than the men; these
last smaller than his sheep; and the sheep again than his birds. Extolled,
however, in his own district, he determined to leave his native mountains,
and figure on a wider theatre at Bologna; there he opened his house, and
requested the Caracci, the only artists he believed to be more learned than
himself, to furnish him with a pupil, whom he intended to polish in his
studio. Lionello Spada, an admirable wit, accepted this invitation; he went
and copied designs, affecting the utmost obsequiousness towards his master.
At length, conceiving it time to put an end to the jest, he left behind him
a most exquisite painting of Lucretia, and over the entrance of the chamber
some fine satirical octaves, in apparent praise, and real ridicule of
Capugnano. His worthy master only accused Lionello of ingratitude, for
having acquired from him in so short a space the art of painting so
beautifully from his designs; but the Caracci at last acquainted him with
the joke, which acted as a complete antidote to his folly. In some
Bolognese galleries his pictures are preserved as specimens, in some degree
connected with pictorial history;[47] and which, though composed with all
becoming gravity, are as diverting as any caricature of Miel or of
Cerquozzi. Were we to desire a second example of such imbecility in the
art, it would be found in Crespi,[48] who gives some account of one Pietro
Galletti. Equally persuaded of having been born a painter, Pietro became a
laughing-stock to the students, who solemnly invested him with a doctorial
degree in the art, assembling for that purpose in the cellar of a
monastery.
Footnote 47: See Lettere Pittoriche, vol. ii. p. 53.
Footnote 48: Crespi, p. 141.
BOLOGNESE SCHOOL.
EPOCH IV.
_Pasinelli, and in particular Cignani, cause a Change in the
Style of Bolognese Painting. The Clementine Academy and its
Members._
The commencement of the final epoch of the Bolognese School may be dated
some years previous to 1700; when Lorenzo Pasinelli and Carlo Cignani had
already produced a striking alteration in painting. The disciples of the
Caracci, who had imitated Lodovico, and those who had produced new manners,
had all disappeared; while the pupils who still continued attached to their
taste were very few; consisting of Guercino's Gennari, of Gio. Viani,
formerly pupil to Torre, and some other less distinguished names. Pasinelli
himself ceased to exist, on the opening of the new century, leaving the
entire credit of the preceptorship in the hands of Cignani. This, too, was
shortly increased by the formation of a public academy of the fine arts in
the city, to which he was appointed president during life. These details
are to be met with in the excellent "History of the Clementine Academy"
composed by Giampietro Zanotti. Here we are made acquainted with the
principles and progress of that celebrated society, which, in the year
1708, received from Pope Clement XI. its sanction and its name, from the
Senate its rooms, and its organization from Count Luigi Ferdinando Marsili;
besides effectual support both from him and other nobles; and here also we
are presented with the lives of the academicians up to the year 1739. To
Zanotti's History, as well as to others of an older date, much useful
supplement was added by the Canon Crespi; and upon these two recent works,
with a due degree of caution, I propose to rest the authority of my
succeeding narrative.
In tracing the origin of the new taste, it will be requisite to go back to
1670, or near that period; when Pasinelli and Cignani, after their return
from Rome, commenced teaching and operating, each in their respective
method. Lorenzo pursued the design of Raffaello, combined with the
fascination of Paul Veronese; while Carlo delighted in the grace of
Coreggio, united to Annibal's learning; and both had executed at Rome
studies agreeable to their genius. It is reported, that one day they
happened to enter upon a long discussion of the relative merits of
Raffaello and Coreggio. Would that they had been joined by some new
Borghini, as a third party, who might have put the discourse into the form
of a dialogue, and have preserved it for posterity! In course of time,
Cignani came into higher repute than Pasinelli, though this excited no kind
of jealousy; they had both of them wisdom enough to be satisfied each with
his own share of genius, and to commend his competitor; thus abstaining
from that indulgence of rivalry which gives, even to the most celebrated
artists and writers, an air of meanness. Thus, when the Clementine academy
was instituted, the pupils of both masters readily united in serving that
new assembly; voluntarily submitting to the direction of Cignani, placed by
the pontifical diploma at their head. Thenceforward the style of Cignani
came into vogue; though others sprung from it, composed of two or more
manners, which may yet be called national. Each has in it something of the
Caraccesque, owing to the young artists having commenced their career by
designing from the works of the three brothers. A few of these painters
exhibit even too much of their manner, and that of the best among other
artists; we find figures taken partially from different ancient masters,
and worked up into one composition; as we see sometimes done in poetry,
with the lines of one or more writers. About this period the study of the
beau-ideal received some accession, by means of the casts with which the
academy was supplied. The style of coloring is far from careless; though in
the principles then adopted, there was a certain method pursued by
different artists, from which their shadows have grown deeper, and assumed
a rusty colour; and towards the middle of the same epoch, false and
capricious colours came into use, and long continued to find patrons. Nor
was this error confined solely to the Bolognese School. Balestra, in one of
his letters, dated 1733, inserted in the Pictoric Collection, (vol. ii.)
laments the decline of "all the Italian schools," from their having fallen
into mistaken methods. Possessing himself in Verona three scholars, capable
of great performances, namely, Pecchio, who became a fine landscape
painter, Rotari, and Cignaroli, he seems to have had his fears even for
them. In particular, speaking of the last, he says, "I fear lest he, too,
should suffer himself to be borne away by the prevailing stream, and become
enamoured of certain ideal manners, and of a rapid touch; consequently
careless of good practice and of rules." Respecting these alterations,
however, it is not yet time to treat.
To come down, at present, to the two heads of the school; Pasinelli, who
first ceased to live, will first come under our consideration. He received
his education in the art from Cantarini; subsequently from Torre, whose
school he too early left, owing to which, most probably, he never attained
to perfect correctness of design. In this, nevertheless, he surpassed Paul
Veronese, who formed his great prototype. He did not imitate him, according
to the sectarists; he borrowed from him that effective and majestic
composition; but the ideas of the faces, and the distribution of the
colours he acquired elsewhere. He was naturally too inclined to create
surprise by the display of copious, rich, and spirited compositions; such
as his two pictures at the Certosa, of Christ's Entrance into Jerusalem,
and his Return into Limbo; and such too is his History of Coriolanus, in
the Casa Ranuzzi, a piece found repeated in many collections. No one can
behold these paintings without granting to Pasinelli a true painter's fire,
great novelty of idea, and a certain elevated character, never the boast of
middling artists. With these gifts, however, he is sometimes too
extravagant in his attitudes, and in his Paolesque imitation of spectacles,
and strange novel draperies, which he is thought to have carried to an
extreme, as in his Preaching of John the Baptist, in which his rival,
Taruffi, found, instead of the desert of Judea, the piazza of St. Mark, in
Venice. He knew, withal, to restrain his fire according to the genius of
his themes, as we may see in that Holy Family in possession of the Scalzi;
a work partaking of Albani. He painted more for private persons than for
the public; uniform in the spirit, varied in the colours of his pictures.
Some of these private pictures boast, at once, a softness of hand, and a
peculiarly vivid and gay light, that might be taken for those of the
Venetians or Lombards; in particular, a few of his Venuses, which are
supposed to be portraits of one of his three wives. In a few of his other
specimens he displays very little relief, whole colours, a tint almost like
that of the Bolognese artists preceding the Caracci; and these I should
either attribute to his early youth, or his closing days.
One of the four leading artists of his age was the Cav. Carlo Cignani, as
elsewhere stated, a genius more profound than prompt; a hand eager to
engage in labours, but most difficult, and ever dissatisfied in their
completion. His picture of Joseph's Flight into Egypt, belonging to the
Counts Bighini, of Imola, cost him six months' labour; and many similar
instances are recorded. Nevertheless, he always appears complete, never
hard or laborious; and his facility is esteemed one of his rarest gifts.
Cignani's inventions are often referable to Albani, who was his master. He
produced, for a monastery of Piacenza, a picture of the Conception of the
Virgin, who, robed in a white garment, is seen bruising the serpent's head;
and arrayed in a garment of rich purple, her infant son at her feet, who,
with an air at once of dignity and grace, places his foot upon that of his
mother;--what a language does this speak, how truly sublime! There is much,
too, of a novel and poetic cast, in his Birth of the Virgin, at the
cathedral of Urbino; a picture that at Rome was censured even for its
novelty. Cignani was likewise a good composer, and so disposed his figures,
by the example of the Caracci, as to give his pictures an air of larger
dimensions than they really have. His four Scriptural Histories, in four
ovals, each sustained by two cherubs, among the most perfectly beautiful in
Bologna, are truly attractive ornaments of S. Michele in Bosco; nor are two
others less so, of the public hall, where he represented Francis I., in the
act of healing the lepers; and Paul III. seen entering into Bologna. Less
majestic, perhaps, but more beautiful, is one of his paintings, in the
palace of the ducal garden at Parma. Agostino Caracci had there decorated
the ceiling of a chamber; there Cignani exhibited, on the walls, various
fables, illustrative of the power of Love; in which, if he surpassed not
that great master, he, in the opinion of many, at least equalled him. In
design he invariably emulated Coreggio; but, in his outlines, in his
beauteous and noble countenances, and in his grand, ample folds, he
preserved something original, and distinct from the Lombards; while he is
less studious than they respecting the use of foreshortening. He aimed at a
strong layer of colours, which were clear and animated like Coreggio's, to
which he added, also, a sweetness derived from Guido. He was especially
careful in his chiaroscuro, and gave a great degree of roundness to all his
objects; which, though in certain subjects it may appear overwrought, and
more ample than in nature, is nevertheless pleasing.
His historical pieces are rare; but not so a number of others, containing
one or two half-length figures, and still less his Madonnas. One of the
most beautiful is in the Albani palace, painted for Clement XI., with the
Holy Child; and another, representing her grief, belongs to the Princes
Corsini, extremely graceful, as is also the Angel seen consoling her. It
would be difficult to decide whether he excelled most in oils or in fresco,
which last is the kind of painting in which great artists have ever
distinguished themselves. He spent the closing years of a long life at
Forli, where he established his family, and left the proudest monument of
his genius in that grand cupola, perhaps the most remarkable of all the
pictoric productions belonging to the eighteenth century. The subject is
the Assumption of our Lady, the same as in the cathedral at Parma; and
here, too, as there, it exhibits such a real paradise, that the more we
contemplate it, the more it delights us. Near twenty years were devoted to
its production, from time to time; the artist, occasionally, during that
period, visiting Ravenna, to consult the cupola by Guido, from whom he took
his fine figure of St. Michael, and some other ideas. It is reported that
the scaffolds were, against his wish, removed, as he appeared to be never
satisfied with retouching and bringing the work to his usual degree of
finish.
From these two masters I now proceed to their disciples, and shall annex,
also, a few others, who sprung from other schools. Pasinelli had the good
fortune to inherit, from Canuti, an excellent master, a number of fine
scholars, on the latter quitting Bologna. One of these was Gio. Antonio
Burrini, who, while he retained his first master's manner, became attached,
also, to the composition of Paolo, so much to the taste of Pasinelli.
Indeed, he himself appeared naturally inclined to it, by the richness of
his imagination, and his surprising eagerness and industry in his works. He
devoted much time to Paolo Veronese, at Venice, often imitating him in
those pictures which are referred to his first style. Distinguished among
these is an Epiphany, painted for the noble Ratta family, which yields to
very few pieces in their collection. He subsequently executed a martyrdom
of S. Vittoria for the cathedral of Mirandola, in competition with Gio.
Gioseffo dal Sole; who on beholding it so greatly superior to his own
picture, was bitterly mortified. He was reassured, however, by Pasinelli,
their common master, who predicted he would become a better artist than
Burrini, whose own facility of genius would at length betray him into a
mere practical line. And this prediction was very exactly fulfilled, though
he continued upwards of fifteen years to paint with tolerable care, both
for the Prince of Carignano at Turin, and at Novellara. He in particular
appeared to advantage as a fresco painter at Bologna, being by some termed
the Pier da Cortona, or the Giordano of his school. His fresco histories in
the Casa Albergati are well deserving notice, as are those in the
Alamandini and the Bigami families, with others produced in early youth.
Impelled at length by the cares of an increasing family to look for greater
profits, he gave way by degrees to his facility of hand, and formed a
second style, which, owing to the indolence of human nature, obtained more
disciples than his first.
Gio. Gioseffo dal Sole, on the contrary, burned to become each day more
perfect, and raised himself to one of the first posts among the artists of
his age. He had constant commissions from noblemen, both native and
foreign, and received invitations also from the courts of Poland and of
England. For some time he preserved a style conforming to Pasinelli's; and
in order to improve it from the same sources he frequently returned to
Venice, though he never attained to that degree of beauty, in his more
elegant subjects, that formed the boast of his master. In many particulars,
however, he displays exquisite grace; as in the hair and plumes of the
angels, and equally in the accessaries, such as the veils, bracelets,
crowns, and armour. He seems to have been inclined also more than Pasinelli
to treat powerful themes; more observant of costume, more methodical in
composition, and more informed in point of architecture and landscape. In
these indeed he is almost unique; and the most beautiful specimens,
perhaps, are to be seen at the Casa Zappi in Imola, representing Evening,
Night, and Morning, all very pleasingly distributed, and with sober tints,
such as the subject required. His other works display, in most instances,
the most lovely play of vivid fluctuating light, more especially in his
holy pieces and celestial visions, as we see in the St. Peter of Alcantara,
at S. Angiolo in Milan. Moreover, he was more exact and polished than
Pasinelli; not that he was by any means deficient in celerity in conducting
his works, but esteemed it unworthy of an upright character to confer upon
them less perfection than he was capable of bestowing. Being employed at
Verona for the noble family of Giusti, where he left several mythological
pieces and scriptural histories, truly beautiful, he completed one of
Bacchus and Ariadne, which artists pronounced excellent, within a week. Yet
he cancelled almost the whole, to remodel it according to his own wish,
declaring that it was enough to have shewn his rapidity of hand to satisfy
others, but that it became his duty, by additional accuracy, to satisfy
also himself. Hence his fresco at S. Biagio in Bologna, which is his
greatest work, cost him an infinite deal of labour in its completion; and
in conducting his altar-pieces, few and valuable, as well as in his private
pictures, which are very numerous, he called for high remuneration,
persevering in his determination to paint only with care. In this artist,
as many others, two manners are observable, of which the second partakes of
Guido Reni's. It is on record, that he became attached to it late in life,
and was less successful in it. It appears to me that a large portion of his
pictures nearly approach the taste of Guido, and that the surname of the
modern Guido, conferred upon him by so many, has not been granted as matter
of favour, nor at the expense of little time.
No artist of these times could boast more disciples than Giangioseffo dal
Sole, if we except Solimene, who was held by him in high esteem. In order
to study his paintings, executed for the Counts Bonaccorsi, Dal Sole went
to Macerata, where he conducted a few works for the church of the Vergini,
and for the house of the said nobles. I am uncertain if he derived from
this visit that style of colouring, more attractive than natural, such as
we find it in some of his smaller pictures, and in some Bolognese artists
who succeeded him. From his school sprung Felice Torelli of Verona, and
Lucia Casalini, his wife, of a Bolognese family. Torelli came to it already
instructed in the art, acquired in his native place from Sante Prunato,
whose taste he, in a great measure, preserved. He became a painter of
strong character, fine chiaroscuro, and of no common merit in canvass
paintings for altars. These are found at Rome, Turin, Milan, and other
cities of Italy. That of S. Vincenzio is most conspicuous, in the act of
freeing a female possessed, at the Domenicans of Faenza; a picture finely
varied in the heads, in the draperies, and the attitudes. Lucia likewise
painted for some churches, as nearly as she could in her consort's style;
but her chief merit lay in portrait, such as to obtain for her admission of
her own in the royal gallery at Florence. Another artist of her sex,
initiated in the art of design by Sirani, and in colouring by Taruffi and
Pasinelli, received her last instructions from Gioseffo dal Sole. Her name
was Teresa Muratori Scannabecchi, who was in the habit of painting a good
deal by herself, and with great credit. Assisted by her master, she
executed a picture of St. Benedict in the act of preserving the life of a
child; a very graceful production and of good effect, exhibited in a chapel
of S. Stefano.
Francesco Monti, another pupil of the same school, was endowed by nature
with an enthusiasm for ample and copious subjects, to which he applied
himself without much previous culture, either from imitation or from art.
He executed for the Counts Ranuzzi, who patronised him, a picture of the
Rape of the Sabines; and for the court of Turin the Triumph of Mardocheo;
works abounding with figures, and highly extolled; besides many other oil
paintings for different collections and churches. But his surpassing merit
is to be sought for in his frescos, and more particularly at Brescia, in
which city he fixed his residence. He also conducted many pieces for the
adjacent places, applauded for his fertile genius and his masterly style of
colouring. A number of churches and noble houses, such as the Martinengo,
the Avogadro, the Barussi, were also decorated by him on a very extended
scale of painting. Some portraits, too, executed by his daughter Eleonora,
who received constant commissions from the same nobility, are held in high
esteem.
Gio. Batista Grati and Cesare Mazzoni remained at Bologna, and as belonging
to the Clementine Academicians who then flourished, we meet with their
lives in Zanotti. Subsequent to their decease, Crespi was enabled to treat
their memory with more fairness. He praises the accuracy of the former, and
regrets his want of talent; the second he pronounces a commendable artist,
observing that he was long employed at Faenza, Turin, and Rome, as well as
at Bologna itself; though not with good fortune. Antonio Lunghi also
flourished for the most part in foreign states; at Venice, in Rome, and the
kingdom of Naples. He returned, at an advanced age, to his native place,
where there is his picture of S. Rita at S. Bartolommeo, and others in
different churches, which merited for their author some favourable
consideration of Crespi. Yet he has omitted him, for the purpose, as I
suppose, of reserving him for the fourth volume of the "Felsina Pittrice."
It would be too much to attempt a complete sketch of Gio. Gioseffo's
disciples who flourished in other schools, such as Francesco Pavona of
Udine, a good painter in oil, and better in crayons; superior in his large
altar-pieces, and still more in his portraits. He afterwards studied at
Milan, and thence proceeded to Genoa; next into Spain, Portugal, and
Germany, being well received in all these courts; after which he married
and had a family at Dresden. Subsequently he returned to Bologna, which he
left in the course of a few years for Venice, where he shortly afterwards
died. Francesco Comi also left Bologna, called il Fornaretto,[49] and the
Mute of Verona, being deprived both of speech and hearing. Nevertheless he
was distinguished in the art, and is commemorated by Pozzo among the
artists of his country, and also by Orlandi. There are others, of whom we
make mention in almost every school.
Footnote 49: Literally, the little baker.
Donato Creti, a cavalier of the gold spurs, ranks as one of the most
eminent of Pasinelli's pupils, and as the most attached to his manner;
though he was inclined to modify it with that of Cantarini, and of both
composed a third, sufficiently noble and graceful. He would have made it
still more free and original, had he applied himself diligently in early
youth; which he omitted to do, and carried his regrets for such omission
down with him to the tomb. His merit is impaired by his colouring, which
has in it something hard and crude; entertaining a maxim, that tints, such
as they are in nature, ought to be employed, and left to time for sobering
and harmonizing--a maxim by some attributed to Paul Veronese. If there were
ever a painter who knew not when to remove his hand from the canvass, it
was Creti. In painting his S. Vincenzio, intended to be placed opposite the
S. Raimond of Lodovico, he completed it with every attention to the art;
yet was dissatisfied with the work, insomuch that the person who gave the
commission was compelled to take it by force out of his studio, in order to
place it in the grand church of the Padri Predicatori. This is, perhaps,
his best altar-piece. His Alexander's Feast also boasts some merit,
executed for the noble Fava family; by some even it is supposed to be his
masterpiece. Creti had a pupil, named Ercole Graziani, who added greater
power of execution to his master's style, a more enlarged character,
greater freedom of hand, with other qualities which display his
superiority. He approached Franceschini and others who succeeded to the
school of Cignani. He has been accused by one of his rivals of too much
effeminacy in his painting, and study of minutiæ in his ornaments. Others
seek for a more just equality in his colours; others more spirit; though
all must give him credit for genius and industry equal to compete with the
eminent artists of his day, and to surpass many, had he enjoyed the good
fortune to have met with an experienced master. He painted for S. Pietro,
that Apostle in the act of ordaining S. Apollinare; a history both copious
and full of dignity; commissioned by the Cardinal Lambertini, who, on
becoming pope, caused him to make a duplicate for the church of S.
Apollinare at Rome. Also his pictures of S. Pellegrino, in Sinigaglia, the
princes of the Apostles, who take leave, with the most beautiful
expression, to meet their martyrdom, placed at S. Pietro in Piacenza, with
others belonging to his happier hours, are equally excellent. To Creti and
Graziani we have to add Count Pietro Fava, in whose house both were, during
some time, brought up, at once assistants and companions in the studies of
this noble artist. He is ranked among Pasinelli's pupils and the Clementine
academicians; and we have an account of his studying the works of the
Caracci, to whose manner, equally with any other artist, he became
attached. Although the cavalier is described as a dilettante in the art,
yet on beholding his altar-pieces of the Epiphany and of the Resurrection
of Christ, which he presented to the cathedral of Ancona, with a few other
productions at Bologna, he appears more worthy of enrolment among its noble
professors.
Aureliano Milani acquired the principles of painting from Cesare Gennari
and Pasinelli; but, struck with the Caracci's style, he devoted his whole
time to copying their compositions entire, as well as separate, repeating
his designs of the heads, the feet, the hands, and the outlines. He caught
their spirit, without borrowing their forms. It is remarked by Crespi, that
no Bolognese shewed more of the Caraccesque in the naked figure, and in the
whole symmetry and character of his painting. After Cignani, too, I have
heard it noticed, that no one better maintained the design and the credit
of the school. In colouring he was not so excellent; sometimes a follower
of Gennari, as in his St. Jerome, at the church of the Vita in Bologna, and
in some degree in his St. John beheaded, at the church of the Bergamaschi
in Rome. Here he took up his residence, being ill able to support a family
of ten children at Bologna. Here, too, he abounded with commissions, and
promoted with Muratori, another pupil of Pasinelli, established there from
early youth, the honour of his native place. Of the last one, however, we
have treated under that school.
Aureliano taught during many years at Bologna, and among other pupils of
his was the celebrated Giuseppe Marchesi, called il Sansone. He first
studied under Franceschini, whose taste he nearly approaches in the vaulted
ceiling of the Madonna di Galiera. It is even the opinion of some, that, in
his skill of foreshortening, and in the tone of his colours, no artist
succeeded in imitating him so well. He took his design from Milani; though
at times his naked portion is rather too much loaded, which I would not
venture to say of his master. Among his best pictures is the Martyrdom of
S. Prisca, in the Rimini cathedral; an altar-piece of many and fine
figures, and good tints, for which the S. Agnese of Domenichino supplied
him with some ideas. He painted much for galleries, and among other pieces,
one of his pictures representing the four seasons, (where it now is I
cannot say,) is reputed, by a first rate judge, among the first works of
the modern Bolognese school.
Antonio Gionima was some time also a pupil of Milani. He was a Paduan of
obscure birth, whose father and grandfather had been artists; educated
first by Simone his father (p. 171), afterwards by Milani, and for a longer
period by Crespi. He died young, leaving works highly prized at Bologna for
their inventive spirit and for the high tone and clearness of their
colouring. His picture of St. Florian and accompanying martyrs was engraved
by Mattioli; and a grand canvass history of Haman is shewn in the Ranuzzi
apartment, conspicuous among numbers in the same place, where no common
artists gained admittance.
Leaving aside certain other pupils of Pasinelli, of less account, as
Odoardo Orlandi, or Girolamo Negri, who had a place, however, in the
Dictionary of Painters, we shall close this catalogue with two others, who,
becoming friends in the school of Lorenzo, continued their intimacy to
extreme old age; Giuseppe Gambarini and Gian Pietro Cavazzoni Zanotti.
Gambarini attended the studio of Cesare Gennari, whose rapidity of touch
and power of natural effect, he afterwards retained. He added no dignity of
forms; owing to which his few altar-pieces and other serious subjects
obtained him no reputation. Applying himself subsequently to Flemish
composition, he represented women intent on domestic affairs, boys'
schools, mendicants begging alms, with similar popular objects, copied
faithfully from life; in all which he abounded with commissions. At Bologna
such familiar pieces by him and his able pupil Gherardini are very common,
and please by their spirit and their exactness. Sometimes he represented
also serious subjects, as in that picture in Casa Ranuzzi, exhibiting the
coronation of Charles V. during the government of a Gonfalonier of the
family.
Zanotti is well known among the writers on pictoric subjects; and few have
been more successful in wielding with equal excellence both pencil and pen.
His "Directions for the Progress of young Artists" contain some learned
maxims, which were meant to stem the corruption of the art, by rescuing it
from a low mechanical manner, and replacing it upon its true principles.
Upon the same maxims he composed his "History of the Clementine Academy,"
although he was not enabled to adopt corresponding freedom of style; having
there written the lives of the academicians, then lately deceased, or still
alive. This work, printed by Lelio dalla Volpe, in 1739, with a splendor
nearly unknown, up to that period, in Italy, excited some degree of
indignation in good artists, who found, next their own, many names of mere
mediocrity distinguished by portraits and lives, on a footing with
themselves. The complaints raised by Spagnuolo, are recorded by the Canon
Crespi in his Felsina, (p. 227, &c.). Other accusations were doubtless
advanced against him by inferior parties, who, though commended beyond
their merits, secretly, perhaps, believed themselves deserving of still
higher praise. Zanotti, too, inserted notices relating to himself, who held
in that assembly the offices of president and of secretary, for a much
longer period. But domestic and literary matters combined, withdrew his
attention from painting in his maturer years; whence we may date his more
feeble performances, which convey no great idea of him. Before, however, he
had conducted works which exempted him from the pictoric crowd; in which
list we may include his grand picture of an Embassy from the People of
Romagna to the Bolognese, which ornaments the public palace. In private
houses, too, are other compositions, either historical or mythological,
composed in excellent taste, one of which is in possession of the Signore
Biancani Tazzi, a piece greatly admired by Algarotti, as a perfect model of
refined taste. A similar graceful little picture of a Cupid and nymphs,
which I saw at Signor Volpi's, displays much poetical imagination, this
artist delighting in poetical composition, very different from Lomazzo's
and Boschini's, to an extreme old age.[50]
Footnote 50: See Lett. Pittor. tom. iv. p. 136.
From Zanotti, who was an excellent master, Ercole Lelli acquired his
knowledge of design. His extraordinary genius, his anatomical preparations
in wax, made by himself and Manzolini for the institution, and his great
influence in the instruction of young artists, in the three branches of the
fine arts, acquired him great reputation in Italy. At the same time, it is
known that he lectured much better than he painted; the art requiring, like
a knowledge of languages, close and persevering application, such as Lelli
could not command. One of his altar-pieces is reported in the Bolognese
Guide; and standing in need of defence, it was truly stated, that it was
among his earliest pieces. In the Guide to Piacenza, another, his S.
Fedele, at the Cappuccini, is also noticed; though it is added, with more
candour, that his highest merit did not consist in painting.
Gio. Viani was fellow-pupil to Pasinelli in the school of Torre; but it is
only a conjecture that he was also his assistant. He was a learned painter,
not inferior in design to any contemporary of the same school; and added to
his powers by assiduous drawing from the living model in the academy, and
the study of anatomy, until the close of his career. To such knowledge he
united elegance in his forms, softness of colouring, engaging attitudes,
lightness of drapery, studying much from life, and giving it an air of
grace, in the manner of Torre, or of Guido. That exquisite picture of St.
John di Dio, at the hospital of the Buonfratelli, is such a specimen of his
art. In the portico of the Servi he represented, in a lunette, S. Filippo
Benizi, borne up to heaven by two angels; a figure which, both in
countenance and action, breathes an expression of beatitude, conspicuous,
even at the side of another history, by Cignani. In other lunettes of the
same portico he does not excite equal admiration, and gives us an idea of
an artist able to compete with the best masters, but obliged to work with a
much larger share of study than they were accustomed to bestow.
Viani opened school opposite that of Cignani, and taught to some extent; in
which he was succeeded by his son Domenico, whose life was written by
Guidalotti, who, in point of merit, prefers him to his father. Few will
subscribe to this opinion, he not having attained to that exactness, much
less to that dignity of design, exhibited by his father; and inferior to
him in the nature, truth, and clearness of his colouring. Still he
possessed a grander character in his outline, a stronger execution, like
Guercino's, more splendid ornaments, like the Venetians, whom he
assiduously studied in their own capital. There is his St. Antony, at S.
Spirito, in Bergamo, in the act of convincing a sceptic by a miracle; a
surprising picture, extolled by Rotari and Tiepolo, and perhaps the best
work which he left at Bologna. At the same place is his Jove, painted on
copper, for the Casa Ratta, besides other works in private houses, to which
he chiefly devoted himself.
His fellow-pupils in the paternal school were four Clementine academicians,
whose altar-pieces we find mentioned among the "Paintings of Bologna."
These were Gian Girolamo Bonesi, who renounced both the name and style of
Viani, in order to follow Cignani, and complained of being included in
Viani's school. However this might be, his pictures pleased, by adding to
the beautiful a peculiar delicacy and sweetness that characterize him.
Carlo Rambaldi, imitating both the Viani, was not the less employed by
Bonesi; and pictures of both are met with, especially half-length figures,
in select galleries at Bologna, and a few historical pieces in the royal
collection at Turin. Antonio Dardani possessed more universal talent than
either of the preceding, but was not equally refined. Pietro Cavazzi was a
fine connoisseur in prints, and only on this account was celebrated in
Italy and abroad. Tronchi, Pancaldi, Montanari, with others, not admitted
into the Clementine academy, may be found mentioned in Crespi. No one, I
imagine, would desire an account of the under graduates, when the
academicians who enjoyed the first rank, were many of them, according to
Zanotti, only artists of mediocrity.
From the school of Cignani, to which I now proceed, scarcely any disciple
issued who ultimately adhered to his style. A master, whose maxim it was to
labour every picture, as if his entire reputation depended on it; who
preferred to cancel, rather than retouch his less successful pieces, might,
perhaps, have scholars, but not many emulators. Two of his family, however,
imitated him; Count Felice his son, who long assisted him, particularly in
the Cupola at Forli; and the Count Paolo his grandson, whom he, perhaps,
instructed in the outset; while his father indisputably employed him at
Forli, and Mancini at Rome. Both were gifted with facility of genius; but
being sufficiently wealthy, they only devoted themselves to the art for the
sake of the pleasure it afforded. Felice is seldom mentioned in the Guide
to Bologna; in which, however, his St. Antony, at the Carità, meets with
praise. At Forli is the altar-piece of St. Philip, by some ascribed to him,
and by others to Count Carlo, in his declining years; so inferior is it to
the best style of that artist. In collections his paintings are not rare;
though appearing, like a young boy in the presence of his father. Of Count
Paolo's I only recollect a single altar-piece at Savignano, representing
St. Francis in the act of appearing to St. Joseph da Copertino, and putting
a demon to flight. The scene appears illuminated by torch-light, and has a
fine effect; and the figures, in regard to their studied and finished
manner, display the taste of his grandfather.
After the relatives of Carlo comes Emilio Taruffi, his fellow-pupil with
Albani, as well as his assistant, first at Bologna, in decorating the
public hall, and next at Rome, where he resided three years, sometimes
employed at S. Andrea della Valle, at others for private houses. No artist
then better conformed to Cignani's style; and Taruffi could at least second
him in painting histories. But his genius lay more in minor compositions.
He was an excellent copyist of any ancient manner; a portrait painter of
great spirit, and, in landscape, one of the best pupils formed by Albani.
In these three branches he obtained his usual commissions, which he ever
discharged with credit. He also conducted some altar-pieces, and that of S.
Pier Celestino, at the church of that name, yields to few of the same
period.
Cignani's most distinguished pupils and heads of new schools were
Franceschini and Crespi. The Cav. Marcantonio Franceschini left the school
of Gio. Batista Galli for that of Cignani, and became his most effective
assistant and intimate friend. This friendship was cemented by his union
with Cignani's cousin, sister of Quaini, whom I shall shortly again
mention. Some productions of Franceschini might be taken for Cignani's
himself; but these were among his earliest, before he had formed his
characteristic manner. He remained with his friend many years, and
possessing peculiar gracefulness of design, Cignani availed himself of it
to draw from life the individual portions of his compositions, engaging him
to consult various models, in order to select the best forms from each. By
this study of nature, in which he persevered, and by copying from the
designs and under the eye of his master, he attained much of the taste, the
nice selectness, and the grandeur of Cignani. To these he added a certain
grace of colouring, and a facility which gave a novel character to his
productions; besides an originality, equal to any other artist, in the form
of his heads, in his attitudes, and in the costume of his figures. His
freshness, his harmony, his just equilibrium of full and retreating parts;
in short, his whole style presents a glowing spectacle never before seen.
If we trace in his works, especially on an extended scale, a degree of
mannerism, it may almost be excused: would that his disciples had
restrained themselves within the same limits! But easy roads to painting
are like walking on a declivity, where it is difficult to count one's
steps, or restrain one's motions. Franceschini seemed born to execute works
on a large scale, fertile in ideas, and with facility to dispose them in
every point of view, and to colour them at any distance. He was accustomed
to compose his cartoons in chiaroscuro, and, having fixed them in the
intended spot, to judge of the success of his proposed work; a method it
would be desirable to inculcate and adopt more generally.
His large fresco paintings are numerous; the recess in the Ranuzzi palace,
the cupola and ceiling in the church of Corpus Domini, the tribune of S.
Bartolommeo at Bologna. Among those in other states we shall mention only
the corbels of the cupola, with three histories, in the cathedral of
Piacenza, and the grand ceiling of the Hall of Public Counsel at Genoa.
This painting, of which it is enough to state that Mengs devoted many hours
in examining it in detail, the noblest of Franceschini's performances,
perished by fire, without a single engraving having been taken to
commemorate its grandeur of conception. The same fertility of ideas and
attraction of style are conspicuous in his grand histories, dispersed among
the first galleries of Europe, and in his no less copious altar-pieces.
Such is the S. Tommaso da Villanova, in the act of dispensing alms, placed
at the Agostiniani di Rimini; a picture truly imposing by its magnificent
workmanship, and which surprises by the beauty of its figures. What is
equally surprising, the Cavalier Franceschini, when nearly an octogenarian,
displayed pictorial powers equal to his best days; as we gather from his
Pietà, at the Agostiniani of Imola, and his BB. Fondatori, at the Serviti
in Bologna, which betray no traces of decline. This artist rejected the
most advantageous offers from courts, which all vied in soliciting his
services. Giordano even was not invited to that of Madrid, until the
situation had been refused by Franceschini. He chose to reside in Upper
Italy, there assuming the same rank, as head of his school, with almost the
same success as Cortona in Lower Italy. Both schools adhered much to the
Caracci's style, and in some measure rendered it more popular; and hence,
those who at Rome are not familiar with the features and contrasts
characteristic of Cortona's sect, would easily confound them with the more
modern artists of Bologna.
Luigi Quaini, cousin to Carlo Cignani, and brother-in-law to Franceschini,
was one of the most animated characters of his time; equally well versed in
history, in architecture, and in poetry. The pupil, first of Guercino, next
of Cignani, he was employed by the last as an assistant, and with such
success, that, in painting, his hand could not be distinguished from that
of his master. In distributing their labours to Franceschini and to Quaini,
he ordered the former to paint the fleshes for the roundness and softness
he gave to them; while to the latter he committed certain gay and spirited
countenances, and a certain finishing of parts, in which, from his peculiar
talent, he admirably succeeded. Later in life, he united with Franceschini,
and leaving to him the inventive parts, he followed him in the style of the
figures; inferior, doubtless, to that of Cignani, in force of chiaroscuro
and colouring, but more attractive from its peculiar beauty and felicity.
He would, afterwards, wholly ornament the composition by himself, with
flowers, armour, beautiful landscape, and noble perspective; an art
acquired from Francesco, his own father, a fine pupil of Mitelli. In this
way did these two artists continue to paint, conjointly, at Bologna, at
Modena, Piacenza, Genoa, and Rome; at which last place they composed some
cartoons for the cupola of St. Peter's, which were afterwards executed in
mosaic. Quaini also painted many historical pictures of his own invention.
They decorate private houses; his only composition in public being his St.
Nicholas visited in prison by our Lady, a beautiful altar-piece, occupying
the best place in the church of that name.
Marcantonio's school, from which he also derived those assistants who
followed Quaini, dates its commencement from his son, the Canon Jacopo
Franceschini. The Bolognese historians only represent him in the character
of an honorary academician; so that, by their account, I ought here to omit
him. The Cav. Ratti, however, informs us that Marcantonio, coming to Genoa
to adorn the church of S. Filippo, brought with him his son as his
assistant, together with Giacomo Boni. In the same city, too, I saw a large
history, in the hall of the Marchese Durazzo, as well as other pieces by
him, well worthy commendation. At Bologna, also, are several paintings in
public, all conducted in the style, and with the assistance of his father.
Boni was employed by Franceschini in many of his works, more particularly
in that at Rome. He had been pupil also to Cignani, along with a few more,
to be mentioned in the same school; under whose care he chiefly had in view
works of a more difficult cast. Such was the ceiling of S. Maria della
Costa, at S. Remo, and of S. Pier Celestino, at Bologna; besides several
paintings at Genoa, where he became established. Two of his pictures, at
the church of the Magdalen, met with great applause; namely, a Preaching at
Gethsemane, and a Pietà. He more particularly distinguished himself in
fresco; and in a chamber of his Excel. Pallavicini is an infant Jove, in
the act of receiving nutriment from a goat, executed in the most elegant
style. He was much employed in that capital, where, says Crespi, "there is
neither palace, nor church, nor monastery, nor house, in which his works
are not met with; all striking and commendable." Nor did he produce little
at Brescia, at Parma, and at Remo; besides being honoured with commissions
from Prince Eugene of Savoy, and the King of Spain, for whose chapel he
forwarded an altar-piece. This artist sometimes betrays the haste of a mere
mechanist, not completing fully, or polishing his work; besides colouring
with a degree of lightness of hand which easily yields to age. Yet he
always retains a delicacy and a precision in his contours, with a certain
open spirit and joyousness which delight the eye.
Antonio Rossi never conducted works on so large a scale as Boni, but he
surpassed him in diligence; which induced his master, when entrusting
commissions to his pupils, to prefer him to any other. He exercised himself
in painting pictures for churches, and greatly added to his reputation by
his Martyrdom of S. Andrea, placed at S. Domenico. He was much occupied,
also, with architectural pictures and landscape, to which he added small
figures, so well adapted as to appear by the same hand. On this account he
was an artist much liked by the artificers of similar representations,
particularly by Orlandi and Brizzi. Girolamo Gatti was less employed for
churches than Rossi, but is distinguished for small figure pieces, with one
of which he decorated the hall of the Anziani. It exhibited the coronation
of Charles V. in S. Petronio, and shewed the artist to be as good a
figurist as a painter of perspective. Although educated by Franceschini, as
we learn from the new _Guide_, he did not imitate his colouring: this he
sought to attain from Cignani. Giuseppe Pedretti long resided in Poland;
and on his return to Bologna executed a number of works in a good style.
Giacinto Garofolini, a pupil and kinsman of Marcantonio, displayed very
middling ability when employed alone; but in conjunction with his relative,
and with Boni, he conducted various works in fresco, from which he is
entitled to what reputation he obtained. To these Bolognese artists and
academicians various foreigners might be added, as one Gaetano Frattini,
known at Ravenna by some altar-pieces at the _Corpus Domini_, and a few
others whom we have referred to different schools. We shall now return to
that of Cignani.
Giuseppe Maria Crespi, whom for his neatness of attire his fellow pupils
surnamed Lo Spagnuolo, was instructed first by Canuti, next by Cignani;
being early grounded in the best principles of taste. With unwearied
assiduity he copied the Caracci paintings at Bologna; and at his leisure
studied those of the first Venetians in that capital. He examined, too,
Coreggio's at Modena and Parma, and long sojourned in Urbino and Pesaro to
consult the works of Baroccio. Some of these he copied, and sold at Bologna
for the originals. His object invariably was, to form a new manner out of
many others, which he accomplished; at some times Baroccio would be his
most admired model; at another, when he wished to employ more shade, he
chose Guercino; nor did he dislike Cortona in respect to taste of
composition. To the examples, too, of the dead, he added the observation of
the living; and was averse, if we may credit his son, to the labours of a
mere mechanist. He drew every thing from nature, and even had a camera
optica in his house, from which he copied the objects that offered
themselves to view, and remarked the various play and picturesque
reflections of the vivid light. His compositions, indeed, teem with these
novelties, and his shortenings also are as singular; so that he often
places a number of figures in a small space, while the conceptions which he
interweaves in his pictures, are more peculiarly fanciful.
This turn for novelty at length led his fine genius astray; insomuch that
Mengs is brought to lament that the Bolognese School should approach its
close in the capricious Crespi, (vol. ii. p. 124). In his heroic pieces,
and even in scriptural subjects, he left room occasionally for caricature.
Wishing to exhibit novelty in his shadows and in his draperies he fell into
mannerism; and varying his first method of colouring similar to the old
painters, he adopted another more lucrative but less excellent. It consists
of few colours, selected chiefly for effect, and very common and oily; gums
applied by him to colouring, as other artists use them for a veil, or
varnish; few strokes, employed indeed with judgment, but too superficial
and without strength or body. Such was the method which we see pursued in
so many of his pictures; or to speak more correctly, which are no longer to
be seen, the tints having decayed or disappeared, so as to require them to
be newly copied by another hand. His son did not attempt to conceal this
fault, though he wished to excuse it. The reader may peruse the defence in
his _Felsina Pittrice_, p. 225; and should he feel convinced by it, with
similar benignity he may apologize for Piazzetta, who acquired his method
of colouring from Crespi; with others who more or less pursued the same
practice, at this period extinct.
As a specimen of his more solid style, the picture of the BB. Fondatori, at
the church of the Servi, appears to much advantage; our Lord's Supper,
also, in Casa Sampieri; a few pieces in the royal Pitti palace, where he
was long employed by the great Prince Ferdinando; besides a few other of
his first productions. In his other style are various pictures conducted
for the galleries of the Roman nobility; the SS. Paolo and Antonio as
eremites, for the Princes Albani; the Magdalen for the Chigi palace; the
Seven Sacraments for the Card. Ottoboni, of which I have seen copies in the
Albani palace at Urbino. The whole of these seven pictures display certain
bold coruscations and contrasts which dazzle the eye; all shew novelty of
idea; in particular that of the Spousals between a young girl and an
octogenarian, to the visible mirth of the spectators. Spagnuolo lived to
advanced age, honoured by the pope with the insignia of cavaliere, esteemed
among the first of his age, while his paintings everywhere abounded.
Different houses, both in and beyond Bologna, possess them in great number;
histories, fables, and familiar pieces. He received most part of his
commissions from the Signori Belloni, who decorated various chambers with
his historical pieces, remunerating him with one hundred crowns each,
though they contained but few figures, and all of an ell's length.
Spagnuolo's manner was not one that could be pursued by every pupil with
applause. Those artists who were unable to direct it with equal
imagination, power of design, spirit and facility, produced very trifling
results. Even his own sons, D. Luigi the canon, and Antonio, who painted
for various churches, did not wholly follow their father's style, but
appear invariably more studied. The canon wrote much upon the art, as the
lives of the Bolognese artists, or the third volume of the _Felsina
Pittrice_, edited in 1769; notices of the painters of Ferrara and Romagna,
still unpublished; various treatises; with numerous letters inserted by
Bottari in the pictoric collection. To few of his age is the history of
painting so much indebted, although in certain national subjects he failed
to satisfy the whole of his fellow citizens. The authors of the new Guide
of Bologna require from him more diligence in examining documents; greater
fidelity as a public instructor; more justice to the real merit of Ercole
Lelli. The four dialogues in defence of his _Felsina Pittrice_, written by
a friend, were published by Bottari in the seventh volume of the work just
cited, and are worth perusal. In the same volume (p. 143) we also meet with
a letter of Crespi, in which he confesses his different errors, declaring
that he would correct them in the fourth volume of his _Felsina_, which he
was then composing, and which I am uncertain whether he ever completed.
From these notices we gather, that, notwithstanding his violent temper, he
was not wanting in fidelity as an historian, and in that readiness to
retract his own errors, without which none can pretend to maintain the true
literary or historical character.
For the rest, he must have afforded occasion for those clamours against his
_Felsina_ and other writings by some satirical strokes, which are assuredly
severe, accompanied by many personal reflections on his contemporaries.
Concerning that very respectable academy he relates some observations of
his deceased father, which had better have been consigned to oblivion. He
disapproves the methods introduced into his school, and laments, that owing
to the failure of good masters, Bologna was no longer frequented as
formerly by students. He detects, too, certain little impositions
introduced into the art; such for instance as displaying in the studio a
number of pictures prepared for colouring, to convey an idea of possessing
abundance of commissions; pronouncing in a breath a number of anatomical
terms on the bones and muscles, to inspire a high opinion of the artist's
learning; publishing eulogiums on some particular painting in an article of
the day, which only the artist himself could have conceived, and written,
paid for, and believed to be true. Such, or similar details, which must
have sufficed to recognize particular individuals, doubtless provoked many
replies from persons not publicly known, as the author gave no contemporary
names, but deeply offended and provoked to retaliate upon him.
Among the pupils of Crespi was Gionima, who survived only, as I have
stated, to his thirty-fifth year. Nor did Cristoforo Terzi reach a much
more advanced age, the pupil also of different masters. From his outset he
boasted a decision of hand, able to sketch at few strokes very spirited
heads, which, however, by dint of excessive retouching, he deprived of much
of their expression. This defect he remedied under Crespi, and improved
himself by residing several years at Rome. Many collections at Bologna
possess some of his half-length figures and heads of old men, which are
mistaken by less experienced judges for those of Lana. In the list of
Crespi's pupils, too, are Giacomo Pavia of Bologna, who flourished in
Spain; Gio. Morini d'Imola; Pier Guarienti, a Veronese, who flourished at
Venice, and was afterwards appointed director of the Dresden gallery; and
the same who wrote the additions to Orlandi's dictionary. Francesco l'Ange
of Savoy, a pupil of Crespi, became a Philippine monk at Bologna. His chief
merit lay in small scriptural pictures, some of which I saw in Vercelli, in
possession of his Eminence Martiniana, bearing the author's name, and quite
deserving, by their design and colouring, of a place in that collection.
Besides Franceschini and Crespi, many others were educated by Cignani.
Their names have been given by Zannelli, who published their lives; a book
I have vainly endeavoured to obtain while engaged in writing the present
work. By Crespi we have an account of some pupils whom he instructed in
perspective and landscape, as well as in flowers; this skilful preceptor
being accustomed to ascertain the young artists' talents, and confine them
to the inferior, when not competent to the higher branches of art, and even
to direct them to other professions when unequal to these. Such pupils as
he retained, ought not, then, to be lightly contemned, although little
celebrated, either because they died young, were dispersed abroad, or
obscured by brighter names. Among such are Baldassare Bigatti, Domenico
Galeazzi, Pietro Minelli, known in history by a few altar-pieces. Matteo
Zamboni died young, leaving in some private houses a few specimens of his
works, as much in Cignani's style as those of any artist. I am uncertain
what public works he conducted in Bologna; but he acquitted himself well,
for his age, in two histories at S. Niccolo in Rimini; the one representing
St. Benedict, the other S. Pier Celestino. Antonio Castellani is included
by Guarienti in the school of Cignani, though I think by mistake, as he
belongs to that of the Caracci. Not so Giulio Benzi, also mentioned in the
Guide of Bologna, and to be distinguished from the Genoese of that name. I
may observe the same of Guido Signorini, recorded by Crespi, and not to be
confounded with another Guido Signorini, heir to Guido Reni. So far of the
artists of Bologna.
Federigo Bencovich was a foreigner of a Dalmatian family, and I give his
name as he himself wrote it.[51] In the Dictionaries it is spelt Boncorich
and Bendonich; and by Zannelli, Benconich; so that foreigners may be well
excused for often mistaking the names of Italian painters. Federigo,
commonly called in his own time, Federighetto, acquired more of Cignani's
solidity than amenity of style; correct in his design, strong in his
execution, and well informed in the best principles of his art. Some of his
altar-pieces are at Milan, Bologna, and Venice; though most of his
productions adorn collections, even in Germany, where he resided many
years. In that of the Signori Vianelli of Chioggia, mention is made of his
S. Jacopo Sedente; and in another collection, of Count Algarotti, at
Venice, his landscape, with a village girl, to which Piazzetta added
another figure. Occasionally, his manner is somewhat too much loaded with
shadows, but by no means to be pronounced contemptible, as asserted by
Zanetti, (p. 450) in opposition to the opinion of Guarienti.
Footnote 51: In his two letters, directed to Rosalba
Carriera. See Catalogue of the deceased Canon Vianelli's
Collection, (p. 34). This artist also published a _Diary_,
in 1720 and 1721, written at Paris by the same lady; in
which she notices her own works, her remuneration, and
honours. It is accompanied by learned notes. I have recently
received notice of the work, which causes me to mention it
in this school.
Girolamo Donnini also resided out of his country; born at Coreggio, he
lived at Bologna; and being inclined to that school, was first treated of
by Crespi, next by Tiraboschi. He had studied under Stringa at Modena, and
under Giangioseffo dal Sole at Bologna. Thence he went to Forli, at the
instigation of Cignani, not so much to become a machinist and a painter in
fresco, as in order to treat less difficult subjects in oil. His chief
merit lay in painting for private ornament, and Orlandi, then living, bore
testimony that his pictures were held in high request for the decoration of
houses. He excelled also on a larger scale; one of his altar-pieces of S.
Antonio, at the Filippini in Bologna, being conducted in a very masterly
style; as well as others, dispersed about Romagna, at Turin, in his native
place, and elsewhere, the manner of which, as is remarked by Crespi,
clearly displays the hand of Cignani's disciple. A favourite pupil of
Donnini, and whom he assisted in a variety of circumstances, was Francesco
Boni, termed also il Gobbino[52] de' Sinibaldi, from being in the service
of those lords. He was from Faenza, and left several good pictures in his
native place; among others, a S. Teresa, with S. Gio. della Croce, at the
Carmelitani; a _Noli me tangere_, and the Meeting of S. Domenico and S.
Francesco, in the church which formerly belonged to the Domenicans. Pietro
Donzelli, of Mantua, placed an altar-piece in the cathedral of Pescia, in
which he represented S. Carlo administering to the sick of the plague,
displaying the style of a pupil of Cignani; and this constitutes all the
information I could obtain respecting him.
Footnote 52: Gobbino, the little hunch-back.
The other foreign pupils of the Cav. Carlo, who diffused his manner through
the Italian schools, are commemorated in the places where they flourished;
as Lamberti, for instance, at Rome, and Parolini at Ferrara. Here I shall
add a brief sketch of the artists of Romagna, whom I unite to those of
Bologna. Antonio Santi was an Ariminese, whose school only is mentioned by
Crespi; but in the Guide of Rimini, where a few of his works remain, he is
extolled as one of its best pupils, though he died young. The same Guide
makes mention of some paintings in oil and fresco, particularly in the
church of the Angioli, attributed to Angiolo Sarzetti, pupil to Cignani;
from whom, also, he obtained a design for an altar-piece at S. Colomba.
Innocenzio Monti is included by Crespi among the Bolognese, and by Orlandi
among the painters of Imola, where he left some works. One, of the
Circumcision of our Lord, at the Gesù of Mirandola, executed in 1690, is
extolled in a little book of poems. He was more industrious than ingenious,
and more successful in Germany and in Poland than in Italy. Gioseffo Maria
Bartolini, also of Imola, is esteemed, in his native place, for a Miracle
of S. Biagio, and for other works at S. Domenico, and in other churches. He
was employed a good deal at Imola, where he opened school, and throughout
Romagna; an artist of great facility, and partaking, in some degree, of the
manner of Pasinelli, his first master.
The artists of Forli, among whom Cignani lived during some years, are not a
few. Filippo Pasquali was colleague to Franceschini, whose grand
altar-piece at Rimini he surrounded with a very pleasing ornament. Some of
his earliest efforts are met with in Bologna, at the portico of the
Serviti; but not equal to the altar-piece in the church of S. Vittore at
Ravenna, which he painted at a more advanced age, and which does him great
credit. Andrea and Francesco Bondi, two brothers, are recorded by
Guarienti; though, in the Guides of Pesaro and Ravenna only one is alluded
to, whose name is not given; and what pieces I saw at Forli itself would
seem to have proceeded from one hand; such as the chapel of S. Antonio, at
the Carmelites, the Crucifixion at S. Filippo, besides others. He boasts
the fine execution of Cignani; but the forms and expressions are not
equally select. Among other artists of Forli, instructed by Cignani, was
the priest Sebastiano Savorelli, employed in some church paintings even in
the adjacent cities. To him we may add Mauro Malducci, and Francesco
Fiorentini, both priests, too, of Forli; of all of whom there is found some
account in the life of Cignani.
Under the Roman School we treated of Francesco Mancini, from S. Angelo in
Vado, who, along with Agostino Castellacci, from Pesaro, was instructed by
Cignani; both nearly contiguous to Romagna, but of unequal powers. Agostino
is little known, even in his own state; but Mancini was celebrated
throughout Lower, as much as Franceschini in Upper Italy; and he also
educated several artists for the countries adjacent to Romagna. Sebastian
Ceccarini was Mancini's pupil, born at Urbino, and often mentioned in the
Guide of Rome, where, in the time of Clement XII., he painted the
altar-piece for the Swiss chapel at the Quirinal. He is more known,
however, at Fano, where he was established, and long continued to live,
with a handsome salary from that city. There he appears an artist of
various styles, who would have shone little inferior to his master, had he
always adhered to his best manner. His S. Lucia, at the Agostiniani, and
different sacred histories, in the public palace at Fano, display many fine
imitations, strong chiaroscuro, and well-varied tints.
The Canon Gio. Andrea Lazzarini, from Pesaro, also acquired his knowledge
from Mancini. He was both a good poet and prose writer, and truly well
informed in sacred and profane literature. Few Italian writers can compare
with him in treating pictoric subjects. His "Account of the Paintings in
the Cathedral at Osimo,"[53] and particularly, his "Catalogue of the
Pictures in the Churches at Pesaro," cited by us elsewhere, afford ample
proofs of his superiority, no less than those brief "Observations" on the
best works there met with, and that very full "Dissertation upon the Art of
Painting," that has been often republished. It relates wholly to the branch
of "invention;" and he has other unedited works of equal merit, on
"Composition," on "Design," on "Colouring," and on "Costume," which were
read in the academy of Pesaro, as early as 1753. These embrace a true
course of painting, an art which he taught gratuitously in his native
place.[54] Count Algarotti, in drawing up his Essay on Painting, both read
and profited by them, as I heard, at least, from Lazzarini; and as the
Count, indeed, candidly himself confessed, in a letter which he forwarded
to him with the work. He also evinced his high regard for his pictoric
talents, by giving him a commission for two paintings to adorn his select
gallery, which were afterwards inserted in the catalogue. The subjects
consist of Cincinnatus called to the Dictatorship, and Archimedes absorbed
in his scientific studies, during the storming of Syracuse. These two
histories are well executed, inasmuch as Lazzarini was perfectly master of
good painting, as well as good writing; easy, yet always studied in every
part; at once noble and graceful, with depth of learning to throw an air of
antiquity round his productions, but, at the same time, free from all
affectation and parade. His first colouring was of a strong character, as
appears from a Pietà, at the hospital of Pesaro, conducted, I believe,
after having studied the Venetian and the Lombard Schools, in the course of
a pictoric tour. Subsequently, he imbibed a certain sweetness, which I may
call more like Maratta's, in which his rivals discover a want of vigour.
Though he enjoyed long life, he did not leave many works, as he applied
himself with assiduity to his clerical duties. Frequently he had occasion
to paint for private families, and succeeded admirably in his Madonnas; one
of which, seen weeping, in the Varani collection at Ferrara, is among his
most studied pieces. His native place possesses three altar-pieces at the
Magdalen, three at S. Caterina, others in different churches, and in
general upon a small scale. But his genius is more clearly apparent in some
larger pictures, which are to be seen in the cathedrals of Osimo and of
Foligno; at S. Agostino, of Ancona; and the two at S. Domenico, in Fano.
One of these contains various saints of the order, placed around the
Virgin, whose portraits, positions, and action, exhibit singular variety
and grace. The other represents S. Vincenzio, seen in the act of healing
the sick, before the people assembled by sound of bell; nor is it easy, in
this immense throng, to find any one figure resembling another, or
superfluous, or less happy in expressing what it ought. But the work in
which he appears, as I have been informed, to surpass himself, adorns the
chapel of the Counts Fantuzzi, in Gualdo, a diocese of Rimini. He had spent
several years at Rome, at the house of Monsig. Gaetano, afterwards Cardinal
Fantuzzi; for whom he made that fine collection of pictures, from each
school, which afterwards went to his heirs, one of whom, Count Marco, is
well known to the public by his "Monuments of Ravenna," edited and
illustrated in several volumes, with much research and erudition; and to
whose courtesy I owe much of my information respecting Lazzarini. In this
collection are several of the canon's paintings, of various kinds;
landscape, a branch in which he appears to perfection; instruments and
books of music, porcelain, and fruits that deceive the eye; and, in
particular, two pictures, on imperial canvass, one exhibiting the Baptism
of Christ; the other, the Flight out of Egypt; where, in the Egyptian
plants and monuments we seem to recognize that ancient land itself. Still
the altar-piece at Gualdo shews a greater degree of originality, as he here
displayed his utmost care in imitating Raffaello, whom he had accurately
studied, so as to derive from his forms and composition all that could go
to adorn a picture of the Virgin and Holy Child, seen between St. Catherine
the martyr, and the B. Marco Fantuzzi, a Franciscan, who will, perhaps,
obtain the honours of a solemn canonization. The place is decorated with
architecture, the pavement variegated with marbles of different colours.
The Holy Child, placed with the Divine Mother, upon a pedestal, is seen
putting a crown on St. Catherine's head; while the Mother holds another in
her hand, in order that the B. Marco may be crowned by her in his turn. Two
angels form the train, one of whom points to the wheel, a symbol used by
the saint, and indeed touches with his finger a sharp point, the better to
give an idea of the sufferings of her martyrdom. The other is an Angel of
the Apocalypse, with book and sword; a figure well suited to the last
judgment, whose terrors the B. Marco inculcated in his sermons. There are
two other beautiful cherubs, which add to the interest; one standing near
St. Catherine, holds a roll of Egyptian papyrus, with some Coptic
characters, in which were described the acts of her passion; while his
companion points the attention of the spectator to a maxim continually
repeated by the B. Marco, "Nolite diligere mundum," inscribed upon marble.
How widely different, in point of invention, appears an artist versed in
literature, and one with no taste for letters! This, however, is not the
whole merit of such a painting: the saint and one of the angels are truly
Raffaellesque figures; the Beato in extasy, brings to mind the B. Michelina
of Baroccio; the other figures are all exceedingly well studied, and seem
intended to display the artist's refined gratitude towards his patrons.
Footnote 53: These paintings, executed in the abside of the
cathedral, with the assistance of his pupils, constitute his
most celebrated frescos. In this "Account" there is a
Discourse, well worth notice, on Ancient Marbles of
different Colours, which he introduced in those paintings,
and the method he adopted in uniting them. Such a treatise,
not to be found in any other writer, renders this little
volume valuable; which shews, too, that he likewise excelled
in architecture.
Footnote 54: These Treatises were published at Pesaro in
1806; and, although, as the industrious editor well
observes, they were drawn up from unfinished sketches, they
still gratify us, no less by their extensive information,
than by the ingenuity which they display.
The best professors that Romagna could boast at this period have already
been recounted in different Bolognese Schools; for which reason, without
treating them separately, I shall proceed to the painters of landscape.
Among these, excelling as well in drawing as in figuring, Orlandi gives us
the name of Maria Elena Panzacchi, instructed in the art by Taruffi; but
her landscapes are now little known, even in Bologna; and Crespi has
indicated not more than two. Those of Paolo Alboni, her contemporary, are
recognized in Naples and Rome itself, and in Germany, where he passed many
years. Those which are seen in the Pepoli palace, at the March. Fabri's,
and in other noble galleries, might be mistaken, according to Crespi, for
the productions of Holland or Flanders, on whose models he was almost
incessantly employed. Angiol Monticelli formed a style under Franceschini
and the younger Viani, which the same biographer highly extols. No artist,
at this period, better knew how to dispose his colours; none tinged his
leaves, his earths, his buildings, and his figures, with more nature and
variety. But he was cut short in mid-career: he became blind when his
talents were in their perfection.
Nunzio Ferraiuoli, called also Degli Afflitti, was born at Nocera de'
Pagani, not a Bolognese. From the studio of Giordano, he went to that of
Giuseppe dal Sole, in Bologna, in which city he was established. He
incessantly employed himself in taking rural views, both in oil and fresco,
and succeeded to admiration, equal, says P. Orlandi, to Claude and Poussin;
an opinion to be attributed to the friendship subsisting between them. He
had a mixed style, half foreign and half Albanesque, if we except his
colouring, which is not so natural. Cavazzone provided him with two pupils,
who, urged by their own genius, assisted by Ferraiuoli, became tolerably
good landscape painters; namely, Carlo Lodi and Bernardo Minozzi. The first
was an excellent disciple of his master; the second formed a manner
peculiar to himself. Besides his ability in frescos, he was distinguished
for his landscape in water-colours, which he illuminated on pasteboard, and
it met with much admiration both at home and abroad. Gaetano Cittadini,
nephew to Pier Francesco, excelled in the same manner, his rural views
displaying singular taste, fine effect of the lights, and spirited figures.
I have met with them throughout Romagna, as well as in Bologna. In Romagna,
however, Marco Sanmartino, a Neapolitan, or Venetian, is more generally met
with; and, in particular, at Rimini, where he some time fixed his
residence. His pieces are ornamented with beautiful little figures, in
which he excelled. He also attempted more extensive works, such as the
Baptism of Constantine, in the cathedral of Rimini, and the Saint preaching
in the Desert, in the college of S. Vincenzio, at Venice; though there,
too, he is distinguished by his landscape, which formed, indeed, his
profession. In the Guide of Rimini, he is named Sammartino, as well as by
Zanetti and Guarienti. This last declares that he remained at Venice most
part of his life; and, in the next article, gives the name of one Marco
Sanmarchi, a Venetian, both a landscape and a figure painter, on a small
scale, much extolled by Malvasia, and flourishing about the time of
Sammartino. On the authority of Melchiori, who names him Sammartino, or
Sanmarchi, I believe that these two landscape-painters of Guarienti resolve
themselves into one; and that the mistake arose from the resemblance of the
two names, by which one and the same person was popularly known; as we have
had occasion to observe in other instances. Moreover, what could be the
reason that this Sanmarchi, a Venetian, is not known in Venice itself, but
only in Bologna, where it does not appear that he ever had a permanent
abode?
The elder Cittadini, who excelled in flowers, and fruits, and animals, is
commended in the preceding epoch. In the present, we shall make mention of
his three sons, Carlo, Gio. Bastista, and Angiol Michele, who, however able
in figures, at least the two first, are known to have assisted their
father, and imitated him in the subjects most familiar to him; hence they
were termed by Albano, syndic to the Bolognese professors,[55] the
fruiterers and florists. From Carlo sprung Gaetano, the landscape painter,
and Gio. Girolamo, who down to our own days, though without attempting
figures, excelled in painting different animals, fruits, and vases of
flowers. But this family was successfully rivalled by Domenico Bettini, a
Florentine professor in the same line; who, after remaining a long time at
Modena, where we have mentioned him, came to establish himself at Bologna,
towards the end of the sixteenth century. He had learnt design under
Vignali, and next continued to improve himself in the school of Nuzzi, at
Rome. He was among the first, says Orlandi, who dismissing those obscure
and dismal grounds, painted more clear and openly; adding attractions to
such paintings, by the invention of situations, and by the introduction of
perspective: he was frequently invited to different Italian cities, to
decorate halls and cabinets. But the favourite artist in this kind, of his
day, was Candido Vitali, who, taught by Cignani, always attentive to the
peculiarities of his pupils, made rapid progress in these attractive
branches of the art. The freshness which appears in his flowers and fruits,
the beauty of his quadrupeds and birds, are farther recommended by a taste
of composition, and a delicacy of hand, which are prized both in Italy and
abroad. Baimondo Manzini, a miniaturist rather than a painter, painted less
in oil; but with such a degree of nature, that his animals, exhibited in
cartoons, and placed by him in a certain light, have deceived even painters
themselves; for which he has been extolled by Zanotti as a modern Zeuxis.
An assemblage of his fishes, birds, and flowers, is to be seen in the fine
gallery of the Casa Ercolani.
Footnote 55: Malvasia, vol. ii. p. 265.
At the same period the art was indebted to the judgment of Cignani for a
good painter of battle-pieces in Antonio Calza, a Veronese, mentioned in
the third volume; where it is observed that, being subsequently assisted by
Borgognone, he became master of that branch of art at Bologna. Contemporary
with him was another pupil of Cortese, who resided during several years in
the same city, named Cornelio Verhuik, of Rotterdam. Besides his
battle-pieces in his master's manner, displaying strong and vivid
colouring, he painted in the Flemish style markets, fairs, and landscape,
which he enlivened with small figures, like those of Callot. From Cignani
also the Bolognese School received an excellent portrait painter in Sante
Vandi, more commonly called Santino da' Ritratti. Few of his age were
qualified to compete with him in point of talent, grace, and correctness in
the characteristic features, particularly when drawn in small proportions,
such as were calculated even to decorate boxes and rings. For these he had
constant commissions, both from private persons and from princes, most of
all from the Grand Duke Ferdinando of Tuscany, and Ferdinando, Duke of
Mantua, who gave him a salary at his court, until his return to Bologna on
the duke's death. But he remained there only a short time, being still
invited to different cities, so that he educated no pupils for his native
place, and died abroad. With him, observes Crespi, "disappeared the manner
of producing portraits at once so soft and powerful, combined with such
natural expression."
Above every other branch of inferior painting, however, the ornamental and
perspective then flourished at Bologna. This art, as we have stated, after
the solid foundations on which it had been placed by Dentone and Mitelli,
aimed too much at a pleasing and beautiful, without consulting a natural
effect. But the school did not all at once deteriorate, being some time
maintained by imitators of some of the most correct models. In this number
Zanotti extols Jacopo Mannini, a most accurate artist, who decorated a
chapel at Colorno for the Duke of Parma, in which the Cav. Draghi was
employed as figurist, whose genius was at once as eager and rapid as
Mannini's was slow. Much like two steeds of opposite temper yoked to the
same vehicle, their sole occupation seemed that of biting and kicking each
other; and it became necessary to separate them, the slow one being sent
back to his native Bologna, where owing to this blemish he never met with
any encouragement. Arrigo Haffner, a lieutenant, with Antonio his brother,
who died a Philippine friar in Genoa, were also followers of Mitelli in
delicacy and harmony of colour. They had been much employed at Rome under
Canuti, their master in figures, and the former was chosen by Franceschini
to paint the perspectives in the church of Corpus Domini. They produced
also a good deal at Genoa and its state, sometimes with one, sometimes with
another of the more eminent figurists. Antonio acquired most reputation,
superior perhaps in all but invention to his brother, particularly in the
sweet union of his tints, as well as in the estimation of distinguished
personages. He was called by the Grand Duke Gio. Gastone to Florence, to
consult him respecting the altar of _pietre dure_, intended for the chapel
of the Depositi at S. Lorenzo.
A still higher station in this profession was attained by Marcantonio
Chiarini, an excellent architect as well as writer in that department. He
had frequent invitations from Italian princes and lords, and even from
Germany, where he painted along with Lanzani in the palace of Prince Eugene
of Savoy. Many of his pictures, conducted in perspective for noble
Bolognese families, still remain, and are held as models of a sound and
true taste, imitating the ancient colouring and design, without giving
admission to certain marbles, which appear like gems, but please only the
inexperienced. From Chiarini's manner was derived that of Pietro
Paltronieri, universally known under the name of the _Mirandolese dalle
prospettive_. He was the Viviano of this latter age, and his architectural
pieces on the ancient model are met with, not only in Bologna, where he
resided, but in Rome, where he long continued, and in a number of other
cities. They consist of arches, fountains, aqueducts, temples, ruins,
tinged with a certain reddish colour, which serves to distinguish them
among many others. To these he adds skies, fields, and waters, which appear
real; nor do they want appropriate figures, introduced by Graziani and
other select young artists at Bologna. We must not confound Mirandolese
with Perracini, also known in Bologna by the name of Mirandolese, who
flourished at the same period, but with no sort of reputation beyond that
of a tolerable figurist.
The school of Cignani increased that of the perspective painters. It first
presented them with Tommaso Aldrovandini, nephew to Mauro; both of whom
accompanied Cignani's figures in the public palace of Forli. Tommaso was
employed with Cignani himself at Bologna and Parma. Conforming himself,
under the eye of this celebrated master, to his best style, he so far
succeeded, that the whole appears the work of Carlo alone, more especially
in the chiaroscuro. His ornamental portion, too, is there conducted so that
neither the precise extent of the light, nor of the shade, is apparent, but
only an effect resulting from them, as we see it in nature. He executed the
architectural ornaments in the grand hall of Genoa, painted, as we have
said, by Franceschini; and he left other works in that capital. It was his
invariable custom to modify his style, alternately soft or strong, in the
manner of the figurist. He instructed in the art Pompeo, son of Mauro, and
his cousin, who, after having displayed some specimens at Turin, Vienna,
Dresden, and in many other foreign cities, resided, and died at Rome, with
the reputation of a very elegant artist. From the school of Pompeo sprung
two ornamental painters, Gioseffo Orsoni, and Stefano Orlandi, who, in
conjunction, painted some able frescos in various Italian cities, besides
many theatrical pieces for the same places.
Whatever splendor of ornament may have been conferred upon the theatre by
the Aldrovandini family, so greatly devoted to it; that of the Galli, in
the present age, sprung from Gio. Maria, pupil to Albani, surnamed, from
his country, Bibiena, has acquired still greater celebrity. By the same
surname were distinguished Ferdinando and Francesco, his sons, with their
posterity; nor has any pictoric family, either in this or any other age,
advanced higher claims to public notice. There was hardly any court that
invited not some of the Bibieni into its service; nor was any sphere more
eligible for that family than the great courts, whose sovereign dignity was
equalled by the elevation of their ideas, which only princely power could
carry into execution. The festivals which they directed on the occasion of
victories, of nuptials, or of royal entrances, were the most sumptuous that
Europe ever witnessed. The genius of Ferdinando, formed for architecture,
and for this reason wholly directed to it by Cignani, attained such
excellence, that he was enabled to teach it, in a volume which he printed
at Parma. He afterwards corrected some parts of it, in two little volumes
published at Bologna; the one upon civil architecture, the other on the
theory of perspective. Indeed, his genius and works gave new form and
character to the theatres. He was the real inventor of those magnificent
scenes which we now witness, and of that rapid mechanic motion with which
they are seen to move and change. He spent great part of his life in the
Duke of Parma's service; a good deal at Milan, and at Vienna, in the court
of Charles VI.; always more esteemed as an architect than as a painter. But
here, too, he shone, not only in colouring scenes, and similar productions
for public festivals; but in perspectives for palaces and temples, more
particularly for the state of Parma. Francesco, less learned, but an
equally prompt and elevated designer, pursued the same line, and extended
it in different cities, being invited to Genoa, Naples, Mantua, Verona, and
Rome, at which last he remained three years. He entered the service of the
Emperors Leopold and Joseph, who changed his resolution of proceeding to
England, and subsequently to Spain, where Philip V. had already declared
him his architect. In different collections the perspective pieces of the
two brothers appear; and they are occasionally enlivened with figures by
the hand of Francesco, who acquired his knowledge from Pasinelli and
Cignani, instances of which I have seen in different collections at
Bologna.
Ferdinando had a numerous family, of whose members we shall mention
Alessandro, Antonio, and Giuseppe; not because equal to their predecessors,
but as being versed in the practice of their manner, both in oil and
fresco; and on this account eagerly sought after by the different courts of
Europe. The first entered into the service of the Elector Palatine, in
which he terminated his days. The second was much employed at Vienna and in
Hungary. On returning into Italy, too, he still removed from place to
place, being retained by all the first cities in Tuscany; and still more in
Lombardy, until the period of his death, which occurred at Milan. He was an
artist more admired for his facility of genius than for his correctness.
Giuseppe, who, on his father's departure from Vienna on account of illness,
was substituted architect and painter of court festivals in his twentieth
year, afterwards left that city for Dresden, where he enjoyed the same
office, and, after the lapse of many years, also at Berlin. He was
invariably patronised by princes, who gave him regular salaries; and by
other members of the empire, who engaged him, at the moment, to adorn their
festivals and theatres. His son Carlo pursued the same career, being
pensioned first by the Margrave of Bareith, and afterwards by the King of
Prussia, as successor to his father; but he acquired greater reputation in
foreign countries. For, Germany becoming involved in war, he took occasion
to make the tour of France, proceeding through Flanders and Holland, and
visiting Rome on his return into Italy. Last of all he made a voyage into
England, and at the court of London rejected very advantageous offers to
take up his residence in that city. Many of the decorations invented by
Giuseppe and Carlo, on occasion of public festivals, have been engraved
from their designs, in the production of which they were equally rapid,
masterly, and refined.
Where the Bibieni had failed in introducing their novel inventions for
grand spectacles, their disciples finally succeeded. In this list,
according to the history of Zanotti and of Crespi, the most eminent rank is
held by Domenico Francia, once the assistant of Ferdinando at Vienna,
afterwards architect and painter to the King of Sweden. After his term with
that court had elapsed, he visited Portugal, and again proceeded to Italy
and Germany, till his arrival in his native place, where he died. To him we
may add the name of Vittorio Bigari, mentioned in high terms by Zanotti, an
artist employed by different sovereigns of Europe, and the father of three
sons, who pursued the same career. He also displayed singular merit in his
figures. Nor must we omit Serafino Brizzi, who obtained equal reputation
for his perspectives in oil interspersed both throughout foreign and native
cities. It would form, however, an undertaking no way adapted to a
compendious history, to collect the names of all the professors of so
extended an art; and the more so as, in the course of the present age, it
was becoming the general opinion that in many respects such art was greatly
on the decline, owing to the prevalence of only middling and inferior
artificers.
Not many years ago, however, it seemed to revive, and a new epoch opened
upon the public, the praise of which is due to Mauro Tesi, to whom his
friends raised a marble monument in S. Petronio, with a bust and the
following inscription: "Mauro Tesi elegantiæ veteris in pingendo ornatu et
architectura restitutori." He belonged to the state of Modena, and, when
young, was put to the school of a very poor painter of arms in Bologna.
Thus it was his lot, writes Algarotti, to have had not a single master of
architecture among the moderns. By means of a peculiar natural genius, and
studying the designs of Mitelli and Colonna, examining at the same time
their models throughout the city, he re-conducted the art to a style, solid
in architecture, sparing in decoration, as it had formerly been, and in
some parts still more philosophical and learned. His patron, the excellent
Count Algarotti, assisted in perfecting his taste, and made him his
companion on his tours, encouraging him to make very excellent observations
on the works of the ancients. Whoever has perused his life and
publications, a fine edition of which appeared at Venice, edited by the
learned Aglietti, will have perceived that he was as much attached to Tesi
as if he had been his own son. Nor did Tesi shew less respect to Algarotti
than to a father; and when the latter went to Pisa for his health, his
young friend devoted himself so assiduously to him, as to contract the same
disease, of which he died two years afterwards, still very young, at
Bologna. Here he left various works, the most conspicuous consisting of a
gallery belonging to the deceased Marquis Zambeccari, with marbles, camei,
and figures, very well executed; a picture displaying grand relief combined
with the most finished exactness. In Tuscany also are some remains of his
taste, at S. Spirito in Pistoia, and in the hall of the Marquis Gerini at
Florence. I saw, too, in possession of the count's heirs at Venice, two
pictures, conceived by Algarotti and painted by Mauro. One of these, which
he has described (vol. vi. p. 92) represents a temple of Serapis, decorated
in the Egyptian manner, with bassi-relievi and pyramids in the distance;
fit to adorn the choicest cabinet. It is enriched with figures by
Zuccherelli, in the same way as Tiepolo added them to Tesi's other pieces.
There are engravings of some of Mauro's works in possession of the same
nobles, as well as his whole studio of designs, landscapes, views of
architecture, capitals, friezes, figures; a rich and copious assemblage of
materials, almost superfluous in so short but bright a career. After Mauro,
no greater proofs of esteem in this art were shewn by Algarotti to any one
than to Gaspero Pesci, to whom he directed a number of his letters; of him
too Algarotti's heirs possess two pictures, consisting of ancient
architecture, with slight sketches of figures, scarcely indicated.
But at length we approach a conclusion. The Bolognese academy still
continues to flourish in pristine vigour; the aids afforded to the pupils
have even been extended; and, in addition to the academical prizes, there
are dispensed others, which the noble families Marsili and Aldrovandi
established at stated meetings, and which still go by their name. I cannot,
however, as in other schools, record very splendid remunerations to the
masters. But this forms the more rare and distinguished honour of the
Bolognese artists--to labour for distinction, and to confer their
preceptorial services in the arts and sciences upon their country, not only
without reward, but even to their own loss, a subject fully treated of by
Crespi (pp. 4, 5) in his _Felsina_. Notwithstanding these disadvantages
they have continued to maintain, during two centuries, the character of
masters in the art. From the time the Caracci first spoke, almost every
other school listened and was silent. Their disciples followed, divided
into a variety of sects; and these continued, for a long period, to hold
sway in Italy. The reputation of the figurists being somewhat on the
decline, a substitute sprang up in the decorative and perspective painters,
who established laws, and produced examples, still eagerly imitated both in
Italy and other parts. Neither the Bibieni, the Tesi, nor the others whom I
have mentioned towards the close, are so exclusively entitled to historical
consideration, but that the Gandolfi[56] family, with several others, which
have either recently become extinct, or still flourish, may claim a share.
Doubtless these will not be in want of deserved eulogy from other pens,
that will successively follow mine.
Footnote 56: Previous to the present edition, Gaetano
Gandolfi breathed his last; Ubaldo, his elder brother,
having already preceded him to the tomb, at the time he was
preparing to decorate the cupola of S. Vitale in Ravenna.
Ubaldo had been pupil to Torelli, to Graziani, and in
particular under Lelli had exercised his talents in drawing
successfully from the naked model, and to such a foundation
added dignity of style. Of this, several works in painting
conducted with extreme care, as well as some in clay and
stucco, at Bologna, and other places in Romagna, are the
proof. But to judge more particularly of his merits, we
ought to examine his academical designs. In his ideas he was
common, and not very natural in his colouring, and generally
considered on this account inferior to his brother Gaetano,
who was esteemed in Italy one of the most able artists of
his day. Bologna, always grateful to its eminent citizens,
expressed at his decease the degree of esteem in which he
was held while living. His obsequies, of which a separate
account was published in folio, equal what we read in
Malvasia respecting those of Agostino Caracci; and the
oration there recited in his praise by Sig. Grilli, deserves
insertion in any of the most select works written on the
art. There too, Gandolfi, very judiciously, is not held up
as a model in painting; a forbearance which he himself
displayed, even refusing to receive pupils, and observing
that he was himself in want of instruction. Yet from the
influence of his great reputation he was frequently
imitated, and, as it happened, with most success in his
worst qualities, more particularly in his tints. In this
respect he had been ill grounded by his elder brother; but
improved himself by studying for the space of a year at the
fountain head of colourists, in Venice, and by copying for a
Venetian dilettante the finest pieces of the Caracci at
Bologna. It is difficult to account for his fine colouring
in some paintings, equal at least to the good artists of his
time, and his inferior colouring in others, as that of the
Death of Socrates, at Monsig. Trenta's, bishop of Foligno.
It is feeble and deficient in truth, owing either to caprice
or to age. In his preparations of paintings he was more
commendable: his first conceptions were sketched on slate
with pencil, and more carefully on paper. He next began to
select; modelled the figures in chalk, and draped them;
afterwards forming the design on a large scale, and by aid
of his experiments, and of the living model, he went on
completing and retouching his work. He has been accused of
borrowing a little too freely from ancient models; but
whoever had seen him, aged as he was, devoting himself in
the public academy to the practice of modelling, will not
unjustly confound him with those plagiarists, so notorious
in our own day. Moreover, he may be pronounced inimitable to
most artists, in those rare gifts, which nature had lavished
upon him: enthusiasm, fertility of invention, sensibility,
and skill in depicting the passions; to which he added a
correct eye, and ability both to design and compose, in the
decoration of friezes for the institute, exotic plants and
other rarities of nature, as well as to engrave with much
elegance, and skill to paint in oil as well as in fresco. A
really impartial biographer must pass his opinion on every
man, and let his verdict result from an examination of his
masterpieces. Such belonging to Gandolfi are his Assumption,
in the ceiling at S. M. della Vita, and the Nuptials of
Cana, at the refectory of S. Salvatore in Bologna; not to
insist on the Martyrdom of S. Pantaleone, at the church of
the Girolimini in Naples, with some other works scattered
through various parts of Italy.
BOOK IV.
SCHOOL OF FERRARA.
EPOCH I.
_The Ancients._
Ferrara, once the capital of a small principality under the dukes of Este,
but, since the year 1597, reduced into a legation, dependant upon the see
of Rome, lays claim to a series of excellent artists, greatly superior to
its power and population. This, however, will appear less extraordinary, if
we call to mind the number of its illustrious poets, commencing even before
the time of Boiardo and Ariosto, and continued down to our own days; a sure
indication of national genius, equally fervid, elegant, and inventive,
adapted, more than common, to the cultivation of the agreeable arts. Added
to this felicity of disposition was the good taste prevalent in the city,
which, in its distribution of public labours, or its approbation of their
results, was directed by learned and enlightened men, of whom it could
boast in every department. Thus the artists have in general observed
appropriate costume, kept their attention on history, and composed in such
a manner that a classical eye, particularly in their paintings in the ducal
palaces, recognizes the image of that antiquity of which it has previously
obtained a knowledge from books. The conveniences of its site, also, have
been favourable to the progress of painting at Ferrara; which, situated
near Venice, Parma, and Bologna, not far from Florence, and at no very
great distance from Rome itself, has afforded facility to its students for
selecting from the Italian schools what was most conformable to the
peculiar genius of each. Hence the origin of so many beautiful manners as
adorn this school; some imitating only one classic master, others composed
of various styles; so that Giampietro Zanotti was in doubt whether, after
the five leading schools of Italy, that of Ferrara did not surpass every
other. It is not my purpose to decide the question, nor could it be done
without giving offence to one or other of the parties. I shall here only
attempt a brief history of this school upon the same plan as the rest; and
I shall include a few artists of Romagna, agreeably to my promise in the
preceding book, or, to speak more correctly, in its introduction.
The most valuable information which I have to insert will be extracted from
a precious MS. communicated to me by the Ab. Morelli, the distinguished
ornament of his age and country, no less than of the learned office he
fills.[57] This MS. contains the lives of Ferrarese professors of the fine
arts, written by Doctor Girolamo Baruffaldi, first a canon of Ferrara, next
archpriest of Cento. To these is prefixed a laboured preface by
Pierfrancesco Zanotti, with copious emendations and notes by the Canon
Crespi. Such a work, drawn up by this polished writer, and thus approved,
continued, and illustrated by two men of the profession, was long a
desideratum in Italy; nor do I know why it never made its appearance. A
specimen, indeed, was given by Bottari, at the end of his Life of Alfonso
Lombardi, in the course of which he inserted the life of Galasso, and of a
few other artists of Ferrara. Moreover, in the fourth volume of the
"Lettere Pittoriche," he published a letter of the deceased Can. Antenore
Scalabrini, relating to Baruffaldi's MS., which underwent this noble
ecclesiastic's corrections, communicated by him to Crespi, who inserted
them in his annotations. Baruffaldi, also, having commenced the lives of
the artists of Cento, and of Lower Romagna, a work left unfinished, Crespi
supplied all it wanted; and it has been mentioned by us in the school of
Guercino, and among some artists who flourished at Ravenna and other cities
of Romagna. Cittadella, author of the "Catalogue of Ferrarese Painters and
Sculptors," (edited in 1782, in 4 vols.) declares that he drew his chief
information from Baruffaldi, (vol. iii. p. 140). He complains, however, in
the preface, that a more correct work being either destroyed or lost,
(alluding probably to this work with Crespi's notes), "he has not been in
possession of such undoubted authorities as might be desired;" a very
candid admission, fully entitled to credit. But this work having come into
my possession, through the courtesy of my learned friend, I shall avail
myself of it for public information. On such authority I shall freely
ground this part of my history, adding notices drawn from other sources,
and not unfrequently from the Guide of Ferrara, published by the learned
Frizzi, in 1787; a work that may be included among the best yet given to
Italy. So much we state by way of exordium.
Footnote 57: That of head librarian at St. Mark's.
The Ferrarese School took its twin origin, so to say, with that of Venice,
if we may credit a monumental testimony, cited by Dr. Ferrante Borsetti, in
his work called "Historia almi Ferrariensis Gymnasii," published in 1735.
This memorial was extracted from an ancient codex of Virgil, written in
1193; which, according to Baruffaldi, passed from the library of the
Carmelites at Ferrara, into the possession of the Counts Alvarotti at
Padua, whose books, in course of time, were added to the library of the
Paduan seminary. At the end of this codex is read the name of Gio.
Alighieri, the miniaturist of this volume; and in the last page there had
afterwards been added, in the ancient vulgar tongue, the following
memorial:--that in 1242, Azzo d'Este, first lord of Ferrara, committed to
one Gelasio di Niccolo, a painting of the Fall of Phaeton; and from him too
Filippo, bishop of Ferrara, ordered an image of our Lady, and an ensign of
St. George, which was used in going to meet Tiepolo, when he was despatched
by the Venetian republic as ambassador to Ferrara. Gelasio is there stated
to belong to the district of St. George, and to have been pupil in Venice
to Teofane of Constantinople, which induced Zanetti to place this Greek at
the head of the masters of his school. On the authority of so many learned
men, to whom such memorial appeared genuine, I am led to give it credit;
although it contains some marks that, at first sight, appear suspicious. I
have further made inquiries after it in the Paduan seminary, but it is not
to be found there.
Approaching the fourteenth century, I find mention, that whilst Giotto was
returning from Verona into Tuscany, "he was compelled to stop at Ferrara,
and paint in the service of these lords of Este, at their palace; also some
pieces at S. Agostino, which are still there;" that is, in Vasari's time,
from whom these words are cited. I am uncertain whether any yet exist; but
they afford sufficient authority to believe that the Ferrarese School,
directed by such models, revived in an equal degree with the other schools
of Italy. There are no accounts of the artists who flourished nearest to
Giotto, from which we may judge how far they were influenced by his manner.
His successors, however, must have been one Rambaldo and one Laudadio, who,
about 1380, are recorded, in the annals of Marano, to have painted in the
church of the Servi. This is now demolished, nor does there exist any
account of the style of these painters. As early as 1380 appeared paintings
in fresco in the monastery of S. Antonio, by an unknown hand, and also
retouched, but of whose style I find no indication. In the Bolognese School
I treated of one Cristoforo, who painted about the same time, at the church
of Mezzaratta; but as it is a disputed question whether he belonged to
Ferrara or to Modena, nothing certain can be concluded as to his manner.
Thus the history of letters affords us some degree of light, up to the
opening of the fifteenth century; but the history of existing monuments
only dates from Galasso Galassi, an undoubted Ferrarese, who flourished
subsequent to the year 1400, when even in Florence the Giottesque style had
begun to decline in favour of more recent artists.
The master of this artist is unknown; nor can I easily suppose, with some,
that he was educated at Bologna. I found my objection upon an observation
made upon Galasso's pictures, mentioned by us in the church of Mezzaratta
at Bologna, and obvious to all. They consist of histories of the Passion,
signed by the author's name; and, if I mistake not, they are wholly opposed
to the style of all other pieces in the same place. The character of the
heads is well studied for that period, the beards and hair more in disorder
than in any other old painter I have seen; the hands small, and fingers
widely detached from each other; and, in the whole, something peculiar and
novel, apparently not derived from the Bolognese, from the Venetians, nor
from the Florentines. I conjecture, then, that he acquired this style of
design when young, and introduced it from his native place; the more so, as
this production appearing in 1404, according to Baruffaldi, must have
formed one of his earliest specimens at Bologna. He afterwards remained
there many years, though I cannot think the date 1462, said to be attached
to one of his histories, genuine; and, if there, it must have been added
subsequently; but other proofs are not wanting of his permanent residence.
For he there took the portrait of Niccolo Aretino, the sculptor, who died
in 1417, as we are assured by Vasari; and on other authority, he produced
some altar-pieces, one of which yet exists at S. Maria delle Rondini. It
represents the Virgin sitting among various saints, and boasts, says
Crespi, a depth of colouring, combined with architecture, countenances, and
drapery not ill designed. He has also a Nunziata, in the Malvezzi museum, a
picture displaying ancient design, but well finished and of soft colouring.
His best piece was a history in fresco, representing the Obsequies of the
Virgin, conducted by order of the Card. Bessarion, Bolognese legate, at S.
Maria del Monte, in 1450; a work much admired by Crespi, in whose time it
was destroyed. From similar facts, added to the commendations bestowed on
Galasso by Leandro Alberti, I conclude that he must have obtained much
reputation in the above city. He died in his native place, in what precise
year is uncertain. Vasari treats of him at length in his first edition, but
in the second he is dismissed with a few lines. Hence the Ferrarese also
have directed against him the same complaints as the other schools.
In the time of Galasso flourished Antonio da Ferrara, a disciple of the
Florentines. Vasari bestows on him a short eulogy, among the pupils of
Angiolo Gaddi; observing that he "produced many fine works at S. Francesco
d'Urbino, and at Città di Castello." Treating too of Timoteo della Vite,
born at Urbino, the son of Calliope, daughter of Mastro Antonio Alberto da
Ferrara, he adds, that this last artist was "a very fair painter for his
age, such as his works at Urbino and elsewhere declare him." Nothing
undoubted now remains of him; if, indeed, a picture on gold ground in the
sacristy at S. Bartolommeo, representing the Acts of the holy Apostle, with
others of the Baptist, in small figures, is not from his hand. The work
doubtless belongs to that age; bearing much resemblance to Angiolo, with
colours even more soft and warm. In Ferrara he left nothing that now
survives; the chambers which he painted for Alberto d'Este, marquis of
Ferrara, in his palace, afterwards changed into a public studio, being
destroyed. This work was conducted about 1438, when the general council for
the reunion of the Greeks was opened at Ferrara, in the presence of Pope
Eugenius IV., and John Paleologus, the emperor. The Marquis ordered Antonio
to represent this grand assembly on different walls, with the likenesses of
full size of the principal personages then present. In other apartments he
exhibited the Glory of the Blessed, which conferred on that place the name
it still bears, of the Palace of Paradise. From a few relics of this work
it may with certainty be deduced, that this artist displayed greater beauty
in his heads, more softness of colouring, more variety in the attitude of
his figures, than Galasso. Orlandi calls him Antonio da Ferrara, adding,
that he flourished about the year 1500; a term of life too protracted for
us to venture here to confirm.
Towards the middle of the fifteenth century appeared Bartolommeo Vaccarini,
whose paintings, signed with the artist's name, Baruffaldi declares that he
himself had seen. There was also Oliviero da S. Giovanni, a fresco painter,
whose Madonnas were then by no means rare in the city. To these we may add
Ettore Bonacossa, painter of that holy image of our Lady called del Duomo,
which not long ago was solemnly crowned, at the foot of which is read the
name of Ettore, and the year 1448. Still they were only artists of
mediocrity; but others attained greater celebrity, having modernized their
style in some degree, after the example, as I incline to think, of two
foreigners. One of these was Pier della Francesca, invited to Ferrara to
paint in the palace of Schivanoia by Niccolo d'Este, as it is conjectured
in a note to Baruffaldi. Surprised by sickness, he was unable to complete
the work, but he painted there a few apartments, which yet remain as a
model for young artists. The other was Squarcione, who also, in the days of
Niccolo d'Este and his son Borso, opened a school in Padua; whose manner
had followers without number throughout Italy, and must have influenced the
Ferrarese artists; distant, perhaps, two days' journey from Padua.
Possessing such means appeared Cosimo Tura, whom Vasari and other
historians term Cosmè, and give him as pupil to Galasso. He was
court-painter in the time of Borso d'Este and Tito Strozzi, who left a
poetic eulogy upon him. His style is dry and humble, as was customary in
that age, still far removed from true dignity and softness. The figures are
treated in the style of Mantegna, the muscles clearly expressed, the
architecture drawn with care, the bassi-relievi highly ornamented, and
laboured in the most minute and exact taste. This is remarkable in his
miniatures, which are pointed out to foreigners in the choral books of the
cathedral and the Certosa, as extreme rarities. Nor does he vary in his oil
paintings; as in his Presepio, in the sacristy of the cathedral; the Acts
of S. Eustace, in the monastery of S. Guglielmo; various Saints surrounding
the Virgin, in the church of S. Giovanni. In his larger figures he is not
so much commended; though Baruffaldi speaks highly of his works in fresco,
in the forementioned palace of Schivanoia. The design was distributed into
twelve compartments, in a grand hall; and it might well be entitled a small
poetic series, representing the exploits of Borso. In each picture was
included a month in the year, which was scientifically indicated with
astronomical symbols and classical deities, adapted to each; an idea very
probably borrowed from the saloon at Padua. In each month, too, was
introduced the prince in his usual employment at such season; in the
judgment-hall, in the chase, at spectacles, with great variety of
circumstances, and full of poetry in the execution.
There was also an artist of considerable merit named Stefano da Ferrara,
pupil to Squarcione, and recorded by Vasari, in the life of Mantegna, as a
painter of few pieces, among which were the Miracles of S. Antonio painted
round the ark. Though Vasari describes his works only as tolerable, it must
be observed that he was considerably above mediocrity, at least in the
smaller figures; since Michele Savonarola (de Laud. Patavii, 1. i.) says of
the specimens before mentioned, that they seemed to move, while the dignity
and importance of the place in which he painted conveys a high idea of his
reputation. This work is lost; but there remains in the same temple a
half-figure of the Virgin, which Vasari attributes to Stefano; and in the
church of the Madonnina at Ferrara is one of his altar-pieces of S. Rocco,
in a good manner. Baruffaldi supposes that he flourished till about 1500,
when he found mention of the death of one Stefano Falsagalloni, a painter;
an age very likely to be correct, when speaking of a contemporary of
Mantegna. On the other side, there is cited an altar-piece at S. Maria in
Vado, executed in 1531, but which might possibly come from the hand of
another Stefano.
However it be respecting this epoch, certain it is, that towards the
beginning of the sixteenth century Ferrara was in no want of celebrated
artists; since Vasari, as we have observed in the Bolognese School, affirms
that Gio. Bentivoglio caused his palace to be decorated "by various
Ferrarese masters," besides those of Modena and of Bologna. Among these he
included Francia, on whom, about 1490, he confers the name of "a new
painter." In the list of artists of Ferrara I included Lorenzo Costa; and
from the circumstance of Francia being then a "new painter," and other
reasons, I drew an argument against the received opinion that Costa was the
pupil of Francia; which, therefore, I shall not here repeat. I must not,
however, omit other information respecting him, as connected with Ferrara,
where he resided before coming into notice at Bologna. At court, as well as
for private individuals, he there conducted pictures and portraits, with
other works "held in much esteem;" and at the Padri di S. Domenico he
painted the whole choir, now long since destroyed; where "we recognise the
care which he used in the art, and how much study he bestowed upon his
works." These, I believe, and other pieces conducted at Ravenna, acquired
him reputation at Bologna, and disposed the Bentivogli to avail themselves
of his talents.
It remains to discover on which of the Ferrarese artists who attended him,
such commission was conferred. Cosmè and Stefano were then living; but it
is known that more closely connected than these with the Bentivogli, was
Cossa of Ferrara, a painter almost forgotten in his native place, from
having resided so long at Bologna. Some of his pieces are still there,
consisting of Madonnas, seated between saints and angels, with tolerably
good architecture. One of these, bearing his name, and date of 1474, is now
in the Institute, vulgar in point of features and but middling in
colouring. This, however, is not his best specimen, there being two
portraits of the Bentivogli, (one at the church of the Baracano, the other
in the Merchants' palace,) from which I should conjecture that he is one of
those artists of whom we are in search. Nor, at this time, is there any
other Ferrarese artist whom I can add to him, besides Baldassare Estense,
some of whose pictures, signed by himself, are cited by Baruffaldi; and in
museums are some of his medals, two, more particularly, in honour of Ercole
d'Este, Duke of Ferrara, very ably executed in the year 1472.
On the subject of first rate artists I am often constrained to introduce
notices in different places; in particular, when they were employed in some
cities, and in others became heads of schools. Such was Costa in respect to
Ferrara. He formed pupils for other schools; as one Gio. Borghese, from
Messina, and a Nicoluccio Calabrese, who, apprehending that he was
caricatured in one of Costa's productions, fiercely assaulted, and almost
despatched him with his dagger. I pass over others ascribed to him by
Orlandi, Bottari, and Baruffaldi; in which they are mistaken, as I remarked
in the School of Bologna, when treating of Francia. The Ferrarese
constitute his real honour; Costa being here what Bellini was at Venice,
and Francia at Bologna, the founder of a great school, and a public
teacher. Some of his pupils competed with the best artists of the
fourteenth century; and part approached the splendor of the golden age. We
shall review the whole series, which, commencing at this period, and
continuing to the following epoch, gives him a claim to a primary station
among the masters of Italy. All his disciples became excellent designers
and noble colourists, transmitting both these qualities to their
successors. Their tints exhibit a peculiar kind of strength, or, as a great
connoisseur used to express it, of fire and ardour, which often serves to
characterize them in collections; a quality not so much derived from Costa
as from some other masters.
Ercole Grandi, called by Vasari, in his life, Ercole da Ferrara, became an
abler designer than his master Costa, and is greatly preferred to him by
the historian. Such too I believe to have been the public opinion from the
period when Grandi was employed with Costa at Bologna, in preference to
whom he was invited to different places to paint alone. But his affection
for his master, and his own modesty, led him to reject every advantageous
offer; so that when Costa went to Mantua, he would have followed, had he
been permitted so to do. Lorenzo, however, could no longer brook a disciple
who already surpassed him; owing to which, and the necessity of completing
the painting he had begun in the Garganelli chapel at St. Peter's, he left
Grandi in his stead at Bologna. Ercole there produced a work which Albano
pronounced equal to Mantegna, to Pietro Perugino, or any artist who
professed the modern antique style; nor perhaps did any boast a touch
altogether so soft, harmonious, and refined. He painted to advance the art,
and spared neither time nor expense to attain his object, employing seven
years on his fresco histories at St. Peter's; and five more in retouching
them when dry. This was only at occasional intervals, employing himself at
the same period in other works, sometimes at, and sometimes out of Bologna.
He would even have continued to render his work more perfect, had it not
been for the jealousy of some artists in the city, who nightly robbed him
of his designs and cartoons, which so greatly incensed him that he
abandoned his labours, and Bologna itself. Such is the account of
Baruffaldi, and it agrees with the invidious character of certain artists
of that period, drawn by Vasari, who in this respect also drew down upon
himself the indignation of Malvasia.
In the chapel of Garganelli Ercole painted, on one side, the Death of the
Virgin, and on the other the Crucifixion of Christ; nor did he produce in
such a variety any one head like another. He also added a novelty in his
draperies, a knowledge of foreshortening, an expression of passionate
grief, "such," says Vasari, "as can scarcely be conceived." The soldiers
"are finely executed, with the most natural and appropriate action that any
figures up to that time had displayed." Many years ago, when this chapel
was taken down, as much as possible of Ercole's painting was preserved, and
placed in the wall of the Tanara palace, where it may still be seen. It is
indeed his masterpiece, and one of the most excellent that appeared in
Italy during his times, in which the artist seemed to have revived the
example of Isocrates, who devoted so many years to the polish of his
celebrated panegyric. There is little else of his remaining at Bologna; but
at S. Paolo in Ferrara is a genuine altar-piece, and nothing more in
public. Some other of his works are preserved in the church of Porto in
Ravenna, and some pictures in the public palace at Cesena. He has some
specimens in foreign galleries; two of his pictures are at Dresden, a few
others at Rome and Florence; though frequently his name has been usurped by
that of another painter, Ercole not having enjoyed the celebrity which he
deserved. Thus his picture of the Woman taken in Adultery, used to be
pointed out in the Pitti palace for a work of Mantegna. For the rest, his
paintings are extremely rare, as he did not survive beyond his fortieth
year, during which period he painted with the caution of a modest scholar,
more than with the freedom of a master.
Lodovico Mazzolini is not to be confounded with the Mazzolino mentioned by
Lomazzo in his "Idea of the Temple or Theatre of Painting;" thus entitling
Francesco Mazzuola, as if in sport. Mazzolini of Ferrara was transformed by
Vasari into Malini, by a Florentine writer into Marzolini, and by others
divided into two, so as to become a duplicate, and answer for two
painters--one Malini, another Mazzolini; both of Ferrara, and pupils to the
same Costa. To crown his misfortunes, he was not sufficiently known to
Baruffaldi himself, who described him as "no despicable scholar of Costa,"
having probably seen only some of his more feeble efforts. He did not excel
in large figures, but possessed very rare merit in those on a smaller
scale. At S. Francesco in Bologna is one of his altar-pieces, the Child
Jesus disputing in the Temple; to which is added a small history of his
birth. It was admired by Baldassare da Siena; and Lamo, in his MS. often
before cited, describes it as an excellent production; but this piece was
retouched by Cesi. Other little pictures, and among these the duplicates of
his histories already recorded, are to be seen at Rome in the Aldobrandini
gallery, presented, perhaps, as a legacy by the Cardinal Alessandro, who in
Mazzolini's time was legate at Ferrara. Other pieces are at the
Campidoglio, formerly belonging to Card. Pio, as I gather from a note of
Mons. Bottari. From such specimens, in considerable number and genuine, we
may form an idea of Mazzolini's manner, which Baruffaldi laments should
continue to be one nearly unknown to the dilettanti. It displays an
incredible degree of finish; sometimes appearing in his smallest pictures
like miniature; while not only the figures, but the landscape, the
architecture, and the bassi-relievi, are most carefully executed. There is
a spirit and clearness in his heads, to which few of his contemporaries
could attain; though they are wholly taken from life, and not remarkably
select; in particular those of his old men, which in the wrinkles and the
nose sometimes border on caricature. The colour is of a deep tone, in the
style before mentioned; not so soft as that of Ercole; with the addition of
some gilding even in the drapery, but sparingly applied. In some
collections his name has been confounded with that of Gaudenzio Ferrari,
perhaps derived by mistake from Lodovico da Ferrara. Thus, in the royal
gallery at Florence, a little picture of the Virgin and Holy Child, to whom
S. Anna is seen presenting fruits, with figures of S. Giovacchino and
another saint, has been attributed to Ferrari. But it is the work of
Mazzolini, if I do not deceive myself, after the comparison made with
others examined at Rome.
From the resemblance of his style to Costa, and even superior in the heads,
it is conjectured that Michele Coltellini sprung from the same school. Some
specimens of his works are recorded in the church and convent of the PP.
Agostiniani of Lombardy, two of which yet remain in existence; one an
altar-piece at the church, in the usual composition of the fourteenth
century, and in the refectory a S. Monica with four female saints belonging
to that order. The date inscribed, together with his name, on an
altar-piece, informs us that he was still living in the year 1517. It is
uncertain in what school Domenico Panetti received his education; but I
know that his works, during several years, appear only feeble efforts. His
former pupil, Garofolo, however, returning subsequently from Rome, after
acquiring the new style under Raffaello, he received his old master,
Panetti, as a pupil, and so greatly improved him as to render his latter
works worthy of competition with the best masters of the fourteenth
century. Such is his St. Andrew, at the Agostiniani, just before recorded,
in which he displays not only accuracy, but, what is far more rare for his
times, a dignified and majestic manner. The artist's name, which is
affixed, with several other works conducted in the same taste (one of which
is now seen in Dresden) bear evidence of a change in pictoric character
without example. Gio. Bellini and Pietro Perugino, indeed, improved
themselves upon the models of their disciples, but they had previously
attained the rank of eminent masters, which cannot be averred of Panetti.
Vasari relates that Garofolo was pupil to Domenico Lanero, in Ferrara; an
error resembling that of Orlandi, who terms him Lanetti, and all these are
the same individual Domenico Panetti. He flourished some years during the
sixteenth century, in the same manner as the two Codi, and the three
Cotignoli, who though belonging to lower Romagna, having flourished abroad,
have been included in the school of Bologna, or in its adjacent places. A
few others, known only by their names, such as Alessandro Carpi, or Cesare
Testa, may be sought for in the work of Cittadella.
SCHOOL OF FERRARA.
EPOCH II.
_Artists of Ferrara, from the time of Alfonso I. till
Alfonso II., last of the Este family in Ferrara, who emulate
the best Italian styles._
The most flourishing epoch of the Ferrarese School dates its commencement
from the first decades of the sixteenth century. It traces its source to
two brothers named Dossi, and to Benvenuto da Garofolo, or, more correctly
perhaps, to Duke Alfonso d'Este, who employed them in his service, so as to
retain them in their native place, where they might form pupils worthy of
themselves. This prince, whose memory has been embalmed by so many
distinguished poets, was peculiarly attached to the fine arts. In his court
Titian painted, and Ariosto conferred with him upon the subjects of his
pencil, as we learn from Ridolfi in the life of Titian himself. This was
subsequent to the year 1514, when Gian Bellini, already old, left in an
unfinished state his noble work of the Bacchanals, which has long decorated
the Aldobrandini gallery at Rome; and when Titian was called upon to
complete it. He likewise conducted various paintings in fresco, which still
remain in a small chamber, in the palace of Ferrara; besides others in oil,
such as portraits of the duke and duchess, and his celebrated Cristo della
Moneta, which we have extolled for one of his most studied productions.
Pellegrino da S. Danielle, another pupil of Gian Bellini, but not to
compare with Titian, though not inferior to many of the same school, was
retained and honoured by the same court, where he left a few works,[58] of
which there remains no account, or confounded, perhaps, with those of
Dosso, an artist of much celebrity, and of various styles, at the same
court, as we now proceed to shew.
Footnote 58: See Renaldis, p. 20.
Assisted by such models, the talents of Dosso Dossi, and of his brother,
Gio. Batista, born at Dosso, a place near Ferrara, may have been
considerably improved. They were, first, pupils to Costa, and afterwards,
says Baruffaldi, resided six years at Rome, and five in Venice, devoting
themselves to the study of the best masters, and drawing portraits from
life. By such means they formed their peculiar character, but of different
kinds. Dosso succeeded admirably in figures, while Gio. Batista was perhaps
below mediocrity. Still he aimed at them; sometimes even in spite of his
brother's remonstrances, with whom he lived at continual variance, though
unable to separate from him by command of the prince who gave him as his
brother's assistant. He was thus like a slave at the oar, ever drudging
against his will; and when obliged to consult respecting their common
labours, he wrote what suggested itself, refusing to communicate by word of
mouth. Envious and spiteful in his mind, he was equally deformed in person,
expressing as it were the picture of his internal malignity. His real
talent lay in ornamenting, and still more in landscape, a branch in which,
according to Lomazzo, he was inferior neither to Lotto, to Gaudenzio, to
Giorgione, nor to Titian. There remain some specimens of his friezes in the
palace of the Legation, and in still better preservation some works noticed
by Baruffaldi at the villa of Belriguardo.
The two brothers obtained constant employment at Alfonso's court, and
subsequently from Ercole II. They, likewise, composed the cartoons for the
tapestries at the cathedral of Ferrara, and for those which are in Modena,
part at S. Francesco and part at the ducal palace, representing various
exploits of the Esti. How far Vasari may be entitled to credit in his
account of Ercole's invitation of Pordenone to compose cartoons for his
tapestries, there being no good figurists at Ferrara for "themes of war,"
it is difficult to decide. He adds, that Pordenone died there, shortly
after his arrival, in 1540, as was reported, by poison. This assertion, by
no means flattering to the Dossi who then flourished, has not been noticed,
I believe, by any Ferrarese writers, who else would, doubtless, have
defended their reputation by citing the exploits of arms figured in a
variety of tapestries. On other points, indeed, this has been done,
particularly in regard to their paintings, which decorated a chamber of the
Imperiale, a villa belonging to the dukes of Urbino. It is observed by
Vasari, that "the work was conducted in an absurd style, and they departed
from the Duke Francesco Maria's court in disgrace, who was compelled to
destroy all they had executed, and cause the whole to be repainted from
designs by Genga." The answer made to this is, that the destruction of that
work was owing to the jealousy of their competitors, and still more "to the
policy of that prince, who did not wish his artists of Urbino surpassed by
those of Ferrara." These are the words of Valesio, from Malvasia, (vol. ii.
p. 150) though I believe that too much deference was paid to Valesio in
adopting such an excuse; as it seems inconsistent with the judgment and
taste of the prince to suppose him capable of this species of barbarism,
and from the motive which is adduced. I rather apprehend that the work must
have failed by the fault of Gio. Batista, who, dissatisfied with his
allotted grotesques and landscapes, insisted on shining as a figurist.
There is a similar example in a court-yard of Ferrara, where he inserted
some figures against Dosso's wishes, and acquitted himself ill. For the
rest, a much better defence of their talents was made by Ariosto. For he
not merely availed himself of Dosso's talents to draw his own portrait, and
the arguments to the cantos of his Furioso, but has immortalized both his
and his brother's name, along with the most eminent Italian painters when
he wrote, "Leonardo, Andrea Mantegna, e Gian Bellino, Duo Dossi;" names
which are followed by those of Michelangiolo, Raffaello, Tiziano, and
Sebastiano del Piombo. Such commendation was not a mere tribute to
friendship, but to Dosso's merit, always highly extolled likewise by
foreigners. His most distinguished works are now perhaps at Dresden, which
boasts seven of them, and in particular the altar-piece of the four Doctors
of the Church, one of his most celebrated pieces. His St. John in Patmos is
at the Lateranensi in Ferrara; the head, free from any retouching, is a
masterpiece of expression, and acknowledged by Cochin himself to be highly
Raffaellesque. But his most admired production was at the Domenicani of
Faenza, where there is now a copy, the original having been removed on
account of its decay. It exhibits Christ disputing among the doctors; the
attitudes so naturally expressive of surprise, and the features and
draperies so well varied, as to appear admirable even in the copy. There is
a little picture on the same subject in the Campidoglio, formerly belonging
to Card. Pio of Ferrara, full of life, polish, and coloured with most
tasteful and mellow tints. By the same hand I have seen several
"Conversazioni" in the Casa Sampieri at Bologna, and a few Holy Families in
other collections, one in possession of Sig. Cav. Acqua at Osimo. In
pictoric works I sometimes find him compared with Raffaello, sometimes with
Titian or Coreggio; and certainly he has the gracefulness, the tints, and
chiaroscuro of a great master. He retains, however, more of the old style
than these artists, and boasts a design and drapery which attract the
spectator by their novelty. And in some of his more laboured pieces he adds
to this novelty by a variety and warmth of colours which nevertheless does
not seem to diminish their union and harmony.
Dosso survived Gio. Batista some years, during which he continued to paint,
and to form pupils, until infirmity and old age compelled him to desist.
The productions of this school are recognised in Ferrara by their
resemblance of style; and from their great number it is conjectured that
the Dossi directed the works, while their assistants and disciples executed
them. Few of these however are known, and among them one Evangelista Dossi,
who has nothing to recommend him but his name, and whose works Scannelli
did not care to point out to posterity. Jacopo Pannicciati, by birth a
noble, is mentioned by historians as a first rate imitator of the Dossi,
though he painted little, and died young, about the year 1540. Niccolo
Rosselli, much employed at Ferrara, has been supposed to belong to this
school, from his resemblance in some pictures to Dosso, particularly in
that of Christ with two angels, on an altar of the Battuti Bianchi. But in
his twelve altar-pieces at the Certosa, he imitated also Benvenuto and
Bagnacavallo, with several other artists. His school, then, must remain
uncertain; the more so as his composition, so very laboured, soft, and
minute, with reddish tints like those of crayons, leaves it even doubtful
whether he studied at Ferrara at all. The same taste was displayed by
Leonardo Brescia, more a merchant than a painter; from which some have
supposed him Roselli's pupil.
Better known than these is the name of Caligarino, in other words the
little shoe-maker, a title derived from his first profession. His real name
was Gabriel Cappellini; and one of the Dossi having said, in praise of a
pair of shoes made by him, that they seemed to be painted, he took the hint
and relinquished his awl to embrace his new profession. The old Guide of
Ferrara extols his bold design and the strength of his colours. The best
that now remains is his picture of the Virgin between two Saints John, at
S. Giovannino; the ground of which has been retouched, or rather spoiled.
An altar-piece, in good preservation, is also ascribed to him in S.
Alessandro, at Bergamo, representing our Lord's Supper. The manner partakes
in some degree of that of the fourteenth century, though very exact and
boasting good tints. In time, however, he approached nearer to the moderns,
as we gather from another Holy Supper, a small picture in possession of
Count Carrara. This new style has led to the supposition that he was pupil
to Paul Veronese, which it is difficult to believe respecting an artist who
was already employed in his art as early as 1520.
Gio. Francesco Surchi, called Dielai, was pupil and assistant to the Dossi,
when employed in painting at Belriguardo, at Belvedere, at the Giovecca,
and at Cepario, in which palaces they gave the most distinguished proofs of
their merit. Thus instructed by both brothers, he became perhaps the most
eminent figurist among his fellow-pupils, and beyond question the best
ornamental painter. He left few specimens in the second branch, but many in
the first. In rapidity, vivacity, and grace in his figures, he approaches
Dosso, and in a similar manner in his easy and natural mode of draping. In
the warmth of his colouring, and in his strong lights, he even aimed at
surpassing him; but, like most young artists who carry to excess the maxims
of their schools, he became crude and inharmonious, at least in some of his
works. Two of his Nativities at Ferrara are highly extolled, one at the
Benedettini, the other at S. Giovannino, to which last is added the
portrait of Ippolito Riminaldi, a distinguished civilian of his age.
Writers are divided in opinion respecting the comparative excellence of
these two altar-pieces, but they agree in awarding great merit to both.
We proceed to treat of Benvenuto, another great luminary of this school;
and we must first premise that there are some mistakes as to his name,
which has often betrayed our dilettanti into errors. Besides Benvenuto
Tisio, surnamed from his country Garofolo, there flourished at the same
period Gio. Batista Benvenuti, by some said to have been also a native of
Garofolo, and from his father's occupation denominated Ortolano, the
gardener. Now, by many, he has been confounded with Tisio, both from
resemblance of name and taste, so far as to have had even his portrait
mistaken for the former, and as such inserted in Vasari's edition that
appeared at Bologna. There Ortolano had pursued his studies about 1512,
from the works of Raffaello, which were few, and from those of
Bagnacavallo, whose style he afterwards emulated in some pictures. Leaving
that place sooner than he had intended, owing to an act of homicide, he
never attained to a complete imitation of Raffaello. But he excelled in his
taste for design and perspective, united to more robust colouring, observes
Baruffaldi, than what we see in Raffaello himself, and it is habitual in
this school during nearly the whole of the sixteenth century. Several of
his altar-pieces have been transferred into the Roman galleries, where in
the present day they are attributed, I believe, to Tisio, whose first
manner, being more careful than soft and tasteful, may easily be mistaken
for that of Ortolano. There are others at Ferrara, both in public and
private, and one in the usual old style of composition at S. Niccolo, with
the date affixed of 1520. In the parochial church of Bondeno there is
another, which is extolled by Scannelli (p. 319), in which are represented
the Saints Sebastian and Rocco, and Demetrius, who, in military dress, is
seen leaning on the hilt of his sword, absorbed in thought; the whole
attitude so picturesque and real as at once to attract the eye of the
beholder.
We cannot be surprised that his name should have been eclipsed by Tisio, an
artist deservedly extolled as the most eminent among Ferrarese painters. Of
him we have treated rather at length in the Roman School, both as occupying
a high station in the list of Raffaello's pupils, and as the one most
frequently met with in the Roman collections. We have a little before
mentioned Benvenuto's first education under Panetti, from whose school he
went to Cremona, under Niccolo Soriani, his maternal uncle, and next under
Boccaccio Boccacci. On Niccolo's death, in 1499, he fled from Cremona, and
first resided during fifteen months in Rome, with Gian Baldini, a
Florentine. Thence he travelled through various Italian cities, remained
two years with Costa in Mantua, and then returning for a short space to
Ferrara, finally proceeded back to Rome. These circumstances I here give,
on account of a number of Benvenuto's works being met with in Ferrara and
elsewhere, which partake little or nothing of the Roman style, though not
excluded as apocryphal, as they are attributed to his earlier age. After
remaining a few years with Raffaello, his domestic affairs recalled him to
Ferrara; having arranged these, he prepared to return to Rome, where his
great master anxiously awaited him, according to Vasari, in order to
accomplish him in the art of design. But the solicitations of Panetti, and
still more, the commissions of Duke Alfonso, retained him in his native
place, engaged with the Dossi in immense undertakings at Belriguardo and
other places. It is observed by Baruffaldi, that the degree of
Raffaellesque taste to be traced in the two brothers' works, is to be
attributed to Tisio. He conducted a great number of other paintings, both
in fresco and in oil.
His most happy period dates from 1519, when he painted in S. Francesco the
Slaughter of the Innocents; availing himself of earthen models, and copying
draperies, landscape, and in short every thing from the life. In the same
church is his Resurrection of Lazarus, and his celebrated Taking of Christ,
commenced in 1520, and finished in 1524. No better works appeared from his
hand, nor better composed, more animated, conducted with more care and
softness of colouring. There only remains some trace of the fourteenth
century, in point of design; and some little affectation of grace, if the
opinion of Vasari be correct. The district formerly abounded with similar
specimens of his in fresco; and they are also met with in private, as that
frieze in a chamber of the Seminary, which in point of grace and
Raffaellesque taste is well deserving of being engraved. Many of his works,
also, in oil remain, exhibited here and there throughout the churches and
collections of Ferrara; at once so many and so beautiful as alone to
suffice for the decoration of a city. His St. Peter Martyr was more
particularly admired by Vasari; a picture ornamenting the Dominicans,
remarkable for its force, which some professors have supposed to have been
painted in competition with St. Peter Martyr, by Titian; and in case of its
loss to have been able to supply its place. His Helen, too, a picture of a
more elegant character, at the same place, is greatly admired; this
gracefulness forming one of Benvenuto's most peculiar gifts. And, indeed,
not a few of his Madonnas, his Virgins, and his boys, which he painted in
his softer manner, have occasionally been mistaken for Raffaello's. His
picture of the Princes Corsini deceived good judges, as we are informed by
Bottari; and the same might have happened with the portrait of the Duke of
Modena, and others scattered through the Roman galleries, where are many of
his pieces on a large scale, particularly in the Chigi palace. All these
must be kept in view, in forming an estimate of Garofolo. His little
pictures, consisting of scriptural histories, are very abundant in
different cabinets, (Prince Borghesi himself being in possession of about
forty) and although they bear his mark, a gilly-flower or violet, they
were, I suspect, merely the production of his leisure hours. Those without
such impress are frequently works of Panelli, who was employed along with
him; often copies or repetitions by his pupils, who must have been numerous
during so long a period. Baruffaldi gives him Gio. Francesco Dianti, of
whom he mentions an altar-piece at the Madonnina, in the style of Garofolo,
and his tomb, also at the same place, with the date of his decease in 1576.
Batista Griffi and Bernardin Flori, known only by some ancient legal
instrument belonging to the period of 1520, do not seem to have surpassed
mediocrity; which is also remarked by Vasari of all the others who sprung
from the same school. We may except a third, mentioned in the same legal
act, and this was Carpi, of whom I shall now proceed to treat.
It is uncertain whether the proper title of Girolamo be da Carpi, as stated
by Vasari, or de' Carpi, as is supposed by Superbi; questions wholly
frivolous, inasmuch as his friend Vasari did not call him a native of
Carpi, but of Ferrara; and Giraldi, in the edition of his _Orbecche_ and of
his _Egle_, premised that the painter of the scene was Mes. Girolamo Carpi,
from Ferrara. And in this city he was instructed by Garofolo, whose young
attendant, in the parchment before cited, he is said to have been in 1520.
He afterwards went to Bologna, where he was a good deal employed in
portrait painting; until happening to meet with a small picture by
Coreggio, he became attached to that style, copying every piece he could
meet with, both at Modena and Parma, by the same hand. From Vasari's
account we are to conclude that he was never acquainted with Coreggio,
Raffaello, and Parmigianino, whatever other writers may have said. It is
true he imitated them; and from the latter, more particularly, he derived
those very gracefully clasped and fringed garments; and those airs of
heads, which, however, appear rather more solid and less attractive. On
removing to Bologna, in addition to what he conducted in company with
Pupini, he singly executed a Madonna with S. Rocco and other saints, for S.
Salvatore; and an Epiphany, with smaller figures, full of grace, and
partaking of the best Roman and Lombard manner, for the church of S.
Martino. Returning at length to Ferrara, he conducted, along with his
master, several pictures in fresco, particularly in the ducal Palazzina,
and in the church of the Olivetani, where Baruffaldi clearly recognised his
style, invariably more loaded with shadow than that of Benvenuto. In 1534
he himself represented, in a loggia of the ducal palace of Copario, the
sixteen princes of Este; twelve of whom with the title of marquis, the rest
as dukes, had swayed the sceptre of Ferrara. The last was Ercole II., who
committed that work to Girolamo, honourable to him for the animation and
propriety of the portraits, for the decoration of the termini, of the
landscape, and of the perspective, with which he adorned that loggia.
Titian himself had raised Carpi in that prince's consideration; not at the
time when he came to Ferrara to continue the work of Bellini, since
Girolamo was then only a child, but when he returned at another period; and
this I mention in order to correct one of Vasari's mistaken dates.
His altar-pieces in oil are extremely rare; the Pentecost at S. Francesco
di Rovigo, and the S. Antonio at S. Maria in Vado di Ferrara, are the most
copious, and perhaps the most celebrated which he produced. He was employed
also for collections, mostly on tender and graceful subjects; but there too
he is rarely to be met with. His diligence, the commissions of his
sovereigns, the study of architecture, a profession in which he served Pope
Julius III. and Duke Ercole II., his brief career, all prevented him from
leaving many productions for the ornament of cabinets. In his style of
figures he had no successors: in the art of decorating with feigned
bassi-relievi, colonnades, cornices, niches, and similar architectural
labours, he was rivalled by Bartolommeo Faccini, who in that manner
embellished the grand court-yard of the palace. He afterwards painted
there, as Carpi had done elsewhere, the Princes of Este, or more correctly,
placed in the niches a bronze statue of each of them; in constructing which
work he fell from the scaffolding, and died in 1577. He was assisted in the
same labour by his brother Girolamo, by Ippolito Casoli, and Girolamo
Grassaleoni, all of whom continued to serve their native place in quality
of ornamental painters.
Whilst Benvenuto and Girolamo were thus bent on displaying all the
attractions of the art, there was rising into notice, from the school of
Michelangiolo at Rome, one who aspired only to the bold and terrible; a
character not much known to the artists of Ferrara up to that period. His
name was Bastiano Filippi, familiarly called Bastianino, and surnamed
_Gratella_,[59] from his custom of covering large pictures with crossed
lines, in order to reduce them with exactness to a small scale; which he
acquired from Michelangiolo, and was the first to introduce into Ferrara.
He was son to Camillo, an artist of uncertain school, but who, in the
opinion of Bononi, "painted with neatness and clearness, as in his
Annunziata at S. Maria in Vado;" in the ground of which is a half-figure of
St. Paul, which leads to the conjecture, that Camillo aspired to the style
of Michelangiolo. It would seem, therefore, that Bastiano imbibed from his
father his ardent attachment to that style, on account of which he secretly
withdrew from his father's house, and went to Rome, where he became one of
the most indefatigable copyists and a favourite disciple of Bonarruoti. How
greatly he improved may be seen in his picture of the Last Judgment at
Ferrara, completed in three years, in the choir of the Metropolitana; a
work so nearly approaching Michelangiolo that the whole Florentine School
can boast nothing of the kind. It displays grand design, great variety of
figures, fine grouping, and very pleasing repose. It seems incredible that,
in a theme already treated by Michelangiolo, Filippi should have succeeded
in producing such novel and grand effect. Like all true imitators, he
evidently aimed at copying the genius and spirit, not the figures of his
model. He abused the occasion here afforded him, like Dante and
Michelangiolo, to gratify his friends by placing them among the elect, and
to revenge himself on those who had offended him, by giving their portraits
in the group of the damned. On this unhappy list, too, he placed a young
lady who had broken her vows to him; elevating among the blessed, in her
stead, a more faithful young woman whom he married, and representing the
latter in the act of gazing on her rival with looks of scorn. Baruffaldi
and other Ferrarese prefer this painting before that of the Sistine chapel,
in point of grace and colouring; concerning which, the piece having been
retouched, we can form no certain opinion. There is, moreover, the
testimony of Barotti, the describer of the Ferrarese paintings, who, at
page 40, complains, that "while formerly those figures appeared like living
flesh, they now seem of wood." But other proofs of Filippi's colouring are
not wanting at Ferrara; where, in many of his untouched pictures, he
appears to much advantage; except that in his fleshes he was greatly
addicted to a sun-burnt colour; and often, for the union of his colours, he
overshadowed in a peculiar taste the whole of his painting.
Footnote 59: Gratella, literally a gridiron, or lattice-work.
Besides this, his masterpiece, Filippi produced a great number of other
pictures at Ferrara, in whose Guide he is more frequently mentioned than
any artist, except Scarsellino. Where he represented naked figures, as in
his grand S. Cristofano at the Certosa, he adhered to Michelangiolo; in his
draped figures he followed other models; which is perceptible in that
Circumcision in an altar of the cathedral, which might rather be attributed
to his father than to him. Being impatient, both in regard to invention and
to painting, he often repeated the same things; as he did in one of his
Annunciations, reproduced at least seven times, almost invariably with the
same ideas. What is worse, if we except the foregoing Judgment, his large
altar-piece of St. Catharine, in that church, with a few other public
works, he conducted no pieces without losing himself either in one part or
other; satisfied with stamping upon each some commanding trait, as if to
exhibit himself as a fine but careless painter to the eyes of posterity.
There are few of his specimens in collections, but these are more exactly
finished. Of these, without counting those of Ferrara, I have seen a
Baptism of Christ in Casa Acqua at Osimo, and several copies from
Michelangiolo at Rome. Early in life he painted grotesques, but
subsequently employed in such labours, Cesare, his younger brother, a very
excellent ornamental painter, though feeble in great figures and in
histories.
Contemporary with, and rival of Filippi, was Sigismondo Scarsella,
popularly called by the Ferrarese Mondino, a name he has ever since
retained. Instructed during three years in the school of Paul Veronese, and
afterwards remaining for thirteen at Venice, engaged in studying its best
models along with the rules of architecture, he at length returned to
Ferrara, well practised in the Paolesque style, but at considerable
distance as a disciple. If we except his Visitation at S. Croce, fine
figures and full of action, we meet with nothing more by him in the last
published Guide of Ferrara. The city possesses other of his works, some in
private, some retouched in such a manner that they are no more the same,
while several are doubtful, and most commonly attributed to his son. This
is the celebrated Ippolito, called, in distinction from his father, Lo
Scarsellino, by whom singly there are more pictures interspersed throughout
those churches, than by many combined artists. After acquiring the first
rudiments from Sigismondo, he resided almost six years at Venice, studying
the best masters, and in particular Paul Veronese. His fellow-citizens call
him the Paul of their school, I suppose on account of his Nativity of the
Virgin at Cento, his S. Bruno, in the Ferrarese Certosa, and other
paintings more peculiarly Paolesque; but his character is different. He
seems the reformer of the paternal taste; his conceptions more beautiful,
his tints more attractive; while some believe that he influenced the manner
of Sigismondo, and directed him in his career. On comparison with Paul it
is clear that his style is derived from that source, but that his own was
different, being composed of the Venetian and the Lombard, of native and
foreign, the offspring of an intellect well founded in the theory of the
art, of a gay and animated fancy, of a hand if not always equal to itself,
always prompt, spirited, and rapid. Hence we see a great number of his
productions in different cities of Lombardy and Romagna, to say nothing of
his native place.
There, his pictures of the Assumption and the Nuptials of Cana, at the
Benedettini; the Pietà, and the S. John Beheaded, in that church; with the
_Noli me tangere_, at S. Niccolo, are among the most celebrated; also at
the Oratorio della Scala, his Pentecost, his Annunciation, and his
Epiphany, conducted in competition with the Presentation of Annibal
Caracci; of all which there are seen, on a small scale, a number of
repetitions or copies in private houses. They are to be met with too at
Rome, where Scarsellino's paintings are not rare. Some are at the
Campidoglio, and at the palaces of the Albani, Borghesi, Corsini, and in
greater number at the Lancellotti. I have sometimes examined them in
company with professors who never ceased to extol them. They recognised
various imitations of Paul Veronese in the inventions, and the copiousness;
of Parmigianino in the lightness and grace of the figures: of Titian in the
fleshes, and particularly in a Bacchanal in Casa Albani; of Dossi and Carpi
in his strength of colour, in those fiery yellows, in those deep
rose-colours, in that bright tinge given also to the clouds and to the air.
What sufficiently distinguishes him too, are a few extremely graceful
countenances, which he drew from two of his daughters; a light shading
which envelopes the whole of his objects without obscuring them, and that
slightness of design which borders almost on the dry, in opposition,
perhaps, to that of Bastiano Filippi, sometimes reproached with exhibiting
coarse and heavy features.
Ippolito's school, according to Baruffaldi, produced no other pupil of
merit except Camillo Ricci, a young artist who, Scarsellino declared, would
have surpassed himself, and whom, had he appeared a little later, he would
have selected for his own master. From a pupil, however, he became
Scarsellino's assistant, who instructed him so well in his manner, that the
most skilful had difficulty to distinguish him from Ippolito. His style is
almost as tender and attractive as his master's, the union of his colours
is even more equal, and has more repose, and he is principally
distinguished by less freedom of hand, and by his folding, which is less
natural and more minute. His fertile invention appears to most advantage in
the church of S. Niccolò, whose entablature is divided into eighty-four
compartments, the whole painted by Camillo with different histories of the
holy bishop. His picture of Margherita, also at the cathedral, is extremely
beautiful, and might be referred to Scarsellino himself. His smaller
paintings chiefly adorn the noble house of Trotti, which abounds with them;
and there too is his own portrait, as large as life, representing Genius
naked, seated before his pallet with his pencil in hand, surrounded by
musical books, and implements of sculpture and architecture, arts to which
he was wholly devoted. Among the pupils of Ippolito, Barotti enumerates
also Lana, a native of Codigoro, in the Ferrarese, though I leave him to
the state of Modena, where he flourished. Cittadella also mentions Ercole
Sarti, called the mute of Ficarolo, a place in the Ferrarese. Instructed by
signs he produced for his native place, and at the Quadrella sul Mantovano,
some pictures nearly resembling the style of Scarsellino, except that the
outline is more marked, and the countenances less beautiful. He was also a
good portrait painter, and was employed by the nobility at Ferrara as well
as for the churches. There is mentioned, in the Guide, an altar-piece in
the sacristy of S. Silvestro, and the author is extolled as a successful
imitator both of Scarsellino and of Bononi.
Contemporary with the Filippi and the Scarsellini is Giuseppe Mazzuoli,
more commonly called Bastaruolo, or, as it means in Ferrara, the vender of
corn, an occupation of his father's, not his own. He is at once a learned,
graceful, and correct artist, probably a pupil of Surchi, whom he succeeded
in painting for the entablature of the Gesù some histories left unfinished
by the death of his predecessor. Mazzuoli was not so well skilled in
perspective as in other branches. He injured his rising reputation by
designing some figures in too large proportion, owing to which, added to
his slowness, he became proverbial among his rivals, and considered by many
as an artist of mediocrity. Yet his merit was sufficiently marked,
particularly after the formation of his second manner, more elevated in
design, as well as more studied in its colouring. The foundation of his
taste is drawn from the Dossi; in force of chiaroscuro, and in his heads he
would seem to have owed his education to Parma; in the natural colour of
his fleshes, more particularly at the extremities, he approaches Titian;
and from the Venetians too seem to have been derived those varying tints
and golden hues, introduced into his draperies. The church of Gesù
contains, besides two medallions of histories, admirably composed, an
Annunciation and a Crucifixion, both very beautiful altar-pieces. The
Ascension at the Cappuccini, conducted for a princess of the Estense
family, is a magnificent piece, while an altar-piece of the titular saint,
with half figures of virgins that seem to breathe, at the Zitelle of S.
Barbara, is extremely beautiful. Several other pieces, both in public and
private, are met with at Ferrara. Mazzuoli was drowned, while bathing for
his health, at that place; an artist every way worthy of a better fate, and
of being more generally known beyond the limits of his own country.
Domenico Mona (a name thus read by Baruffaldi from his tomb, though by
others called Monio, Moni, and Monna,) attached himself to the art after
trying many other professions, ecclesiastical, medical, and legal. He
possessed great fervour and richness of imagination, learning, and rapidity
of hand. Instructed by Bastaruolo, he soon became a painter, and exhibited
his pieces in public. But not yet founded in technical rules, monotonous in
his heads, hard in his folding, and unfinished in his figures, he was ill
adapted to please a city already accustomed to behold the most finished
productions at every step, so as no longer to relish any thing like
mediocrity or inferiority of hand. Mona then applied with fresh diligence
to the art, and corrected, at least, some of his more glaring faults. From
that time he was more readily employed by his fellow citizens, though his
works were by no means equally approved. Some, however, were good, such as
the two Nativities at S. Maria in Vado, one of which represented the
Virgin, the other the Divine Child; both displaying a taste of colouring
nearly resembling the Florentine of that period, here and there mingled
with a Venetian tone. The best of all, however, is his Deposition from the
Cross, placed in the Sagrestia Capitolare of the cathedral. A number of
others only approach mediocrity, though still pleasing by their spirit, and
a general effect which proclaims superior genius. Even his colouring, when
he studied it, is calculated to attract by its warmth and vividness, though
not very natural. A few of his works are in such bad taste as to have
induced his pupil, Jacopo Bambini, out of compassion, to retouch them; and
Baruffaldi also notices this singular inequality. For, after greatly
extolling his Deposition from the Cross, he adds: "It must surprise the
spectator to contrast this with his other pieces, nor can he reconcile how
he should possess such capacity, and yet show such indifference for his own
fame." All, however, is explained when we know that he was naturally
subject to insanity, of which he finally became the victim, and having
slain a courtier of the Card. Aldobrandino, he ended his days in banishment
from his native place. By some, however, the deed was attributed, not to
insanity, but to hatred of the new government; and in fact, so far from
acting like a madman, he concealed himself, first in the state, and next at
the court of Modena. Finally, he sought refuge in that of Parma, where he
is declared to have produced pieces, during a short period, in his best
taste. Orlandi calls him Domenico Mora, and has extolled his two large
pictures of the Conversion and the Martyrdom of St. Paul, which adorn the
presbytery of that church at Ferrara. He moreover adds, that he flourished
in 1570, for which date I am inclined to substitute that of 1580, as it is
known that he commenced the practice of the art late in life, and died,
aged fifty-two years, in 1602.
From his school is supposed to have sprung Gaspero Venturini, who completed
his education under Bernardo Castelli, in Genoa. This, however, is mere
conjecture, founded on the style of Gaspero, which, in point of colouring,
partakes of that ideal taste so pleasing to Castelli, to Vasari, Fontana,
Galizia, and others of the same period; nor was Mona himself free from it.
Jacopo Bambini, whom we have before commended, and Giulio Cromer, commonly
called Croma, were assuredly from the school of Mona, though they acquired
little from it. Subsequently they became more correct designers by studying
from the naked model in the academy, which they were the first to open at
Ferrara, and from the best antiques which they possessed in their native
place--an art in which they attained singular excellence. Nor were they
destitute of invention; and to Cromer was allotted the honour of painting
the Presentation and the Death of the Virgin, at the Scala; a fraternity,
which, previous to its suppression, was regarded as a celebrated gallery,
decorated by superior artists. Bambini had studied also in Parma, whence he
brought back with him a careful and solid style; and, if he sometimes
displayed the colouring of Mona, he corrected its hardness, and excluded
its capriciousness. This artist was assiduously employed at the Gesù, in
Ferrara, and in that at Mantua. Croma was a painter of high reputation, and
much inclined to the study of architecture, which he introduces in rather
an ostentatious manner in nearly all his pictures. In other respects he
more resembles Bambini than Mona, invariably studied, ruddy in his
complexions, somewhat loaded in all his tints, and the whole composition
sufficiently characteristic to be easily distinguished. He may be well
appreciated in his large histories of the saint at St. Andrea, near the
chief altar, and in several pictures belonging to the minor altars.
Superbi, in his _Apparato_, describes one Gio. Andrea Ghirardoni as an able
artist. He left some respectable works, but coloured in a languid, feeble
style, with more of the effect of chiaroscuro than of painting. The names
of Bagnacavallo, Rossetti, Provenzali da Cento, and others belonging to the
Ferrarese state, who properly appertain to this epoch, have been already
described under other schools.
SCHOOL OF FERRARA.
EPOCH III.
_The Artists of Ferrara borrow different styles from the
Bolognese School.--Decline of the Art, and an Academy
instituted in its support._
Such, as just described, was the degree of excellence to which the pictoric
art arrived under the Esti, whose dominion over Ferrara terminated in the
person of Alfonso II., who died in 1597. These princes beheld nearly all
the classic styles of Italy transferred into their own capital by classic
imitators, which no other potentates could boast. They had their Raffaello,
their Bonarruoti, their Coreggio, their Titian, and their Paul Veronese.
Their memory yet affords an example to the world; because, like true
citizens of their country, they fostered its genius, the love of letters,
and all the arts of design. The change of government occurred in the
pontificate of Clement VIII. for whose solemn entry into the place the
artists Scarsellino and Mona were employed about the public festivals;
being selected as the ablest hands, equal to achieve much in a short space
of time. Various other painters were subsequently employed, in particular
Bambini and Croma, who were to copy different select altar-pieces of the
city, which the court of Rome was desirous of transferring into the
capital; leaving the copies only at Ferrara, to the general regret of the
Ferrarese historians. Subsequently the Card. Aldobrandini, nephew to the
Pope, was there established as legate; a foreigner indeed, but much
attached to the fine arts. Like other foreigners, he was more bent upon
purchasing the works of old masters, than upon cultivating a genius for
painting among the citizens. The same feeling may, for the most part, be
supposed to have influenced his successors; since, about 1650, Cattanio, as
we read in his life, ascribed the decline of the art to its want of
patrons, and induced Card. Pio, a Ferrarese, to allot pensions to young
artists, to enable them to study at Bologna and at Rome. But such temporary
aids afforded no lasting support to the school, so that if the others of
Italy were greatly deteriorated during this last century, that of Ferrara
became almost extinct. It may, therefore, boast greater credit for having
retrieved itself under less favourable circumstances, and for having
continued so long to emulate the most distinguished originals.
About the beginning of the seventeenth century, when the new civil
government commenced at Ferrara, a new epoch also occurred in its pictoric
school, which I call that of the Caracci. I can furnish no account
respecting that Pietro da Ferrara, mentioned by Malvasia, along with
Schedone, among the pupils of Lodovico Caracci. I have no where met with
his name in any other work. Dismissing him, therefore, I may award the
chief station in this epoch to two able artists, who acquired the taste,
without entering into the academy of the Caracci. These were Bonone of the
city of Ferrara, and Guercino belonging to the state; of whom, as residing
so long with his school at Bologna, I have there written what need not here
be repeated. They were succeeded by other painters in the Legation, nearly
the whole of them pupils of Caracci's followers, or again of their
disciples; insomuch, that what now remains of the Ferrarese School, is
almost a continuation of that of Bologna. It is the crowning glory of the
Ferrarese to have boasted superior emulators of the final school of Italy,
as they had of all the preceding. But it is now time to proceed to the
particulars.
Carlo Bonone, called by the admirable Cochin invariably Bourini, was pupil
to Bastaruolo. On being deprived of his master, he continued to exercise
his acquired manner; but he subsequently inclined to the strong, to
contrast of light and shadow, and to the difficult parts of composition,
more than any other contemporary Ferrarese. I suspect that, despairing of
competing in grace with Scarsellino, he intended to oppose him by a more
robust and enlarged manner. Nor had he far to seek for it, while the
Caracci flourished in Bologna. He left his native place; and perhaps
passing through that city, he conceived the first idea of his new style.
Arrived at Rome, he there continued above two years designing the beautiful
from nature in the academy, and out of it from the works of art; and then
returned to Bologna. Here he remained a year, "until he had mastered the
character and colouring of the Caracci, and devoted himself exclusively to
the principles and practice thus adopted, entirely renouncing all other
manners." Thus states Baruffaldi; and adds, that he resided also at Venice,
whence he departed more confounded than instructed, with the fixed
intention of never in the least departing from the Caraccesque manner. He
went also to Parma, and saw the works of Coreggio, according to some,
though without departing from his maxim. What progress he made in the path
thus selected, may be easily gathered from the opinions of experienced
Bolognese, contained in different histories, who, on examining one of his
works, ascribed it, without hesitation, to Lodovico Caracci; and it is also
to be inferred from the public voice, which extols him as the Caracci of
Ferrara.
This mistake is apt to be made in those compositions with few figures,
rather than in his large histories. In the former his dignity of design is
calculated to deceive us; as well as the conception and attitudes of his
heads of men, the form and fulness, the fall and folding of the drapery,
the choice and distribution of the colours, and the general tone which in
some works, more correctly conducted, greatly resemble the Bolognese style.
But in his compositions on a grand scale, he does not closely imitate the
Caracci, always sparing in their figures, and anxious to make them
conspicuous by a certain disposition peculiarly their own; but rather
follows the Venetians, and adopts methods to multiply the personages on the
scene. The grand Suppers which he painted (of a few of which we have
engravings by Bolzoni) might be almost pronounced from the genius of Paul
Veronese, so greatly do they abound with perspective, stages, and
staircases; so thronged is every situation with actors and spectators. His
Herod's Feast, at S. Benedetto, is much celebrated, as well as the Marriage
of Cana, at the Certosini, at S. Maria in Vado, and other places in
Ferrara, but, in particular, his Supper of Ahasuerus, in the refectory of
the Canonici Regolari of S. Giovanni, at Ravenna. The canvass is large, as
well as the vestibule which fills it, while the multitudes which there
appear, thronged together, is excessive; guests, spectators, domestics,
musical choirs and companies in the balconies, and in a recess, through
which is seen the garden, appear other tables surrounded by guests, with so
beautiful an illusion of aerial perspective, as at once to relieve and to
gratify the eye with infinite variety. There is as much diversity also in
the attitudes, novelty of drapery, richness of plate, &c., of which it
seems impossible to finish the inspection. A few figures too are more
studied, such as that of Ahasuerus, of the master of the feast, and of a
kneeling page, in the act of presenting the royal crown to the king. To
these add several of the singers, which rivet the eye by their respective
dignity, vivacity, or grace. In no other work did Bonone succeed equally
well in captivating others and in pleasing his own taste.
Yet the church of S. Maria in Vado boasts so great a number of his
paintings on the walls, so many in the vault and in the ceiling, conducted
too with so perfect a knowledge of foreshortening, that, in order to
estimate the vastness of his talents, we ought to see that magnificent
temple itself. When Guercino left Cento for Ferrara, he used there to spend
hours devoted only to the contemplation of Bonone. I find mention that, for
such productions, "he was elevated even to a competition with Coreggio and
the Caracci," and he assuredly adhered much to that method, designing
accurately, modelling his figures in wax, arranging the foldings, and
exhibiting them to a nocturnal light to examine their best effect, which he
aimed at even more than the Caracci. Still I have too great deference for
public opinion, which acknowledges no rivals to these noble masters, though
they had imitators; and I have heard judges express a wish for more
constant accuracy of design, choice in his heads, stronger union of
colours, and a better method of laying on his grounds, than they find in
Bonone. Notwithstanding similar exceptions, however, this artist stands as
one of the very first, after the Caracci. Though inferior in age, he could
not be called inferior in merit, to Scarsellino; and the city, divided into
parties, could not agree to award the palm either to the elder or to the
younger. They pursued different manners; each was eminent in his own, and
when they came into competition each exerted his utmost industry not to be
outshone, which left the victory still doubtful. There were a few years ago
at the Scala, and are yet at other places, a number of these rival
productions, and it is wonderful to see how Bonone, accustomed so much to
fill his canvass on a large scale, can adapt his genius, equal to any, to
study and refinement, even painting his figures of small proportion almost
in the style of miniature, in order that Scarsellino, in these ornaments of
the cabinet, should not excite greater admiration than himself. Different
collections, and particularly that of the noble Bevilacqua, possess fine
specimens of him; in public is his Martyrdom of St. Catherine, in that
church, a real treasure, much sought for by foreigners, who have frequently
offered for it large sums without success.
No disciple of Bonone's school acquired much celebrity, and, least of any,
Lionello, nephew to Carlo, and his heir. He was indebted to his uncle for
his knowledge of the art, but could never be induced to practise it with
diligence. What he has left was either executed with Carlo's assistance,
and from his designs, or is of very middling merit. Others, who had
successfully attained the manner of this master, died young, as Gio.
Batista della Torre, born at Rovigo, and Camillo Berlinghieri, both artists
of genius and highly estimated in collections. Some early pieces of great
promise adorn the church of S. Niccolo, where the former painted the
vaulted ceiling, but on some defect in the work being pointed out by the
master, he refused to complete it, and setting out in anger for Venice he
there took up his residence, and shortly came to an untimely end. By the
second was painted the picture of the Manna, at S. Niccolo, besides several
others throughout the city, and a few also at Venice, where he obtained the
name of the Ferraresino, and where he died before completing his fortieth
year.
The highest reputation was obtained by Alfonso Rivarola, likewise called,
from some property left to him, Il Chenda. On his master's death he was
proposed, as the most familiar with his style, by Guido Reni, to complete
an unfinished work of Bonone. At S. Maria in Vado is the Marriage of the
Virgin, sketched by Bonone, and which Chenda painted, Lionello having
declined to venture upon such a task. This picture has a powerful rival in
one of Bonone's, placed opposite to it, though it still displays a hand not
unworthy of following that of Bonone. His fellow citizens entertained the
same opinion of his other early efforts, such as the Baptism of the Saint,
exhibited in a temple of noble architecture at S. Agostino, in a style of
foreshortening that displays a master. His Fables, too, from Guarini and
Tasso, conducted in the Villa Trotti, as well as the pictures yet belonging
to the same nobles, and to different houses in the city, are held in
esteem. But he executed little for churches and collections, aiming more at
popular admiration, which he obtained by exercising at once the office of
architect and of painter at public festivals, and in particular at
tournaments, then so very prevalent in Italy. One of these, which he
conducted at Bologna, laid the foundation of his early decease. Either he
met with little applause, and took it to heart, or, according to others,
had such success as to lead to his being carried off by poison. Thus, in
few years, Carlo Bonone's school approached its close, not without leaving,
however, numerous works which, owing to their uniform style, are now
attributed generally to the school, not in particular to any artist.
I reserved for the series of the Caracci the name of Francesco Naselli, a
Ferrarese noble, though stated by some to have been initiated in the art by
Bastaruolo. This, however, is uncertain; it is only known that he designed
from the naked model with assiduity in an academy opened in conjunction
with his efforts, at Ferrara; and that going thence to Bologna, he took
copies of various works by the Caracci and by their disciples. In the
churches of his native place, and in private cabinets, numerous proofs of
these studies are met with, the most laborious of which are two miracles of
St. Benedict, copied in the cloister of S. Michele in Bosco, and now placed
at S. Giorgio of the Olivetani in Ferrara. Of these, one is borrowed from
Lodovico, the other from Guido; but preferred to both is his Communion of
S. Girolamo, which decorates the Certosa, a copy from the original by
Agostino. Guercino also was one of his favourites; of his he copied every
thing he could meet with, having selected him, after the Caracci, for his
first guide. By such practice Francesco succeeded in designing and painting
with good success in his own manner, on a large scale, animated, soft, with
rapid execution and strong union of colours, inclining in those of his
fleshes to a sun-burnt hue. Of his own design is the S. Francesca Romana at
the Olivetani, the Assumption at S. Francesco, several Suppers, abounding
in figures, belonging to private institutions, five of which are in the
Cistercian monastery. He likewise painted at the Scala in competition with
one of the Caracci, with Bonone, and with Scarsellino. Nor was he judged
unworthy of them; and at the sale of those valuable paintings for the
relief of the Hospital, in 1772, considerable prices were offered for his
productions. Although noble, and in easy circumstances, he never ceased to
persevere, and it would appear that he was desirous of promoting the
success of one of his domestics in the same art. Crespi declares that he
had read a statement, showing Alessandro Naselli to be the son of
Francesco, but, according to historians, he was an artist of mediocrity,
the omission of whose works will scarcely be any loss to my readers.
It is here necessary to interrupt for a moment our series of the Caracci's
disciples, to make mention of two geniuses, who also became painters, like
Naselli, but in the Venetian taste. Gio. Paolo Grazzini, one of Bonone's
best friends, professed the goldsmith's art, and it was owing only to his
bias for painting, imbibed from Bonone and other contemporaries, that he
acquired its principles in familiar conversation. Eager to put them to the
test, he commenced his altar-piece of S. Eligio, for the Goldsmith's
School. It occupied him eight years in its completion, but it was executed
in such a masterly style as alone to decide his excellence, approaching
quite as nearly as any to the manner of Pordenone. Being then about fifty
years of age, it excited the utmost surprise throughout Ferrara, yet he
still persevered, and conducted some minor pieces, which decorate private
buildings, in the same taste. So rare an example, or rather one so wholly
novel, appeared to me well worth historical mention. Somewhat at a later
period Giuseppe Caletti, called il Cremonese, came into notice. He acquired
the art rather from the models of the Dossi, and of Titian, than from
masters, imitating not only their manner of design, but their colouring,
which is so difficult. He contrived also to imitate that antique tone which
time gives to paintings, and thus adds to their harmony. He painted a good
deal for collections, such as half-length figures, bacchanals, and small
histories. Baruffaldi recognized several in some noble galleries at
Bologna, and has been compelled to argue the point with judges, who
maintained that they were Titian's. He farther relates, that an excellent
pupil of Pietro da Cortona purchased a great number, at a high price, at
Ferrara, being confident of reselling them at Rome for Titian's, or at
least for works of his school. In Ferrara, which is filled with his
pictures, it is difficult to succeed in these impostures. He is there
distinguished by fleshes of a sun-burnt hue, by certain bold lights,
strengthened by contrast with somewhat loaded shadows, by the fleeciness of
his clouds, and by other careless and ill-conducted accessories. Often too
the extravagance of the composition betrays the real author, when, for
instance, in a bacchanal, much resembling Titian, there is inserted a
chase, or some modern sport, which is like representing wild boars in the
sea, or dolphins in the woods. In a similar manner are his other fine
qualities impaired for want of judgment, without which no artist is well
calculated for the decoration of churches. In that of S. Benedict, however,
his four Holy Doctors, on an altar, are seen to advantage; and upon another
his admirable St. Mark, a grand and correct figure, full of expression, and
very picturesquely surrounded by abundance of volumes, in whose drawing he
is so true and natural, as to have been called the painter of books. Having
completed this work, il Cremonese disappeared out of the city, nor were
farther tidings heard of him, although some writers conjecture that he died
about 1660.
Returning to the disciples of the Bolognese, the first deserving of mention
here is Costanzo Cattanio, a pupil of Guido. His portrait, both on canvass
and in prints, I have seen, and it has always a threatening kind of
expression. That martial, or bravo character, affected by so many artists
about the times of Caravaggio, also misled this excellent genius from the
right career. At times Costanzo was an exile, now at open defiance, and now
wholly occupied in shielding his protectors, who never ventured out
unarmed, from dread of their rivals, and to whom he pledged himself that
they should not be assassinated in his presence. When he applied himself to
his art his peculiar disposition appeared stamped on the expression of his
figures. The characters whom he was most fond of introducing into his
histories were soldiers and bullies, whose fierce aspects seemed but ill
adapted to the soft style of his master. These, and many other ideas, he
borrowed from the prints of Durer, and Luca of Holland, which he reduced to
his own diligent and studied manner, particularly in his heads and his
steel armours. Although attached to strong expression, and borrowing
something from the other schools of Italy which he saw, he nevertheless at
times betrays sure traces of Guido's school. Thus, in his S. Antonio,
painted for the parish church of Corlo, and in our Lord's Supper, which he
placed in the refectory of S. Silvestro, and in every other instance when
he aimed at the Guidesque, he succeeded to admiration.
Another Ferrarese, Antonio Buonfanti, called il Torricella, is said to have
sprung from the school of Guido, though Baruffaldi is silent on this point.
Two large scripture histories by him are at S. Francesco; but there are few
other paintings or accounts of him at Ferrara; and he seems to have taken
up his residence elsewhere. It is certain that the young artists who
succeed this period are all ascribed to the school of Cattanio. Such are
Francesco Fantozzi, called Parma, Carlo Borsati, Alessandro Naselli,
Camillo Setti, artists who scarcely awaken the curiosity of their
countrymen. Giuseppe Avanzi is more known by his very numerous works, for
the most part confused, and painted almost at a sitting. He is described
more like an artisan bent on earning good wages by his day's labour. His
picture of St. John beheaded, however, at the Certosa, is extremely
Guercinesque; and some others on canvass and on copper, which he retouched
and studied a good deal, do him great credit.
But Cattanio's chief praise consists in his education of Gio. Bonatti, and
in his recommendation of him to Card. Pio, who greatly assisted him, by
placing him first at Bologna under Guercino, afterwards under Mola at Rome.
He long supported him also at Venice, studying the heads of that school;
besides defraying his pictoric tours through Lombardy, and giving him the
custody of his paintings at court. In fact, he bestowed upon him such
favours that the public, considering him as the dependant of that prince,
always termed him _Giovannino del Pio_. At Rome he was esteemed among the
best of his age; select, diligent, learned in the different styles of
Italian schools; the view of which, during his picturesque tour, he
declared was highly advantageous to him. And true it is that the painter,
like the writer, is formed by the study of great models; but the one may
behold them all collected in the same library, while the other has to seek
them in different cities, and in every city to study them at different
places. At Rome his only public works are a picture at the church
dell'Anima, a history of S. Carlo at the Vallicella, and an altar-piece of
S. Bernardo, at the Cisterciensi, highly commended in the Guide of Rome.
The rest of his works, and they are but few, belong to private persons; his
health declining at the age of thirty-five, he lingered eleven years
afterwards, and died at Rome.
Lanfranco likewise supplied a pupil to this school, called by Passeri,
Antonio Richieri, a Ferrarese. He followed his master to Naples and Rome,
where he painted at the Teatini after the designs of Lanfranco:--the sole
information I have been enabled to collect respecting his paintings. I am
well aware that he devoted himself to engraving, as we learn also from
Passeri, and that at Naples he engraved an altar-piece by his master, which
was rejected by the person who gave the commission for it. There is more
known of Clemente Maiola, whom the Ferrarese assert to be their
fellow-citizen and pupil to Cortona. He conducted many works at Ferrara;
one of S. Nicola supported by an angel, in the church of S. Giuseppe. He is
moreover mentioned as a fine pupil of Pietro, in the Notizie of M. Alboddo,
for works there extant. Titi gives account of others left in Rome at the
Rotonda and in other temples; but he differs respecting his master,
declaring that he was instructed by Romanelli.
Meanwhile Cignani's academy rose into notice, owing to its master's
reputation, and among those who repaired thither from Ferrara were Maurelio
Scannavini and Giacomo Parolini. Maurelio must be included among the few
whose object was to emulate their master in that scrupulous exactness,
which we noticed in its place. He was naturally slow, nor could he prevail
on himself to despatch his work from the studio until he beheld it already
complete in all its points. Though impelled by domestic penury to greater
haste, he varied not his method; and, free from envy, beheld the rapidity
of Avanzi, who abounded with commissions and money, whilst he and his
family were destitute. The noble house of Bevilacqua assisted him much; and
it redounds to its honour, that on remunerating him for some figures in an
apartment where Aldrovandini had conducted the architecture, a very large
sum was added to the price agreed upon. He produced few other pieces in
fresco; a process that requires artists of more rapid hand. He painted more
in oil; among the most esteemed of which is his S. Tommaso di Villanova, at
the Agostiniani Scalzi; and at the church of the Mortara his St. Bridget in
a swoon, supported by angels. The families of Bevilacqua, Calcagnini,
Rondinelli, and Trotti, possess some of his pictures for private ornament;
among which are portraits that display Maurelio's singular talent in this
branch; and histories of half-length figures in the manner of Cignani. They
exhibit gracefulness, union of colouring, and strength of tints, which
leave him nothing to envy in the artists by whom he is surrounded, except
their fortune.
Giacomo Parolini, pupil to the Cav. Peruzzini in Turin, afterwards to
Cignani at Bologna, was present at Maurelio's decease, and completed a few
works left imperfect, out of regard to his friend, and for the relief of
his orphan family. He did not possess that true finish peculiar to the
followers of Cignani; though he still maintained the reputation of his
second school, by the elegance of his design, the propriety and copiousness
of his composition, and his very attractive colouring, particularly in the
fleshes. Aware of his own power in this difficult part of painting, he is
fond of introducing into his pieces the naked figure, more especially of
boys, from the proportions of which judges are enabled to recognize their
author. His bacchanals, his Albanesque country-dances, his capricci, are
all of such frequent occurrence at Ferrara, as to render it more easy to
enumerate the collections in want of them, than those where they are.
Foreigners also possess specimens; and there are engravings in acqua forte
by the designer's own hand. His picture of the Cintura, representing the
Virgin among various saints, nearly all of the order of St. Augustine, a
piece engraved by Andrea Bolzoni, is held in much esteem. Nor are the three
altar-pieces in the cathedral unworthy of notice; and in particular the
entablature of S. Sebastiano at Verona, which greatly raised his
reputation, representing the saint in the act of mounting into glory,
amidst groups of angels; a beautiful and well executed work. Parolini is
the last among the figurists whose life was written at length by
Baruffaldi; the last, also, on whose tomb was inscribed the eulogy of a
good painter. With him was buried for a season the reputation of Ferrarese
painting in Italy.
The author of the "Catalogue," in the fourth volume has collected the names
and drawn up the lives of certain other painters, interspersing several
episodes. Concerning these figurists, little else is related than mere
failures and misfortunes. For instance, Gio. Francesco Braccioli, pupil to
Crespi, though promising well in some of his works for galleries,
subsequently fell into infirmity of mind; one lost his taste for the
profession; another cultivated the art with remissness, or only as a
dilettante; a third produced some tolerable efforts, but was mostly
extravagant; one had genius and died early; another long life without a
spark of talent. Meanwhile, this dearth of native artists was for some
years supplied by Gio. Batista Cozza, from the Milanese; a painter of a
copious, easy, and regulated style. Not that he was invariably correct,
though very popular, and when he pleased satisfying even judges of the art;
as in that picture representing different SS. Serviti, in the church called
di Cà Bianca.
After him appeared the modern artists, who now enjoy deserved reputation in
the academy of Ferrara, which, owing to the particular patronage of his
eminence Card. Riminaldi, has recently risen into distinguished notice.
With the name of this noble citizen and of the professors whom he himself
selected and promoted, future writers will doubtless commence a fourth
epoch of painting. By him the academy was supplied with laws, and took its
established form. To his care and munificence several young artists were
indebted for their residence at Rome, and all the rest for the benefit of a
well regulated institution at Ferrara. He also did much for the cause of
letters in the university. But this is not the place to give an account of
it; and his merits, commended as they are to posterity in numerous books
and monuments, and impressed on the hearts of his grateful fellow citizens,
are not likely soon to fall into oblivion.
It remains to speak of other kinds of painting, and it will be best to
commence with perspective. After this art had assumed a new aspect at
Bologna, and spread through Italy, as already stated, it was introduced by
Francesco Ferrari, born near Rovigo, into Ferrara. He had been instructed
in figure painting by a Frenchman, and afterwards became professor of
architectural and ornamental painting under Gabriel Rossi, the Bolognese,
of whose name, to say nothing of his style, I find no traces left at
Bologna. To those who had the means of comparing the manners of these two
artists, it appeared that Francesco did not equal him in the dignity of his
architecture, but surpassed him in strength and durability of colouring,
and in that relief so attractive in these performances. Moreover, he had a
considerable advantage over his master, in his knowledge of appropriately
painting histories. The Dispute of S. Cirillo is still to be seen, and the
Rain granted to the Prayer of Elias, in the church of S. Paolo: pictures,
observes Baruffaldi, which rivet the eye. Other proofs of his genius for
history pieces are met with at the Carmine and at S. Giorgio, but still
they yield to his architectural labours, which may be said to have formed
his trade. He worked also for theatres, and in different Italian cities,
and in the service of Leopold I. at Vienna. Being constrained to leave
Germany on account of his health, he returned to Ferrara, and there opened
school.
Among his pupils were Mornassi, Grassaleoni, Paggi, Raffanelli, Giacomo
Filippi, and one who surpassed all the rest, Antonfelice Ferrari, his son.
This artist did not attempt figures, but confined himself to architecture,
in which he added to the somewhat minute style of his father, a
magnificence well adapted to attract the public eye. He was employed with
success in the Calcagnini palace, in that of the Sacrati, Fieschi, and in
other private and public places in Ferrara, as well as at Venice, Ravenna,
and elsewhere. Suffering much however in health by painting in fresco, and
on this account being reduced to live with less comfort, he conceived such
aversion for the art, that on making his will he enjoined that his son was
to forfeit his inheritance if he ever became a fresco painter. Some of his
pupils therefore succeeded him, among whom Giuseppe Facchinetti most
distinguished himself. He painted at S. Caterina da Siena and other places,
at once in a delicate and sound style, and is almost reputed the Mitelli of
his school. Maurelio Goti of Ferrara nearly approached his style, not
without marks of plagiarism. From the same country and school was Girolamo
Mengozzi Colonna, who became a long resident at Venice. He accompanied the
figures of Zompini with ornamental work at the church of the Tolentini, and
those of Tiepolo at the Scalzi; and conducted the architecture in the ducal
palace and elsewhere. Zanetti, in his Guide, mentions his name as above;
but, in his "Pittura Veneziana," (thirty-eight years afterwards) he calls
him Colonna Mengozzi, and a native of Tivoli. Guarienti extols him as the
first architectural and ornamental painter of his time.
The art of landscape painting, which, after the age of the Dossi, had
almost fallen into disuse at Ferrara, was revived there by some foreigners.
Giulio Avellino, called, from his native place, the Messinese, resided some
time in this city, and died there at the beginning of the century. He had
been pupil to Salvator Rosa, whose style he somewhat softened, and richly
ornamented with views of ruins and architecture, as well as with some small
and well composed figures. The Signori Cremona and Donati possess select
specimens; and there is scarcely a collection in Ferrara or Romagna which
does not value itself on possessing them. After him appeared Giuseppe Zola,
born, according to Crespi, at Brescia, a landscape painter, of a taste
devoted to no single master, but formed upon many. He was exceedingly rich
in conception and in expedients; his buildings are of a rustic kind; his
ruins partake of the modern, and are picturesquely covered with creeping
plants and ivy; the backgrounds of an azure hue, and great variety of
objects and figures, in which he was less happy than in his landscape. His
earlier works are held in most esteem; when he obtained greater
commissions, he performed them with a more mechanical hand, and, with the
exception of his colouring, which he always studied, he bestowed little
care on the rest. Those pictures are in general most complete, in which he
introduced the smallest figures; and such may be seen even out of private
houses, in the Monte della Pietà, and in the sacristy of S. Leonardo. He
formed several pupils, the best of whom was Girolamo Gregori. Instructed as
a figurist by Parolini, and afterwards by Gioseffo dal Sole, he failed for
want of perseverance, except very rarely, in greater works. Yet he produced
many, and his landscapes have been highly extolled. The same may be
observed of Avanzi, mentioned by us shortly before; who, in addition to his
very pleasing landscapes on canvass and on copper, surpassed all his fellow
citizens in the drawing of flowers and fruits.
An invention, finally deserving of mention, and extremely useful to
painting, was made known during this last epoch by a Ferrarese, and
afterwards brought to perfection by others. Antonio Contri, son of a
Ferrarese lawyer, who, for domestic reasons, had long settled at Rome, and
next at Paris, feeling a natural bias for design, practised it in both
those cities; but first displayed greater excellence in embroidery than
painting. Returning into Italy, and establishing himself at Cremona, he was
instructed in landscape by Bassi, in which he was accustomed also to
introduce flowers, the branch of painting in which he most distinguished
himself. He also succeeded well in perspectives and in animals. His
pictures, and those of his son Francesco, who pursued his style, remain at
Cremona, Ferrara, and their vicinity; but it was his new discovery, just
alluded to, which obtained a more wide circulation and repute. This is the
method of removing from walls to canvass any picture without the least
injury to its design or colouring. Various trials of it, during the space
of a year, instructed him how to compose a sort of glue, or bitumen, which
he spread over a canvass of equal size with the picture he wished to
transfer to it. Having applied this to the painting, and beaten it firm
with a mallet, he cut the plaister round it, and applied to the canvass a
wooden frame well propped, in order that the work might take hold, and come
off equal throughout. In a few days he cautiously removed the canvass from
the wall, which brought with it the painting; and, having extended it on a
smooth table, he applied to the back of it another canvass, varnished with
a composition more adhesive than the former. He then placed over the work a
quantity of sand, which should equally compress it in all its parts; and,
after a week's space, he examined the two pieces of canvass, detached the
first by means of warm water, and there then remained on the second the
whole painting taken from the wall. He applied this method in different
houses of Cremona, for Baruffaldi in Ferrara, and in Mantua for Prince
d'Harmstadt, governor of the city; so as to enable him to send some heads,
or other works of Giulio Romano, thus removed from the ducal palace, to the
emperor. The secret composition of his glue Contri always concealed, but
similar attempts were made about the same period in foreign countries. In
the journal of Trevoux it is stated that Louis XV. caused the celebrated
painting of St. Michael, by Raffaello, to be removed from its original
canvass to a new one, a process which succeeded admirably, for on this last
the chinks and creases disappeared which had greatly injured the
former.[60] From this account I have been led to doubt whether Contri were
really the inventor of this art, as asserted by Ferrarese writers. I say
only doubted, since I am unable to judge the question with precision, for
want of ascertaining the exact year in which he first applied the method
with success. What is indisputable however is, that he was the first who
was induced to make such trial of it upon painted walls, and that the plan
which he adopted was only of his own invention. But whether he discovered
the art, or only the method of applying it, at this period his secret, or
something equivalent to it, is pretty well known in Italy. On passing
through Imola, I saw, in a private house, two histories of the Life of the
Virgin, which had been painted by Cesi in the cathedral of that city,
removed thence, and replaced on large new canvass. Had this invention been
elicited a few years previously, several of those ancient works might have
been preserved, mention of which is now only to be met with in books, to
the regret of every lover of the fine arts.
Footnote 60: See Il Sig. Ab. Requeno, in his "Essays for the
Re-establishment of the ancient Art of the Greek and Roman
Painters." Ed. Ven. p. 108.
Here too we must give some account of an exceedingly interesting art, as
regards that of painting; an art which, after the lapse of centuries, in
some degree re-appeared in Italy, owing chiefly to the exertions of an
ingenious Spaniard. He resided many years at Ferrara, and was assisted by
the artists there in his experiments and undertakings. Some years before,
attempts had been made at Paris to recover the method of painting in
caustic, or that which the Greeks and Romans succeeded in by the medium of
fire.[61] A few words in Vitruvius and Pliny, and these very obscure in our
days, and to which various meanings are given by critics, formed the only
chart and compass to direct the inquirer. It was known that wax was
employed in ancient painting, much the same as oil in the modern; but how
to prepare it, to combine it with the colours, to use it in a liquid state,
and how to apply fire to the process until the completion of the work--was
the secret to be discovered. Count Caylus, who pursued antiquarian
researches less for the sake of history than of the arts, was perhaps the
principal promoter of so useful an inquiry. The royal Academy of
Inscriptions joined him, and offered a public premium for the discovery of
a method of painting in caustic, such as should be found worthy of its
approbation. Many experiments were at this period made; and philology,
chemistry, painting, all united in throwing light upon the subject. Among
various methods proposed by three academicians, Caylus, Cochin, and
Bachiliere, two of them received premiums, though in some measure the same,
and both proposed by the last of the three mentioned names. The whole
account may be read in the Encyclopedia, under the head of _Encaustique_.
Thenceforward native artists did not fail to make new trials, and practise
themselves in pictures _all'encausto_. One of these, who arrived at
Florence in 1780, exhibited to me a head, and some portion of the figure,
thus painted by himself. I likewise saw him so employed. He had near him a
brazier, on which were placed small pans filled with colours, all of a
different body, and mixed with wax, but with what third ingredient I know
not; whether salt of tartar, as recommended in the dissertation remunerated
at Paris, or some other composition. A second brazier was fixed behind the
cartoon or panel on which he painted, in order to preserve it always warm.
The work being finished, he went over the whole with a small hair brush,
and gave it a clear and vivid glow.
Footnote 61: See the Encyclopedia, at the Art. _Encaustique_.
Some there were at that time in Italy who much admired this art. The
numerous reliques of ancient painting, preserved free from the effects of
time at Naples and at Rome, may be said to exhibit a manifest triumph over
modern productions, which so much sooner become aged and fade away. This it
was that induced the Ab. Vincenzo Requeno to publish the book shortly
before cited, at Venice, first in 1784. In him were united all the
requisite qualities for promoting the new discovery--the learning of a man
of letters, experience of an artist, philosophical reasoning, and
persevering experiment. His work is in every one's hands, so as to enable
them to form an opinion, for this is not the place to enter into a
discussion of its various merits. It has been done by the Cav. de Rossi in
three extracts from that work, published in the first volume of the
"Memorie delle Belle Arti," one of the most brief and at the same time
admired journals in Italy. My sole object is to do justice to his singular
penetration and industry. He gave a solution of the difficulty mentioned in
the Encyclopedia, and discovered a new process. He shewed that salt of
tartar was not made use of by the Greeks to dissolve wax, and adapt it to
the brush, because they were unacquainted with such a substance; while his
own experience convinced him it was useless for the purpose. He knew that
the application of fire to the back of the painting was not the method
adopted by the Greeks, inasmuch as it was inapplicable to their paintings
upon large walls. He tried many experiments, and he at length found that
the resinous gum, called mastic, would produce the effect which he had
vainly sought from salt of tartar. With the gum and wax he made crayons,
and found various ways of combining the colours, so as best to adapt them
for the use of painting. When the work was finished, he was accustomed
sometimes to give it a slight covering of wax, in place of varnish, and
sometimes to leave it without; but in every process which he observed, he
perfected the work by the application of fire, or as he himself observes,
by burning it. This he effected by holding a brazier near the front of the
picture, and lastly going over the work with a small linen cloth, which
clears and enlivens the tints.
I have seen the first trials, as made by the Ab. Requeno himself, or by
artists directed by him, in possession of his Excellency Pignatelli at
Bologna, who added to the discovery no small share of information and
patronage. But it was not to be expected that a new kind of painting could
be perfected by means of a single studio. Aware of this, the author of the
work thus expresses himself: "At the moment when a resinous gum shall be
found better, that is, more white and hard, and equally soluble with wax
and water as those employed by me, the pictures and caustics will become
more beautiful, consistent, and durable. I am not a painter by profession,
nor do I merit any particular commendation among dilettanti. My pictures
have been conducted solely for the purpose of shewing a method of painting
with ease and consistency in wax, without oil, without glue, and by means
of gums only, with wax and water." On this account he thenceforward invited
professors to join in promoting his discovery, and lived to witness its
effects.
Omitting to speak of the chemists who aided in throwing light upon the
progress of this art,[62] the pictoric school at Rome undertook in a manner
to promote and bring it to its last degree of perfection. At that period
lived counsellor Renfesthein, the friend of Mengs and of Winckelmann, a man
of exquisite taste in the arts of design, and ever surrounded by numbers of
artists, who either received from him the benefit of his advice, or
commissions from foreigners, private persons, and sovereigns. To these he
proposed sometimes one, sometimes another method of the caustic art; and in
a short time he beheld his cabinet filled with pictures on canvass, on
wood, and on different kinds of stones, which he had already submitted to
every proof, by putting them under ground, in water, and exposing them to
every variety of weather without injury. From this time the new discovery
spread to different studii, and was communicated successively to the
Italian cities, and to foreign nations. Entire chambers have thus been
painted by caustic, a specimen of which is seen in that which the Archduke
Ferdinand, governor of Milan, caused to be thus decorated in his villa of
Monza. And in ornamental paintings and landscape this art may hitherto
boast still more attractions than in figures. All however must be aware
that it has not yet attained that degree of softness and finish possessed
by the ancients in their paintings in wax, and in oil and varnish by the
moderns. But where many unite to perfect it, it may be hoped that some Van
Eyck may rise up, who will succeed in discovering, or more properly in
perfecting that which "all artists had long looked for and ardently
desired."[63]
Footnote 62: See the _Discorso della Cera Punica_, by the
Cav. Lorgna, Verona, 1785. Also _Osservazioni intorno alla
Cera Punica_, by Count Luigi Torri, Verona, 1785. In the
work of Federici is an account of another little production
by Gio. Maria Astorri of Treviso, edited in Venice, 1786; in
which Spanish honey is much praised for the purpose of
preparing and whitening the wax; and being a painter he
relates several experiments he made with this and other
methods, which succeeded well. Gio. Fabroni, keeper of the
royal cabinet at Florence, likewise wrote concerning it. See
the Roman Anthology for the year 1797.
Footnote 63: Vasari.
BOOK V.
GENOESE SCHOOL.
EPOCH I.
_The Ancients._
Last among the ancient schools of Italy is to be enumerated the Genoese, in
regard to the period in which it flourished, not to its merit, which I
consider as being equal to that of many others. In Liguria the first
revival of painting appeared tardy; not so its progress, which was rapid
and distinguished. In Genoa and Savona, as well as in other cities situated
on the sea-shore, there remain some ancient paintings by unknown hands, one
of which, over the gate of Savona, is distinguished by the date of 1101.
The first artist known by any extant production, is one _Franciscus de
Oberto_, as he signs himself on the edge of a painting of the Virgin
between two angels, which is in the church of S. Domenico, at Genoa,
displaying nothing of the Giottesque, and executed in 1368. It cannot be
ascertained that he was altogether a native artist, as may be confidently
asserted of the Monk of Ieres, and of Niccolo da Voltri, names known to
history though not by any surviving works. The Monk of the Isole d'Oro, or
of Ieres, or Stecadi, where he long resided, was not pointed out to us by
name by any ancient writer. His surname was Cybo, and historians place him
in the genealogical tree of Innocent VIII. Besides being a good Provençal
poet, and historian, it is said that he became an excellent miniaturist,
and on this account, a favourite with the King and Queen of Aragon, to whom
he presented several of his illuminated books. He also delighted in
representing in his paintings birds, fish, quadrupeds, trees with fruits,
ships of various forms, perspectives of cities and edifices, objects, in
short, which he beheld in the islands around him. It is conjectured by
Baldinucci that Giotto's models, in an age thronged with miniaturists, and
not wanting in painters, had influenced the efforts of this isolated
artist. How this assertion can be confirmed I know not, the more so as
history describes him as having devoted himself late in life to design, and
in the island of Lerino, where it is not known there were any followers of
Giotto. Voltri was also a figure painter; some of his altar-pieces survived
to the time of Soprani, who extols them, without, however, pointing out
with precision the peculiarities of his taste or school.
During the fifteenth century, and part of the following, the capital city,
and those depending on it, were supplied, for the most part, with foreign
painters, almost all unknown to their native schools on account of their
having, as it appears, resided in Liguria. Some account remains of a German
called Giusto di Alemagna, in a cloister of S. Maria di Castello, at Genoa.
He there painted in fresco an Annunciation in 1451, a precious picture of
its sort, finished in the manner of miniaturists, and which seems to
promise for Germany the style of an Albert Durer. At the same period Jacopo
Marone, of Alessandria, painted an altar-piece at S. Jacopo in Savona, in
distemper, consisting of various compartments, and in the midst of it a
Nativity with a landscape, a work conducted with exquisite care in every
part. At S. Brigida, in Genoa, too, are seen, by the same hand, two
altar-pieces, one with the date of 1481, the other of 1484. The author was
one Galeotto Nebea, of Castellaccio, a place not far from Alexandria. The
three principal Archangels in the first, and S. Pantaleone with other
martyrs in the second, are represented on a gold ground, very tolerably
executed, both in forms and draperies, which are extremely rich, with stiff
and regular foldings, not borrowed from any other school. It exhibits also
the grado or step, with minute histories, a work somewhat crude, but
displaying diligence.
Turning from the head city to Savona, a third native of Alexandria, called
Gio. Massone, painted about the year 1490, in the church erected by Sixtus
IV. for the sepulture of his family. Although not mentioned in history, he
must have been distinguished in his time, to have been selected for such a
work, and remunerated with one hundred and ninety-two ducats for his
labour. It is comprised in a small altar-piece, where, seen at the feet of
the Virgin, are the portraits of the pope, and the cardinal Giuliano, his
nephew, afterwards Julius II. The same city, preserving so many ancient
memorials, has also snatched from oblivion the names of one Tuccio di
Andria, an artist employed at S. Jacopo in 1487, and of two natives of
Pavia, who somewhat later perhaps painted on canvass, and signed
themselves, the one _Laurentius Papiensis_, the other _Donatus Comes Bardus
Papiensis_. Another foreigner, by birth a Brescian, and a Carmelite by
profession, presents us with a signature, to be found at S. Giovanni, below
an altar-piece of the Nativity of our Saviour. It has written on it, "_Opus
F. Hieronymi de Brixia Carmelitæ, 1519_." By the same hand, in the cloister
of the Carmelitani at Florence, is a Pietà with this inscription, _F.
Hieronymus de Brixia_. This artist is well deserving of notice, if only on
account of his knowledge in perspective, an art so much cultivated after
Foppa in Brescia, and throughout Lombardy. Doubtless he was a pupil of that
monastery, in which the art of painting was then cultivated; as it is
stated by Averoldi, who extols one F. Gio. Maria da Brescia, and the
cloister of the Carmine, decorated by him with a number of histories of
Elias and of Eliseas. This Girolamo I believe to have been his companion or
disciple, a name that has in some way escaped Orlandi, who belonged to the
same order.
No one of the foreign painters is known to have opened school in Liguria,
except a native of Nizza, who, through his succession, is almost regarded
as the progenitor of the ancient Genoese School. He is called Lodovico
Brea, and his works are by no means rare at Genoa and throughout the state,
with notices of him between the years 1485 and 1513. In point of taste he
is not equal to the best among his contemporaries in other schools,
employing gilding, and more strongly adhering to the old dryness of design.
His style, nevertheless, yields to that of few in the beauty of its heads,
and in the vividness of its colouring, which still remains almost
unimpaired. His folding is also good, his composition tolerable, he selects
difficult perspectives, and his attitudes are bold. From his whole painting
he might be rather pronounced the head of a new, than the follower of any
other school. He never attempted grand proportions; in smaller, as we see
in the Slaughter of the Innocents, at S. Agostino, he is excellent. His S.
Giovanni, in the chapel of the Madonna di Savona, executed by commission
for the Card. della Rovere, in competition with other artists, is highly
praised.
Thus, until the year 1513, painting in Genoa was in the hands of strangers,
and if the natives at all practised it they were few only, as we shall
shortly show, while both one and the other were far behind the best methods
of their age. Ottaviano Fregoso, elected doge in the above year, at length
shed new lustre on the arts. He invited to Genoa Gio. Giacomo Lombardo, a
sculptor, and Carlo del Mantegna, a painter, who succeeded, as we have
stated, both to the works and reputation of his master. Carlo not only
painted in Genoa but taught, and with a success that would seem quite
incredible, were it not that the works of his imitators are still in
existence. Thus the Genoese School first took its rise from Brea, and was
promoted by Carlo, as we find it described by two painters in two volumes;
a school of a long, uninterrupted, and illustrious succession. The first
volume is by Raffael Soprani, a patrician of the city, who wrote lives of
the Genoese professors of design up to 1667; and added also notices of
foreign ones who had been employed in that splendid capital. The second is
by the Cav. Carlo Ratti, secretary to the Ligustic academy, who, after
having republished the Lives of Soprani, accompanied by useful notes,
continued the same work in another volume and on the same plan, down to the
present day. He has moreover published, in two small volumes, a Guide,
intended to give an account of the best specimens of art, both in private
and public, which Genoa and every district of the state can boast; an
extremely useful undertaking, and, if I mistake not, without example either
in or beyond Italy. Thus, owing to the exertions of this deserving citizen,
the pictoric history of Liguria has become one of the most complete among
those of all Italy as respects the number of its artists, and the most
certain in enabling us to form a correct opinion of their merits. Directed
by these, and by other additional information received on the spot from
Sig. Ratti himself, as well as from others, I proceed to resume the thread
of my narrative.
About the period that Carlo arrived at Genoa, the same city was also so
fortunate as to become the residence of Pier Francesco Sacchi, commended by
Lomazzo, who calls him Pierfrancesco Pavese, an artist well skilled in the
style then prevailing at Milan. He was a good perspective painter,
delightful in landscape, and a diligent, correct designer. The public is
still in possession of his altar-piece of the Four Holy Doctors in the
oratory of S. Ugo. The style of Sacchi nearly resembles that of Carlo del
Mantegna, from what we gather from his works in Mantua, there remaining no
vestiges of them in Genoa. Two youths of very fine genius for the art were
at this period educating in the school of Lodovico Brea. One was named
Antonio Semini, the other Teramo Piaggia, or Teramo di Zoagli, the place of
his birth. There is no account of their being indebted either to the advice
or examples of the new masters, when they began to be employed for the
public, but their altar-pieces display the fact. They painted conjointly,
and affixed both their names to their productions. In that of the Martyrdom
of St. Andrew, which they conducted for the church of that name, they
likewise added their own portraits. None can have witnessed this very
beautiful altar-piece, without seeing traces of Brea's style already
enlarged and changed into one more modern. The figures are not of those
dimensions which we subsequently see in a better age, nor is the design
sufficiently soft and full, but there is a clearness in the countenances
that rivets attention, an union of colouring that attracts; the folding is
easy, the composition somewhat thronged, though not by any means
despicable. Few originators of the style which is now termed modern
antique, can be fairly preferred before these two artists and friends.
Teramo in his individual specimens at Chiavari and at Genoa itself, retains
somewhat more of the antique, particularly as regards composition, but is
always animated in his countenances, studied and graceful. Antonio appears
to me almost like the Pietro Perugino of his school. In his Deposition from
the Cross he approaches nearer the better age, a painting in possession of
the Dominicans at Genoa, as well as in some other pieces highly commended
for the figures, and the accessories of perspective and landscape, though
his great merit does not appear most conspicuous here. For this we should
consult his Nativity, painted for S. Domenico in Savona, and we shall be
convinced that he also emulated Perino and Raffaello himself.
Before proceeding to an improved epoch, we ought here to insert the names
of a few other native artists to whom we already alluded. It is doubtful
whether Aurelio Robertelli ranks in this list, by whom, at Savona, is a
figure of the Virgin painted on a column of the old cathedral, dated 1499,
and transferred to the new one, where it excites the particular veneration
of the people. A little subsequent appeared a painting by Niccolo Corso, at
Genoa, bearing the date of 1503. It represents a history of S. Benedict,
painted in fresco for the villa of Quarto belonging to the Padri Olivetani,
in whose refectory, cloister, and church near the Corso, he was much
employed. Soprani enumerates other histories, of which he extols the
richness of invention, the passionate expression, and especially the
vividness and durability of the colouring. He adds, that were he less hard,
he might rank among the very first of his profession. The same writer
commends Andrea Morinello for an altar-piece formerly seen at S. Martino di
Albaro, dated 1516; an artist very graceful in his countenances, excellent
in portrait, soft and clear in his outlines, and one of the first in those
parts who opened the way for the modern manner. He likewise praises F.
Lorenzo Moreno, a Carmelite, skilled in fresco, who painted the
Annunciation in a cloister of the Carmine, now cut out of the exterior wall
of the building in order to preserve it. Finally he extols an ecclesiastic
of the Franciscan order, by name F. Simon da Carnuli, who, in his church at
Voltri, painted two histories in one large altar-piece in 1519. One of
these represents the Institution of the Eucharist, the other the preaching
of St. Antony. Still it is not free from the hardness peculiar to the age
as regards the figures; but in the architecture of the edifices, and in the
gradual receding of the perspective, it is so perfect that the celebrated
Andrea Doria was eager at any price to purchase it, in order to present it
as a gift to the Escurial. But the people of Voltri refused every offer,
and still keep possession of it. A few others, who enjoyed a degree of
reputation from their sons, will be mentioned along with them in the epoch
of which we shall next proceed to treat.
GENOESE SCHOOL.
EPOCH II.
_Perino and his Followers._
Whilst the art was advancing in Genoa and her territories, there occurred
the celebrated siege of Rome, and the calamities which accompanied and
followed it, in consequence of which the scholars of Raffaello were
dispersed, and established themselves some in one city and some in another.
We have seen in the course of this work Polidoro and Salerno in Naples,
Giulio in Mantua, Pellegrino in Modena, and Gaudenzio in Milan, distinguish
themselves as the masters of eminent schools; and we find one school
founded by Perino del Vaga in Genoa, which has maintained the splendour of
its origin in a way inferior to none. Perino arrived in Genoa in a state of
distress in 1528, after the sacking of Rome. He was there liberally
welcomed by Prince Doria, who employed him for several years in the
decoration of his magnificent palace without the gate of S. Tommaso. He
superintended as well the external decorations of the sculptures, as the
internal ornaments of the stuccos, the gilding, the arabesques, the
paintings in fresco and in oil. This place, in consequence, breathes all
the taste of the halls and loggie of the Vatican; the celebrated works of
which, at that time, attracted universal admiration, and in the execution
of part of which Perino had a considerable share. This artist has indeed no
where displayed his talents to such advantage as in the Doria palace; and
it is doubtful whether Perino in Genoa, or Giulio in Mantua, have best
sustained the style of Raffaello. We find in the palace some small
histories of celebrated Romans, of Cocles, for example, and Scævola, which
might pass for compositions of Raffaello; a group of Boys at Play,
likewise, has all the air of that master; and on a ceiling, in the War of
the Giants against the Gods, we seem to behold in conflict the same persons
whom Raffaello had represented as banqueting in the Casa Chigi. If the
expression be not so noble, the grace so rare, it is because that grand
specimen of art may be emulated by many, but equalled by none. It may be
added, that Perino's style is less finished than his master's, and that, in
his drawing of the naked figure, he, like Giulio, partakes of the style of
Michelangiolo. Four chambers, Vasari informs us, were painted in the palace
from the cartoons of Vaga, by Luzio Romano, and some Lombards, his
assistants; one of whom, of the name of Guglielmo Milanese, followed him to
Rome, and held in that court the office of Frate del Piombo. The others
have left no name behind them, and must have been individuals of inferior
talents and poorly paid, as we occasionally find rude and heavy figures.
Such defects are not uncommon in the works which Perino undertook, for when
he had made his cartoons or designs he gave them to his pupils to execute,
with material advantage to his pecuniary interests, but with detriment to
his reputation. This is observed by Vasari, nor do I know how he could have
the courage to mention in connexion with this circumstance the works which
were executed with the assistance of their scholars by Raffaello and Giulio
Romano, illustrious masters, irreproachable in the selection of their
assistants, indefatigable in their application, and contemning that avidity
of gain which drew down on Perino merited reprehension. There is still, in
the palace Doria, a frieze of boys, commenced by him in one of the loggie,
continued by Pordenone, and finished by Beccafumo; and the remains of what
was there painted by Girolamo da Trevigi, who, through jealous rivalry
towards Perino, forsook both the city and the state. Perino painted some
pictures for the churches in Genoa; where too we find some by eminent
foreign hands, amongst which is the St. Stephen, painted by Giulio Romano
for the church of that saint; an altar-piece perhaps the most copious in
composition, and the most striking that issued from the studio of that
master. It was at this time too that many noble individuals applied
themselves to collect foreign specimens of every school, and they have
since been emulated by their posterity, who in this pursuit perhaps surpass
all the private collectors in Italy, except those of Rome.
By these means the country became enriched with beautiful works, and began
to turn itself to a more perfect style, which it attained with a celerity
unknown to any other school. The transition from the style of Brea, which
was that of the thirteenth century, to that of Raffaello, occupied but a
few years; and even the scholars of Nizzardo, as we have observed, very
soon became worthy imitators of the first of modern masters. These
principles were sure to make the most prosperous advances amongst a people
rich in genius and industry; and amidst a nobility that abounded in wealth,
and who in no way lavished it more freely than in raising splendid
sanctuaries to religion, and sumptuous habitations for themselves, which in
grandeur, decorations, tapestries, and in other kinds of luxuries, scarcely
yielded to royalty. From munificence like this, the School of Genoa derived
aid and encouragement, though not much known abroad, as her artists were
sufficiently occupied at home. Its characteristic excellence, in the
opinion of Mengs, consisted in the number of its excellent fresco painters;
so that a church or palace of any antiquity is scarcely to be named which
does not possess the most beautiful works, or at least the memory of them.
And it is a remarkable fact, when we consider how exposed the city is to
the sea air, that so many works in fresco, executed by early artists,
should have remained in so perfect a state. Nor did the school of Genoa
want celebrity in oil paintings, particularly in the qualities of truth and
force of colouring, which excellences, derived first from Perino and
afterwards from the Flemish, it always retained; not yielding in this
respect to any school of Italy, except the Venetian. It has produced also
noble designers; although some, like other mannerists, have debased the
pencil by hasty and negligent performances. Not having in public many
examples of ideal excellence, it has supplied the deficiency by the study
of the natural; and in the figure it has rather adopted the healthy, and
the robust, and the energetic, than the delicate and the elegant. The study
of portraits, in which this school had excellent masters and most lucrative
practice, had a great influence on the figures of its first epoch; those of
its last, if they have more beauty, have less spirit. There existed a
talent for extensive composition, but in middle size rather than in great.
In these they had not epic masters, like Paolo and other Venetians; they
did not, however, so often violate decorum and costume. This was, perhaps,
the result of the attachment to literature entertained by many of the
Genoese painters, amongst whom are enumerated a greater number of men of
letters, and especially gentlemen, than in any other school. This latter
circumstance was, in a great measure, owing to Paggi, who, in a treatise of
considerable length, defended the nobility of the art,[64] and obtained a
public decree,[65] declaring the art honourable, and worthy of cultivation
by men of the noblest birth; an event from which the art derived the
greatest dignity. We now return to particulars.
Footnote 64: It is inserted in the 7th vol. of the Lettere
Pittoriche, p. 148.
Footnote 65: The decree is given by the Cavalier Ratti in
the notes to Soprani. The names of the noble painters,
amateurs of the art, may be found in those two authors.
The first who attached themselves to Perino for instruction, were Lazzaro
and Pantaleo Calvi, the sons and scholars of an Agostino Calvi, a good
painter in the old style, and one of the first in Genoa who forsook the
gold ground for one of colour. Lazzaro was at that time twenty-five years
of age, his brother somewhat more; nor did the latter rise in reputation,
except in lending to the works of Lazzaro his aid and his name. These works
abounded in Genoa and her territories, at Monaco and at Naples, in every
variety of composition, arabesques, and stuccos with which are decorated
palaces and churches. Some of these are excellent, as the façades of the
palace Doria, (now Spinola,) with prisoners in various attitudes,
considered as a school of design; and several historical compositions in
colours and chiaroscuro, in the best taste.[66] In the palace Pallavicini,
at Zerbino, is a composition of theirs commonly called the Continence of
Scipio; a remark which I owe to Sig. Ratti, who not having included it in
his edition of 1768, obligingly communicated it to me for this work. To
this they also added naked figures, with so happy an imitation of Perino
that, in the opinion of Mengs, they might be adjudged to that master.
Moreover, we know that Perino was liberal to them in designs and cartoons;
whence, in these better works, we may always presume on the aid of the
master's hand. However it might be, Lazzaro indulged in a self-conceit of
his own powers, and left behind some specimens of an extravagance which no
painter has since followed, except Corenzio. He was particularly jealous of
any young artist, who he thought might interfere with his fame or
interests, and to gratify his envy had recourse to the blackest arts. One
of these rivals, Giacomo Bargone, he took off by poison; and to depress the
others he drew around himself a crowd of adherents and hirelings, who
influenced the opinion of the vulgar, by praising the works of Lazzaro to
the skies, and depreciating those of his competitors. These cabals were
more strongly instanced in the chapel Centurioni, where he painted the
Birth of St. John, in competition with Andrea Semini and Luca Cambiaso, who
there also painted other pictures from the history of that saint. This work
was one of his happiest efforts, and the most approaching to the style of
his master; but he could not crush the genius of Cambiaso, which after this
occasion appeared more brilliant than his own; whence the Prince Doria
selected that artist to execute a very considerable work in fresco for the
church of S. Matteo. This so enraged Calvi, that he gave himself up to a
sea life, and abandoned the pencil for twenty years. He ultimately resumed
it, and continued, though with a hardness of style, to paint till his
eighty-fifth year. One of his last works is to be seen on the walls and in
the cupola of S. Catherine; but it is cold, meagre, and bears all the marks
of senility. Indeed after his return to the art, and particularly after the
death of Pantaleo, who had assiduously assisted him in every work, Lazzaro
was only memorable for the extreme protraction of his life, which extended
to 105 years.
Footnote 66: This work is extolled by Lomazzo as one of the
best of Lazzaro; it is classed with the Triumphs of Giulio
Romano, Polidoro, and other eminent artists, in the
_Trattato della Pittura_, p. 398.
Of the two Semini, Andrea and Ottavio, it is not ascertained that they had
in Genoa any other master than their father Antonio; but after the example
of their father, they deferred much to Perino, as did also Luca their
contemporary. In confirmation of which it is said, that Perino having found
them engaged with a print of Titian, and hearing them remarking on some
incorrectness in the drawing, reproved them by observing, that in the works
of the great masters we ought to pass over their faults and extol their
excellence. But the two brothers, enchanted by the style of Raffaello,
became ambitious of drinking at the fountain of the art, and, repairing to
Rome, applied themselves to the diligent study of the works of that master,
and the remains of antiquity, particularly the Trajan column. They were
afterwards employed both at Genoa and in Milan, where they painted many
works, both in conjunction and separately, all in the Roman style,
particularly in their early career. Andrea discovered less talent than
Ottavio; and was, perhaps, more tenacious than he in his imitation of
Raffaello, especially in the contours of his faces. He sometimes wants
delicacy, as in a crucifixion lately come into the possession of the Duke
of Tuscany; and sometimes correctness, as in the Presepio, in the church of
St. Francis in Genoa, which is in other respects very Raffaellesque, and
may be reckoned among his best works. Ottavio, an unprincipled man, was an
eminent artist, and succeeded so well in the imitation of his master, as is
scarcely credible to those who have not seen his works. He painted the
façade of the palace Doria, now Invrea, and there displayed so fine a taste
in the architecture, and decorated it with busts and figures of such
relief, and particularly with a Rape of the Sabines, that Giulio Cesare
Procaccini took it for a performance of Raffaello, and asked if that great
master had left any other works in Genoa. Of equal merit, or nearly so,
were many of his frescos, painted for the nobility, until, as is often the
case with fresco painters, he ended his career in a freer but less finished
style. Of these latter he left many specimens at Milan, where he passed the
latter years of his life. In that city the entire decoration of the chapel
of S. Girolamo at S. Angelo is painted by him, the chief composition of
which is the funeral group which accompanies the saint to the sepulchre. It
possesses, if not a noble design, yet great fertility of invention, great
spirit, and a strong and beautiful colour, as he possessed that part of the
art in an eminent degree in works of fresco; for in oils he was either
unwilling or unable to colour well.
Luca Cambiaso, called also Luchetto da Genoa, did not quit his native
country to obtain instruction, nor did he frequent any other school than
that of his father; obscure indeed, but of a good method, and sufficient to
a mind of genius. Giovanni his father, a tolerable _quattrocentista_, and a
great admirer of Vaga and Pordenone, after having exercised him in copying
the designs of Mantegna, a master of chasteness of contour, and having
instructed him in the art of modelling, so useful in relief and
foreshortening, carried him to the palace Doria, and there pointed out to
his attention those great prototypes of art, with the addition of his own
instruction. The study of these performances, by a youth who was born a
painter, awakened in him such emulation, that he began in his fifteenth
year to produce works of his own invention; and gave promise of one day
ranking, as he did, with the first painters of his age. He displayed
facility, fire, and grandeur of design, and was on that account adduced by
Boschini as an example of fine contours, and held in high esteem in the
cabinets of the dilettanti. He embodied his ideas with such despatch and
success, that Armenini affirms that he had seen him paint with two pencils
at a time, and with a touch not less free, and more correct than
Tintoretto. He was, moreover, fertile and novel in his designs, skilful in
introducing the most arduous foreshortenings, and in surmounting the
difficulties of the art. He was deficient at first in the true principles
of perspective; but he soon acquired the theory from Castello, his great
friend and companion, as we shall shortly see. Through him he improved both
his colouring and his style of composition. In conjunction with Castello he
executed several works, so much alike, that one hand can scarcely be
distinguished from the other. These, however, were not his best
performances. He must be seen where he painted alone; and he shines no
where more than in Genoa, nor beyond a period of twelve years, within which
space Soprani circumscribes his best time. Let it not appear strange to
those who hear this opinion of that writer. Luca had not the good fortune
to benefit from those great masters who, with a word, put their scholars in
the right path; he went on, however, improving from his own resources, a
long and laborious course, in which a thousand wishes are formed before the
goal is reached. But Cambiaso attained it, and held it until an
ungovernable passion, as we shall see in the sequel, threw him back again.
Confining ourselves to the works of the best twelve years of his practice,
we see in him a man who possessed a high predilection for the Roman School;
deriving instruction from prints, and impelled by his own genius to attempt
I know not what of originality. Where this originality appears, we should
not wish Cambiaso other than himself, and where it does not appear, we
should not wish him any thing but an imitator. Of the first kind is the
Martyrdom of St. George in the church of that saint, which for the noble
character of the sufferer, the sympathy of the spectators, the composition,
variety, and force of chiaroscuro, is considered his chef d'oeuvre. Of the
second kind there are, perhaps, more specimens to be found; as the picture
at the Rocchettini, of S. Benedetto with John the Baptist and St. Luke,
very much in the style of Perino and Raffaello; and above all, the Rape of
the Sabines in Terralba, a suburb of Genoa, in the palace of the Imperiali.
Every thing combines to please in this work; the magnificence of the
buildings, the beauty of the horses, the alarm of the virgins, the ardour
of the invaders, the several episodes which, in various compartments, crown
the principal subject, and, as it were, continue the story. It is related
that Mengs, after having viewed this picture, said, that out of Rome he had
not seen any thing that more strongly brought to his recollection the
loggie of the Vatican, than these works. He also executed other works of
singular merit, particularly for private collections, among which I have
found more pictures of a free than of a devout description. Being left a
widower, he became enamoured of a female relative, whom he in vain
endeavoured to obtain permission from the Pope to marry. This
disappointment induced the neglect of his art. He then repaired to the
court of Madrid, with the view of facilitating his wishes, and when he
found himself deprived of all hope in this object, he fell sick and died.
He left many works in the Escurial, and amongst these the subject of
Paradise, in the vault of the church, a large composition, and a work very
much praised by Lomazzo, but not equally so by Mengs, who had seen and
examined it for several successive years.
Gio. Batista Castello, the companion of Cambiaso, is commonly called in
Genoa Il Bergamasco, to distinguish him from Gio. Batista Castello, a
Genoese, a scholar of Cambiaso, and the most celebrated miniature painter
of his age. Our present subject, born in Bergamo, and brought, when a
youth, to Genoa, by Aurelio Buso, (_v._ vol. iii. page 184) was, on his
sudden departure, left by him in that city. In this state of desertion he
found a patron in one of the Pallavicini family, who gave him a friendly
reception, and assisted him with the means of prosecuting his studies;
sending him to Rome, from whence he returned to Genoa an accomplished
architect, sculptor, and painter, not inferior to Cambiaso. His taste,
formed by studying at Rome, was similar to that of Luca, as I have already
observed; and in the church of S. Matteo are works painted by them in
concert. We may observe in these the style of Raffaello already verging on
mannerism, but not so much so as that which prevailed in Rome in the time
of Gregory and Sixtus. Connoisseurs discover in Cambiaso a greater genius
and more elegance of design; in the Bergamese more care, a deeper
knowledge, and colour occasionally partaking more of the school of Venice
than of Rome. It is however very probable that when so friendly an
intercourse subsisted they may have aided each other, even in those places
where they worked in competition, where each claimed his own work, and
distinguished it by his name. Thus at the Nunziata di Portoria Luca
represented on the walls the final state of the blest and the rejected in
the last judgment; while Gio. Batista, in the vault, painted the Supreme
Judge in the midst of the angelic choir, calling the elect to bliss. He
appears in the attitude of uttering the words _Venite benedicti_, appended
in capital letters. It is a highly finished performance, and of so exalted
a character that we should think that Luca, when he painted the laterals to
it, was asleep, so inferior are they in composition and expression. On many
other occasions he painted alone, as the S. Jerome surrounded by monks
terrified at a lion, in S. Francesco in Castelletto; and the S. Sebastian
in the church of that saint, receiving the crown of martyrdom; a picture
rich in composition, studied in execution, and far beyond any commendation
of mine. He painted in Genoa other pictures, and always discovered an air
of life in the countenances, a magnificence in the architecture, a strength
of colour and chiaroscuro, which makes one regret that he was so little
known in Italy; and possibly he was prevented from being known as an oil
painter by the numerous works in fresco which he executed in Genoa; the
largest of which is in the Palazzo Grillo. We there see a portico painted
in arabesque, and a saloon, in the ceiling of which is represented the
banquet given by Dido to Æneas; a beautiful work, particularly the
arabesques, but not sufficiently studied. This artist, in his latter years,
was painter to the court at Madrid, whither, on his death, Luca Cambiaso
was called to finish the larger historical subjects; but the grotesques,
and the ornamental parts interspersed with figures, were continued by the
two sons of Gio. Batista, whom he had carried with him to Madrid as his
assistants. Palomini makes honourable mention of them, and the Padre de'
Santi Teresiani, and the Padre Mazzolari Girolamino, in their description
of the Escurial, enumerate their works, commending their variety,
singularity, and beauty of colour. One was called Fabrizio, the other
Granello; and the latter, as Ratti conjectures, was the son of Nicolosio
Granello, an able fresco painter of the school of Semini, whose widow was
married to Castelli, and probably brought with her this son of her first
marriage.
Painters have in general been found to impart instruction more freely to
native scholars than to strangers; and yet the latter have always profited
more than the former, so that it rarely happened that on the death of the
chief of a school the reputation of that school has been continued by a son
or a nephew. Such was the case with the Genoese, where Calvi, the Semini,
and Cambiaso, had each a numerous progeny, and a progeny too attached to
the art; and yet amongst so many there was not one who passed the bounds of
mediocrity, except perhaps Orazio, the son of Luca Cambiaso, of whom
Soprani merely says that he followed in a praiseworthy manner his father's
style, and initiated some pupils in the art. It was therefore to his better
scholars that Cambiaso was indebted for assistance in his profession; one
of whom, Lazzaro Tavarone, followed him even into Spain, and remained there
for some years after his master's death. He afterwards returned to Genoa,
stored with the designs of Luca, and loaded with riches and honours. Luca
seemed to live again in his scholar, so fully did he possess his style. He
moreover distinguished himself by a method of colouring in fresco, which,
if I mistake not, raised him above all his predecessors in this school, and
above all who succeeded him, except Carloni. This peculiarity consisted in
a richness, brightness, and variety of colour, which brings distant objects
vividly to the sight, the whole composition appearing brilliantly
illuminated, and the tints splendidly and harmoniously blended. One may
perhaps occasionally wish in them more softness, but in general they have
all the richness of oil paintings. The tribune of the Duomo, where the
patron saints of the city are represented, particularly S. Lorenzo, from
whose history some passages are selected, is the chef d'oeuvre of his
public works. The façade of the palace of the doge is also a considerable
performance, representing St. George slaying the dragon; around it and
above are other numerous figures of citizens of eminence, of the virtues,
of genii with nautical weapons and the spoils of the enemy, some of which
might pass for the work of Pordenone. This grand work is exposed to the
sea, the spray of which has affected, but not destroyed it. In many other
churches and palaces also are to be found the works of Tavarone; histories,
fables, and imaginary compositions, often so well preserved that the
scaffolding and the steps by which the artists ascended and descended,
appear as if just removed. Fortunate, had his works been fewer in number,
and finished with equal care. Some pictures in oil are mentioned by him,
but more rare and of less merit than his frescos.
Cesare Corte was of Pavian extraction. Valerio, his father, who was born in
Venice, was the son of a gentleman of Pavia, and became, under the
instruction of Titian, an excellent portrait painter; and his talents
insuring him a favourable reception in Genoa, he settled there. He remained
in that city for the rest of his life, and died in poverty, his means being
all consumed in fruitless experiments in alchemy. He was the intimate
friend of Cambiaso, whose life he wrote; and to him he committed the
instruction of his son Cesare. This son did not indeed equal his father,
but he surpassed the greater number of his fellow scholars. In the church
of S. Piero he painted the tutelar saint at the foot of the Madonna,
surrounded by angels; a picture of chaste design and of a true and
harmonious colouring. His historical pictures and his portraits are found
in many collections: one of the former, in the Casa Pallavicino, on a
subject from the Inferno of Dante, was celebrated by Chiabrera in an
elegant sonnet. The fame of this artist was tarnished by his heretical
opinions, imbibed by the perusal of some pernicious work, as often happens
to the half informed, who read every thing, understand little, and finally
believe nothing. He however abjured his errors, though never released from
his prison, where he died. David, his son, restricted himself to the limits
of a copyist; and in this so highly distinguished himself, that his
pictures are placed in some collections at the side of the originals as
wonders of art.
Bernardo Castello frequented the school of Andrea Semini more than that of
Cambiaso; in his principles he inclined more to the latter, and in practice
he followed both indifferently. Travelling afterwards through Italy he saw
other works, and formed a style not devoid of grace, nor of correctness,
when he worked with care; as in the Martyrdom of St. Clement and St.
Agatagnolo, in the church of S. Sebastian, and the St. Anne at S. Matteo.
He had a fertile invention, in which he was aided by the poets of the age,
whose friendship he assiduously cultivated.[67] He was eulogized by
Lionardo Spinola, D. Angiolo Grillo, Ceva, Marino, Chiabrera, and by Tasso,
for whose Jerusalem he made the designs which were in part engraved by
Agostino Caracci. His reputation raised him not only to the rank of one of
the first masters of his school, but of Italy itself; and he was thus
selected to work in the Vatican, as has been mentioned. He there painted
St. Peter called to the apostleship, a picture which was soon afterwards
removed, and one by Lanfranco substituted in its place, either because it
was injured by damp, or had not given satisfaction. Castello indeed did not
possess that vigorous style which Rome at this time demanded, refusing her
applause to the Vasaris and Zuccaris. He had much of their style of colour,
nor was he exempt from their despatch; and, like them, he opened the way in
his school to facility instead of correctness. Genoa is filled, or rather
glutted, with his works, yet they still maintain their reputation, as they
are all sustained by a certain vigour and grace of style. He sometimes
appears in foreign collections, and in that of the Colonna in Rome I saw a
Parnassus by him with Poussin figures and a beautiful landscape, which may
be ranked amongst his most finished works. Soprani informs us that he was
again invited to Rome, to paint a picture of St. Peter, and that he died
whilst he was preparing himself for this journey, aged seventy-two. But at
so advanced a period of life one may doubt the truth of this report. He had
three sons, painters, of whom Valerio alone is deserving of commemoration,
and we shall notice him in his place.
Footnote 67: A strict intimacy existed, especially between
him and the Cav. Marino, among whose letters we may
enumerate twenty-eight more to Castello than to any other
person. It is pleasing to observe the dexterity of the poet,
who often praises the "miraculous pencil" and the "divine
hand" of the painter, an homage bestowed still more
liberally in the _Galleria_; and the gratitude of the artist
who designed and coloured for his friend gratis, and who
exerts himself to requite every letter of the poet by some
acceptable work of art, (p. 175).
Among his foreign scholars Simon Barabbino deserves remembrance, whose rare
genius created so strong a jealousy in Castello as to induce him to expel
him from his school. He retired from it, and afterwards painted at the
Nunziata del Guastato the S. Diego, which Soprani almost prefers to the
best work of Castello. But he did not obtain any great celebrity among his
countrymen. Milan rendered him that honour which his own native place
denied; in consequence of which he settled there, and worked in the palaces
and churches. There is by him, at S. Girolamo, a Madonna with a dead
Christ, accompanied by S. Michael and S. Andrew. The colour is true, the
heads are correctly drawn, the naked figure well understood, the contours
sufficiently accurate and well relieved. He would have attained still
greater perfection, but he turned to merchandize, where instead of wealth
he found only his ruin, and died in gaol.
Gio. Batista Paggi, a patrician by birth, was led to the profession of a
painter by his predilection for the art, which, in spite of the opposition
of his father, he indulged in from his earliest years. He was highly
accomplished in letters, and his various attainments in poetry, philosophy,
and history, all served to assist him in the composition of his pictures.
He was perhaps not so much extolled by the poets as Castello, but he
attained a greater celebrity among his brother artists. He was directed by
Cambiaso in his first studies, which was the drawing in chiaroscuro from
the casts of antique bassi-relievi, for the purpose of attaining a true
idea of the beautiful, and preparing himself for the study of nature. Being
well skilled in the practice of the crayon, with little labour, and almost
alone, he learnt the art of colouring; and without the instructions of a
master, taught himself architecture and perspective. Whilst he was rising
into notice, he was compelled to flee his country for homicide; and, for
about the space of twenty years, he resided in Florence, protected by that
court, and always profitably employed. Florence, at that time, abounded
with men of first rate genius; and it was then that Cigoli, and all the
young painters, abandoned their own languid style for the rich and vigorous
Lombard. Paggi had not so much occasion as the others to invigorate his
manner, as appears from the works he executed in Florence not long after
his arrival there. There remains by him a Holy Family, and another picture
in the church degli Angioli, and in the cloister of S. Maria Novella a
history piece of S. Catherine of Siena. It represents the saint liberating
a condemned person, and is a large composition, ornamented with beautiful
buildings, and so pleasingly executed that I have heard it preferred to all
in that convent. Nevertheless the great merit of Paggi was not at that time
vigour, but a certain nobleness of air, which always continued to be his
characteristic, and a delicacy and grace which have led some to compare him
to Baroccio, and even to Coreggio. It seems to me that he became more
vigorous as he advanced, and a proof of it is to be seen in the stupendous
Transfiguration, painted in S. Mark, which seems almost beyond his powers.
In the same style he painted for the Certosa at Pavia three pictures from
the Passion of our Saviour, which appear to me among his best works. He was
ultimately recalled by the republic about the year 1600 for his excellence
in his art, and the courts both of Pavia and Madrid invited, and were
desirous of employing him. His patriotism however precluded him from
accepting these honourable appointments. He illustrated his native city
with beautiful works in the churches and in collections. They have not all
equal merit, as this artist also was not exempt from the disadvantages of
bad priming, domestic anxieties, and the infirmities of age. His best
works, according to some, are the two pictures at the church of S.
Bartolommeo, and the Slaughter of the Innocents, in the possession of his
Excellence the Sig. Giuseppe Doria, painted in competition with Vandyke and
Rubens in 1606. He formed also some excellent scholars, the account of whom
we shall reserve to the succeeding epoch. We shall there again recur to
him, as he is placed on the confines of the two periods of his school, and
may be regarded in the one as a scholar, and in the other as a master.
GENOESE SCHOOL.
EPOCH III.
_The Art relapses for some time, and is re-invigorated by
the Works of Paggi and some Foreigners._
Every school, whatever may have been the celebrity of its founder, betrays
in the course of time symptoms of decay, and stands in need of restoration.
The Genoese, in the hands of Castello, experienced a decline about the
close of the sixteenth century, but soon afterwards revived, by the return
of Paggi, and the arrival of some foreigners, who established themselves
for a considerable period in that city. To this amelioration Sofonisba
Angussola not a little contributed by the assemblies of scholars and
professors of the art, which were held in his house, much to their
improvement, as we have before observed. Among these were Gentileschi,
Roncalli, and the Procaccini, who were employed in various public works.
Aurelio Lomi of Pisa settled in Genoa, taught there, and left some
excellent works at San Francesco di Castelletto, at the Nunziata del
Guastato and elsewhere. Nor ought we to omit Simon Balli, his scholar,
unknown in Florence, his native city, but deserving of being remembered for
his style, which partook considerably of Andrea del Sarto's, and for some
small cabinet pictures on copper. Antonio Antoniano of Urbino also resorted
thither, if we are to believe Soprani.[68] He brought with him the
beautiful picture painted for the Duomo by Baroccio, who was his master;
and he himself, in the church of S. Tommaso, painted the picture of the
saint and another picture; and, if I mistake not, some others for private
individuals, which are at the present day attributed to Baroccio, so
successful was his imitation of that master. There came to Genoa from Siena
Salimbeni and Sorri, and with them Agostino Tassi. The two latter remained
there for a length of time, both working and teaching; and besides these,
Ghissoni, who was also a Sienese of some merit, a scholar of Alberti in
Rome, and a fresco painter of a vigorous and engaging style. Simon Vovet
also repaired thither, but did not remain long; he however executed some
works, one particularly of the Crucifixion, at St. Ambrose, not unworthy,
as Soprani informs us, of his great name. Amongst the most considerable aid
which Genoa experienced from foreign talents we must enumerate Rubens and
Vandyck; the first of whom left there some noble public works, and a number
of private historical pieces, and the second a very great number of his
eloquent and animated portraits. Gio. Rosa of Flanders also established
himself there, mentioned by me in Rome, where he studied; a happy imitator
of nature in her most agreeable forms, especially animals. He died in
Genoa, and left there Giacomo Legi, his countryman and scholar; of whom
there remain some excellent pictures of animals, flowers, and fruit, though
few in number, as he died young. Godfrey Waals, a German, and Gio. Batista
Primi, a Roman, scholars of Tassi, and landscape painters of much merit,
resided there for some time; and Cornelio Wael, with Vincenzio Malò, two
Flemish painters, clever in battles, landscapes, and humorous pieces, and
the latter also in altar-pieces. Some other Flemish artists must have
resided there a shorter time, by whom I have seen in some palaces pictures
of large size, and to all appearance painted on the spot; and these I
regard as additional aids to a school that benefited at that time more from
example than from instruction.
Footnote 68: In the Dictionary of the Artists of Urbino the
existence of this artist is rejected as fabulous; and it is
attempted to substitute for him, in Soprani's work, Antonio
Viviani, who was indeed in Genoa. Considerable weight is
given to the conjecture, from the family of Antoniano not
being mentioned in Urbino; and I may add the circumstance of
not finding any other works of this Antonio than those named
by Soprani and his copyists. And how is it possible that one
who came to Genoa an accomplished master, should not have
left, either in Urbino or the neighbouring territory, even a
vestige or memorial of his pencil?
The young artists of Genoa, thus enriched in the course of a few years by
fresh examples, entered on a new career, and adopted a more vigorous and
grander style than they had before practised. And not a few of them, after
receiving the rudiments of instruction in their native place, repaired to
Parma, or Florence, or Rome, to finish their studies; and from these and
other sources added celebrity to their country. Thus the seventeenth
century did not possess in Genoa so decided a character as the preceding,
nor so select or ideal: it had however an abundance of excellent artists,
and particularly of the best portrait painters and colourists, sufficient
indeed to supply Venice with at her least happy epoch. It would also have
attained a higher pitch of repute, if the plague of 1657 had not swept off
a vast number of promising artists; the names of some of whom, cut off at
an early period of life, may be found mentioned in Soprani. The primary
cause of this revival of the art in Genoa may be ascribed to the riches and
to the taste of her nobility, who invited and supported these eminent
foreign artists. And in the next place much of this merit is due to Paggi.
There was at one time great danger of these excellent colourists being
negligent designers; and it is indeed a common opinion, adopted also by
Algarotti, that the best colourists are seldom correct in design. Paggi, in
this important point, supported the credit of the school. He had studied
design among the Florentines, the best masters in Italy; and he composed
for the instruction of youth a small treatise, entitled _Diffinizione o sia
Divisione della Pittura_, which he published in 1607. Soprani considers it
a useful compendium, and containing, in plain and unaffected language, the
principles of the art. It is mentioned with particular commendation in a
letter of the younger Vasari, which must make us regret the loss of it; and
it would be desirable to search the libraries where papers of this
description are preserved, to ascertain whether it may be still in
existence. All that we at present possess by Paggi is the Treatise
mentioned by us a few pages back. In the mean time we shall commence a new
epoch with him and his school.
Domenico Fiasella is called il Sarzana, from being born in the city of that
name, where he obtained the rudiments of his style. He devoted himself to
the study of the noble picture of Andrea del Sarto, which was then in the
church of the Predicatori; and where there is at this day a beautiful copy
of it. After being instructed for some time by Paggi he repaired to Rome,
and studied Raffaello, and imbibed also other favourite styles. He there
spent ten years, and became an eminent master, much praised by Guido Reni,
and employed as an assistant by the Cav. d'Arpino and Passignano. He
finally returned to Genoa, and in that city and in others of higher Italy,
executed numerous works. A very considerable part of them he left
imperfect, being in the habit of neglecting them, or leaving them to be
finished by his scholars, as is the tradition of his native place.
Independent of this impatience he was a great artist, and possessed many
eminent qualities, a felicity in grand compositions, a style of design
often worthy of the Roman School, great life in the heads; an admirable
colour in his oil pictures, and an easy imitation of various styles. He is
very Raffaellesque in a S. Bernardo, which is to be seen at S. Vincenzio in
Piacenza; Caravaggesque in a S. Tommaso di Villanova, at S. Agostino in
Genoa; in the Duomo of Sarzana, where he painted the Slaughter of the
Innocents, and in the archiepiscopal gallery of Milan, in an infant Christ,
he is a follower of Guido; and in other places an imitator of Annibal
Caracci and his school. He can command our admiration when he pleases, and
has left a stupendous work in the church of the Augustines in Genoa,
representing St. Paul, the first hermit, for whose body, discovered in a
lonely forest by St. Antony the Abbot, a lion is in the act of scooping a
grave. Many of his pictures are found in private collections. I have met
with specimens at Sarzana, in the house of his Excellency the Marquis
Remedi, a house celebrated for the cordial and generous hospitality of the
owner; and in others too there and in the state. His Madonnas have for the
most part a similarity of features; not so ideal as those of Raffaello, but
still agreeable and prepossessing.
On the death of Paggi, Fiasella became the principal instructor in Genoa,
and I shall mention his most conspicuous scholars. We may commence with his
relative, Gio. Batista Casone, changed by Orlandi into Carlone, who did not
paint much in Genoa. If we may judge from the altar-piece delle Vigne,
representing the Virgin surrounded by saints, he retained the style of
Fiasella, the colouring of which he endeavoured to invigorate. Gio. Paol
Oderico, a noble Genoese, painted always with great care, was select in his
forms, and possessed a strong and rich colouring. The PP. Scolopi have a
picture by him of the S. Angiolo Custode, the work of a young hand, but
bearing promise of great talents. His historical compositions are also to
be found in galleries, but they are rare, according to Soprani, and placed
among the most precious possessions. His portraits are not of such rare
occurrence, and in these he displayed great talents, and had numerous
commissions. We find but few public works of Francesco Capuro, in
consequence of his being engaged by the court and individuals in Modena,
where he passed a great part of his life, at a distance from his own
country. He was among the stricter followers of Fiasella in regard to
design and composition, but in his colouring he partakes of Spagnoletto,
under whom he studied in Naples; and in the style of that painter he
executed some pictures of half-size, which probably procured him his
highest reputation. We have still fewer public works by the young Luca
Saltarello; but a S. Benedetto, in the church of S. Stefano, in the act of
restoring a dead person to life, a picture of sober colouring, beautifully
harmonized, and full of expression and knowledge, sufficiently denotes his
early maturity, and his capacity, if he had lived, of forming an epoch in
his school. Being desirous of adding to his other accomplishments the
advantages to be derived from the ancient marbles, he repaired to Rome, and
died there through excess of study.
Gregorio de' Ferrari of Porto Maurizio received from Sarzana instructions
conformable to his principles, but which did not correspond with the genius
of the scholar, which was naturally disposed to a style of greater freedom
and grandeur. He repaired to Parma to study the works of Coreggio, and
there made a most careful copy of the great cupola, which was purchased
many years after by Mengs; and he returned home with a very different style
to his first. Coreggio was his only prototype, and he imitated him most
happily in the air of the countenances, and in many individual figures; but
not in the general style of composition, in which he is not so ideal; nor
in the colouring, as in his frescos he is somewhat languid. He is in
general negligent in his drawing; so that, with the exception of the two
pictures at the Theatines of S. Pier d'Arena, this censure attaches to all
his works. In his foreshortenings and in his draperies he sometimes falls
into affectation. He possesses however considerable attractions: he is
ingenious and novel, and displays a vigorous, rich, and correct colouring,
particularly in the fleshes. By these qualities his S. Michele, at the
church of the Madonna delle Vigne, predominates amongst the pictures of
that church: and it may be justly ranked with those Venetian productions in
which the spirit and noble colourings atone for the inaccuracy of the
drawing. He was much employed in Turin and in Marseilles; and still more so
in the principal palaces in his own country, particularly in that of the
Balbi. There however the great names of that celebrated collection, both
foreign and native, wage against him, as we may say, a continual war.
Valerio Castello is one of the greatest members of the Genoese School. He
no sooner made his appearance amongst his fellow scholars than he distanced
the oldest of them, and soon afterwards even rivalled his masters. The son
of Bernardo, and the scholar of Fiasella, he followed neither the style of
the one nor the other, but selected other prototypes more consonant to his
genius, the Procaccini in Milan, and Coreggio in Parma; and from the study
of these, and a grace wholly his own, he formed a style unique and
peculiarly belonging to himself. If it is not the most correct, it seems to
deserve pardon for its select composition, for its beautiful colouring and
chiaroscuro, and for the spirit, facility, and expression, which always
distinguish his pencil. He excelled in frescos, so as to please even by the
side of Carloni; and is perhaps sometimes, as in S. Marta, even superior to
him. In his perspectives he occasionally employed Gio. Maria Mariani
d'Ascoli, who also lived in Rome. Nor was he inferior in oil pictures. He
painted in the oratory of S. Jacopo the baptism of that saint, in
competition with the chief of his contemporaries, and eclipsed them all,
with the exception perhaps of Castiglione. He worked also for collections;
and in the royal gallery of Florence his Rape of the Sabines is highly
prized, a subject which, on a more extended scale, but yet with some
resemblance both of figures and architecture, he repeated in the palace
Brignole. He is not however frequently met with, as he died early, and from
the great celebrity he acquired, his works were in much request in all the
first collections, and thus his productions were dispersed. He taught Gio.
Batista Merano, and, after his own example, sent him to study at Parma, in
which city he met with sufficient employment both from the prince and
private individuals. The Slaughter of the Innocents, at the Gesù in Genoa,
is pointed out to us as one of his best pictures, and is a copious and
careful composition, extremely well arranged. We must not confound this
artist with Francesco Merano, called, from his first employ, Il Paggio, a
scholar and a respectable follower of Fiasella.
Returning to the scholars of Gio. Batista Paggi, one of them, who was
himself the educator of a generous race to his country, was Gio. Domenico
Cappellino. He had an extraordinary talent for imitation, whence, in his
first works, he came very near his master. There was not in him that air of
nobility that in Paggi and Bordone seems to have been derived from their
birth and education. He possessed nevertheless other qualities of art which
fail not to interest the spectator. This is evident in the Death of S.
Francesco, placed in S. Niccolò; and at S. Stefano in the S. Francesca
Romana, who to a dumb girl imparts the powers of speech. They are works
which possess in the whole a peculiar originality, and in the separate
figures a natural charm, and an expression of the affections and a delicacy
of colouring highly attractive. He afterwards changed his style, as may be
seen in two pictures of the Passion at S. Siro, and in many others at
Genoa, always vigorous, but less spirited than at first, rather obscure in
tints, and removed from the manner of Paggi. He aimed at originality, and,
finding her, pursued her without a rival.
He had the good fortune to be the instructor of a foreigner, one of those
men of genius who in themselves illustrate a whole school. This artist was
of the family of Pioli, which had already produced an excellent miniature
painter called Gio. Gregorio, who died in Marseilles, and a Pier Francesco,
a scholar of Sofonisba, who died young, with the reputation of being one of
the best imitators of Cambiaso. Pellegro Piola, of whom we have now to
treat, enjoyed a still shorter period of life, being assassinated at the
age of twenty-three, by an unknown hand; and, as it is believed, through
envy of his rare talents. It is not easy to describe very precisely the
style of this young man; for, as a student, he studied all the best works
and formed himself upon them, and willingly inclined to the more beautiful.
He then tried a wider flight, and pursued it always with exquisite
diligence, and a taste which charms us; and whatever style he adopted he
seemed to have grown grey in it. A Madonna by him, which is now in the
great collection of the Marchese Brignole, was considered by Franceschini
an original of Andrea del Sarto. His S. Eligio, in the street of the
goldsmiths, was by Mengs ascribed to Lodovico Caracci. He however aspired
at something far beyond mere imitation, and said that he had a mental
conception of the beautiful, which he did not despair to attain if his life
should be spared. But he was prematurely cut off, as I have stated, and his
works in consequence are very rarely met with.
The rarity of the productions of Pellegro was compensated for by a brother,
who filled the city and the state with his works. This was Domenico Piola,
a scholar of Pellegro and Cappellini, the associate of Valerio Castelli in
many works, and for some time an imitator of that master, afterwards of
Castiglione; and, finally, the founder of a style bordering on that of
Cortona. There is not in it a sufficient contrast; the forms are various,
ideal for the most part, nor without beauty; the chiaroscuro is generally
little finished; the design partakes of the Roman. There is, however, a
considerable resemblance to Pietro in the distribution of the colours, and
in his facility and despatch. He had a singular talent for the
representation of children, and he refined it by the imitation of
Fiammingo. He enlivened every composition by their introduction, and in
some palaces he interwove them in elegant friezes. From this soft and easy
manner, examples of which are to be met with in every part of the Genoese
territories, he could occasionally depart, as in the picture of the Miracle
of St. Peter at the Beautiful Gate of the Temple, painted at Carignano,
where the architecture, the fleshes, the gestures, are highly studied; and
there is a force of effect which seems to emulate the Guercino, which is
opposed to it. He also departs from his ordinary style in the Repose of the
Holy Family at the Gesù. Of three sons whom Domenico instructed, Paolo will
be mentioned among the most excellent artists of a future epoch; Antonio
commendably followed his father's style in his youth, but afterwards
changed his profession. Gio. Batista could copy or follow the designs of
others, but nothing beyond. This latter had a son, Domenico, who, whilst he
was beginning to emulate the glory of his family, was cut off by death, and
with him was extinguished a family which, for the course of nearly two
centuries, had conferred honour on the profession.
Giulio Benso, the scholar of Paggi, excelled all his school in architecture
and perspective. Genoa, perhaps, does not possess any work in this
department superior to that of Benso in the Nunziata del Guastato; in the
choir of which he represented one of those perspective pictures with
balustrades and colonnades, in which Colonna and Mitelli so much excelled.
These two artists were great admirers of this work of Giulio, but to us it
may perhaps appear too much loaded with ornament. He there represented the
Glorification of the Virgin, and added some histories, in which he
rigorously observed the laws of the _sotto in su_; an art then little
practised in his school. Giovanni and Batista Carloni, who painted so much
in this church, are surpassed by him in this department; nor do they much
exceed him in composition and colour. Benso left but few oil paintings in
Genoa; that of S. Domenico in the church of that saint is one of the best,
and partakes more of the School of Bologna than that of Genoa.
Castellino Castello possessed a sober style of composition, like that of
Paggi his master, and, as far as we may judge from various pictures, was a
correct and elegant artist. He highly distinguished himself in the picture
of the Pentecost, placed on the great altar of the church of the Spirito
Santo. He, however, like many others of this period, is indebted for his
celebrity to his success in portrait painting; in confirmation of which it
is sufficient to state, that Vandyck was desirous of being commemorated by
him, and painted him in return. This fact exalts his reputation even more
than the commendations he received from contemporary poets, among whom were
Chiabrera and Marino, whose features he also preserved for posterity. He
was appointed portrait painter to the court of Savoy, and in this
department he had a rival in his own family, in Niccolo his son, who was in
high reputation in Genoa when Soprani wrote. Some others of the school of
Paggi, distinguished in landscape or in other branches of painting, are
reserved for the conclusion of this epoch.
Paggi had a rival in Sorri of Siena. His style is a mixture of Passignano
and Paol Veronese; and, if I err not in my judgment, of Marco da Siena
also, whose Deposition from the Cross in Araceli was, in a manner, repeated
by Sorri at S. Siro in Genoa. He there instructed Carlone and Strozzi, two
luminaries of this school. Gio. Carlone repaired soon to Rome, and
afterwards to Florence, where he was taught by Passignano, the
father-in-law and master of Sorri. Passignano was not so remarkable for his
colouring as for his design and grandeur of composition; but we have
already observed, that the style of colour is that portion of the art least
influenced by precept, and which is formed more than any other by the
individual genius of the painter. Carlone possessed as great talents for
composition as any of his contemporaries; correct and graceful in design,
decided and intelligent in expression; and above all, he had an
extraordinary brilliancy of colour in his frescos. In this branch he was
anxious to distinguish himself; and although he saw eminent examples at
Florence and in Rome, he did not adhere to them so much as, if I am not
wrong in my conjecture, he attempted to follow, or rather to surpass and to
reduce to a more pleasing practice, the style exhibited by Tavarone, in the
histories of S. Lorenzo. I have already described that style; the vigour,
beauty, and freshness with which it prepossesses the spectator, and
approximates the most distant objects. If, in respect of Giovanni, we wish
to add any greater praise, it is that he surpassed Tavarone in these gifts;
and besides, he is more correct in his contours, and more varied and
copious in composition. But in all these qualities they were both excelled
by Gio. Batista Carlone, a scholar also of Passignano, and a student in
Rome, afterwards the associate of Giovanni, his elder brother, in principle
and practice, whom he survived fifty years, as if to carry their style to
the highest pitch of perfection.
The church of the Nunziata del Guastato, a splendid monument of the piety
and the riches of the noble family of Lomellini, and an edifice which
confers honour on the city, which has enlarged and ornamented it as its
cathedral, possesses no work more astonishing than the three naves, almost
nearly the whole of which are decorated by the two brothers. In the middle
one the elder brother represented the Epiphany of our Lord, his Entrance
into Jerusalem, the Prayer at Gethsemane, the Resurrection, the Ascension,
the Descent of the Holy Ghost, the Assumption of the Virgin, and other
passages of the New Testament. In one of the smaller naves, the younger
brother painted St. Paul preaching to the Multitude, St. James baptizing
the Neophytes, St. Simon and St. Jude in the Metropolis of Persia; and in
the opposite nave three histories from the Old Testament, Moses striking
the Rock, the Israelites passing the Jordan, and Joseph, on a high seat,
giving Audience to his Brethren. All these stories seem to be adopted as
giving scope to a fancy rich in invention, and capable of peopling these
immense compositions with figures almost innumerable. It is not easy to
mention a work on so vast a scale executed with so much zeal and care;
compositions so copious and novel, heads so varied and so animated,
contours so well expressed and so strongly relieved, colours so enchanting,
so lucid and fresh after such a lapse of years. The reds (which perhaps are
too frequent) are as deep as purple, the blues appear sapphires, and the
green, above all, which is a wonder to artists, is bright as an emerald. In
viewing the brilliancy of these colours we might almost mistake them for
paintings on glass or enamel; nor do I recollect to have seen in any other
artists of Italy so original, beautiful, and enchanting a style of colour.
Some persons who have compared these colours with those of Raffaello,
Coreggio, or Andrea del Sarto, have thought them too near bordering on
crudeness; but in matters of taste, where the sources of pleasing are so
many, and where there are so many gradations in the merits of artists, who
can possibly gratify all? The similitude of style would lead the unskilled
to believe them the works of the same master; but the more experienced are
able to ascertain the composition of Gio. Batista from a peculiar delicacy
of tints and of chiaroscuro, and from a grander style of design. It has
been attempted to ascertain more minutely his method of colouring; and it
has been discovered, "that in decorating the ceilings and walls of rooms,
he previously laid on the dry wall a colour ground, to protect his work
from the action of the lime. These paintings were executed with the most
delicate gradations, and the most surprising harmony; hence his frescos
have all the richness of oil colours." These are the words of Ratti, and
Mengs joins him in the encomium.
I have only enumerated the paintings which these artists exhibited in the
Guastato, but Giovanni left numerous works in the same style and on similar
subjects, at the Gesù and at S. Domenico in Genoa, and at S. Antonio Abate
in Milan, where he died; without mentioning the many fables and stories
with which he adorned various palaces in his native city. Of the other
brother it is not equally easy to recount all that he painted in private
houses, and in the before-mentioned churches, and at S. Siro and elsewhere.
The histories of the chapel in the Palazzo Reale are amongst his most
original and delightful works; Columbus discovering the Indies; the
Martyrdom of the Giustiniani at Scio; the Remains of the Baptist brought to
Genoa, and other Ligurian subjects. Nor is it easy to enumerate his many
altar-pieces and oil pictures to be found in the churches. I shall limit
myself here to the three histories of S. Clemente Ancirano at the Guastato;
pictures, characterised by such congruity, such truth, and such a peculiar
horror, as to force us to withdraw our eyes from the inhumanity of the
scene. Some persons may, perhaps, be indisposed to give full credit to all
that I have written of Gio. Batista; as it seems incredible that an artist
should be so little known, who united in himself the most opposite
qualities; a wonderful skill both in oil and fresco; equal excellence in
colour and design; facility and correctness; an immense number of works,
and a diligence shewn by few fresco painters. But they who have viewed the
works I have mentioned, with unprejudiced eyes, will not, I feel confident,
differ far from me in opinion. He lived to the age of eighty-five, and lost
neither his vigour of invention nor his genius for grand composition; nor
the freedom of hand, and incomparably fine pencil with which he treated
them. I shall allude, in another epoch, to his sons Andrea and Niccolo; but
I must not neglect to observe, that both Pascoli and Orlandi have written
of this family with little accuracy.
The other great colourist and scholar of Sorri was Bernardo Strozzi, better
known under the name of the Capuchin of Genoa, from his professing that
order. He is also called _il Prete Genovese_, because he left the cloister,
when a priest, to contribute to the support of an aged mother and a sister;
but the one dying and the other marrying, he refused to return to his
order; and being afterwards forcibly recalled to it and sentenced to three
years of imprisonment, he contrived to make his escape, fled to Venice, and
there passed the remainder of his days as a secular priest. The larger
compositions of this artist are only to be seen in Genoa, in the houses of
the nobility, and in San Domenico, where he executed the great picture of
the Paradiso, which is one of the best conceived that I have seen. There
too, in Novi and in Voltri, are various altar-pieces; and above all, an
admirable Madonna in Genoa, in a room of the Palazzo Reale. Some of his
works are also to be seen in Venice, where Strozzi was preferred to every
other artist, to replace a _Tondo_, executed in the best age of Venetian
art, in the library of St. Mark, and there painted a figure of Sculpture.
He, however, left few public works. Whoever wishes to see admirable
productions, must observe his pictures in eminent collections; as the St.
Thomas Incredulous, in the Palazzo Brignole. When placed in a room of
excellent colourists he eclipses them all by the majesty, copiousness,
vigour, nature, and harmony of his style. His design is not very correct,
nor sufficiently select; we there see a naturalist who follows neither
Sorri nor any other master; but one who, after the example of that ancient
master, derives instruction from the multitude. There is a deep expression
of force and energy in the heads of his men, and of piety in those of his
saints. In the countenances of his women and his youths he has less merit;
and I have seen some of his Madonnas and angels vulgar and often repeated.
He was accustomed to paint portraits, and in his compositions derived all
his knowledge from the study of nature; and often painted half figures in
the style of Caravaggio. The royal gallery at Florence has a Christ by him,
called _della Moneta_; the figures half-size, and exhibiting great
vivacity. He is esteemed the most spirited artist of his own school; and in
strong impasto, in richness and vigour of colour, has few rivals in any
other; or rather, in this style of colouring he is original and without
example. His remains were deposited at S. Fosca in Venice, with this
inscription: _Bernardus Strozzius Pictorum splendor, Liguriæ decus_; and it
is his great praise to have merited this encomium in the seat and near the
ashes of the greatest colourists.
Gio. Andrea de' Ferrari perfected himself under this master, having been
previously the scholar of Castelli, whose feeble style may be detected in
the Theodosius, painted by Ferrari as an altar-piece in the Gesù. In many
works he is a respectable follower of Strozzi; as in the Nativity in the
Duomo of Genoa, and in the Nativity of the Virgin, in a church of Voltri,
full of figures which seem inspired with life. Although little known, and
perhaps too little commended by Soprani, he is one of the first Genoese
artists; and, to establish his reputation, it is sufficient to state, that
he was the master of Gio. Bernardo Carbone, the chief of this school of
portrait painters. Even by the more experienced his portraits were often
mistaken for those of Vandyke, or purchased at prices little inferior to
those given for a true Vandyke. He also composed well, as may be seen in
his picture of the King S. Louis at the Guastato. But this picture did not
please the person who gave the commission, and a second was ordered in
Paris, and afterwards a third, which successively superseded each other on
the altar. But they did not prove satisfactory, and that of Carbone was
restored to its place, and the other two were added as laterals, as if to
attend on it.
Another deserving scholar of Strozzi resided a considerable time in
Tuscany, and there distinguished himself; Clemente Bocciardo, from his
great size called Clementone. He first studied in Rome, afterwards in
Florence, and practising much with Castiglione, he formed a style more
correct and ideal than that of his master, to whom, however, he is inferior
in truth of colour. Pisa was his theatre of art, where, in the Duomo and
elsewhere, he left some highly respectable works; over all of which, in his
life, the preference is given to S. Sebastian, placed in the church of the
Carthusians. He painted his own portrait for the royal gallery of Florence,
which has had a better fate than those of many common artists, and remains
there to the present day.
A third pupil of this school resided a considerable time in Venice,
afterwards in Mirandola. This was Gio. Francesco Cassana, a soft and
delicate colourist, and master of Langetti. By the Venetians he was but
little esteemed, and painted only for private collections. He afterwards
repaired to the court of Mirandola, and painted a S. Jerome for the Duomo
of that city, and other pictures in various churches, which enhanced his
reputation. He was the founder of a family that conferred honour on the
art. Niccolo, his eldest son, who became one of the most celebrated
portrait painters of his age, passed the chief part of his life at
Florence, and died at the court of London. The Grand Duke possesses some of
his historical compositions, and some portraits full of expression, in the
royal gallery, amongst which are two half figures of two court buffoons,
admirably executed. It is said that his style, which nearly approaches to
Strozzi, cost him great trouble, and that, when painting, he was so intent
on his work as not to hear a person addressing him; and sometimes, in a
rage, he would throw himself on the ground, exclaiming against his work as
deficient both in colour and spirit, till snatching his pencil again he
brought it to his wishes. Gio. Agostino, called l'Abate Cassana, from the
clerical dress which he always wore, was a good portrait painter, but
distinguished himself more in the representation of animals. There are many
of his pictures in the collections of Florence, Venice, and Genoa, and
Italy in general, and they often indeed pass under the name of Castiglione.
The third brother was Gio. Batista, and excelled in flowers and fruits,
which he painted with great effect. They had also a sister, of the name of
Maria Vittoria, who painted sacred figures for private collections, and who
died in Venice at the beginning of the last century. In all I have said of
the Cassana family I have adhered to Ratti, as to a native and correct
author. Some who have written on the gallery of Florence, where the
portraits of the three first are found, differ in some particulars,
ascribing to the one works belonging to the other. Niccolo was in fact the
one that there enjoyed the highest favour of Prince Ferdinand; and he it is
who is mentioned in the note to Borghini (p. 316) where it is said that the
picture by Raffaello, transferred from Pescia to the Pitti palace, was
finished by Cassana. But with respect to this notice, and others regarding
the Cassani, we may consult the Catalogo Vianelli, p. 97, where we find
described a remarkable portrait of a young man studying, painted by
Niccolò; and it is succeeded by a long memoir, which throws additional
light on the history of this family.
I must now speak of another celebrated Ligurian, but neither a scholar of
Paggi, nor of Sorri, nor indeed of any other considerable master, and
almost self-instructed; for the elements of the art, which he learned from
Orazio Cambiaso, a painter of mediocrity, could not carry him far. He was
born in Voltri, his name Gio. Andrea Ansaldo. He is the only one of the
school who contested precedency in perspective with Giulio Benso, by whom,
in a quarrel, prompted by jealous feelings of his talents, he was wounded:
an attempt which was repeated by an unknown hand, after an interval of some
years. Near the choir of the Nunziata, painted by Benso, we behold the
cupola of Ansaldo, injured by damp, yet notwithstanding remarkable for a
most beautiful division and grandeur of the architecture, and for many
figures which remain uninjured. When we survey this fine work, we cannot
refuse to this artist a great talent for the decoration of cupolas, which
may be esteemed the summit of the art of painting, as the colossal is of
sculpture. His other works in fresco, in churches and in private houses,
are very numerous; and he is particularly admired for his works in the
palace Spinola at S. Pier d'Arena, where he has represented the military
exploits in Flanders of the Marchese Federico, the boast of this family.
Amongst his oil pictures a St. Thomas baptizing three Kings in a church, is
celebrated. It is placed in the chapel of that saint, and exhibits much
vigour of design, a brilliant decoration of scenery and persons, and a
display of graceful and delightful harmony. Such is his prevailing
character, which is in part his own, acquired by an unwearied application,
and in part derived from the Venetians, and especially Paolo. Ansaldo is
one of those masters who painted both much and well.
Of his scholars, the one who followed him the closest was Orazio de'
Ferrari, his countryman and kinsman. He painted well in fresco, but better
in oil. We need only inspect the Last Supper in the oratory of S. Siro, to
form a most favourable idea of this young artist. Giovacchino Assereto
profited more from the design than the colour of Ansaldo; in general he
attempted his chiaroscuro in the manner of Borzone, his first master, as in
the picture of S. Rosario at S. Brigida. Giuseppe Badaracco was ambitious
of introducing a new style into his native place, and repaired to Florence,
where he remained many years copying and imitating Andrea del Sarto. He
left many works there in private collections, and I imagine they are there
still; but, as always happens to copyists and imitators, his name is never
mentioned, and his works pass as belonging to the school of Andrea. In
Genoa itself his name is almost lost. It is known that he in general
painted for collections; but not for what houses. I found in the house of a
gentleman of Novi an Achilles in Scyros, with the name of Badaracco, and
with the date of 1654. In this work the artist seems to have forgotten
Andrea, and to have followed the naturalists of his own country. There is
no public work by him except a S. Philip, which is preserved in the
sacristy of S. Niccolò in _Voltri_.
To the foregoing masters we may add Gio. Batista Baiardo, of I know not
what school, but certainly commendable for the talents displayed in his
pictures at the portico of S. Pietro, and in the convent of S. Agostino,
painted with vigour, freedom, and grace. The inferior works in that convent
are certainly by another hand. Baiardo, Badaracco, Oderico, Primi, Gregorio
de' Ferrari, and others in this school, were carried off by the plague in
1657. But we have now spoken sufficiently of the higher class of works, and
shall here pass to those of another kind, completing the notices which we
have occasionally interspersed before.
We have often spoken of portrait painting, a lucrative branch of the art in
every capital, and more cultivated in Genoa than in most cities. Besides
the noble models of art left, as we have before mentioned, by the best
Flemish artists, those of Del Corte, a scholar of Titian, and of his son
Cesare, were of great service. From the school of this master arose a
succession of noble portrait painters, instructed by Luciano Borzone, who
in the time of Cerano and Procaccini also studied in the Milanese School,
and derived benefit from it; an artist highly esteemed by Guido Reni. He is
entitled to a place in the higher walks of art for his numerous paintings
for the churches and for collections; where however his greatest merit is
the expression, which as a good portrait painter, or rather naturalist, he
gives to his heads, which partake more of natural truth than of select
beauty. The folds of his drapery are true and simple, and his style on the
whole is not so strong as that of Guercino, but sufficiently so to please
the eye. The Presentation at S. Domenico, and the B. Chiara at S.
Sebastiano, are of this character. But his best works are at S. Spirito,
where he painted six pictures, and amongst them the Baptism of Christ,
which is much extolled. He initiated in his own profession two sons, Gio.
Batista and Carlo, who on his death finished some of his pictures in a
manner not to be distinguished from his own hand. Carlo surpassed his
brother in small portraits; and with him Gio. Batista Mainero, Gio. Batista
Monti, Silvestro Chiesa, all scholars of Borzone, all worthy of
commemoration, and all of whom shared the same fate, being carried off by
the pestilence of the year 1657.
The first who distinguished himself in the lower branch of the art in the
Genoese School was Sinibaldo Scorza, born in Voltaggio, who, guided by a
natural genius, and directed by Paggi, proved an excellent painter of
landscapes enlivened by figures of men and animals in the style of Berghem.
It would be difficult to name an artist in Italy who so successfully
engrafted the Flemish style on his own. I have seen a picture of cattle
passing a stream, in the collection of the illustrious Carlo Cambiaso,
where the animals rival those of Berghem, and the human figures appear
painted by a superior artist. Other collections possess specimens of him in
sacred subjects and classical fables; in which he rises far above the
Flemish artists. He also painted in miniature, if indeed his oil paintings,
from the care bestowed on them, ought not themselves to be called
miniatures. His works were celebrated by the poets of the age, particularly
by Marini, who introduced him to the court of Savoy. He was engaged, and
employed there until hostilities took place between the governments of
Piedmont and Genoa, which obliged him to return home. He was then denounced
to the government by some malicious rivals as a partizan of Savoy, and
passed two years in exile between Massa and Rome. From thence he returned
much improved, whence his latter pictures far exceed the first in invention
and copious composition.
Antonio Travi, more commonly called Il Sestri, or Il Sordo di Sestri, from
being a grinder of colours in the studio of Strozzi, and a friend of the
Flemish artist Waals, soon emulated both the one and the other. He learned
from the latter the art of painting landscape, with buildings in
perspective, and ruins; and he afterwards copied from nature the beautiful
country of the Riviera, with avenues of trees and rich orchards. But as
Waals was a feeble painter of figures, Travi availed himself of the
instructions of Strozzi to enliven his landscapes with beautiful and
spirited figures, not so much painted as sketched with a few strokes by a
master's hand, to gratify the eye when viewed at a distance. Thus, although
his landscapes are not highly finished, they please us by their agreeable
disposition, by their azure skies, the verdure of the trees, and their
freedom of touch. The state abounds with his pictures; but a great
proportion of those that bear his name are by his sons, who succeeded him
in his profession, but not with their father's talents.
Ambrogio Samengo and Francesco Borzone deserve also to be enumerated among
the landscape painters. Ambrogio was the scholar of Gio. Andrea Ferrari, a
painter of flowers and fruit; and his works are rare in consequence of his
early death. Francesco, after a miraculous escape from the plague, applied
himself to the composition of marine subjects and landscapes in the style
of Claude and Dughet; and his pictures, from their clearness, sweetness,
and fine effect, attracted the notice of Louis XIV., who invited him to his
court, where he remained many years; and this is the reason of the scarcity
of his works in Italy. We might here mention Raffaele Soprani, the
biographer of the Genoese artists, and many noble Genoese with him; but in
a work where the names of many painters themselves are omitted, it will not
be expected that we should record all the amateurs of the art.
I may place in this class of artists Gio. Benedetto Castiglione; not that
he wanted talents for larger works, as many altar-pieces in Genoa, and
particularly the very beautiful Nativity in St. Luke, one of the most
celebrated pictures in the city, sufficiently prove, but because the great
reputation which he has acquired in Europe has been derived from his
cabinet pictures, where he has represented in a wonderful manner animals,
either alone or as accessories to the subject. In this department of the
art he is, after Bassano, the first in Italy; and between these two the
same difference exists as between Theocritus and Virgil; the first of whom
is more true to nature and more simple, the second more learned and more
finished. Castiglione, the scholar of those accomplished artists Paggi and
Vandyke, ennobles the fields and woods by the fertility and novelty of his
invention, by his classical allusions, and his correct and natural
expression of the passions. He displays a freedom of design, a facility,
grace, and generally a fulness of colour; but in some pictures a greater
richness is desired by Maratta. The general tone is cheerful, and often
reddish. We find by him in collections large pictures of animals with
figures, as in that belonging to his Excellency the Doge Agostino
Lomellino; at other times sacred subjects, among which the most celebrated
are those from Genesis, the creation of animals, and their entry into the
ark; and the return of Jacob with a numerous body of servants and cattle, a
stupendous performance in the Palazzo Brignole Sale. Sometimes we find
fabulous compositions, as the Transformations of Circe, in the collection
of the Grand Duke of Tuscany; at other times hunting pieces, as that of the
Bull in the collection of the Marchesi Riccardi at Florence; often markets
and shews of cattle in the Flemish manner, and always more finished and
more gay when painted on a smaller scale. Such is a Tobias in the act of
recovering his sight, a most elegant picture, which I saw in possession of
the Gregori family at Foligno. It would require a volume, as Soprani
observes, to describe all his pictures in Genoa; but there is an abundance
of them, not to mention those abroad, in every part of Italy, as he studied
both at Rome and Venice, and a longer time at Mantua, where he died in the
service of the court. He there, for the correctness and beauty of his
colouring, obtained the name of Grechetto; and, for his peculiar style of
etching, he was also called a second Rembrandt. In that city are to be
found some pictures in his manner by his son Francesco and his brother
Salvatore, in which they often make near approaches to him. Francesco
repaired afterwards to Genoa, where he employed himself in painting
animals, which less experienced connoisseurs sometimes ascribe to Gio.
Benedetto. No Genoese, except Francesco, rivalled him in this branch; for
Gio. Lorenzo Bertolotti, who studied under him for some time, dedicated
himself to the painting of altar-pieces; and in that of the church of the
Visitation he highly distinguished himself. Anton Maria Vassallo was a
reputable painter of landscape, flowers, fruits, and animals. His chief
merit is in his colouring, which he learned from Malò, the scholar of
Rubens. He excelled also in figures; but his short life did not allow him
to obtain a more extended celebrity.
GENOESE SCHOOL.
EPOCH IV.
_The Roman and Parmesan succeed to the Native Style.
Establishment of an Academy._
Many masters of this school being cut off by the plague in the year 1657,
others deceased in the course of nature, not a few incapacitated from age,
and some also turned to mannerism, the Genoese School fell into such a
state of decline, that most of the young artists had recourse to other
cities for instruction, and in most instances repaired to Rome. In
consequence, from the beginning of this century to our own days, the Roman
style has predominated among these painters, varying, according to the
schools from which it descended, and according to the scholars that
practised it. Few of them have preserved the style unmixed; and some have
formed from the Roman and the Genoese a third manner, deserving of
commendation. On this account my readers should be cautioned not to judge
of these artists from works which some of them left when studying in Rome,
as I have known to be sometimes the case. Artists ought to be estimated by
their mature works, which, in this art, are like the corrected editions of
a work in letters, by which every author wishes to be judged.
I noticed, in a former volume, Gio. Batista Gaulli. This artist, after many
years practice under Luciano Borzone, unwilling to remain in a city
depopulated by the plague, went to Rome; and there, by studying the best
masters and by the direction of Bernino, made himself master of a new
style, grand, vigorous, full of fire, his children gracefully drawn, and
altogether enchanting. He contributed some pupils to the Roman School, and
two of them he educated for their native school; Gio. Maria delle Piane,
called, from his father's profession, II Molinaretto, and Gio. Enrico
Vaymer. Their pictures were composed in a good style, and there are some of
their works in the churches of Genoa; particularly of the first, by whom
there is at Sestri di Ponente a Decollation of St. John the Baptist, highly
celebrated. But they owed both their fame and their fortune to portrait
painting. The accomplishments of their master in that respect, above all
other artists, insured them a reputation, whence they abounded in
commissions, both in Genoa, which on that account is full of portraits
painted by them, and also in foreign countries. Vaymer was three times
called to Turin to paint the king and royal family; and was invited by very
considerable offers to remain there, which he, however, always rejected.
Molinaretto, after several visits to Parma and Piacenza, where he furnished
the court with portraits, and left some pictures in the churches, was
invited by King Charles of Bourbon to Naples, where he died, in a good old
age, painter to the court.
Pietro da Cortona also contributed some good scholars to Genoa. A doubtful
celebrity remains to Francesco Bruno of Porto Maurizio, who left in his
native country some altar-pieces in the style of Pietro, and a copy of one
of the pictures of that master. He is an unequal painter, if, indeed, we
may not conclude, with Sig. Ratti, that some inferior works are improperly
ascribed to him by common report. With still less foundation Francesco Rosa
of Genoa is conjectured to have sprung from this school, who studied about
the same time in Rome. The frescos and oil pictures which he left in that
city, at S. Carlo al Corso, and particularly at the churches of S.
Vincenzio and Anastasio, evince him a follower of a different style. He
there approaches Tommaso Luini and the dark mannerists of that period. He
painted in a much better style, at Frari in Venice, a Miracle wrought by S.
Antonio; a large composition, in which besides a most beautiful
architecture he displays much knowledge of the naked figure, good effect of
chiaroscuro, great vivacity in the heads; in the latter, however, little
select, and in the general effect partaking more of Caracci than Cortona.
There is no doubt that Gio. Maria Bottalla was instructed by Cortona. The
Cardinal Sacchetti, his patron, from his happy imitation of Raffaello
surnamed him Raffaellino; an appellation which I am not sure was confirmed
to him in Rome, and it certainly was refused to him in Genoa. In both those
cities he left very considerable works, in which he did not go so far in
his imitation of Pietro, as to neglect the style of Annibal Caracci. A
large composition of Jacob, by his hand, is to be seen in the collection of
the Campidoglio, formerly in the Sacchetti; and there exists in the Casa
Negroni in Genoa, a picture in fresco by him. Both are very considerable
works for a painter who had not passed his thirty-first year. Another
undoubted scholar of Pietro was Gio. Batista Langetti, although in his
colouring he adhered more to the elder Cassana, his second master. Langetti
is one of the foreign painters who, after 1650, flourished in Venice, and
excited the poetic genius of Boschini. He extols him as an artist eminent
in design and execution;[69] and this commendation is confirmed by Zanetti;
with an understanding, however, that this extends only to his more studied
pictures; as, for instance, his Crucifixion in the church delle Terese. As
to the rest he generally painted for profit; painting heads of old men,
philosophers, and anchorets, for which he is very remarkable in Venetian
and Lombard collections. It is said that he was accustomed to paint one a
day; his portraits were always drawn with truth, without adding that ideal
grandeur which we so much admire in the Greek sculptures in similar
subjects. He animated these countenances, however, with a strength of
colour and with a vigour of pencil that caused them to be highly sought
after; often receiving for them not less than fifty ducats a-piece. His
name is not found in the Abbeccedario, which is not to be wondered at, for
in so vast a work it is impossible to notice every individual artist.
Footnote 69:
L'opera con bon arte, e colpi franchi,
L'osserva el natural con bon giudizio,
In l'atizar l'atende al bon ofizio,
Che i movimenti sia vivi e nò stanchi.
_Carta del Navegar Pittoresco_, p. 538.
But the greater number of scholars that Genoa sent to Rome attached
themselves to Maratta. Gio. Stefano Robatto of Savona repaired twice to his
school, and remained in it several years. He matured his genius, by
visiting other schools of Italy, and went also into Germany, and at a
mature age settled in his own country. He there executed some works that
confer honour on her; as the St. Francis receiving the Stigmata, painted in
fresco in the cloister of the Cappuchins. Others of these, his first works,
have obtained unqualified praise, especially for their colouring, which
excited even the admiration of the professors of Genoa, accustomed to study
the first works of art. But he afterwards gave himself up to gaming, and,
losing all desire of distinction, he degraded both his pencil and his name,
producing, like a mechanic, works of mediocrity at a trifling price. Hence
it may be said, that Savona had not a better nor a worse painter than
Robatto.
Gio. Raffaello Badaracco, the son of Giuseppe, who is mentioned in a former
epoch, passed from the school of his father to that of Maratta; and
afterwards, aspiring to a freer style, he became in a great measure
Cortonesque, very soft in execution, of a good impasto, with an abundance
of the finest ultramarine, which has conferred on his pictures both
durability and celebrity. His historical subjects are very numerous in
collections; the Certosa of Polcevera possesses two of the largest, from
the history of the patron saint. A Rolando Marchelli was a fine scholar of
Maratta; but, attaching himself to merchandise, he left few works.
The most remarkable in this band are the sons of three celebrated masters;
Andrea Carlone, Paolgirolamo Piola, and Domenico Parodi. The first was son
of Giambatista, from whose style and that of Rome, and afterwards from that
of Venice, he formed a mixed manner, which, if I mistake not, is more
pleasing in oil than in fresco. He painted much in Perugia and the
neighbouring cities; far from the finish and grace of his father, and less
happy in composition; but displaying a Venetian style of freedom, vigour,
and spirit; particularly in some histories of S. Feliciano, painted at
Foligno, in the church of that saint. Returning to Rome, he improved his
manner; and his works after that period are much his best. Such are some
passages from the life of S. Xavier, at the Gesù in Rome; and many poetical
subjects at Genoa, in the palaces Brignole, Saluzzo, and Durazzo. This
painter affords an excellent admonition to writers on art, not to form
their judgment too hastily on the merit of artists, without having first
seen their best productions. Whoever judged of Carlone from the picture he
painted at the Gesù in Perugia, would not persuade himself that he could,
in Genoa, have left so many fine works as to be ranked, according to Ratti,
among the painters of Genoa most worthy of commemoration. Niccolò, his
brother, may be also added as his scholar. He is the least celebrated of
the family; not that he wanted talent, but it was not of a transcendant
kind.
Piola, the son of Domenico, as I have noticed in a former place, is one of
the most cultivated and finished painters of this school; a true disciple
of Maratta, as regards his method of carefully studying and deliberately
executing his works, but otherwise not his close imitator. In this respect
it should seem he attached himself more to the Caracci, whom he very much
copied in Rome; and traces of this style may be seen in his beautiful
picture of S. Domenico and Ignazio, in the church of Carignano, and in
every place where he painted. It is known that he was rebuked by his father
for slowness; but by this he was not moved; intent on a more exalted walk
than his father, and exhibiting more selection, grandeur, tenderness, and
truth. He had singular merit in works in fresco; and being a man of
letters, he designed extremely well fables and historical subjects, in
decorating many noblemen's houses. His Parnassus, painted for Sig. Gio.
Filippo Durazzo, has been much praised; and it is added, that that nobleman
said, that he was glad he had not sent for Solimene from Naples, whilst
Genoa possessed such an artist. Had he painted less on walls and more on
canvass, his merit would have become known also to foreigners.
Domenico Parodi was, like his father, a sculptor, and moreover an
architect; but he owed his reputation to painting. Less equal to himself
than Piola, he enjoyed a greater fame; as he had a more enlarged genius, a
more extended knowledge of letters and the arts, a more decided imitation
of the Greek design, and a pencil more pliable to every style. He first
studied in Venice under Bombelli, and there remain, in a casa Durazzo, some
excellent copies of Venetian pictures made at that period; nor did he
forsake this style during the many succeeding years that he studied in
Rome. He painted, in a good Marattesque style, the noble picture of S.
Francesco di Sales at the Filippini, and several other pictures; but of
him, as well as of the Caracci, we find works partaking in an extraordinary
manner of the style of Tintoretto or Paolo, and which are described in his
life. His most celebrated work is the Sala of the palace Negroni. Some
professors have expressed their opinion, that there is not so fine a
performance in all Genoa; and it is a fact, that Mengs's attention was
there arrested for several hours by a painter that he had never before
heard of. A correct design, a vigour and harmony of colour, a mode of
decorating the walls peculiarly his own, attempted by many, but not
understood by any, render this a most remarkable production; nor is it a
little aided by the poetical invention and the beautiful distribution and
grouping of the figures. The whole is devoted to the glory of this noble
family, whose escutcheon is crowned by Prudence, Continence, and other
virtues, expressed by their several symbols; and there are also fables of
Hercules slaying the Lion, and Achilles instructed by Chiron, which
indicate the honours acquired by this family in letters and in arms.
Portraits are added to these decorations, and every part is so well
connected, and so well varied, and so enriched by vestures, drapery, and
other ornaments, that, though many noble families may boast of being more
highly celebrated by the muse, few have obtained such distinguished honours
from the sister art. Other noble houses were also ornamented by him in
fresco; and the gallery of the Sig. Marcello Durazzo, decorated with
stories, and fables, and chiariscuri, which might be taken for
bassi-relievi, is a work much resembling the one just described. In some
pictures, as in the S. Camillo de' Lellis, he does not seem the same; and
probably some of his scholars had the greater share in them. His most
celebrated scholar was the priest Angiolo Rossi, one of the best imitators,
in humorous subjects, of Piovan Arlotto; and in painting a good follower of
Maratta, though he left but few works. Batista Parodi was the brother of
Domenico, but not the scholar; he partook of the Venetian School;
expeditious, free, fertile in invention, and brilliant in colouring, but
not sufficiently select, nor equal to the better artists. He lived for some
time in Milan and Bergamo. Pellegro, the son of Domenico, resided in
Lisbon, and was a celebrated portrait painter in his day.
The Abate Lorenzo, the son of Gregorio Ferrari, though educated in Genoa,
had much of the Roman style. He was one of the most elegant painters of
this school, and an imitator of the foreshortenings and the graces of
Coreggio, as was his father, but more correct than he, and a good master of
design. In refining on delicacy he sometimes falls into languor; except
when he painted in the vicinity of the Carloni, (as in the palace Doria, at
S. Matteo), or some other lively colourist. He then invigorated his tints,
so that they possess all the brilliancy of oil, and yield the palm to few.
He excelled in fresco, like most of this school, and is almost unrivalled
in his chiaroscuro ornaments. The churches and palaces abound with them;
and in the palace of the noble family of Carega is a gallery, his last
work, decorated with subjects from the Æneid, and ornamented with
arabesques, stuccos, and intaglios, by artists under his direction. He also
painted historical subjects. In his first public works he painted from his
father's designs; afterwards, as in the picture of various saints of the
Augustine order, at the church of the Visitation, he trusted to his own
genius, and enriched his school with the best examples. He too was a
painter whose reputation was not equal to his merits.
In Bartolommeo Guidobono, or Prete di Savona, we find the delicate pencil
of Ferrari, and an imitation of Coreggio, but with less freedom of style.
This artist, who was in the habit of painting earthenware with his father,
at that time in the employ of the royal court of Savoy, established the
first rudiments of the art in Piedmont; and I have seen, in Turin, some
pictures by him partaking of the Neapolitan style of colour, which was at
one time in favour there. He afterwards went to Parma and Venice, and by
copying and practising became a very able painter, and had an abundance of
commissions in Genoa and the state. He is not so much praised for
correctness of design in his figures, as for his skill in the ornamental
parts, as flowers, fruits, and animals; and this excellence is particularly
seen in some fabulous subjects in the Palazzo Centurioni. He had diligently
studied the style of Castiglione, and made many copies of him, which are
with difficulty distinguished from the originals. He is not, however, a
figurist to be despised; and it is his peculiar praise to unite a great
sweetness of pencil with a fine effect of chiaroscuro; as in the
Inebriation of Lot, and in three other subjects in oil, in the palace
Brignole Sale. In Piedmont too there remain many works by him, and by his
brother Domenico, also a delicate and graceful painter, by whom there is in
the Duomo of Turin a glory of angels, which might belong to the school of
Guido. He would have been preferred to Prete if he had always painted in
this style; but this he did not do, and in Genoa there remain of his,
amongst a few good, many very indifferent pictures.
Before I quit the followers of the school of Parma, I shall return to the
Cav. Gio. Batista Draghi, to whom I alluded in the third book. He was a
scholar of Domenico Piola, from whom he acquired his despatch; and was the
inventor of a new style, which I know not where he formed, but which he
practised very much in Parma, and more in Piacenza, where he long lived and
where he died. We may trace in it the schools of Bologna and Parma; but in
the character of the heads and in the disposition of the colours there is a
novelty which distinguishes and characterizes him. Though he painted with
extraordinary celerity, yet we cannot accuse him of negligence. To a
vivacity and fancy that delight us, he added an attention to his contours
and colouring, and a powerful relief, particularly in his oil pictures.
There are many pictures by him in Piacenza, and amongst them the Death of
St. James in the church of the Franciscans, in the Duomo his St. Agnes, in
S. Lorenzo his picture of the titular saint, and the great picture of the
Religious Orders receiving their regulations from S. Augustin; a subject
painted already in the neighbouring town of Cremona by Massarotti, and well
executed, but inferior to Draghi. The Sig. Proposto Carasi particularly
praises the picture he painted at Busseto, in the palace Pallavicino. In
Genoa he painted, I believe, only some pictures for private collections.
Orlandi, who does not even notice this excellent painter, places among the
first artists of Europe Gioseffo Palmieri, who, together with the preceding
artist, flourished in the early part of the eighteenth century. This praise
seems exaggerated, and he probably refers only to the merit which Palmieri
exhibited in his pictures of animals, which he was employed to paint even
for the court of Portugal. Still in the human figure he is a painter of
spirit, and of a magic and beautiful style of colour; very harmonious and
pleasing in those pictures where the shades do not predominate. He is,
however, reprehended for his incorrect drawing, although he studied under a
Florentine painter, who seems to have initiated him well; for in the
Resurrection at the church of St. Dominic, and in other pictures more
carefully painted, judges of the art find little to reprove.
A Pietro Paolo Raggi obtained also celebrity in invention and colouring. I
know not to what school to assign him, but he was certainly a follower of
the Caracci in a S. Bonaventura contemplating a Crucifix; a large picture
in the Guastato. There are Bacchanal subjects by him in some collections,
which partake of the style of Castiglione, as Ratti has observed, and also
of that of Carpioni, as we read in one of the _Lettere Pittoriche_,
inserted in the fifth volume. We there find him highly extolled. Nor is he
any where better known than in Bergamo; where, amongst other works which he
executed for the church of St. Martha, a Magdalen borne to Heaven by Angels
is particularly esteemed. He is described as a man of a restless
disposition, irascible, and dissatisfied with every place he inhabited.
This truant disposition carried him to Turin, then to Savona, then afresh
to Genoa, now to Lavagna, now to Lombardy, and last to Bergamo, where death
put an end to his wanderings. About this time died in Finale, his native
place, Pier Lorenzo Spoleti, formerly a scholar of Domenico Piola. His
favourite occupation was to copy in Madrid the pictures of Morillo and
Titian. By this practice he was prevented from distinguishing himself by
any works of invention; but he became a very accomplished portrait painter,
and was employed in that branch of the art at the courts of Spain and
Portugal. He had also the habit of copying the compositions of others, and
of transferring them with remarkable ability from the engraving to the
canvass, enlarging the proportions and expressing them with a colouring
worthy of his great originals. A copyist like this painter has a better
claim to our regard than many masters, whose original designs serve only to
remind us of our ill fortune in meeting with them.
Among these native artists I may be allowed to commemorate two foreigners,
who came to Genoa and established themselves there, and succeeded to the
chief artists of this epoch, or were their competitors. The one was Jacopo
Boni of Bologna, who was carried to Genoa by his master Franceschini as an
assistant, when he painted the great hall of the Palazzo Publico. Boni from
that time was esteemed and employed there, and established himself there in
1726. There are some fine works by him, especially in fresco, in the
Palazzo Mari and in many others; and the most remarkable which he executed
in the state is in the oratory of the Costa, at S. Remo: but we have spoken
sufficiently of him in the third Book.
The other, who repaired thither three years afterwards, was Sebastiano
Galeotti, a Florentine, and in his native city a scholar of Ghilardini, in
Bologna of Giangioseffo dal Sole, a man of an eccentric and facile genius;
a good designer when he pleased, a bold colourist, beautiful in the air of
his heads, and fitted for large compositions in fresco, in which he was
sometimes assisted in the ornamental parts by Natali of Cremona. He
decorated the church of the Magdalen in Genoa; and those frescos, which
first made him known in the city, are among his most finished productions;
but he was obliged, after painting the first history, to soften his tones
in some degree. He worked little in his native city, and that only in his
early years; whence he does not there enjoy so high a reputation as in
Upper Italy. He traversed it almost all in the same manner as the Zuccheri,
Peruzzini, Ricchi, and other adventurers of the art, whose lives were spent
in travelling from place to place, and who repeated themselves in every
city, giving the same figures, without any fresh design, and often the same
subject entire. Hence we still find the works of this painter, not only in
many cities of Tuscany, but also in Piacenza and Parma, where he executed
many works for the court; and also in Codogno, Lodi, Cremona, Milan,
Vicenza, Bergamo, and Turin, in which latter city he was appointed director
of the academy. In this office he ended his days in 1746. Genoa was however
his home, where he was succeeded by two sons, Giuseppe and Gio. Batista,
who were living in 1769, and are mentioned with commendation by Ratti as
excellent painters.
From the middle of the century to our own days, what from the evils of war
in which Genoa was involved, and the general decline of the art in Italy,
but few artists present themselves to our notice. Domenico Bocciardo of
Finale, a scholar and follower of Morandi, possessed considerable merit in
historical cabinet pictures; a painter of not much genius, but correct, and
a beautiful colourist. At S. Paolo in Genoa there is by him a S. Giovanni
baptizing the Multitude; and although there are many better pictures by him
in the state, still this is sufficient to render him respectable. Francesco
Campora, a native of Polcevera, also possessed some reputation. He had
studied in Naples under Solimene, from whose school came also Gio. Stefano
Maia, an excellent portrait painter. A Batista Chiappe of Novi, who had
spent much time in Rome in drawing, and had become a good colourist in
Milan, gave great promise of excellence. In the church of S. Ignazio of
Alessandria there is a large picture of the patron saint, one of his best
performances, well conceived and well composed; a noble ground, a beautiful
choir of angels, a fine character in the principal figure, except that the
head does not present a true portrait. We should have seen still better
works, but the author was arrested in his career by death; and he is
described by Ratti as the last person of merit of the Genoese School.
This school was for some time scanty in good perspective painters. Although
Padre Pozzi was in Genoa, he did not form any scholars there. Bologna, more
than any other place, supplied him with them. From thence came Colonna and
Mitelli, at that time so much esteemed; thither also repaired Aldovrandini
and the two brothers Haffner, Henry and Antony. The latter joined the monks
of the order of St. Philip in Genoa, and decorated the church of that saint
and other places, and initiated in the profession Gio. Batista Revello,
called Il Mustacchi. His works were also studied by Francesco Costa, who
was an ornamental painter from the school of Gregorio de' Ferrari. These
two young men, from the similarity of their profession, one which combines
in itself the greatest rivalry and the greatest friendship, became in
process of time inseparable. They both conjointly served, for nearly the
space of twenty years, the various historical painters mentioned in this
epoch, preparing for them the perspectives and ornaments, and whatever else
the art required. They are both alike commended for their knowledge of
perspective, their grace, brilliancy, and harmony of tints; but Revello, in
the embellishment of flowers, is preferred to his companion. Their best
performance is considered to be at Pegli, in the Palazzo Grillo, where they
ornamented a saloon and some chambers. There are also many works which they
conducted separately, being considered as the Colonna and Mitelli of their
country.
The most justly celebrated landscape painter of this epoch is Carlo Antonio
Tavella, the scholar of Tempesta in Milan, and of Gruenbrech, a German,
who, from the fires he introduced into his landscapes, was called
Solfarolo. He at first emulated this artist; he then softened his style,
from studying the works of Castiglione and Poussin, and the best Flemish
painters. Amongst the Genoese landscape painters he ranks the next after
Sestri. His works are easily distinguished in the collections of Genoa,
particularly in the palace Franchi, which had more than three hundred
pictures by him, and acquired for him the reputation of one of the first
artists of the age. We are there presented with warm skies, beautiful
distances in the landscape, pleasing effects of light; the trees, flowers,
and animals are gracefully touched, and with wonderful truth of nature. In
his figures he was assisted by the two Pioli, father and son; and oftener
by Magnasco, with whom he was associated in work. He sometimes inserted
them in his pictures himself, copying them indeed from the originals
designed by his comrades, but identifying them by a style peculiarly his
own. Tavella had a daughter of the name of Angiola, of a feeble invention,
but a good copyist of her father's designs. He had also many other
imitators; amongst whom one Niccolò Micone, or as he is commonly called by
his fellow-citizens Lo Zoppo, most nearly resembles him.
Alessandro Magnasco, called Lissandrino, was the son of one Stefano, who
was instructed by Valerio Castello, afterwards resided many years in Rome,
and died young, leaving behind him few pictures, but extreme regret for the
death of an artist of so much promise. His son was instructed by Abbiati in
Milan; and that bold and simple stroke of the pencil, which his master used
in his larger pictures, he transferred to his subjects of humour, shows and
popular meetings, in which he may be called the Cerquozzi of his school.
His figures are scarcely more than a span large. Ceremonies of the church,
schools of maids and youths, chapters of friars, military exercises,
artists' shops, Jewish synagogues, are the subjects he painted with humour
and delight. These eccentric pieces are not rare in Milan, and there are
some in the Palazzo Pitti at Florence, where Magnasco resided some years, a
great favourite with the Grand Duke Gio. Gastone and all his court. When he
accompanied other painters in their works, as often happened to him, he
added very apposite subjects; this he did, not only in the landscapes of
Tavella and others, but also in the ruins of Clemente Spera in Milan, and
in other pictures of architecture. This artist was more esteemed by
foreigners than by his own countrymen. His bold touch, though joined to a
noble conception and to correct drawing, did not attract in Genoa, because
it is far removed from the finish and union of tints which these masters
followed; hence Magnasco worked little in his native country, and left no
scholar there. In the school of Venice he educated a celebrated scholar,
Sebastian Ricci, of whom mention has been made more than once.
Not many years since died Gio. Agostino Ratti of Savona, a painter of
delightful genius. He ornamented the theatres with beautiful scenes, and
the cabinets with lively caricatures, which he also engraved. He was clever
in church paintings, as may be seen in the church of S. Giovanni at Savona,
where, besides other subjects of the Baptist, there is a much praised
Decollation. He painted also in the church of S. Teresa in Genoa; and was
always a follower of Luti, whose school he had frequented when in Rome. He
was also a good fresco painter; and I have seen his works in the choir of
the Conventual church in Casale di Monferrato, where he added figures to
the perspective of Natali of Cremona. But subjects of humour were his
forte. In these he had an exhaustless fancy, fertile and ever creative.
Nothing can be more amusing than his masks, representing quarrels, dances,
and such scenes as form the subjects of comedy. Luti, who was his master in
Rome, extolled him as one of the first artists in this line, and even
equalled him to Ghezzi. This information respecting Gio. Agostino was
communicated to me by his son, the Cavaliere often mentioned in the course
of this work,[70] and who died in 1795.
Footnote 70: He had prepared for the press some further
information respecting this school, both with regard to
ancient and modern times. The MS. with which he favoured me
to perfect this edition of my work, I have unfortunately,
and to the great detriment of my own work, mislaid. He was
not a great painter, but certainly not deserving of the
contempt with which he has been treated. Gratitude,
friendship, truth, and humanity itself call on me to say all
the good I can of him; every thing that malevolence could
dictate has been already recorded against him. We may
therefore refer the reader to the perusal of the Defence of
him before mentioned by us, and noticed afterwards with its
true title, in our second index, under the head _Ratti_.
There (whoever may be the author of it,) many works are
enumerated which, in our opinion, would confirm to him the
title of a praiseworthy artist. But he derives peculiar
honour from the opinion of him expressed by Mengs, who
proposed him as director to the academy of Milan; and some
historical and national subjects being required in the royal
palace in Genoa, Ratti was recommended to this honourable
commission both by Mengs and Batoni, and he executed them to
the entire satisfaction of the public. The more experienced
judges pretend to detect in these works something more than
an imitation of the great masters; and it is acknowledged,
indeed, that he willingly availed himself of the designs of
others, either painted or engraved; but how few are there of
whom the same may not be said? Afterwards in Rome, where he
lived four years in the house of Mengs, he executed under
his eye some excellent works; as a Nativity, for which Mengs
made the sketch; which, when painted on a larger scale by
Ratti, was placed in a church in Barcelona. Being called on
to paint a St. Catherine of Genoa, afterwards placed there
in the church of that saint, Mengs designed for him the face
of the saint, of an enchanting expression, and afterwards
retouched the picture, rendering it a delightful
performance. On this it may be observed, that great masters
were not accustomed to shew such favours to their scholars
and friends, except when they discovered in them
considerable talent. As a copyist Ratti excelled in the
opinion of Mengs; the latter purchasing, at a considerable
sum, a copy of the S. Jerome of Coreggio, which Ratti had
made in Parma. Another proof of the esteem in which he held
him was his instigating him to write on art; for which they
must have amassed great materials during the four years they
lived together. In the before-mentioned _Difesa_ we read of
the academies that elected him, the poets and men of letters
that extolled him, the cross of a cavalier that he obtained
from Pius VI., the direction of the academy of Genoa,
conferred on him for life if he had chosen to retain it;
finally, the numerous commissions for pictures he received
from various places; all these things have their weight, but
the favourable opinion of Mengs is the strongest protection
that this Defence affords to shield him from his enemies.
When the materials were prepared for the new edition, the
_Elogio_ of the Cav. Azara was published, where it is said
that the MSS. of Mengs were given in a confused mass into
the hands of Milizia, who took the liberty of modifying at
his pleasure the opinions of Mengs respecting the great
masters. This information, which comes from a very
creditable quarter, I have wished to insert here for many
reasons. It takes away from Mengs the odium of some
inconsiderate criticism, or at least lessens it. It confirms
what the _Difesa_ of Ratti says respecting the true author
of the Life of Coreggio, who was in fact Ratti; but, with
some retouching, it was published as the work of Mengs,
without reflecting that the author was there placed in
contradiction with himself. It also shews us that Mengs, for
his great name, was indebted not only to his acknowledged
merit, but also to his good fortune, which gave him greater
patrons and friends than were perhaps ever enjoyed before by
any painter in the world.
The artists of this school, of our own day, will doubtless also receive
their meed of praise from posterity. They are now industriously occupied in
establishing their own fame, and conferring honour on their country. The
rising generation, who are entering upon the art, may look for increased
support from the Genoese academy, recently founded for the promotion of the
three sister arts. Within these few years the members of this academy have
been furnished with a splendid domicile, with an abundant collection of
select casts and rare designs. With such masters and so many gratuitous
sources of assistance to study, this institution may be already numbered
amongst the most useful and ornamental of the city. This establishment owes
its existence to the genius and liberality of a number of noblemen, who
united together in its splendid foundation, and who continue to support it
by their patronage.
BOOK VI.
THE HISTORY OF PAINTING IN PIEDMONT AND THE
ADJACENT TERRITORY.
EPOCH I.
_Dawn of the Art, and Progress to the Sixteenth Century._
Piedmont, like the other states of Italy, cannot boast of a series of
ancient masters; but it does not on that account forfeit its claim to a
place in the history of painting. That enchanting art, the daughter of
peace and contemplation, shuns not only the sound but the very rumour of
war. Piedmont, from her natural position, is a warlike country; and if she
enjoys the merit of having afforded to the other parts of Italy the
protection necessary for the cultivation of the fine arts, she is at the
same time under the disadvantage of not being able to insure them safety in
her own territory. Hence, though Turin has ever been fruitful in talent, to
obtain the decorations suitable to a metropolis, she has been compelled to
seek at a distance for painters, or at least for pictures; and whatever we
find excellent either in the palace or the royal villas, in the churches,
in the public buildings, or in private collections, will be found to be
wholly the work of foreigners. I may be told that the artists of Novara and
Vercelli, and others from the Lago Maggiore, are not strangers. That might
be true after those communities were included in the dominions of the house
of Savoy; but they, who were the first in this epoch, were born, lived, and
died subjects of other states: and after the new conquests, these artists
no more became Piedmontese from that circumstance, than Parrhasius and
Apelles became Romans from the moment that Greece was subjected to Rome.
For this reason I have classed these artists in the Milanese School; to
which, though they had not belonged as subjects, they ought still to be
assigned by education, residence, or neighbourhood. This plan I have
hitherto persevered in: the subject of my history being not the states of
Italy, but her schools of painting. Nor on that account will the artists of
Monferrato be excluded from this place. This is also a recent addition to
the house of Savoy, which first possessed it in 1706; but it is anterior to
the other acquisitions, and its artists are scarcely ever named among the
pupils of the Milanese School. We must also recollect that they either left
many works in Piedmont, and that this is therefore the proper place to
mention them, or that they did not quit their native country; and as it is
impracticable to devote a separate book to that place, I have judged it
best to include it in this state, on the confines of which it is situated,
and to which it eventually became subject.
Confining ourselves therefore to the ancient state of Piedmont, and
noticing also Savoy, and other neighbouring territories not yet considered,
we shall find little written of,[71] nor have we much to praise in the
artists; but the ruling family, who have been always distinguished by their
love of the arts, and have used all their influence to foster them, are
entitled to our grateful recollections. At the time of their first revival
Amadeus IV. invited to his court one Giorgio da Firenze, a scholar, I know
not whether of Giotto or some other master: it is however certain that he
painted in the castle of Chambery in 1314, and we find remains of him to
1325, in which year he worked at Pinarolo. That he from this time coloured
in oil is doubted in Piedmont; and the Giornale of Pisa published a letter
on that subject the last year. I know not that I can add any thing further
to what I have already written on this question in many places of this
work. Giorgio da Firenze is unknown in his native place, like some others
who are commemorated only in this book, who lived much in Piedmont, or at
least were better known there than elsewhere. In the same age there worked
at S. Francesco di Chieri, quite in the Florentine style, an artist who
subscribed himself _Johannes pintor pinxit_ 1343; and some feeble fresco
painters in the baptistery of the same city. There are also some other
anonymous artists in other parts, whose manners differ in some respects
from the style of Giotto; among whom I may mention the painter of the
Consolata, a picture of the Virgin held in great veneration at Turin.
Footnote 71: A catalogue of the painters of Piedmont, and
their works, is given by the Count Durando in the notes to
his _Ragionamento su le belle Arti_, published in 1778. The
P. M. della Valle has also written of them in his prefaces
to the tenth and eleventh volumes of Vasari. Some valuable
information respecting them has also been contributed by the
author of the _Notizie patrie_, and more is to be found in
the New Guide of Turin of Sig. Derossi, and in the first
volume of the _Pitture d'Italia_. And, lastly, further
notices are to be gathered from various works on art, of
which we shall avail ourselves in the proper place.
At a later period, that is, about the year 1414, Gregorio Bono, a Venetian,
was invited also to Chambery by Amadeus VIII., in order to paint his
portrait. He executed it on panel; nor is it probable that he ever returned
to Venice, as we find no mention made of him there. A Nicolas Robert, a
Frenchman, was painter to the duke from 1473 to 1477; but his works have
either perished, or remain unknown; and probably he was a miniature
painter, or an illuminator of books, as they were at that time designated,
artists who from the proximity of their professions are called painters, as
well as the nobler masters of the art. About the same time it appears that
there worked in Piedmont Raimondo, a Neapolitan, who left his name on a
picture of several compartments in S. Francesco di Chieri, a piece
estimable from the vivacity of the countenances and the colouring, though
the drapery is loaded with gold, a mark of the little refinement of the
times. Of another painter of this period there remains an indication in the
church of S. Agostino in that city, from this inscription on an ancient
picture, _Per Martinum Simazotum, alias de Capanigo_, 1488. I find noticed
also in the hospital of Vigevano a picture with a gold ground by Gio.
Quirico da Tortona.
But no territory at this period furnishes us with such interesting matter
as Monferrato, then the feudal state of the Paleologhi. We learn from P.
della Valle, that Barnaba da Modena was introduced into Alba in the
fourteenth century, and he certainly was among the first artists that
obtained applause in Piedmont. We have cursorily noticed him in his school;
for to judge from the way in which his works are scattered, he must have
lived at a distance. Two pictures remain by him at the Conventuals at Pisa;
one in the church, the other in the convent; both figures of the Virgin, of
whom the second picture represents the coronation, where she is surrounded
by S. Francis and other saints of his order. Sig. da Morrona praises the
beautiful character of the heads, the drapery, and the colouring; and
prefers him to Giotto. And P. della Valle speaks in the same terms of
another picture of the Virgin, remaining in the possession of the
Conventuals of Alba, which he says is in a grander style than any
contemporary works; and he states that the year 1357 is signed to it. As to
his assertion that the art in Piedmont had derived from him much light and
advancement, I know not how to confirm it, as I have never been in Alba,
and as I find a great interval between him and his successors in that very
city. Afterwards in the church of S. Domenico a Giorgio Tuncotto painted in
1473; and in that of S. Francesco a M. Gandolfino in 1493. To these may be
added Gio. Peroxino and Pietro Grammorseo, well known for two pictures
which they left at the Conventuals; the one in Alba in 1517, the other in
Casale in 1523.
But the most distinguished artist in those parts, and in Turin itself, was
Macrino, a native of Alladio, and a citizen of Alba; whence, in a picture
which is in the sacristy of the metropolitan church in Turin, he subscribes
himself _Macrinus de Alba_. His name was Gian Giacomo Fava, an excellent
painter, of great truth in his countenances, careful and finished in every
part, and sufficiently skilled in his colouring and shadowing. I am aware
that the Sig. Piacenza has mentioned him in his notes to Baldinucci, a work
which, to the loss of the history of art and just criticism, remains
imperfect, and which I have not now at hand. I know not where Macrino
studied; but in his picture at Turin, which is much in the style of
Bramante and his Milanese contemporaries, he has placed as an ornament in
his landscape the Flavian amphitheatre; whence we may conclude that he had
seen Rome; or, if not Rome, at least the learned school of Da Vinci. I
found by him in the Certosa of Pavia another picture, with S. Ugo and S.
Siro; an inferior performance with respect to the forms and the colouring,
but very carefully painted in all its parts. But, wherever he studied, he
is the first artist in these countries who made advances to the modern
style; and he seems to have been held in esteem, not only in Asti and in
Alba, which contain many of his large works and cabinet pictures, but in
Turin, and in the palace of the prince; to whose family, as I conjecture,
belonged a cardinal, represented at the feet of the Virgin, and of the
saints surrounding her, in the picture at the cathedral. I am persuaded
that he left other pictures in Turin; but that city, above all the other
capitals of Italy, has perhaps been the most addicted to substitute modern
pictures for the ancient. Contemporary with Macrino was Brea of Nizza, whom
I mentioned in the school of Genoa, together with three painters of
Alessandria della Paglia, all having lived in that state. I shall here only
add Borghese of Nizza della Paglia, where, and in Bassignana, are pictures
inscribed _Hieronymus Burgensis Niciæ Palearum pinxit_.
In the beginning of the sixteenth century, whether it was that the troubled
state of Italy called the attention of the princes to more serious objects,
or from some other cause, I do not find any interesting records. About the
middle of that century it is supposed that Antonio Parentani flourished,
who at the Consolata painted within the chapter house a Paradise with
numerous angels. I do not know his country, but he followed the Roman taste
of that age, and in a certain way diminished it. At this period the books
of the public Treasury stand in the place of history, and guide us to the
knowledge of other artists. I am indebted for the information to the Baron
Vernazza de Fresnois, secretary of state of his majesty, a gentleman not
less rich in knowledge than obliging in communicating it. The
before-mentioned books record a Valentin Lomellino da Raconigi; and after
1561, in which year he died, or relinquished his place, a Jacopo Argenta of
Ferrara. Both the one and the other bore the title of painter to the duke;
but the world cannot judge of their talents, as no work by them is known
either in Turin or elsewhere; and it is probable they were rather
illuminators than painters. A Giacomo Vighi is noticed by Malvasia and by
Orlandi, who painted for the court of Turin about 1567, and was presented
with the castle of Casal Burgone. The works of this painter too are unknown
to the public; but not so the works of those who follow.
Alessandro Ardente of Faenza, though some make him a Pisan, and others a
Lucchese,[72] Giorgio Soleri of Alessandria, and Agosto Decio, a Milanese
miniaturist before mentioned by me, painted the portrait of Charles
Emanuel, duke of Savoy, for which all three are praised by Lomazzo in his
treatise, at p. 435. The two first were also appointed painters to the
court. They excelled in historical compositions as well as being celebrated
portrait painters. By Alessandro we see in Turin at the Monte della Pietà
the Fall of St. Paul, in a style that would lead us to believe he had
studied in Rome. More of his works remain in Lucca; in one of which, a
Baptism of Christ painted at S. Giovanni by this Ardente, the subject is
treated in a highly original manner. (_Guida di Lucca_, p. 261.) In the
neighbourhood also of that city are many of his works. The Sig. da Morrona
also names him in the second volume of his _Pisa illustrata_, and informing
us that he has not a sufficient account of him, concludes that he lived a
long time out of Tuscany. I believe that he resided a considerable time in
Piedmont, as I find some works by him out of Turin; as an Epiphany in
Moncaliëri, inscribed with his name and the year 1592; and knowing further,
that on his death, in 1595, a pension was assigned by the prince to his
widow and sons; a proof in my mind that Ardente must have served the court
many years.
Footnote 72: We ought to credit his own testimony. He
painted three pictures at S. Paolino di Lucca, and in that
of S. Antonio Abate he subscribes himself _Alexander
Ardentius Faventinus_, 1565; so says Monsig. Mansi,
Archbishop of Lucca, in his Diario. He however in other
places in that little work, and Sig. Morrona in his _Pisa_,
call him a Pisan, and others a Lucchese.
Of Soleri, the son-in-law of Bernardino Lanini, I have given some account
in the Milanese School, (tom. iv. p. 278). He is also mentioned by Malvasia
in tom. ii. p. 134, and compared with Passerotti, Arcimboldi, Gaetano, and
with Del Monte of Crema, in portrait painting. His professional education
however remains obscure, except as far as we are able to conjecture from
his works. I have only been able to find two of his performances; and I am
not aware that any other are known. The one is in Alessandria, and serves
as an altar-piece to the domestic chapel of the Conventuals. It represents
the Virgin and the Saints Augustin and Francis recommending to her
protection the city of Alessandria, which is represented in the background.
The landscape is in the style of Bril, as usual with our painters before
the Caracci; the figures are painted with more labour than spirit; the
colour is languid; and the whole presents the style of one desirous of
imitating the best period of the Roman School, but who had not seen or
studied it sufficiently. But there is a more authentic picture in the
church of the Domenicans of Casale, with the inscription, _Opus Georgii
Soleri Alex. 1573_. It represents S. Lorenzo kneeling at the feet of the
Virgin, who has with her the holy infant; near the saint three angelic boys
are playing with a huge gridiron, his customary symbol; and are straining
to raise it from the ground. Here we most distinctly trace the follower of
Raffaello, in the chasteness of design, the beauty and grace of the
countenances, and the finished expression; if indeed the design of these
angels is not taken from Coreggio. To render the picture more engaging,
there is represented a landscape, with a window, whence there appears in
the distance a beautiful country, with fine buildings; nor are there many
pictures remaining in the city at this day to be compared with it. If it
had possessed a more vigorous colouring, and a stronger chiaroscuro, there
would be nothing more to wish for. When I consider the style, I know not to
what school to assign it; for it is not that of Lanini, although his
father-in-law; nor that of any Milanese, although he was in Milan. Perhaps,
like others of his day, he formed himself on the engravings after
Raffaello; or if he copied any other painter, it was Bernardino Campi,
whom, if we except a certain timidity of touch, he resembles more than any
other.
Soleri had a son, a painter of mediocrity, as may be seen in Alessandria in
the sacristy of S. Francesco. The father, to propitiate his success in the
art to which he destined him, had given him the two most illustrious names
of the profession, calling him Raffaele Angiolo. But these names served
only to flatter parental fondness.
With Alessandro Ardente and Giorgio Soleri we find mentioned a Jacopo
Rosignoli of Leghorn, who was at that time painter to the court. His
character is described in an epitaph placed over him at S. Thomas in Turin,
which thus extols him: _quibuscumque naturæ amoenitatibus exprimendis ad
omnigenam incrustationum vetustatem_; meaning grotesques, in which he
imitated with success Perino del Vaga. We also find memorials of another
painter to the court about the same time. The books of the Treasury call
him Isidoro Caracca, and he seems to have succeeded to Ardente; for in 1595
his name begins to be found, to which others may perhaps add, in progress
of time, his country, school, and works. To me it seems that persons who
have received such a mark of distinction, ought at least not to be placed
among the vulgar; nor should a notice of them be neglected when they fall
in our way.
We may add to these some others of doubtful schools, as Scipione Crispi of
Tortona, who has derived celebrity from the Visitation, placed in S.
Lorenzo in Voghera; and in Tortona itself there is a picture representing
S. Francis and S. Dominick with the Virgin, with his name, and the date
1592. Contemporary with Crispi was Cesare Arbasia, of Saluzzo, supposed by
Palomino, but incorrectly so, to be a scholar of Vinci, as I mentioned when
I spoke of him before.[73] He resided some time in Rome, and taught in the
academy of St. Luke, and is mentioned with commendation by the P. Chiesa in
his life of Ancina, as one of the first of his age. He went also to Spain,
where, in the cathedral of Malaga, there still exists his picture of the
Incarnation, painted in 1579; and there is an entire chapel painted by him
in fresco in the cathedral of Cordova. He painted too the vault of the
church of the Benedictines of Savigliano; in the public palace of his
native place he executed also some works in fresco; and he was held in
esteem by the court, who granted him a pension in 1601.
Footnote 73: Tom. iv. p. 257. One truth prepares the way for
another. I have read in Sig. Conca, tom. iii. p. 164, that
the style of Arbasia partakes of that of Federigo Zuccaro;
an opinion I believe of Sig. Ponz, the principal guide of
Conca. If Federigo about the same time was chief, and
Arbasia master in the academy of Rome, the style of the
first might be caught by the other. When we reflect that the
style of Da Vinci is highly finished, correct, and strong,
diametrically opposed to the facility and popular style of
Federigo, we cannot accord to Palomino that authority and
veneration which Conca bestows on him. What should we think
of a critic who should endeavour to palm on us, as the
production of the time of Horace, an ode written in the
style of Prudentius?
There is ground for believing that Soleri, who was married in Vercelli, and
who lived in Casale, had a share in the instruction of the celebrated
Caccia, surnamed Il Moncalvo, who gave to Monferrato its brightest days of
art. We may with propriety say a few words on this subject before we return
to Turin. Monferrato was some time under the Paleologhi; afterwards under
the Gonzaghi; this is a sufficient reason for us to believe that it was
willingly frequented by excellent artists. Vasari relates that Gio.
Francesco Carotto was considerably employed by Guglielmo, Marquis of
Monferrato, as well in his court at Casale as in the church of S. Domenico.
After him other artists of merit resorted thither, whose works still remain
to the public. We further know that these princes had a collection of
marbles and pictures, which were afterwards removed to Turin, where they
contributed to the ornament of the palace and royal villas. After what we
have stated we cannot be surprised that the arts should have flourished in
this part of Italy and the adjacent country, and that we should there meet
with painters deserving of our admiration.
Such an one was Moncalvo, so called from his long residence in that place.
He was however born in Montabone, and his true name was Guglielmo Caccia.
No name is more frequently heard by cultivated foreigners who pass through
this higher part of Italy. He commenced his career in Milan, where he
painted in several churches. He proceeded afterwards to Pavia, where he did
the same, and where he was presented with the freedom of the city. But he
is still more frequently named in Novara, Vercelli, Casale, Alessandria,
and in the tract of country leading from thence to Turin. Nor is this the
whole itinerary of such as wish to see all his works. We must often deviate
from the beaten road, and visit in this district castles and villas, which
frequently present us with excellent specimens, particularly in Monferrato.
He there passed a great part of his life; having been brought up in
Moncalvo, says P. Orlandi, an estate of Monferrino, where he had both a
home and school of painting. He seems to have begun his career in these
parts; and as his first works they point out, in the Sacro Monte di Crea,
some small chapels with passages from the sacred writings.
P. della Valle describes his style at Crea as that of the infant Graces. He
remarks that there are indications of his inexperience in fresco painting,
and that by comparing his early works with his last we may trace the
improvement in his style. He attained such a degree of excellence as to be
considered as an example to fresco painters for his great skill in this
department. He is to be seen in Milan at S. Antonio Abate, by the side of
the Carloni of Genoa: he there painted the titular saint, with S. Paul, the
first hermit; and maintains himself in this dangerous contest. His picture
in the cupola of S. Paul at Novara is a beautiful and vigorous painting,
with a glory of angels, painted, as he generally did, in a delightful
manner. In oils he was perhaps not so successful. I have seen few of his
pictures painted with that strength with which he represented in Turin St.
Peter in the pontifical habit, in the church of S. Croce. The picture of S.
Teresa, in the church of that saint, is also well coloured; and it is
celebrated for its graceful design, in which is represented the saint
between two angels, overpowered at the appearance of the holy family, which
is revealed to her in her ecstacy. To this may be also added the Deposition
from the Cross at S. Gaudenzio di Novara, which is there by some considered
his masterpiece, and it is indeed a work of the highest merit. In general
his tints are so delicate, that in our days at least he appears somewhat
languid, the fault perhaps of not having retouched his pictures
sufficiently.
His style of design does not accord with that of the Caracci, which leads
me to question the opinion prevalent in Moncalvo, that he was a pupil of
that school. One of the Caracci school would have studied fresco in
Bologna, not in Crea; nor would he have adopted in his landscape the style
of Bril, as Moncalvo has done; nor have discovered a preference of the
Roman style to that of Parma. Caccia's style of design seems derived from
the elder schools, as we may observe in it a manner which partakes of
Raffaello, of Andrea del Sarto, and Parmigianino, the great masters of
ideal beauty. And in his Madonnas, which are to be seen in many
collections, he sometimes seems the scholar of the one, and sometimes of
the other; one of those in the royal palace of Turin seems designed by
Andrea. But the colouring, though accompanied by grace and delicacy, as I
said before, is different, and even borders often on debility, in the
manner of the Bolognese School which preceded the Caracci, and more
especially of Sabbatini. He resembles that master also in the beauty of the
heads and in grace; and if it could be satisfactorily proved that Moncalvo
studied in Bologna, we need not look further for a master than Sabbatini.
But I have before made the remark that two painters frequently fall into
the same style, as two different writers sometimes adopt the same
characters. And I have also observed, in regard to Moncalvo, that in Casale
he had Soleri, a painter of a lively and elegant style; and that there, in
Vercelli, and in other cities where he resided, there was not wanting to
him the best examples of that graceful style to which his genius inclined.
He did not however shun nobler subjects; as his works in the church of the
Conventuals at Moncalvo will shew, where there is a rich gallery of his
pictures. Chieri also has specimens of him in two historical pictures in a
chapel of S. Domenico. He there painted the two laterals of the altar; in
the one is the resuscitation of Lazarus, in the other the miracle of the
loaves in the desert; works remarkable for their richness of fancy, their
excellent disposition, the correctness of the drawing, the vivacity of the
action, and the first of which inspires both devotion and awe. They would
confer honour on the noblest churches.
He executed many works, assisted by scholars of mediocrity; a thing which
ought to be avoided by every good master. In Casale I heard a Giorgio
Alberino enumerated among his best scholars; and on the relation of P.
della Valle I may add to them Sacchi, also of Casale, as his companion in
Moncalvo; who possessed a more energetic pencil perhaps, and more learning
than Caccia. He painted in S. Francesco a Drawing of Lots for Marriage
Portions; in which is seen a great assemblage of fathers, mothers, and
young daughters; and in the latter the sentiments are most vividly
expressed, so that we read the fate of each in her countenance; the face of
one beaming with delight at the mention of her name, while another stands
wishful, yet fearing to hear herself called. And at S. Agostino di Casale
is a standard, with the Virgin and saints, and certain portraits of the
Gonzaghi princes; a picture ascribed to Moncalvo: but if we consult the
style and the mode of colouring, I should rather attribute it to Sacchi.
Caccia taught, and was assisted in his labours by two daughters, who may be
called the Gentilesche, or the Fontane of Monferrato, where they painted
not only cabinet pictures but more altar-pieces than perhaps any other
females. The contours of their figures are exactly copied from their
father, but they are not so animated. It is said that their manner was so
similar, that, in order to distinguish them, the younger, Francesca,
adopted the symbol of a small bird; and Ursula, who founded the convent of
Ursulines in Moncalvo, that of a flower. Of the latter her church and
Casale also have some altar-pieces, and not a few cabinet pictures with
landscapes touched in the style of Bril, and ornamented with flowers. A
Holy Family by her in this style is in the rich collection of the Palazzo
Natta.
Lastly I may record the name of Niccolò Musso, the boast of
Casalmonferrato, where he lived, and left works which possess an
originality of style. He is said by Orlandi to have been the scholar of
Caravaggio for ten years in Rome; and there is a tradition in his native
place that he studied under the Caracci in Bologna. Musso leans to
Caravaggio, but his chiaroscuro is more delicate and more transparent; he
is very select in his figures and in expression; and is one of those
admirable painters almost unknown to Italy itself. He did not live long,
and generally painted for private individuals. He left however some works
in public, and more than one in the church of S. Francis, representing that
saint at the feet of Christ crucified, and angels partaking his
lamentations and devotions. The portrait of this artist, painted by
himself, is also in Casale, in the possession of the Marchese Mossi; and
some memoirs of him were published by the Canonico de' Giovanni, as I read
in P. M. della Valle.[74]
Footnote 74: Pref. al tomo xi. del Vasari, p. 20.
SCHOOL OF PIEDMONT AND THE
ADJACENT TERRITORY.
EPOCH II.
_Painters of the Seventeenth Century, and first
Establishment of the Academy._
Returning now to Turin and to the seventeenth century, in the early part of
which the painters, whom we have mentioned with commendation, were either
still surviving, or only lately deceased, we meet with Federigo Zuccaro,
who, in his journey through the various states of Italy, (of which Baglione
speaks,) did not fail to visit Turin. He there painted some pictures in the
churches, and commenced the decoration of a gallery for the duke; a work
which, from some cause or other, was left unfinished. Baglione does not
inform us that this gallery was destined for the reception of works of art,
but it is highly probable that it was so; since, at that time, a
considerable collection of ancient marbles,[75] designs, and cartoons, was
already formed, which has been since enlarged, and is now preserved in the
Archivio Reale; and a select cabinet of pictures, to which similar
additions have been made, and which is now the principal ornament of the
royal palace, and the villas of the sovereign. We there find the works of
Bellini, Holbein, and the Bassani; the two large compositions of Paolo,
executed for the Duke Charles, and described by Ridolfi; several pictures
of the Caracci and their best scholars, amongst which are the Four Elements
by Albano, an admirable production; without mentioning others by Moncalvo
and Gentileschi, both of whom resided for some time in Turin, and by other
eminent Italian artists, or the best Flemish painters, some of whom
remained a considerable time in that city. Hence, in this class of
pictures, the house of Savoy surpasses every single house in Italy, or even
many taken together.
Footnote 75: Galleria del Marini, p. 288.
But, to proceed in due course, we may observe, that, at the commencement of
the seventeenth century, there existed in Turin a rich collection of
pictures and drawings, the ornament of the throne, and subservient to the
instruction of young artists, the care of which was entrusted to a painter
of the court. We first find one Bernardo Orlando invested with this charge,
who was appointed painter to the duke in 1617. This honour, in succeeding
years, was conferred on many others, whose pencils were employed in Turin
and the castle of Rivoli; where, however, many of their works were effaced
in the present century, and others substituted by the two Vanloos. Some of
these are unknown in the history of art, as Antonio Rocca and Giulio Mayno,
the first a native of I know not what place, the latter of Asti. A della
Rovere is also an unknown artist, mentioned in the Registers from the year
1626; nor can this be the same who left, in the convent of St. Francis, a
picture of very original invention, the subject of which is Death. It
expresses the origin of death, in the transgression of Adam and Eve; and
the fulfilment of it, by the thread spun, wound, and severed, by the three
Fates, with other fancies in which profane and sacred ideas are confounded
together. If the design of this picture cannot command our approbation, its
other qualities are still prepossessing, and conciliate our esteem for the
painter, who subscribes himself, _Jo. Bapt. a Ruere Taur._ f. 1627. But the
name of the court painter was Girolamo. Baglione acquaints us with another,
called Marzio di Colantonio, a Roman by birth, who excelled in grotesques
and landscapes. There are also some others included in the list of ducal
painters, whom we have before mentioned in various schools; as Vincenzo
Conti in the Roman, Morazzone in the Milanese, and Sinibaldo Scorza in the
Genoese. These and others, who painted in Turin and the neighbourhood about
this time, will be found in the _Lettere_ and the _Galleria_ of the Cav.
Marini, who resided for some time at this court. We must, however, consult
him with caution, as he was a poet, and very readily augmented his gallery,
by devoting a sonnet to every picture and drawing, so that artists of
mediocrity valued themselves more on his applause than painters of
merit.[76] Thus Malvasia informs us, that he had frequently heard Albano
boast of having refused Marini's request, the gift of a picture, for fear
the poet should make it the subject of a sonnet, (tom. ii. p. 273).
Footnote 76: The mediocrity of some who are extolled in
Marini's work, which was published about the year 1610,
appears from the silence observed towards them by
contemporary writers, or the little applause with which they
are named. I never elsewhere found mention, to the best of
my recollection, of Lucilio Gentiloni, of Filatrava, nor of
Giulio Donnabella, who there figure as eminent designers;
nor of Annibale Mancini, whence I know not, a painter of
histories; nor of the two equally renowned Frenchmen, M.
Brandin and M. Flaminet, elsewhere transformed into
Fulminetto; much less a Raffaele Rabbia, and a Giulio Maina,
who painted the poet's portrait; unless, indeed, the second
be the Bolognese Giulio Morina, mutilated in his name, like
not a few other artists of this truly ill assorted
_Gallery_. [This artist would rather appear to be the Giulio
Mayno, of Asti, the court painter, mentioned in p. 467,
_ante._ _Ed._]
The painters whom I have just mentioned were, most probably, the
instructors of those artists of Turin and the states who flourished
elsewhere; as Bernaschi in Naples, Garoli in Rome, and others who are said
to have been also taught by foreigners, and who distinguished themselves in
Piedmont. None of this number possess a stronger claim to our notice than
Mulinari, (or, as he is more frequently called, Mollineri) whether with
regard to merit, or the order of time. Most writers have considered him a
scholar of the Caracci in Rome; from the imitation of whom he received the
surname of Caraccino from his own countrymen. But I apprehend that this
supposed residence of his in Rome proceeds from the common source of such
mistakes, the resemblance of style, true or supposed. Della Valle mentions
him as being settled in his native place in 1621, and of forty years of
age; languid and feeble in his contours, and improving himself by the
assistance of some masters, his friends; to which we may perhaps add, the
study of the prints of the Caracci, and some of their paintings. My
suspicions are confirmed by the Count Durando, a well informed and cautious
writer, who denies that positive proof can be given of the reported
instruction of Mulinari, notwithstanding the surname of Caraccino, a title
not difficult to acquire from the vulgar, in a city so remote from Bologna
and Rome; as in some countries which have little knowledge of the true
style of Cicero, a writer may pass for an elegant latinist, while imitating
Arnobius. In other respects, in the pictures which have acquired him
celebrity, he is correct, energetic, and, if not dignified, yet animated
and varied in his male heads; for, as Durando himself confesses, his
females are all deficient in grace. His colouring is also good, though not
resembling the Caracci; his tints being more clear, differently disposed,
and sometimes feeble. At Turin, the Deposition from the Cross at S.
Dalmazio, is classed amongst his best works; but the composition is
crowded, and very different from the principles of the Bolognese. In
Savigliano, where Mulinari was born, and where he lived many years,
pictures by him are found in almost every church; and his talent and merit
are, in fact, only known in that place. There, and in Turin, we find some
works by a worthy Flemish artist, named Gio. Claret, by some considered the
scholar, by others the master of Gio. Antonio in colouring, but at all
events his intimate friend. He is an artist of a free and spirited pencil,
and painted in several churches in competition with Mulinari.
Giulio Bruni, a Piedmontese, was a clever pupil of the Genoese School,
first under Tavarone, then under Paggi, and remained painting in Genoa,
until he was expelled by war. His works there, though not very finished,
and too darkly coloured, were well designed, harmonious, and well composed.
Such is, in the church of St. James, his St. Thomas of Villanova giving
alms. History also mentions one Gio. Batista, his brother and scholar.
Giuseppe Vermiglio, although born in Turin, is not named in the _Guide_ of
that city. We find pictures by him in Piedmont, as at Novara and
Alessandria; and beyond that dominion, in Mantua and Milan, in which last
city is a work which is perhaps his masterpiece. The subject is a Daniel
amidst Lions, in the library of the Passione, a large composition, well
disposed, with fine architectural decorations, in the Paolesque style. The
king and people are seen on a balcony admiring the prophet, untouched by
the ferocious animals, while his accusers are, at the same instant,
precipitated amidst the ravenous beasts, and torn to pieces. In the same
composition is also represented the other prophet, borne through the air by
an angel, by the hair of his head. We cannot exactly commend the design,
which thus unites events incongruous in point of time. But with this
exception, this is one of the most valuable pictures painted in Milan,
after Gaudenzio, for correctness, beautiful forms, expression highly
studied, and colours warm, varied, and lucid. From the imitative style of
the heads, it is evident that he studied the Caracci, and was not a
stranger to Guido; but in the colouring it seemed as if he had imitated the
Flemish artists. It is reported in Milan, perhaps from the resemblance of
the style, that he instructed Daniel Crespi; a circumstance very
improbable, since Vermiglio continued to work to the year 1675. For we find
this date at the foot of a large picture of the Woman of Samaria, in the
refectory of the PP. Olivetani, in Alessandria, which must be one of his
last works, decorated with a beautiful landscape, and a magnificent view of
the city of Samaria in the distance. I consider him the finest painter in
oil that the ancient state of Piedmont can boast, and as one of the best
Italian artists of his day. Why he painted so near Turin, and yet had no
success in that city, and why he was not distinguished by his own
sovereign, though well received at the court of Mantua, I have not been
able to discover. We find one Rubini, a Piedmontese, certainly not of equal
merit with the last artist, who, about the time of Vermiglio, worked in the
church of S. Vito, in Trevigi, and whom we find mentioned in the MSS. of
that city, or in the description of its pictures.
Giovenal Boetto, celebrated amongst the engravers in Turin, deserves a
place amongst superior artists, from a saloon painted by him in Fossano,
his native place. It is in the Casa Garballi, and contains four pictures in
fresco. The subject is the illustration of various arts and sciences.
Theology is represented by a dispute between the Thomists and Scotists; and
in that piece, and in the others, we must admire the truth of nature in the
portraits, and the powerful chiaroscuro, as well as the design. Little else
of him remains.
Gio. Moneri, some of whose descendants were also painters, was born near
Acqui, and being instructed by Romanelli, he brought with him from Rome the
style of that school. The first proofs of his art were given in Acqui, in
1657, where he painted in the cathedral the picture of the Assumption,
besides a Paradiso in fresco, much commended. He continued to advance in
his art, as we see both in the Presentation in the church of the Capuchins,
and in other pictures of him remaining in the neighbourhood, exhibiting a
greater copiousness, a finer expression, and a stronger relief. It is known
that he worked in Genoa and Milan and their dependencies, and in several
places in Piedmont; but among these we cannot include Turin; nor could it
be easy for a provincial painter to find commissions, when the capital had
artists in sufficient number to form an academy.
Until the year 1652 the professors of the art in Turin did not possess the
form of a society, much less the appearance of an academy. In the above
year they first began to form themselves into a company, which had the name
of St. Luke given to it; and which, in a few years, grew into the academy
of Turin. We may consult, on this subject, the _Memorie Patrie_, published
by the Baron Vernazza. The court, in the mean time, continued their
salaries to the foreign painters, who were the ornament and support of the
academy. They were about this time engaged in embellishing the palace, and
afterwards that delightful residence, which was built from the design of
the same Duke Charles Emanuel II., and had the name of the Veneria Reale.
Their frescos, portraits, and other works, remain to the present day. After
one Baldassar Matthieu of Antwerp, by whom there is a highly prized Supper
of our Lord in the refectory of the Eremo, Gio. Miel, also from the
neighbourhood of Antwerp, a scholar, first of Vandyk, and afterwards of
Sacchi, was appointed painter to the court; a man of a delightful genius,
extolled in Rome for his humorous, and in Piedmont for his serious
subjects. In the soffitto of the great hall, where the body guard of the
king is stationed, are some pictures of Miel, in which, under the fabulous
characters of the heathen divinities, are represented the virtues of the
royal house; he executed some others, and perhaps more beautiful ones, in
the above named villa; and there is an altar-piece by him at Chieri, with
the date of 1654. We trace in all his works his study of the Italian
School; a grandeur and sublimity of ideas, an elevation beyond his
countrymen, an accurate knowledge of the _sotto in su_, and a fine
chiaroscuro, not unaccompanied by great delicacy of colour, particularly in
his cabinet pictures. The talent which he possessed in an extraordinary
manner in figures of a smaller size, he exhibited more especially in the
Veneria Reale, where he painted a set of Huntings of wild Beasts, in eight
pieces, which are amongst the finest of his works in this department of the
art. After him we read of one Banier, a painter to the court; in whose
time, about the year 1678, the company of St. Luke, united since the year
1675 to that of Rome, was, with the royal assent, erected into an academy;
and from this year may be dated the birth of that professional society so
much enlarged in our own days. But of all who were at that time or
afterwards in the service of the royal house, the most celebrated was
Daniel Saiter, or Seiter, of Vienna. I have mentioned him as well as Miel
in the Roman School, nor have I passed him over in the Venetian, in which
he learnt his art, perfecting his style by the study of all the schools of
Italy. His works are found in the palace and in the villas; nor has he
occasion to fear the proximity of Miel himself. He yields to the latter,
indeed, in grace and beauty, but is superior both to him and others in the
force and magic of his colouring. Nor in Turin do we find in him that
incorrect design which Pascoli attributes to him in Rome. But his oil
pictures are by far the most highly finished of his works; as for example,
a Pieta in the court, which we should say was designed in the academy of
the Caracci. He also painted the cupola of the great hospital, and it is
one of the finest frescos of the capital. We also meet with him in the
churches in various places in the state; and we find his works in many
private collections out of Piedmont, as he painted considerably in Venice
and in Rome.
Another foreigner, Carlo Delfino, a Frenchman, also flourished at this
time; an artist of very considerable merit. From the registers of the
archives we learn that he was painter to Prince Philibert; and from an
inspection of his works we may conjecture that he was more employed in the
churches than at the court, where we find him an animated and lively
portrait painter and colourist. He painted some altar-pieces for the city,
in which is displayed a genius more disposed to the natural than to the
ideal, and a fire which gives life to the gestures and composition; but
sometimes, if I do not estimate him wrongly, his ideas seem forced. Thus at
the church of S. Carlo, wishing to paint a S. Agostino overpowered by the
love of God, he represented a S. Joseph holding in his arms the infant
Christ, who from a cross-bow directs an arrow against the breast of the
saint. The saint struck, falls into the arms of angels, who employ
themselves in supporting and comforting him. Delfino had a scholar in Gio.
Batista Brambilla, who painted at S. Dalmazio a large picture on canvass,
of the Martyrdom of that saint, and was an artist of a correct style and a
good colourist.
There were other painters employed by the court from the middle to the end
of the century: some as portrait painters, as Monsieur Spirito, the Cav.
Mombasilio, Theodore Matham of Haerlem, and others employed in larger works
in oils and fresco. Giacinto Brandi, already mentioned among the scholars
of Lanfranc, painted in the palace a sfondo, in competition with some
others painted there by Saiter. Agostino Scilla of Messina, whom we have
elsewhere noticed, painted some Virtues there, conjointly with Saiter. He
was a fine artist, of more talent than industry. Gio. Andrea Casella of
Lugano, a scholar of Pietro da Cortona, and one of his best followers, and
sometimes in design an imitator of Bernino, painted in the Veneria Reale
some fables, assisted by Giacomo, his nephew. Gio. Paolo Recchi da Como
worked there in the same way in fresco, with the assistance of his nephew
Giannandrea. Gio. Peruzzini, of Ancona, a scholar of Simon da Pesaro, was
also patronised by the court, and was created a cavalier, and contributed
by his lectures to the instruction of youth.
Casella, Recchi, and Peruzzini, repaired to Turin and united their talents
in the embellishment of the churches of that city; and we may observe that,
towards the close of the century, a great part of the commissions were
executed by foreigners. To those already recorded we may add Triva,
Legnani, Cairo, and also a Gio. Batista Pozzi, who not succeeding to his
wishes in his own country, as I believe, decorated with frescos a vast
number of walls in Turin, and through all the Piedmontese. He was a hasty
practitioner, but sometimes produced a good general effect, as in the S.
Cristoforo of Vercelli. We find another, and a better artist of the same
name in P. Andrea, a Jesuit, who resided for a long time in Turin, where,
in the Congregazione de' Mercanti, he left four histories from the life of
the Saviour, painted in oil in his best manner, a manner derived from
Rubens, chequered by those beautiful and playful lights which may be said
to irradiate the composition. He also painted in fresco, in the church of
his order, but he was not satisfied with that work; and having afterwards
also to ornament the vault of the church of his order at Mondovi, he
repeated the subject, and executed it more to his satisfaction. There also
we find Il Genovesino, so called from his native place, not so well known
in Turin as in the state, particularly at Alessandria; a painter by no
means deficient in grace and colour, whence he is much esteemed in
cabinets. The PP. Predicatori have a S. Domenico by him, and a S. Thomas in
two altars of their church; the Sig. Marchese Ambrogio Ghilini, a Christ
praying in the Garden; the Marchese Carlo Guasco, two Madonnas, with the
holy infant sleeping, two different designs. The name of this artist was
Giuseppe Calcia, who in consequence of living in a foreign country, is not
noticed in his native history, and in the _Notizia delle Pitture d'Italia_,
he is confused with Marco Genovesini, a Milanese mentioned by Orlandi. This
artist was a considerable machinist, of whom there are no remains in Milan,
except what he painted in the church of the Augustines; the genealogical
tree, or history of that order, in the gallery, and two grand lateral
compositions, in which the figures are finely varied and coloured, but not
disposed and put into action with equal art. It would occupy too much time
to enumerate all the foreigners who worked at that time in Turin, or
throughout the state; and some of whom we have occasionally noticed in the
various schools of Italy.
The native painters of reputation were not numerous at this time; and the
most considerable, if I mistake not, were Caravoglia and Taricco.
Bartolommeo Caravoglia, a Piedmontese, was said to be the scholar of
Guercino: he followed his master's footsteps at a distance, affecting a
contrast of light and shade; but his lights are much less clear than those
of Guercino, and the shadows not so strong; a thing which does not occur in
the works of the genuine scholars of that master. Notwithstanding this
feebleness, he pleases us by a certain modest harmony which pervades his
pictures, and governs also the invention, the design, the architecture, and
the other decorative parts of his composition. In Turin is to be seen the
Miracle of the Eucharist, painted in the church of the _Corpus Domini_,
which, to perpetuate the occurrence of that event in Turin in 1453, was
erected in a sumptuous manner, and magnificently decorated.
"Sebastiano Taricco was born in Cherasco, a city of Piedmont, in the year
1645; and it clearly appears from his works that he studied with Guido and
with Domenichino in the great school of the Caracci." Thus far his
historian. I have endeavoured, but in vain, to find any record of the
residence of these two great masters in Bologna in the year 1645, when
Taricco was born; they were at that time both dead. I therefore conjecture
that the writer meant to say, that Taricco studied in Bologna the works of
the Caracci, as Guido and Domenichino had done before him. That he acquired
the principles of his art in that city is believed in Piedmont; and his
manner does not contradict this supposition. The truth is, that at that
time all Italy, as it were, was turned to the imitation of the Bolognese;
and Turin, as I have previously observed, had already a few specimens.
Above all they possessed specimens of Guido, and of his followers, Carlo
Nuvolone and Gio. Peruzzini; and all might influence the style of
Sebastiano, which was select in the heads, and sufficiently pleasing in
general, but of too great facility, and without that refinement which
distinguishes the classic painters. This I say after seeing the picture of
the Trinity, and others of his oil pictures at Turin: but I have heard that
the Sala of the Sig. Gotti, painted by him in fresco in his native place,
and various other works by him interspersed through that vicinity, inspire
a higher opinion of his talents. In the seventh volume of the _Lettere
Pittoriche_ there is mention made of a picture of S. Martino Maggiore at
Bologna; where are represented the Saints Giovacchino and Anna, and where
there is subscribed the initials TAR, probably Taricco, as has been
elsewhere conjectured. But the style of this picture is like that of
Sabbatini, which is in fact a more ancient style than that which Taricco
has exhibited in his authenticated works.
Alessandro Mari, of Turin, resided only for a short time in his native
city, nor did he leave any public works there. He changed both his country
and his school, and studied first under Piola, next under Liberi, and again
under Pasinelli; always uniting the practice of painting with the
cultivation of poetry. He ultimately became a celebrated copyist, and a
successful designer of capricci and symbolical representations, by which he
established a reputation in Milan, and afterwards in Spain, where he died.
We find the name of Isabella dal Pozzo inscribed at the foot of a picture
at S. Francis, which represents the Virgin, together with S. Biagio and
other saints. The birth-place of this fair artist is unknown to me; but I
may observe that, in 1666, when she painted, there were not many better
artists in Turin. Somewhat later flourished Gio. Antonio Mareni, a scholar
of Baciccio, by whom there is a beautiful picture noticed in the _Guide_.
Towards the beginning of the eighteenth century were employed in those
churches, and sometimes in competition with each other, Antonio Mari and
Tarquinio Grassi, whether of the family of Niccolò Grassi of Venice, who
painted at S. Carlo, I cannot say, but certainly the father of a Gio.
Batista. Tarquinio is well known in Turin, and seems to have derived some
portion of his style from Cignani and the Bolognese of that age.
Monferrato was not deficient in good artists in the seventeenth century.
Some of these I have mentioned in the train of Lanini; others in that of
Moncalvo. I shall here mention only Evangelista Martinotti, the scholar of
Salvator Rosa, of great excellence in landscapes, small figures, and
animals, as Orlandi informs us. I may add, that he succeeded also in nobler
subjects; a Baptism of our Lord, in the Duomo of Casale, is shewn as his,
and is a highly finished performance. There are two works there in public
by a Raviglione di Casale, than whom, after Musso, I do not think that
Monferrato has produced a more commendable artist: but we are nevertheless
ignorant of his name, his age, and his school. Ferdinando Cairo was a
respectable disciple of Franceschini in Bologna: he afterwards established
himself at Brescia, where he continued, with Boni and others, to profess
that easy style, and the latter city possesses his best works.
SCHOOL OF PIEDMONT AND THE
ADJACENT TERRITORY.
EPOCH III.
_School of Beaumont, and Restoration of the Academy._
The eighteenth century was graced by the reign of three successive princes,
all lovers of the fine arts, and was consequently rich in patronage; but
from the decline of painting it was not equally rich in the production of
great works. Saiter, who lived some years in this century, was succeeded at
the court by Agnelli, a Roman, whose style was a mixture of those of
Cortona and Maratta. He painted a large hall, which is filled with select
pictures, and which now bears his name. Agnelli was in his turn succeeded
by Claudio Beaumont of Turin, who after having studied in his native place,
repaired to Rome, where he employed himself for a considerable time in
copying the works of Raffaello, the Caracci, and Guido. He did not much
regard the masters of the Roman School of that day, considering them
feeble: he deferred to Trevisani, and aimed at emulating his execution and
the vigour of his colouring: he was also desirous of studying the works of
the old masters at Venice, but was prevented by his domestic circumstances.
On his return to Turin, he became distinguished for the noble style he had
acquired in Rome. To appreciate him correctly we must inspect the works of
his best time; as the Deposition from the Cross in the church of the S.
Croce, or the pictures in fresco in the royal library, where, under various
symbols, he has celebrated the ruling family; adding to it a Genius with a
cross of a cavaliere, which was the reward he was ambitious of, and which
he obtained. He decorated also other rooms with pictures in fresco; the
Rape of Helen in one cabinet, and the Judgment of Paris in another, are his
productions, alike happy in their general effect and in their separate
parts.
The court gave an additional stimulus to his industry by employing, in
competition with him, many eminent foreigners, particularly in the reign of
King Charles, to embellish the palace, the villas, and the churches of
royal foundation; among the latter of which the most remarkable is the
church of the Sopperga, erected by Victor II., which contains the family
monuments. Beaumont was in consequence brought into competition with
Sebastiano Ricci, Giaquinto, Guidoboni, De Mura, Galeotti, and Gio. Batista
Vanloo, the celebrated scholar of Luti. Vanloo in Turin distinguished
himself both in the frescos of the villas, and in church pictures; and had
with him Carlo, his brother and his scholar, who was his assistant, and
executed even more works than he. He painted the beautiful decorations of a
cabinet in the Palazzo, consisting of subjects from the Jerusalem of Tasso.
These princes were moreover accustomed to send commissions to the most
distinguished foreign painters, such as Solimene, Trevisani, Masucci, and
Pittoni; which gave a stimulus to Beaumont to rival them, or at least to
endeavour not to be left too far behind. And thus in his best works he
sustains his fame in a commendable manner; at one time excelling in design
those who conquer him in colour; at another time surpassing in spirit of
execution those who excel him in design. It is the general opinion that his
genius declined as he advanced in years; and this is attributed to his
superintendance of the working of tapestry, for which, while he made the
cartoons, he gradually degenerated into negligence of design, vulgarity in
his heads, and above all, crudeness and want of harmony in his colours; a
defect not uncommon in those who survived him.
His memory is deservedly held in veneration in his native place. He was the
first to form the Turin academy on the model of the greater institutions of
that kind: so that it seemed to date a new birth from his time, in 1736
(for it was not before extended to all branches of the art) under the
appellation of the Royal Academy; as appears from the Orazione of
Tagliazucchi, and the poetry annexed, in a little volume edited in Turin in
1736, entitled, _Orazione e Poesie per la Instituzione dell'Accademia del
disegno_, in 8vo. Beaumont educated not only many painters of merit, but
also engravers, tapestry-workers, and modellers and statuaries; from which
epoch the national cultivation of the fine arts has increased, far beyond
the example of former times. Some of those who were the scholars of
Beaumont in painting still survive. Some are deceased, (and these alone
hold a place in this work,) of similar style, though not of equal talents
with their master. Vittorio Blanseri was considered the best amongst them,
and was on that account chosen by the court to succeed Beaumont. The three
pictures by him at S. Pelagia, and particularly a S. Luigi fainting in the
arms of an angel, are much esteemed in Turin; and if I err not, he is
superior to his master in the distribution of light and shade. A more
correct designer than Blanseri, but inferior in poetical invention, and in
knowledge of harmony and colouring, was Gio. Molinari, who painted some
pictures in the churches; one of which is at S. Bernardo di Vercelli, a
composition of saints, well disposed, with good action, and conducted with
great care. In Turin there is an Addolorata by him at the Regio Albergo
delle Virtù; others in various places in the state; amongst which in the
abbey of S. Benigno is a St. John the Baptist, with a landscape by
Cignaroli. In private collections we meet with his historical pieces and
his portraits: he painted one of the king, which was highly applauded, and
has been very frequently copied. Owing to his character, which was
naturally timid, reserved, and modest, he painted history less than he
ought to have done. This artist was honoured by the Baron Vernazza with an
elegant eulogium, which will confer a lasting honour on his memory. He died
nearly at the same time as another eminent Piedmontese of the name of
Tesio. Whether or not Tesio was instructed in the art by Beaumont, or by
others, I cannot state; but I know that he repaired to Rome, and there
became one of the best scholars of Mengs; and at Moncalieri, a delightful
residence of the royal family, are to be seen some of the finest specimens
of his talents. Felice Cervetti and Mattia Franceschini worked sometimes
alone, sometimes in competition, with more facility but less finish, and
are pretty frequently met with in Turin. But in Turin, and throughout the
state, Antonio Milocco is better known than these, or perhaps any other
painter. He was not the scholar, but for some time the companion of the
Cavalier Beaumont; more dry than he in design, less cultivated, and
inferior to him in all the qualities of a painter: but from a peculiar
facility he was often employed by private individuals, and sometimes by the
court.
About the same period Giancarlo Aliberti flourished in Asti, his native
city, which he adorned with many large compositions. The best of these are
at S. Agostino, where, in the cupola of the church he has represented the
titular saint borne to heaven by a band of angels; and in the presbytery,
the same saint baptizing the newly converted in the church of his town of
Ippona. The subject is well conceived; the perspective, which the vaulting
of the edifice rendered difficult, is correctly preserved; the architecture
is magnificent; the expression of the figures is in unison with the august
ceremony: the style participates of the Roman and Bolognese of those times.
He would probably have left some works of a higher order in the cathedral,
a fine church, which was intended to have been wholly decorated by him; but
in consequence of demanding fifteen years for the completion of his work,
he was deprived of the commission; nor was it difficult to find one to
execute it quickly enough, without exciting the jealousy of Aliberti. P.
della Valle found in his style a mixture of Maratta, of Gio. da S.
Giovanni, and of Coreggio; heads and feet which one should attribute to
Guido or Domenichino; forms peculiar to the Caracci; drapery of Paolo,
colours of Guercino, a Sacrifice of Abraham, imitated from Mecherino. I had
not myself time to form so many comparisons. The Abate Aliberti, his son,
painted in many of the above-named cities, and, (which I have not found in
the father,) in the capital. There is a Holy Family, of fine effect,
painted by him in the church of the Carmine, though in the colouring it is
not exempt from that greenish tinge which was then in vogue in Italy, and
which still predominates in the works of some of our artists.
Francesco Antonio Cuniberti, of Savigliano, a fresco painter of some
reputation in the decoration of cupolas and ceilings, worked in his native
place and its neighbourhood. Pietro Gualla di Casalmonferrato also employed
himself in fresco, and likewise painted in oil in many places of the state,
and in the metropolis. Although he applied himself late to the study of his
art, he became a portrait painter of great spirit. Nor ought he to have
gone beyond this province, neither possessing a knowledge of design, nor
genius equal to greater attempts. When verging on age, he assumed the habit
of a friar of S. Paul, and in Milan undertook to ornament a cupola of the
church of that order; but he died before he had finished his work.
Another department of the art was cultivated in a distinguished manner by
Domenico Olivieri of Turin, a man born to amuse by his singular personal
appearance, his lively conversation, and the humorous productions of his
pencil. His cabinet pictures of spirited caricatures in the style of Laer,
and other eminent Flemish artists, are well known in the collections of
Piedmont. In his time the royal collection, by the death of Prince Eugene,
was enriched by the addition of nearly four hundred Flemish pictures; which
are still distinguishable from others by the highly finished carving and
fine taste of the frames. No one profited more than Olivieri from the
imitation of these works. If he had possessed the lucid clearness of their
tints, he would have passed for a Flemish artist. He is happy in his
subject, strong in his colours, and free in his touch. The court has two
large pictures of his, crowded with figures of a span in size: one of which
is a market scene, with charlatans, drawers of teeth, villagers
quarrelling, and the variety of incident usually furnished by a busy
assemblage of the vulgar. It might indeed, from its humour, be called a
little Bernesque poem. He occasionally employed his talents in sacred
subjects, as in the Miracle of the Sacrament, which he represented by a
number of small figures in two pictures, which are preserved in the
sacristy of the Corpus Domini. His style was inherited by one Graneri, who
imitated him successfully, and died only a few years since.
The court had also a painter from Prague, of the name of Francesco Antonio
Meyerle, commonly called Monsieur Meyer, who did not acquire so much fame
from his larger works as from his small pictures in the Flemish style: in
the latter he was indeed excellent. He was also a fine painter of
portraits. The Bishop of Vercelli possesses one of an old man, scrutinizing
some object or other with an eye-glass, executed with great truth and
humour; and in the same city, where he spent his latter days, his works are
frequently met with, and the more prized the smaller they are found in
size. In landscapes and other ornamental pictures, painted in a bold
Venetian style, and for distant effect, a Piedmontese, of the name of Paolo
Foco, distinguished himself, who lived for a long time in Casale, where the
greater number of his works are to be found. He, too, attempted figures on
a larger scale, but with little success.
In portraits, in the time of Orlandi, a lady of the name of Anna Metrana,
whose mother also was a painter, was much esteemed. In our days a similar
reputation was obtained in Bologna, by Marcantonio Riverditi, of
Alessandria, a very good follower of that school. He painted also in the
churches in a clear chaste style, far removed from mannerism; and amongst
other pictures which he painted for the church of the monks of Camoldoli,
is a Conception, in which he manifested his predilection for Guido Reni. He
died in the same city in the year 1774.
I have found, in the course of my reading, one Michela, whether or not of
Piedmont I cannot determine, who, in the royal castle painted perspectives,
ornamented with figures by Olivieri; a work executed in competition with
Lucatelli, Marco Ricci, and Gian Paolo Pannini, celebrated artists of those
times. For the more extensive decorations of the churches and the theatres
we find two artists often employed; Dellamano, of Modena, mentioned by us
in the second chapter of the Lombard Schools,[77] and Gio. Batista Crosato,
of Venice, whose genius and fine taste are extolled by Sig. Zanetti. He has
not, however, been able to adduce more than one public picture, in which
branch, and in every other of a figurist, he was less admired than in
perspective. He is one of those painters who deceive the eye by a strong
relief, and he thus gives the semblance of reality to his imitations. He
has left proofs of this quality in various parts of Piedmont, where he
generally resided; and the works which do the most honour to his memory are
at the Vigna della Regina. He conferred a benefit on the School of
Piedmont, from his instruction of Bernardino Galliari, a celebrated
perspective painter, particularly for the theatres, and of great fame in
Milan, in Berlin, and in other places beyond the mountains. To this
respected professor his scholars are indebted for their accurate taste in
art. The state has also produced other painters in figures and in
landscape; nor will any impartial person blame me for not having
particularised every individual of them. On the contrary, I fear that
several names here inserted by me, may appear to some of my readers
scarcely worthy of admission. Such persons ought however to consider, that
the mediocrity of the times compels the historian to notice artists of
mediocrity.
Footnote 77: See vol. iv. p. 69.
The rules of the academy, introduced in Turin in 1778, have not subsisted
sufficiently long to allow us to judge of their result, as I have done with
regard to older establishments. They were given to the public the same
year, from the royal press;[78] and do honour as well to the good taste as
to the munificence of Victor Amadeus III. His august father had, indeed,
already prepared a domicile for the fine arts in the halls of the
university, and had founded the new academy of design, under the direction
of the first painter of the court. It has since received fresh lustre from
the patronage of the present king, and has been enlarged by professorships,
stipends, and laws, and aids of all kinds for studious youth. Turin has, in
the present day, exhibited productions in painting, such as, except in
Rome, are to be found in few capitals of Italy; and in architecture,
statuary, and bronze, stands almost unrivalled. I do not particularise the
living artists, as they may easily be found in the New City Guide, or in
the preface to volume xi. of Vasari, printed in Siena; and some of their
names have become better known from the voice of public applause than from
the pens of writers.
Footnote 78: There is annexed to them a learned Treatise, by
the Count Felice Durando di Villa, with very erudite and
copious notes.
I here close my History of the Art of Painting. The Indexes, which form the
sixth volume, the first, containing the nomenclature and the different ages
of the artists; the second, a list of the writers from whom I have derived
my information; and the third, a reference to some things more particularly
deserving of notice, will complete the work.
END OF VOL. V.
Transcriber's Notes:
Standardized spacing after apostrophes in Italian names and phrases.
Standardized inconsistent hyphenation. For consistency with prior volumes
in this series of books, 'bassi-rilievi' was changed to 'bassi-relievi' and
'master-piece' to 'masterpiece.'
Moved footnotes to the end of the paragraph in which the anchor occurs.
Retained archaic spelling and punctuation, except as noted below:
'an' added to Footnote 1 ... to supply an abundance of valuable ...
'Comunal' to 'Communal' ... in the Communal Collection ...
'reconducts' to 're-conducts' ... he re-conducts him to Bologna ...
'emiment' to 'eminent' ...both eminent ornamental painters ...
'Ceseno' to 'Cesena' ... a pupil of Raffaello at Cesena ...
'Tintoret' to 'Tintoretto' ... under Titian and Tintoretto at Venice....
'chiariscuri' to 'chiaroscuri' ... some chiaroscuri happily enough ...
'Ferrau' to 'Ferraù' ... He flourished after Ferraù ...
added 'of' ... names not unworthy of a place in history ...'
'desart' to 'desert' for consistency with remaining text
... desert of Judea,...
... The Saint preaching in the Desert ...
'Barruffaldi' to 'Baruffaldi' ... relating to Baruffaldi's MS....
'Mezzarata' to 'Mezzaratta' ...the church of Mezzaratta;...
'Winckelman' to 'Winckelmann' ... and of Winckelmann,...
'intituled' to 'entitled' ... in 1736, entitled,... | 156,802 | common-pile/project_gutenberg_filtered | 39996 | project gutenberg | project_gutenberg-dolma-0006.json.gz:1309 | https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39996.txt.utf-8 |
bHQbFz3V8gyJ5Z-l | Wildlife Habitat Management | 10 Desired Future Conditions
To effectively manage habitat for a species, a group of species, or to contribute to biodiversity conservation, we need goals or targets toward which management will be directed. This may involve a condition that will occur on its own in the absence of active management, or it may require intervention to guide the development of the stand or landscape toward your goal. Describing the structure, composition, and scales of a condition that you think will meet the needs for species on your site is one of the first steps in developing a habitat management plan for a stand, forest, or landscape. Landres et al. (1999) described desired future conditions (DFCs) as expressions of ecosystem conditions preferred by stakeholders and managers. Kessler et al. (1992) also referred to an articulation of a DFC as a goal in ecosystem management. This may be a reference condition, or more appropriately it may be a set of reference conditions that currently achieve some desired objectives, or it may be a sequential set of future conditions that achieve different objectives for different species over time. Given inherent uncertainty in achieving goals in the face of stochastic disturbances, ecological pathways, and novel stresses on forest dynamics (e.g., climate change, spread of invasive species), monitoring to assess progress toward a DFC is probably a reasonable strategy for achieving habitat objectives. Adaptability to unexpected outcomes is also important. Joyce et al. (2009) described developing a set of practices that would build resistance and resilience into current ecosystems, while also managing for change in system function and adaptability to new system states. Despite the uncertainties of the future, having a goal or DFC helps to direct management actions while keeping options open for unexpected changes. Goals for habitat are typically set at large scales (regions) and achieved at small scales (stands). Foresters typically develop plans for managing stands that contribute to some overall forest-level goal.
However the DFCs are described, they must be implementable; that is, the site must be capable of producing those conditions. All of the factors described in the previous chapters come into play when considering if current conditions, past actions, and likely future changes will result in achievement of a set of DFCs. Models of forest development under alternative management strategies can help guide development of management plans for a stand or landscape. | 509 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://open.oregonstate.education/wildlifehabitat/chapter/desired-future/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:2593 | https://open.oregonstate.education/wildlifehabitat/chapter/desired-future/ |
0pZY4xd56kjOu8Gx | Electric oscillations and Electric waves; with application to radiotelegraphy and incidental application to telephony and optics, by George W. Pierce ... | and electric waves.
Although the selection of material particularly applicable to radiotelegraphy has been the first consideration, yet, because the electromagnetic theory, which is fundamental to radiotelegraphy, is fundamental also to optics, wire telephony and power transmission, it is hoped that the volume may be useful in these fields also.
Book I on Electric Oscillations and Book II on Electric Waves are practically independent, so that a reader with a fair knowledge of mathematics may read the two books in either sequence.
A student in optics might confine his attention almost entirely to Book II. A mature reader primarily interested in wire telephony or power transmission might begin at Chapter XVI of Book I, and continue through Chapter XVII, with such occasional references to the earlier chapters as are necessary for familiarity with the methods employed. He might then look into some of the earlier chapters in order to acquaint himself with the various transformer problems arising in connection with coupled circuits.
It is suggested that students of radiotelegraphy begin at the beginning of Book I and read the various chapters consecutively, with the possible exception of Chapters IX, X, and XV, which may be omitted or postponed without rendering difficult the understanding of what follows. It is perhaps unnecessary to say that the theoretical work of this book should be supplemented by copious descriptive matter and laboratory work.
Certain important subjects related to radiotelegraphy have been omitted — particularly the matter of spark-gaps, arcs, va.cuum tubes, direction finders and the propagation of electric waves over the surface of the earth. These defects are to be partly remedied by including the omitted material in a revision
The writer takes pleasure in acknowledging his indebtedness to Mr. Yu Ching Wen for valuable assistance in reading the proofs; to Mr. H. E. Rawson for supplying a draftsman; and to the publishers for their accuracy and dispatch in the difficult composition and manufacture of the book.
CHAPTER XV
RESONANCE RELATIONS IN A RADIOTELEGRAPHIC RECEIVING STATION HAVING A COUPLED SYSTEM OF CIRCUITS WITH THE DETECTOR IN SHUNT TO A SECONDARY CONDENSER 240
TABLE 1
RELATIONS OF CAPACITY — INDUCTANCE PRODUCT TO UNDAMPED WAVELENGTH AND FREQUENCY OF A CIRCUIT, TOGETHER WITH SQUARES OF WAVELENGTHS • . • 502
E = E.m.f., or difference of potential (constant), i = Instantaneous value of current at time t (variable), q = Instantaneous value of quantity at time t (variable), e = Instantaneous value of e.m.f. at time t (variable),
of the conductor are constant, the same amount of electricity per second (i.e., the same current) flows through every cross section, Si, S2, S3 of the conductor (Fig. 1). In this figure the two lines in a general horizontal direction are boundaries of
the conductor across which no current is allowed to flow. Any two transverse surfaces, as Si and S3, together with the boundaries of the conductor, enclose a region of the conductor. Now if more or less electricity flows per second into the region through Si than flows out through $3 in the same time, there will be a growth or a decrease of electric charge within the region, which is contrary to the hypothesis of a steady state. Therefore, the current in through any surface Si and out through any surface
If an electric conductor is
branched as at A in Fig. 2, so that through the main conductor a current / flows into any surface S enclosing A, while currents /i, I2, /3, . . . flow out of S through the branches, and if there is no growing accumulation of electricity
of the closed surface S.
Equations (1), (2), and (3) are merely different methods of stating symbolically that electricity is conserved, and that in the cases under consideration there is no accumulating of electricity within a certain region, and that, therefore, the amount of electricity flowing out of the region in a given time is equal to the amount flowing into the region in the same time.
3. Kirchhoff's Current Law in the above Form Inapplicable at Regions Containing Capacity. — Fig. 3 represents an electric circuit containing a condenser C. If we suppose that a battery or other source of e.m.f. is applied at B, current will flow for a short time into the condenser. If now we draw a closed surface
S including one plate of the condenser, it is apparent that there may be an electric current i flowing into the region bounded by the surface S, while there is at the same time no current (in the elementary sense of the word) flowing out of the region bounded byS.
As another example, if we suppose a conducting wire AB, Fig. 4, to be supported on insulators and open-ended at B, and let a battery be connected between the other end A and the ground E, it is apparent, according to elementary notions, that a charge of electricity will flow into the conductor at A, — • this charge constituting an electric current i\ at A — while there
capacity.
is no current out from the end B of the conductor. At any point intermediate between A and B, there will in general be a current i (say), and this current will be different at different points along the conductor; so that if a closed surface S be drawn, there will in general be a difference between the current flowing into and the current flowing out of S.
4. Generalization of Kirchhoff's Current Law so as to Apply to Variable Currents. Law of Conservation of Electricity. — If ii is the instantaneous value of current flowing into a given region bounded by a closed surface S, and i0 is the instantaneous value of the current at the same instant flowing out of the region S, we may suppose that in the time dt the current into the region delivers a charge iidt and the current out from the region carries away a charge i0dt; the difference between these two quantities
is dq (say), where dq is the gain of charge of the region in the time dt. The assumption that there is no creation or destruction of electricity during the process makes
As a generalization of this equation, if we consider current flowing into a given region bounded by a closed surface to be positive, and current flowing out to be negative, then
Equation (6) may be stated as follows: The excess of the current flowing into a given region at a given time over the current flowing out at the same time is the time-rate of increase of quantity of electricity within the region at that time.
TJiis is a statement of the Law of the Conservation of Electricity, and applies to all cases of the flow of -electricity whether the flow is constant or variable. We shall call the equation Kirchhoff's Generalized Current Law, or Kirchhoff's Current Law. The terms employed in the statement and equations are explained in the next section.
- 5. Explanation of Terms of Foregoing Statements and Equations. Intrinsic Charge. — The quantities q and ^ in equation (6) must be measured in the same set of units. If ii is in amperes, q must be in coulombs. If, on the other hand, it is in absolute units of either the electrostatic or the electromagnetic system, q must be in absolute units of the same system.1
The charge indicated by q is a charge that can be increased or diminished only by an actual transfer of electricity (free electrons) into the region containing q. Such a charge is known as an intrinsic charge, and is to be distinguished from certain induced charges to be considered later.
The current it must include any actual transfer of electricity into the region, whether of the ordinary conduction variety or whether the transfer is by an actual transfer of charged matter into the region; that is, ii must include conduction and convection currents of electricity. It is highly probable that all transfer of
free electricity, even in metallic conduction, is accompanied by the flow of matter in the form of electrons, and is, therefore, essentially a convection current; but this subject may properly be deferred to later consideration. The current ii} however, in the present form of the equation does not include displacement currents to be treated in Book II.
6. Generalization of Kirchhoff's Electromotive -Force Law. — If we have a circuit of the form of Fig. 5 in which an e.m.f. e is applied to a constant resistance R, a constant inductance L, and a constant capacity C in series, the instantaneous value of
in which
CR = the fall of potential in the resistance R, eL = the fall of potential in the inductance L, ec = the fall of potential in the capacity C.
Let us now adopt the following rule of signs: If e and i are in the direction of the arrows they are given a positive sign. If they are in the opposite direction they are given a negative sign. If the charge on the plate A (toward which positive i flows) is positive q is positive. If this charge is negative q is negative.
where L is the self-inductance of the coil L, and i is the current through L. This current is the same as the current through R, since there is assumed to be no capacity and therefore no accumulation of charge within R and L. The fall of potential in the condenser C is
where + q is the charge on the plate A of the condenser, and C is the capacity of the condenser. It is to be noted that there is an equivalent charge of the opposite sign ( — q) on the plate B; because, since there is no other capacity in the circuit, the current throughout the circuit at the time t is everywhere the same except within the dielectric of the condenser : and, therefore, the current out of the condenser at B is always the same as the current into the condenser at A, and hence the deficit of charge (the negative charge) of B is always the same as the excess of charge (the positive charge) of A. By KirchhofTs Current Law (eq. 6)
In this equation the applied e.m.f. e is usually called the impressed e.m.f. This impressed e.m.f. may be variable, constant or zero. If it is variable its instantaneous value at any time t is to be taken, and the current i is the instantaneous value of the current at the same time t.
It may not be apparent just why the e.m.f. e, represented in Fig. 5 as produced by a dynamo, shall be considered as impressed e.m.f., while the other terms of the equation (12) are regarded as falls of potential. The reply is, that e is the terminal voltage
of the dynamo and is, therefore, impressed by a source of power external to the sequence of elements R, L and C. If e is not the terminal voltage of the dynamo, but the total e.m.f. generated in the dynamo, then equation (12) would still be true if we add the resistance of the dynamo to R and add the inductance of the dynamo to L, although in this case difficulty would arise because the equation presupposes a constant L, which would not be the case if the dynamo contained iron in its armature.
We may now regard Ri as the counter e.m.f. of the resistance, and may interpret equation (13) as an algebraic statement of the fact that the impressed e.m.f. and the counter e.m.f. 's constitute a system in equilibrium.
If we have several dynamos or batteries of terminal voltages ei, 62, 63 . . ., these e.m.f. 's being estimated positive when tending to send currents in the direction of the arrows and negative when tending to send currents in the opposite direction, and if we have several capacityless resistances1 Ri, R2) Rs . . ., several capacityless inductances LI, L2, L3 • - . , and several condensers of capacities Ci, C2, C3 . . . , all in series, we shall have
Equation (14) presupposes that the L's, R's, and C's are independent of the time t. It may readily be seen how the equation is to be modified to make it applicable to cases in which these coefficients are variables. We shall, however, have occasion to discuss chiefly those problems in which R, L, and C are constants independent of current I and independent of time t, and shall at present limit ourselves to these conditions. The group of results constituting Kirchhoff's Generalized Electromotive Force Law, or Kirchhoff's Second Law, may be summarized as follows:'
1. When there is an instantaneous current i flowing in a constant capacityless and inductanceless resistance R at the time t, there is impressed at the same time at the terminals of the resistance by some source of power external to the resistance a difference of potential eR equal to Ri and in the direction of i\
2. When there is at the time t an instantaneous current i flowing in a constant capacityless inductance L of resistance RL, there is impressed at the same time at the terminals of the inductance by some source of power external to the inductance
3. When there is at the time t an instantaneous current i flowing into the positively charged plate of a condenser of constant capacity C, there is an equal current i flowing away from the other plate1 of the condenser, and there is impressed upon the condenser from some source of power external to the condenser a difference of potential between the plates of the value
4. When several of these elements (resistance, inductance and condensers) are in series the total instantaneous impressed e.m.f. is equal to the sum of the instantaneous e.m.f.'s impressed on the elements.
1 Care must be exercised in determining what is the other plate of the condenser. It is the aggregate of all bodies on which terminate lines of static force from the first plate.
their respective Roman Numerals.
9. Differential Equation of Current and Quantity. — If in a circuit of the form of Fig. 1, we equate the impressed e.m.f. e to the sum of the counter e.m.f. 's (that is, the counter e.m.f. of
Equations (4) and (5) are the differential equations for the current in the circuit and for the charge in the condenser at any time t in terms of the e.m.f. impressed upon the circuit.
10. General Solution. — A general solution of equations of the form of (4) and (5) is given in Appendix I, Note 6. Instead of making direct use of the solution there given, it is instructive to solve (4) and (5) by elementary methods for specific values of e such as arise in important practical cases.
11. Important Special Problems. — By assigning different values to the impressed e.m.f., e, various special problems arise in connection with the flow of current in condenser circuits. The following of these problems are highly important and interesting:
e.m.f.
These problems will be treated in order (the first three in this chapter, and the fourth in Chapter V). Each problem will be examined in detail, partly on account of the interest that it presents in itself, and partly as introductory to other matter.
12. Differential Equation for Current and Quantity During Discharge. — Suppose a condenser of Capacity C, Fig. 2, to be initially charged with a quantity of electricity + Q0 on one plate and — QQ on the other plate, and at the time t = 0, let the gap G be closed in such a way that there is no spark2 at G, then we have the initial conditions.
In addition to these initial conditions, we have the fact that the e.m.f. impressed upon the circuit is zero; whence the differential equations (4) and (5) take the respective forms
13. General Solution of Equations (8) and (9).— Let us fix our attention upon equation (8). This equation is a homogeneous linear differential equation of the second order, with constant coefficients. This terminology, which is used generally in the theory of differential equations, has the following significance.
elements of the equation, the equation is linear in these elements, since products or squares or higher powers of these elements do not enter. It is homogeneous, since every significant term of the equation contains one of the elements to the same power; namely, the first power. It has the constant coefficients L, R, and 1/C.
additive.
II. If we can in any way find a solution of a linear, homogeneous equation of the nth order, the solution, if it contains n independent arbitrary constants, is the most general solution, or the complete integral of the equation.
The proofs of these two propositions are found in Appendix I, Notes 1 and 4. We shall employ the propositions in obtaining the solution of equations (8) and (9).
In the beginning let us attempt to find by inspection a particular solution of (8). We may try anything we like in the search for a solution; for example, let us try i = A, a constant. This substituted in (8) yields 0 = 0 + 0 + A/C, and, therefore, A = 0, and i = 0. Such a value will not contribute anything by addition to any other solution that may be found.
We might make various other random attempts to find a particular solution of (8), but we shall make greater progress by basing our attempts upon some rational experience, particularly upon experience with the use of exponential functions.
The coefficient A of equation (10) is entirely arbitrary and may have any values whatsoever so far as may be determined by the given differential equation. The constant k is determined by (13) and (14). ^
is a solution of equation (8). In fact, this is the most general solution, or complete integral, of (8), provided ki and &2 are different quantities; for then A\ and A 2 are two independent arbitrary constants; and by Proposition II, Art. 13, such a solution is general.
and, therefore, possesses only one arbitrary constant; for the sum of A i and A 2 is no more arbitrary than AI alone. The exceptional case with ki equal to fc2 arises when
as may be seen by reference to (13) and (14) and to (iii) and (iv), Art. 8. This is called the Critical Case. The critical case requires a special treatment, which is given in Appendix I, Note 7, where the result is obtained in the form of
If the reader does not care to follow the reasoning of the Note 7 in Appendix I, he can satisfy himself that (19) is a solution of (8) in the critical case by substituting (19) directly in (8) and introducing also the condition
Now to obtain the value of q we may solve directly equation (9), just as we have solved (8). We shall, however, adopt the alternative method of obtaining q by integrating (20) and (21), employing the relation
Equations (20), (21), (23), and (24) are the general solutions of the differential equations (8) and (9). In these equations AI and A 2 are arbitrary constants; while ki, &2 and a are constants of the circuits defined in equations (i), (ii), and (v), Art. 8, respectively.
14. Determination of the Arbitrary Constants AI and A2 Subject to the Initial Conditions. — We may now determine the arbitrary constants subject to the initial conditions written above as (7) and (6). These initial conditions are:
15. Complete Solution for Current Subject to the Initial Conditions. — Having determined the values of the arbitrary constants A\ and A2 subject to the initial conditions of the prob-
Equation (34) or equation (35) gives the value of i in the nowcritical case. Either of these equations may be used, but it is simpler to use (34) whenever «& is real (that is, when R2>4L/C); and (35) whenever co is real (that is, when R2<4L/C).
16. Complete Solution of Quantity Subject to the Initial Conditions. — -The value of q may be obtained by substitution of the values of the constants AI and A2 into the equations for q (23) and (24), but we shall adopt the alternative method ef integrating i with respect to time.
Equation (37) or (38) g^es the value of q in the non-critical case. Either of these equations may be used, but it is simpler and more direct to use (38) when COA is real (that is, when R2>4L/C ) and (37) when w is real (that is, when R2<4L/C ).
17. Identity of the Critical Case Results with the Non-critical. It is to be noted that, although the form of the expression derived for i and q in the critical case is different from the form obtained in the non-critical case, in reality the non-critical results reduce to the critical results if we make
If next we concern ourselves with the limit approached by the charge q of equation (37) as co approaches 0, and note that we may expand tan -1 (co/a) for small values of co/a in the form
We thus obtain the result that after the determination of the constants of integration, the critical-case solution, although apparently very different in form from the non-critical case, is in reality
comprised in the non-critical solutions. We need thus, as the result of the discharge problem, only one equation for i (35) and one for q (37) whatever the value of R2 in relation to 4L/C. The other values of i and q given in (34) and (38) are more directly applicable when co is imaginary; and those given in (36) and (39) are more directly applicable when co is zero.
Before entering upon an examination of the results for the current and quantity during the discharge of a condenser, we shall first investigate the analogous problem for the charging of a condenser under the action of a constant impressed e.m.f.
We shall not distinguish between the critical and the noncritical cases, but after the final solution has been obtained and the arbitrary constants determined, the critical case will appear as a special case of the non-critical, or general, case.
by Appendix I, Note 8, or as follows:
The result (44) may be obtained by adding the particular integral of (42) (namely, CE) to the complementary function which is the solution of (42) with the constant E replaced by zero. This complementary function is
Now by comparison it will be seen that AI and A 2 are the negatives of the values obtained for these quantities in equations (25) and (27) (which give the current and quantity during the discharge) , except that the E which appears in the present problem is the e.m.f. impressed on the circuit, while in the discharge
initially charged.
In the event that the condenser is first charged under the impressed e.m.f. E and then discharged, these two values of E are the same. If t is measured from the beginning of the charging in the one case and from the beginning of the discharging in the other case, it will be seen that the current in the two cases differs only in sign, and that the quantity during charge is a constant CE minus the quantity during discharge.
Note that in the case in which co is not real, these quantities are the same as here given, but may be more conveniently used with hyperbolic sines and hyperbolic antitangents in place of sin and tan, and with COA substituted for co.
Also the result for the critical case is comprised in the above equations. We may, however, simplify the result in the critical case, by taking the limits of i and q above as w approaches zero. This process gives for the critical case
DECREMENT
20. Determination of Period During Discharge. — We come now to a discussion of the results obtained in the case of the condenser discharge. We have found for the current and quantity during discharge the equations
diagram for q is given in Fig. 4.
The period of oscillation of the current in Fig. 3 may be defined as the time between alternate zero values of the current; that is, the time between the points ai and a2, #2 and «3, etc. These points are the values of t for which i becomes zero after successive
Equation (56) gives T the period of oscillation of the current during the discharge of a condenser. Similar reasoning gives the same period of oscillation of the quantity q. It is seen that this period is real, only provided
The approximate period T calculated by the formula (58) has an important role in some of the work of the later chapters and is called the Undamped Period of the Circuit and will often be designated by S to distinguish it from the true period T.
The Equation (58) gives the Undamped Period of the oscillations of current during the discharge of the condenser. This is sensibly the actual free period of the oscillations if a2/2 is negligible in comparison with co2. The oscillations of q have the same period as the oscillations of i.
22. The Time between Successive Positive or Negative Maxima is the Same as the Time between Alternate Zero Values. — Let us next find the time between successive positive or negative maxima of current and show that this gives the same period as the time between alternate zero values of current.
The time between successive maxima of the same sign is the same as the time between alternative zero values of current. This same fact is irue in regard to quantity.
23. Period of Oscillation During Charging. — If R2 is less than 4L/C, the angular velocity co that occurs in the equations for charge or discharge of the condenser is a real quantity and the charge or discharge is oscillatory. From the similarity of the equations for charge and discharge, it is seen that the period of oscillation of current or quantity during charge is the same as the period of oscillation during discharge for a circuit of given constants.
24. Logarithmic Decrement. Damping Constant. — In the equations given above we have seen that, in case R2 is less than 4L/C the discharge of the condenser and the charge of the condenser are oscillatory, and we have determined the period of theoscillation, and have also proved that the period between maxima or minima is the same as the period between zero values. The oscillation is, however, not purely sinusiodal, because the equations for i and q involve an exponential factor with negative exponent. This exponential factor starts with the value 1 when t = 0, and decreases with increasing t, and becomes 0 when T = oo • that is, the amplitude of the oscillations becomes smaller and smaller with increasing time. This process is called damping and the factor e~at is called the damping factor. The constant a is called the damping constant.
It is seen that the natural logarithm of the amplitude of the current falls by a constant amount d during each complete oscillation, or cycle; that is, d is the decrement per cycle of the logarithm of the amplitude of the current. This quantity d is called the logarithmic decrement per cycle, abbreviated Log. Dec. It is seen that the Log. Dec. of q is the same as that of i.
In terms of the logarithmic decrement d the equations (35) and (37) for current and quantity during the oscillatory discharge of the condenser may be written
In many of the experiments employed in high-frequency measurements electrical oscillations are produced by excitation of the condenser circuit by the use of a buzzer,1 which acts by making and breaking a current flowing in an inductance.
The accompanying figure (Fig. 5) represents a battery B supplying current to an inductance L through an interrupter J. The inductance L has resistance R} and is shunted by a condenser of capacity C.
The mathematical theory which follows applies to the heavy line circuit LRC, which is a circuit of frequency high in comparison with that of the circuit Z/0C0.
Let us measure time from the instant of interruption of current at /. Let the current flowing in L at any time t seconds after the interruption be i, which is a function of t, and let the charge in the condenser C at the same time be q.
where 7 is the current flowing in the coil L at the time of interruption at /. Equation (70) is obtained on the assumption that the current is in practically steady state immediately before interruption, so that the counter e.m.f. in the coil is RI. This is the potential of the lower plate of the condenser in excess of the
upper plate. The capacity C times this potential gives the charge on the lower plate as CRI; but the upper plate is regarded as positive, whence the negative sign in (70). The charge is - CRI.
26. On the E.M.F. Induced in a Very Loosely Coupled Secondary Circuit by Buzzer Excitation. — In the preceding sections there has been discussed the oscillations produced in a circuit by a method known as buzzer excitation. Oscillations produced in this way are often employed to impress an e.m.f . on a secondary circuit for the purpose of making measurements in the secondary circuit. A diagram of this arrangement of apparatus is shown in Fig. 6.
circuit.
which we shall call the secondary circuit, shall be so far away from the primary circuit LC that the current induced in the secondary does not materially influence the current flowing in the primary, and let us determine the e.m.f. induced in the secondary circuit. The induced e.m.f. has the instantaneous value determined by the mutual inductance M between the two circuits and by the time rate of change of the primary current. The relation is
primary circuit.
Let us suppose now that we are to impress different frequencies of e.m.f. on the secondary circuit by giving C in the primary various values, and see how the impressed e.m.f. depends on the frequency. We shall get the result only approximately, by supposing that the decrement of the primary current is so small that a2 is negligible in comparison with to2, then by (viii)
Equation (77) gives an approximate value of the instantaneous value of the e.m.f. impressed on a loosely coupled secondary circuit by a primary circuit excited by a buzzer and varied as to frequency by varying the condenser in the primary circuit. The induced e.m.f. is in this case proportional to the frequency of the primary circuit — this frequency being n = u
28. General Notions Regarding Power and Energy. — Let us suppose that we have two conducting terminals A and B protruding through the side of a room, and that we do not know what kind of electrical circuit or electrical apparatus is within the room, except that it is such that when we connect the terminals A and B to a given electrical system outside of the room, the current at any instant flowing out at B has the same magnitude as the current flowing in at A,
This equation is based immediately upon fundamental definitions; for the excess of potential e of A over B is, by definition of potential, the work that must be expended by an outside system to send a unit quantity of electricity from A to B. To
per second, or power, equal to e X i.
Returning to the power equation (1) let us note that either c or i, or both of them may be negative. Keeping the definitions of i and e given above and merely interchanging the letters A and B attached to the terminals will change the sign of both e and i, but will, therefore, not affect the value of the product p. If on the other hand, the disposition of the apparatus within the room is such that current comes out at A, while A has a higher potential than B, then the instantaneous power is negative, and the apparatus within the room is at the given instant supplying power to the apparatus outside of the room.
29. Power Supplied to a Perfect Condenser. — Suppose that the two terminals A and B that were thought of as protruding from a room, are the terminals of a condenser of capacity C. The condenser will be defined as perfect if it is such that C is constant and independent of q in the equation
The relations dealt with in the previous chapters assumed that the condensers employed were perfect condensers. Unless otherwise stated the condensers throughout the book will be assumed to be perfect.
plied to the perfect condenser of capacity C.
30. Energy Supplied to a Perfect Condenser. — The energy Wi2 supplied to the condenser from without in the interval of time from ti to tz is, by (2) and (5)
It is seen that the energy TFi2 supplied to the condenser depends only upon the initial and final state of the charge of the condenser, and is independent of the time required to effect the modification of the charge.
It is to be noted that if Q2 = ± Qi, Wi2 = 0; that is, during any process in which the charge of the condenser is taken from a given value through any modification and brought back to the initial value, or its negative, the energy supplied to the condenser from without is zero.
Whatever energy is supplied to increase the charge of the con" denser is stored in the static field, and is completely recovered when the condenser is brought to its initial state of charge, or to an equal charge of opposite sign.
Equation (7) gives the energy W required to charge a condenser of capacity C from an initially uncharged state to a final charge Q, with final potential difference E.
31. Power and Energy Supplied to a Resistanceless Inductance. — If the two terminals A and B in the preceding illustration are the terminals of a resistanceless inductance, and if
It is to be noted that if 72 = ±/i, Wiz = 0; that is} in any process during which the current starts at the value Ii, goes through any changes whatever and returns to I \ or to — /], the total energy supplied to the resistanceless inductance is zero. Whatever energy is supplied to it while the absolute value of i is increasing is stored in the magnetic field and is recovered when the absolute value of i is again reduced by an equal amount.
tance L when traversed by a current I.
32. Power and Energy Supplied to a Resistance. — When a current i flows through a resistance, the counter e.m.f. of the resistance is Ri, so that the power supplied to the resistance at any instant is
It is to be noted that whether i is positive, negative, increasing, diminishing or steady, i2 is positive and every increment of time during which current is flowing in the resistance adds to the energy expenditure.
33. Logarithmic Decrement of Energy of the Circuit During the Discharge of a Condenser. — Let us consider that a condenser of capacity C has been charged to an initial potential difference E and is allowed to discharge through a resistance and inductance, and let us determine the energy resident in the inductance and capacity at any time t seconds after the beginning of the discharge.
In general, at the time t, the condenser has a charge q given by equation (47), Art. 19, and there is flowing through the inductance a current i given by (46), Art. 19.
This is the electrical energy resident in the system at any time t. If now we take any two times t and t + T7, where T is one whole period of oscillation, the sine terms will be identical at t and t + T7, and we shall have as the ratio of the energies in the system at the two times
cycle.
Equation (14) gives the logarithmic decrement of electrical energy in a condenser and inductance during discharge, and shows by comparison with (61) of Art. 24 that the log. dec. of energy per cycle is twice the log. dec. of current or quantity per cycle.
34. Energy Expended in Resistance During Condenser Discharge. — In the preceding paragraph, we have examined the energy resident in the condenser and inductance during the discharge of a condenser. We shall now attack the complementary problem of determining how much energy has been dissipated in the resistance from the beginning of the discharge to a time t seconds thereafter.
Equation (19) gr^es i/i6 energy WR expended in the resistance R during the discharge of the condenser in the interval of time from the beginning of the discharge to t seconds thereafter, — the condenser being originally charged to a potential difference E.
condenser charge.
35. Average Current and Mean-square Current During N Complete Condenser Discharges per Second. — If we suppose that the condenser is charged N times per second, and after each
charging, the charging source is removed and the condenser is discharged through a current-measuring instrument whose deflections are proportional to the average current, we should have a measure of the average current of the N discharges per second.
On the other hand, certain types of current-measuring instruments read the square root of the mean-square current (R.M.S. current). This is true of hot-wire ammeters, thermaljunctions, dynamometers, etc.
second.
If there are N discharges per second, the energy dissipated in the resistance R of the circuit per second (that is, the average power P dissipated) is by (20) .
R.M.S. current for N complete discharges per second
Equations (21) and (24) give respectively the mean current and the R.M.S. current obtained from N condenser discharges per second. The condenser is charged each time to a potential difference E} the charging source is removed, and the condenser is then
charge is complete.
In the case of the average current, both inductance and resistance are immaterial. The number of discharges N per second is supposed to be sufficiently smaU to permit practically complete discharges.
36. Energy Lost in the Resistance of the Circuit During the Charging of a Condenser. — We shall next prove a very interesting fact concerning loss of § energy when a condenser is charged by applying a constant e.m.f. E.
During the process of charging a condenser through any resistance and inductance under the action of a constant impressed e.m.f. E, the energy lost in the resistance of the circuit from time 0 to t is
where t is measured from the beginning of the charge.
It is to be noticed that i2 during the charge is of the same form as i2 during discharge (equations (48) and (46), Art 19) so that (25) when integrated gives the same result as (19), and when t is made infinite (see (20))
Equation (26) gives the energy dissipated in the resistance of the circuit when a condenser C is charged by the application of a constant e.m.f. E. This amount of energy dissipated is independent of the inductance and resistance through which the condenser is charged. This energy dissipated is equal in amount to the energy finally delivered to the condenser, equation (7), so that the efficiency of the process of charging a condenser from a constant e.m.f. applied through any inductance and resistance to the condenser is J^; which means that in order to deliver any given amount of energy to a condenser by applying a constant e.m.f. an equal amount of energy must be dissipated in the resistance of the circuit , however small we make that resistance.
37. Energy and Power Supplied to a Condenser Circuit Excited by Current Interruption. — Reference is made to Fig. 5, Chapter II, which shows a circuit LRC excited by sending a practically steady current 7 through L and interrupting the current in the feed line.
After each interruption of the feed circuit at J, if the oscillations in the LRC circuit have time to die practically to zero before a new make of the interrupter, the energy expended in the
as may be seen from the principle of the conservation of energy, since the first of these terms is the energy in the inductance and the second is the energy in the condenser at the beginning of the discharge.
Equation (28) gives the average power P delivered to the oscillatory circuit LRC and expended in that circuit, provided the circuit is actuated by making and breaking a current I, N times per second, at J (Fig. 5, Chapter II), and provided the interruptions are sufficiently infrequent to allow a practically complete discharge of the inductance between interruptions, and provided the feed current I has time to come to a steady state in L.
THE GEOMETRY OF COMPLEX QUANTITIES
38. Utility. — In the mathematical treatment of periodic phenomena a considerable simplification is made by the use of imaginary and complex quantities. As aids to the memory, the complex quantities may be represented geometrically by simple diagrams, which are easier to remember than the algebraic formulas. By the use of a simple set of rules for the geometrical representation of algebraic quantities and algebraic operations (rules due to Argand and Demoivre) many of the algebraic manipulations may be performed by the aid of geometrical constructions; and the final results obtained may be reinterpreted, if necessary, into algebraic symbols for the purposes of calculations.
39. Representation of Real Quantities. — Real quantities are represented along a horizontal axis. This axis is called the axis of reals. As in analytical geometry, the numerical magnitudes of the real quantities are represented by lengths proportional to these -magnitudes. Positive values of real quantities are represented by lengths drawn to the right along the axis of reals, from some arbitrary origin; negative values are represented by lengths drawn to the left from the origin.
A negative quantity may be looked upon as making an angle of 180°, or 180° + n 360° with the positive axis of reals; while a positive quantity makes an angle 0° + n 360° with this axis, where n is an integer.
Let us examine the result obtained by multiplying -\-a by — b. The result is — ab, a quantity having a magnitude equal to the product of the magnitude of the factors, and an angle (180°) equal to the sum of the angle of the factors.
Likewise, the product of —a by —6 is -\-ab, a quantity as before having a magnitude equal to the product of the magnitudes of the factors and an angle (360°) equal to the sum of the angles of the factors, since a line making an angle of 360° with the positive axis is coincident with a line making 0° with this axis.
40. Representation of Imaginary Quantities. Argand's Method. — The quantity \/— 1 is a number that multiplied by itself gives — 1. Also the double application of A/ — 1 to a quantity a as a multiplier gives —a: this result is equivalent to the result obtained by rotating a through an angle of 180°. Consistent with this and with the fact that with real quantities double multiplication resulted in the addition of angles, let us postulate that the single operation of multiplying by \/~ 1 amounts to a changing of a into a position it would have if rotated through 90°. That is, we shall represent geometrically \/ — 1 X a by a length a along an axis perpendicular to the axis of reals.
This vertical axis is called the axis of imaginaries. The + and — sign before imaginary quantities, as before real quantities, shows opposition in direction; that is, -\-\/— 1 a and —\/—l a have, opposite directions along the axis of imaginaries as shown in Fig. 1. A detailed consideration of this method of representing real and imaginary quantities along two mutually perpendicular axes in the same plane shows that the system is entirely self-consistent. In order to avoid repeatedly writing \/— 1, we shall follow the prevailing custom in electrical engineering and adopt the symbol j for this quantity; that is
41. Representation of Complex Quantities. — The complex quantity a + bj shall be represented by the directed sect, or vector, OP, with a component a along the axis of reals and a component bj along the axis of imaginaries, Fig. 2. The directed sect, or vector, OP may be called the vectorial representation of the complex quantity, or briefly the vector OP may be called the vector a + bj.
The polar coordinates of the point P are r and <p; and we may also describe the vector OP, or the complex quantity a -f bj, which it represents, by a function of the coordinates r and <p. We shall now find two different expressions for this function, — one in trigonometric form, and the other in exponential form.
vector OP, Fig. 2.
43. Exponential Expression for the Vector OP. Demoivre's Formula. — Another form of expression for the vector OP in polar coordinates may be obtained by examining the series expansions of cos <p, sin <p, and e7*; to wit
where w is a constant.
Under these conditions the vector, Fig. 4, indicated by OP revolves around the point 0 with uniform velocity o> in a positive direction, as indicated by the arrow. The function
45. The Addition of Complex Quantities, and the Summation of Vectors. — Returning now to general elementary considerations, let us suppose that we have two complex quantities
tained by laying off ai + #2 on the axis of reals, giving the point x, Fig. 5, then at x a length 61 + bz must be laid off in the direction of the axis of imaginaries. This brings us to the point P. The vector OP is z, the sum of Zi and z2.
If now through the points M and TV respectively we draw the vertical line MS and the horizontal line NS, and jpin the intersection point S with 0 and P, we see that OS and SP are in magnitude and direction equivalent to z\ and z% respectively.
of Zi with the end of zz. The same result is obtained if^i is put on end of z2, as shown by dotted lines in Fig. 5. The sum is again the vector OP and is now obtained by joining the beginning of the dotted z\ to the end of the dotted zz.
In like manner, the vector z is the sum of the vectors Zi, zz, 23, 24, 28, in Fig. 6. The vector sum of z\, 22, ... 25 is independent of the order of the addition of terms. For example, if the order Zi, z5, zz, 23, z± be taken the construction in Fig. 7 is obtained, which has the same sum as that obtained in Fig. 6.
annunciate the rule in advance of proof.
Rule. — The product of two complex quantities z\ and z% {as we shall immediately prove) is a new complex quantity represented by a length rirz and making an angle pi + (pz with the positive axis of reals. That is, the result of multiplying together of two complex quantities is obtained by multiplying their magnitudes and adding their angles.
Alternative Proof. — The convenience of the use of the exponential function in operations involving multiplication is evident from the preceding paragraph. Let us compare with it the more involved process of direct multiplication of the algebraic form of the complex quantities.
This equation compared with (9) shows that the product of z\ and z2 has the product of their magnitudes for a magnitude, and the sum of their angles for an angle.
50. Integration by the Use of Exponentials. — As an example of the use of the above principles let it be required to integrate €at cos (co£ + <p) with respect to t.
IMPRESSED ELECTROMOTIVE FORCE
53. Sketch of Method. — If a circuit, Fig. 1, contains in series a resistance R, self inductance L and a capacity C, and has impressed upon it a sinusoidal e.m.f., E sin ooZ, the differential equation for the current in the circuit is
The proof of this is as follows: Equations (1) and (2) when freed of the integral sign by differentiation are differential equations of the second order. Their general solutions must contain two arbitrary constants, and any solution found for the equation (1) and found to have two arbitrary constants is complete. Now (a) reduces the right-hand side of (1) to zero and contains two
arbitrary constants; (b) reduces the right-hand side of (1) to its left-hand side; therefore, since the right-hand side of (1) and (2) is homogeneous and of the first degree (linear) the sum of (a) and (6) reduces the right-hand side of (1) to the left-hand side and contains two arbitrary constants. This sum is, therefore, the complete integral of (1).
55. The General Solution of (1). — We may now obtain the general solution, or complete integral, of (1) by taking the sum .of (12) and (3). If we indicate the current by i, we have
Equation (13) is the complete solution of (1). The apparent exception that arises in the critical case in which R2 = 4L/C disappears as an exception after the determination of the arbitrary constants.
56. Transformation of the General Solution into Periodic Form. — For some purposes it is more instructive to put the two exponential terms of (15) into the form of a sine function.
With this notation equation (3) becomes iz = e-a°*{Ai(cos co0£ + J sin co0£) + A2(cos a>0£ — j sin a>o£) } 6-a0«{(^[1 -f A2)cos a>0£ + ./(Ai — A z) sin co0Z}. (18)
In equation (19) 70 and \J/0 are new arbitrary constants which are to be determined by the initial conditions of the problem. Equation (19) is a perfect equivalent of (3), and after the determination of the arbitrary constants gives correct results whether R2 is equal to, less than, or greater than 4L/C; that is, whether co0 is zero, real, or imaginary. Only, however, when the angular velocity co0 of free oscillation of the circuit is real does the solution remain periodic. If o>0 is zero or imaginary (19) goes over into the exponential, or hyperbolic, form, which is non-periodic.
Equation (20) is the complete expression for the current in the circuit containing resistance, self-inductance and capacity, and an impressed sinusoidal e.m.f. This equation is alternative to (13). The impressed e.m.f. has angular velocity w, while o>0 is
conditions.
57. The Quantity Constituting the Charge of the Condenser.— In equation (20) is given an expression for the current flowing in the circuit under the action of an impressed sinusoidal e.m.f . To obtain q the quantity of electricity constituting the charge of the condenser at any time t, it is only necessary to form the integral
reader who is not immediately interested in the determination of these constants may omit this and the next section and resume the reading at the section on the Steady-state Solution (Art. 60).
In equations (20) and (21) two arbitrary constants 70 and \l/0 occur. These are to be determined for each specific problem by the use of the initial conditions.
We cannot in general impose the condition that t = 0 when the initial current and charge are zero, for this implies that the dynamo impressing the e.m.f. (E sin coO is thrown into the circuit containing no current and no charge when the dynamo e.m.f. is itself just zero. Now if the dynamo is thrown into the circuit at a random time this will not be the case. Our problem, in case the initial charge and current are zero, imposes the conditions
Now the quantity P, defined as equal to the middle term of (29) is completely given in terms of the constants of the the circuits (a0 and co0), the angular velocity of the impressed e.m.f. (co), and the time at which the e.m.f. is impressed [comprised in <pi defined in (23)].
Equation (30) gives the complete value of the current i when the e.m.f. is impressed at a time ti upon a circuit without current or charge. In this equation (pi and P have the values given in (23) and (29). In the expression for i, t is greater than ti, which is the time at which the e.m.f. E sin ut was thrown into the circuit.
Note that this equation can be satisfied by real values of pi only provided the constants of the circuit are such that co0 is itself zero or imaginary; that is, only for a non-oscillatory circuit. Replacing <pi by its value from (23) and co0 by its value from (15), we obtain \
Equation (34) gives the time ti at which the sinusoidal e.m.f. may be impressed without any transient term in the resulting current, and (35) is the resulting current. The condition (32) can be fulfilled only provided co0 is imaginary, that is, only provided the constants of the circuit are such as to make it a non-oscillatory circuit (i.e., #2>4L/C).
60. Results in the Steady State.— Apart from the method outlined in the preceding section for making the transient term in the current equation zero, it is seen that this transient term in each case is multiplied by an exponential factor with an exponent that approaches minus infinity with increase of time. If the time is sufficiently long after the application of the sinusoidal e.m.f., the transient term becomes negligible.
The state of things after the transient term has become practically zero is called the steady state, and the solution for the steady state is called the steady state solution.
In the steady state, after the transient term has become practically zero, it is seen from (20) and (21) that the current and quantity are given by the equations
of the circuit.
Equations (36) and (37) give the values of the current i and the quantity of electricity q constituting the charge of the condenser at the time t, under the action of a sinusoidal e.m.f. E sin c*t which has been in application sufficiently long to permit the establishment of a steady state.
ELECTRICAL RESONANCE IN A SIMPLE CIRCUIT
61. Wave Length, Actual and Conventional. — We have seen in Chapter II that an electrical circuit containing capacity and self -inductance, if the resistance is not too great, has a characteristic period of oscillation. We shall show in subsequent chapters, treating Maxwell's Electromagnetic Theory that, with certain forms of these circuits, energy is radiated into surrounding space in the form of electromagnetic waves.
This relation follows from the elementary consideration that of two successive positive wave crests one is emitted at a time T seconds later than the other. The first, in the time T, travels a distance cT, so that the first crest is a distance cT ahead of the second; hence the distance between these two successive positive v/ave crests, which is the wave length, is X = cT.
In free space, we shall show from Maxwell's Theory, that c, the velocity of the waves in free space is the velocity of light; that is, c = 3 X 1010 centimeters per second. If it is required to obtain the wave length in meters, as is usual in radiotelegraphic practice, and if T is in seconds, the velocity of propagation must be expressed in meters per second ; that is
In the case of an actual radiation of electric waves into space, the wave length X is the actual distance between adjacent positions of similar phase in the emitted wave system.
the period of all periodic electric circuits in terms of the wave lengths corresponding to the periods of the circuits, even when the circuits happen to be of such form as actually to radiate only an insignificant amount of energy as characteristic waves. We thus attribute conventionally to every oscillatory circuit a wave length X satisfying the relation (1).
Although we have not yet taken up the matter of electromagnetic radiation, it is often an advantage to express results in terms of wave lengths as well as in terms of periods, and to use, in experimental investigations with these circuits, apparatus calibrated in wave lengths.
62. Mean Square Current and Amplitude of Current in a Circuit Containing Resistance, Self -inductance, and Capacity, and a Sinusoidal E.M.F. — The circuit upon which the e.m.f. is
impressed we shall designate as Circuit II, or as the Receiving Circuit. The e.m.f. may be impressed by a generator in the circuit (see Fig. 1), or it may be impressed by induction from a Circuit I (Fig. 2), containing persistent sinusoidal oscillations, provided the Circuit I be so far from the Circuit II that the reaction of Circuit II in changing the current in Circuit I is negligible. The subject of these reactions will be taken up in Chapters VII and VIII, but the reactions will here be considered zero. Let the e.m.f. impressed on II be
Let the resistance, inductance and capacity of the receiving circuit (Circuit II) be R,L, and C, and, as in the previous chapters, let the capacity be disposed in one or more discrete condensers so that there is no distributed capacity.
Since many types of measuring instruments, when placed at A in series in Circuit II, indicate the average square of the current or else the square root of the mean square current (R.M.S. current), let us obtain the value of these quantities. First let
and is traversed by a sinusoidal current.
and note that the time average of a quantity, during the interval from 0 to tf is obtained by integrating the quantity with respect to t from 0 to t' and dividing the integral by t'.
Instead of using the mean square value of E and /, as in equation (10), we may as an alternative operation express the amplitude of / in terms of the amplitude of E, in the same form of equation; namely, by (4), making the sine term unity,
Equation (10) gives the mean square value of current, I2, in terms of the mean square value of impressed e.m.f., E2, in the steady state. Equation (11) gives the corresponding equation for the amplitude I of current in terms of the amplitude E of e.m.f.
63. Condition for Steady-state Current -resonance in a Simple Circuit Containing a Sinusoidal Impressed E.M.F. — The steadystate current resonance condition is defined as the relation between the constants of the circuit and the frequency of the impressed e.m.f. for which the mean square current or current amplitude is a maximum, when the amplitude of the e.m.f. is constant.
Note that in (14) while the right-hand side is the period of the impressed e.m.f., the left-hand side, by (58), Chapter II, is the undamped period of the receiving circuit (Circuit II) so we may conclude that
The condition for a maximum mean square current or the condition for a maximum amplitude of current in the steady state, which condition we have called the Current-resonance Condition, is that the Undamped Period of the Receiving Circuit (not the actual free period) be equal to the actual period TI of the impressed e.m.f.
64. Steady-state Value of Current at Current-resonance. — At current-resonance in the steady state the current is obtained by setting X = 0 in (10) or (11), and extracting the square root. This gives
In this condition the inductive reactance Lwi and the capacity reactance — l/Co>i are numerically equal to each other and opposite in sign and are sometimes said to neutralize each other.
This equation is equally true whether I2 and /2max- are the squares of the amplitudes of current or the mean-square values, since the ratio of amplitudes squared and the ratio of the time average of the squares of instantaneous values are the same.
of the system are variable. We shall discuss two such cases.
66. Resonance Curve of Relative Current Square with a Fixed Impressed E.M.F. and Variation of Capacity in the Receiving Circuit. — Referring to Fig. 1 or Fig. 2, we have called the circuit II, with constants L, R, and C, the receiving circuit. Impressed upon Circuit II is a sinusoidal e.m.f. of value
in which coi is the angular velocity of impressed e.m.f. We shall now suppose that coi and E are kept constant, and we shall compute the relative current square in the receiving circuit when the condenser C of the receiving circuit is given various values.
The fundamental equation of the result is given in (18), and we shall merely transform this equation into a form involving wavelengths and decrements instead of inductances, capacities, resistances, and angular velocities.
per undamped period of the circuit.
Since we are going to vary C in the present article, 6 as defined in (22) is a variable. Let us fix our attention on one particular value of 5, namely the value of 5 when C has the value to give a maximum value of y, and designate this value of d as 5o. Now by (18) for a maximum of y, it is seen that
Since T is not exactly given by (21), while the undamped period of the circuit is exactly given oy (21), let us define the undamped wavelength of the circuit as the wavelength of the
In general when the circuits have small decrements A does not differ appreciably from X, but when the decrements are large, we should find it inaccurate to replace A by X.
67. Sample Curves of Relative Current for Fixed Impressed E.M.F. and Variation of the Capacity of the Receiving Circuit. — If we extract the square root of (29) we have
By plotting a curve of y vs. Xi2/A2, we may compute a value of 60 for every value of A. All of the values of So so obtained should agree within the limits of accuracy of the measurements. It is apparent that this accuracy is not very great, but fortunately it is not generally of importance to know S0 with great accuracy.
69. Approximate Method of Rapidly Determining 50. — As an approximate method of determining So, 'let A' and A" = the two values of A at which y has the value J£, and let A" > A', then by (31)
70. Rule for Approximate Determination of Logarithmic Decrement d of a Circuit with Variable Capacity. — To obtain the logarithmic decrement of a circuit, impress upon it an undamped e.m.f. of constant amplitude and frequency, take the difference of the two wavelength adjustments of the circuit that give a mean square current equal to half the maximum mean square current, divide this difference by the wavelength adjustment of the circuit that gives a maximum mean square current, and multiply the quotient by TT. This gives 60 which is approximately d.
71. Problem. — For practice it is recommended that the reader apply this rule to the curves of Figs. 3, 4, 5, and 6, noting that the ordinates of these curves are the square roots of y, and that for y to fall to a half value, the square root of y falls to .707 times the maximum value.
78. Determination of Decrement by Impressing an Undamped E.M.F. of Fixed Amplitude and Variable Frequency on a Circuit of Fixed Inductance, Capacity and Resistance. — The starting point for this paragraph is the general equation (18).
Equation (38) gives the decrement d per undamped period of the fixed circuit upon which is impressed an e.m.f. of constant amplitude and of wavelength Xi. The undamped wavelength of the fixed circuit is A defined by (28).
79. Approximate Method for Rapidly Determining 5 with Fixed Circuit and Variable Impressed Angular Velocity. — Analogously to the case of fixed e.m.f. and variable circuit, as approximately treated in Art. 69, we may treat approximately the case of fixed circuit with a variable frequency of impressed e.m.f.
Now X"i is greater than A and X'i is less than A, so that if X"i and X'i are not too far apart, their product is approximately equal to A2, so that (41) reduces to
This result may be stated in the following rule.
80. Rule for Approximate Determination of Logarithmic Decrement d, with Circuit Fixed and Frequency of Impressed E.M.F. Varied. — To obtain the logarithmic decrement of a circuit of fixed constants, impress upon it an e.m.f. of fixed amplitude variable as to frequency. Take the difference of the two impressed wavelengths that produce a mean-square current equal to half the maximum mean-square current, divide this difference by the wavelength that gives a maximum mean-square current, and multiply the quotient byjr.
ANCELESS CIRCUITS. PERIODS AND WAVELENGTHS1
81. Differential Equations for Inductively Coupled System of Two Circuits. — If we have two circuits, as in Fig. 1, with the inductances of the two circuits near enough together to permit currents flowing in one of the circuits to induce electromotive forces of appreciable values in the other circuit, the circuits are said to be coupled.
said to be inductive coupling.
In setting up the differential equations both circuits will be assumed to have inductance, capacity, and resistance. The electromotive forces impressed upon the system from without is supposed to be zero.
free oscillation of two coupled circuits:
Lord Rayleigh, "Theory of Sound;" J. von Geitler, Sitz. d. k. Akad. d. Wiss. z. Wien, February and October, 1905; B. Galizine, Petersb. Ber., May and June, 1895; V. Bjerkness, Wied. Ann., 55, p. 120, 1895; Oberbeck, Wied. Ann., 55, p. 625, 1895; Domalip and Kolac'ek, Wied. Ann., 57, p. 731, 1896; M. Wien, Wied. Ann., 61, p. 151, 1897, and Ann. d. Phys., 8, p. 686, 1902; Drude, Ann. d. Phys., 13, p. 512, 1904; B. Macku, Jahrb. d. drahtlos. Teleg., 2, p. 251, 1909; Cohen, Bui Bu. of Standards, 5, p. 5UJF 1909. ^T
Independent of the method of setting up the currents in the system, the current i\ flowing in the Circuit I induces an electromotive force M ~ in Circuit II, and likewise the current iz
above the two coils LI and L2, which acted mutually upon each other, had no part of their metallic circuits in common. The mutual action between them was by means of the transformer with separate and distinct primary and secondary coils.
Circuits are also often connected by an auto-transformer, as in Fig. 2, where the two circuits have a metallic part Z/0 in common. This connection is called a direct connection or direct
coupling. It will now be shown that this system leads to a set of differential equations that under certain conditions are the same as the equations for the inductively coupled system. For the sake of generality we may suppose that certain coils of the system, as L' and L", have no mutual action upon each other or upon other parts of the system, while other coils, as Z/o and L"o do have mutual induction.
Then as before LI and L2 are the total self-inductances of the Circuits I and II respectively, and Ri and R% are the total resistances, and M the total mutual inductance.
Equations (1) an^ (2) are tffte differential equations for the currents i\ and i% in the two circuits respectively when the two circuits are connected by having mutual inductance, and part of a coil in common.
as may be seen by the following considerations. M is the magnetic flux linkage common to Z/o and L"0 for a unit current in Z/o, which is the linkage with itself (=Z/o) plus the linkage withL0" ( = M').
Equations (9) cmd (10) are ^e differential equations for the currents i\ and iz in the two circuits respectively, when the two circuits ar$ direct coupled. R0 is the resistance of the element common to the two circuits.
It is seen that these two equations are identical with those (1) and (2) for the inductively coupled circuits, provided the resistance of that part of the coil common to the two circuits is negligible.
It is evident that various other methods of coupling1 the circuits together may be employed; for example, they may be connected together by having a condenser in common, but we shall at present confine our attention to the two types of coupling here illustrated, and shall proceed to treat the special case in which all the resistances of the two circuits are negligible.
magnetically coupled.
83. Differential Equations for Two Magnetically Coupled Circuits of Negligible Resistances. — If all of the resistances of the two circuits are negligible, the equations (1) and (2) for the inductively coupled circuits and the equations (9) and (10) for the direct coupled circuits reduce to the form
84. Steps toward a Solution of (11) and (12).— The two equations (11) and (12) are to be solved as simultaneous. The elimination of one of the i's from those two equations will give a homogeneous linear differential equation of the fourth order1 in the other i and its derivatives. The solutions are, therefore, additive, and the complete solution must contain four and only four arbitrary constants.
It is seen that, since the resistances are negligible, o?i and co2 are the angular velocities of free oscillation of the two circuits of the system respectively, when each is alone and uninfluenced by the other. (Cf Arts. 8 and 15).
Since r, by the physics of the problem, is less than unity, it is seen that the quantity under the main radical is negative whether the plus or the minus be used before the second radical, since the original circuits are oscillatory. Whence, k is a pure imaginary quantity, and there are seen to be four different values of k consistent with (23).
In seeking for a solution of our original differential equations (11) and (12) we have now found four solutions, one corresponding to each value of k. These solutions are of the form of (13) and (14), and for each of the four solutions for i\ we have a different arbitrary constant. Similarly for each of the four solutions for i2 we have a separate arbitrary constant, but there are some relations among these constants.
Equations (30) and (3 1) are the complete solutions of the differential equations (11) and (12). In these solutions the several k's are given by (24) taken in connection with (28) and (29). The four A's and the four B's are arbitrary, except that each B is related to the corresponding A by a relation of the form of (14) and (15). The two relations (14) and (15) are not, however, independent since their product was used in determining the k's.
86. Determination of the Periods of the Magnetically Coupled Pair of Resistanceless Circuits. — Let us leave for the present the question of the values of the arbitrary constants A and B, which are to be obtained from the initial conditions, and return to an examination of the k's, which may be used to give us the period or periods of the resulting oscillations that occur in the coupled system.
Since the k's are all imaginary quantities with the values given in (24), we may transform1 the equations for i\ and i% (namely, (30) and (31)) into the trigonometric forms
Fixing our attention upon the w' and co", it is to be seen that both currents are doubly periodic, and that the two periods of the current ii in Circuit I are the same as the two periods of the current i2 in the Circuit II. These two periods may be obtained from the corresponding angular velocities «' and co".
That (40) and (41) are respectively identical with (38) and (39) may be shown by squaring and extracting the square root of (40) and (41), by which operation we arrive at (38) and (39).
oscillation that occurs in the primary circuit of the coupled system. The same two periods occur also in the secondary circuit of the coupled system. These equations are exact only provided the resistances are negligible in their effects on the periods.
87. Determination of the Wavelengths of the Magnetically Coupled Pair of Resistanceless Circuits. — To obtain the resulting wavelengths in the coupled system, it is only necessary to multiply the periods by the velocity of light, and employ the relations
Equations (43) and (44), or the alternative equations (45) and (46), give the two wavelengths \r and \" of the doubly periodic oscillation that occurs in the primary circuit and also in the secondary circuit of the coupled system,* provided the resistances are negligible in their effects on the resulting wavelengths.1
and BD also equal to Xi and in the same straight line with AB. At the point B draw the line BC making with BD an angle whose sine is T. Make the length of BC equal to X2, then draw A C and DC. Call the lengths of A C and BC, b and a respectively. Then half the sum of b and a is the required wavelength X', and half their difference is the required wavelength X".
89. Simple Relations Among Wavelengths or Periods in a Magnetically Coupled Pair of Resistanceless Circuits. — By taking the sum of the squares of (38) and (39) and likewise the sum of the squares of (43) and (44), we obtain
Case II. Negligible Coupling. — Whether the circuits are isochronous or not, if T is sufficiently small so that terms involving it in (38) to (43) are negligible, these equations give
As to how small r must be in order to be negligible depends upon the relative values of Xi and X2. If Xi = X2, then by (57), to be negligible
provided
To decide the whether or not the coefficient of coupling r is negligible so as to permit the use of the simplified values of wavelength and period given in (58) and (59) we first see if r satisfies (62) . // it does not, then we require that it must satisfy (60) in order to be negligible for the system of resistanceless circuits.
subsequent chapter.
CASE III. Perfect Coupling. — If the coefficient of coupling r is equal to unity, the coupling is said to be perfect. Putting r2 = 1 in (40), (41), (45), and (46), we obtain
CASE IV. Coupling Nearly Perfect. — Still assuming that the resistances of the two coupled circuits are zero, it is interesting to examine the values of the resulting wavelengths when r is nearly equal to unity; that is, when the coupling is nearly perfect. To do this let
In the present chapter there have been laid down the fundamental differential equations for the free oscillation of two coupled circuits, and the differential equations in the special
case of negligible resistances in the circuits. General solutions of the resistanceless case have been obtained, and these solutions have been analyzed with reference to periods and wavelengths of the resultant oscillations.
In the next chapter, the discussion of the resistanceless case will be continued with special reference to the amplitudes of the oscillations under given initial conditions.
ANCELESS CIRCUITS, AMPLITUDES1
91. General Considerations. — In the determination of the amplitudes in the case of the free oscillations of two coupled resistanceless circuits, the result will depend upon the initial conditions assumed. Two sets of conditions will be taken, corresponding to I. Discharge of a Condenser in the Primary Circuit (Circuit I), II. Discharge of an Inductance. These will be given different major headings.
I. DISCHARGE OF A CONDENSER d
92. Determination of Amplitudes in Case ot the Discharge ot Ihe Primary Condenser with Resistanceless Circuits. — Let the initial conditions in this particular case be that the conden-
1 See references at beginning of Chapter VII, and also particularly E. Leon Chaffee, Amplitude Relations in Coupled Circuits, Proc. Inst. Radio Engineers, 4, p. 283, 1916. Professor Chaffee's paper contains also experimental verifications.
To the end that we may be able to introduce the initial condition in q\ and qz we must obtain the equations for these quantities by integrating (2) and (3) w;th respect to t.
in which the last term is obtained by replacing l/L^C^ by co22. In using this equation we must give B} A, and k the same subscript. Doing this and replacing the subscripted k by its value from (6) we obtain the system of equations
This derivation of the constants AI, A2, A3 and A4 is valid unless X = F. By a comparison of (11) with (12) it is seen that X cannot equal F unless both are zero. If both are zero, (8) shows that M is zero. If M is zero the Circuit II will have no current in it, and the Circuit I will be a single circuit with a condenser discharge in it satisfying the conditions given in Chapter IT.
Equations (29) and (31) grwe 2/ie complete expressions for the currents in the two circuits of the coupled system having negligible resistances and excited by discharging at the time t = 0 the condenser Ci with an initial charge Q.
94. Relative Amplitudes of Current in the Coupled System of Negligible Resistances Excited by a Condenser Discharge. — If we write the equations for i\ and i% respectively in the form
Equation (34) gives the ratio of amplitude of current in the secondary circuit to that in the primary circuit for the frequency T'. Equation (35) gives a similar ratio of amplitudes for the frequency T". Equation (36) gives the ratio of amplitude of current of frequency T" to the amplitude of current of frequency T' in the same (primary) circuit. Equation (37) is a similar ratio for the sec-
95. Determination of Amplitudes when the Coupled System of Negligible Resistances is Excited by the Discharge of the Primary Inductance. — Let us now determine the solution of the resistanceless coupled circuit problem when the excitation is produced by sending a steady current through the inductance of Circuit I, and then isolating it as was done in the buzzer excitation process of Chapter II.
The differential equations are the same as in the problem already treated and give therefore the same frequencies as before. The amplitudes, however, which are determined by the initial conditions will now be different from those of the previous sections.
By comparison of these equations for current in this case of inductance excitation with the corresponding equations for current in the previous problem of capacity excitation, it will be seen that equations (45) and (46) take the form
Equations (47) and (48) give respectively the primary and secondary current in a coupled system of two circuits of negligible resistances, excited by sending a steady current I through the inductance of the primary circuit and isolating it at a time t = 0.
96. Relative Amplitudes of Current in the Resistanceless Coupled System Excited by Isolating a Current in the Primary Circuit. — If now in this case we write the expressions for the currents in the abbreviated forms
ii = J'i cos a)'/ + J"i cos u"t iz = J'z cos u't + J"z cos co"# and compare the amplitudes we have
Equations (51) to (54) give the relative amplitudes of current in the resistanceless coupled system of two circuits excited by the discharge of an inductance in the primary circuit. The discharge is produced by isolating a constant current I in the primary inductance at t = 0.
It is to be noted that two of the ratios (51) and (52) are the same as in the case of the condenser excitation, and two of the ratios (53) and (54) are different from the case of condenser excitation.
LECTING RESISTANCES1
97. Differential Equations. — It is proposed to treat in the present chapter the theory of the free oscillation of two coupled circuits such as are shown diagrammatically in Fig. 1. The method is similar to that employed in Chapters VII and VIII, except that now the resistances are to be retained wherever their values are significant.
The differential equations are those given in equations (1) and (2) of Chapter VII, which are here rewritten with all the terms transposed to the left-hand side; namely,
98. Elimination to Show that the Resulting Equations are of the Fourth Order. — Let us eliminate iz from the two equations and show that the resulting equation in i\ is a differential equation of the fourth order.
the same equation except that 12 is substituted for ii.
Equation (5) is a homogeneous linear differential equation of the fourth order. The complete solution has four arbitrary constants, and any solution that has four arbitrary constants is complete.
Instead of proceeding directly to a solution of (5) by introducing an exponential with t in the exponent, it is somewhat more convenient to make our substitutions in (1) and (2) as was done in Chapter VII. We shall make no use of (5) further than to note that the complete integral has four arbitrary constants.
Equation (10) is an equation of the fourth degree that k must satisfy, in order for (6) to be solutions of the original differential equations. In (10) the quantity r, defined by (11) is called the coefficient of coupling of the circuits. The quantities ai and az are the logarithmic decrements per second, or damping constants, of the separate circuits when each is alone and uninfluenced by the other. 12i and £22 are the undamped angular velocities of the two circuits respectively when they are uninfluenced by each other.
In equation (14) coi and co2 are the free angular velocities of the separate circuits. It is seen that the undamped angular velocities fii and fl2 are equal to the free angular velocities in those cases in which ai2/2coi2 and a22/2«22 are negligible in comparison with unity.
100. Note on the Constants A and B. — Returning now to equation (10), let us designate the four k's that are roots of (10) by ki, kz, &3, and &4. Then by (6) for each of the k's there will be a corresponding A and B, to which we shall give subscripts 1, 2, 3, and 4 identical with the respective subscripts of k, obtaining
The constants An and £„ are arbitrary constants of integration. Although there are eight of these constants only the four A' a are independent of each other, for each B is related to the corresponding A by an equation of the form of (7) or (8), in which we must give A and B either of the common subscripts 1, 2, 3, 4. Calling any one of these common subscripts by the generic designation n, we have from (7) and (8)
Either of the relations (17) or (18) may be used to determine Bn from Ant but if both (17) and (18) are used they give no more restriction than one alone, for the two equations are not independent, as their product has been used in determining kn.
The eight arbitrary constants are thus reduced to four by having four relations among them. These four relations are obtained by giving n successively the values 1, 2, 3, and 4.
The four arbitrary constants to which the eight are reduced are to be determined by the initial conditions in any specific problem. We shall postpone the determination of these constants An and Bn to the next Chapter, and shall proceed in this chapter to a discussion of the values of fci, &2, k3, and &4, which are the roots of the fourth degree equation (10).
101. Expression of the Roots k as Complex Quantities, and the Currents as Periodic Functions of the Time. — Expanding (10) by multiplying the factors together, we obtain
They can be written in this form for if any root is a complex quantity, the conjugate complex is also a root. Real roots, if they exist, must therefore be two or four in number. To cover this contingency of real roots it is only necessary to make a/ or co", or both, imaginary. The a's always remain real.
In order for (25) to be satisfied by real values of I\ and ^>'i, it is seen that A\ -j- A 2 must be real and A\ — A 2 must be imaginary; that is to say, A\ and A 2 must be in general conjugate complexes. This looks like an additional restriction on the arbitrariness of A i and A 2 that we have imposed by the transformation. But, as a matter of fact, this limitation is imposed by the equations (15)
if we require that the current i\ be real and if we assume that co' is real, for this assumption gives at once (23) that requires the conjugate relation of A\ and A 2If on the other hand co' is imaginary, let
so that, in this case, (23) shows that both AI and A* are reals. With these two A's real, (25) shows that both I\ and <p'\ are imaginary. This is still consistent with (24), for if co', <p'\ and /'i are all imaginary, the first term of the right-hand side of (24) remains real.
103. Angular Velocities and Damping Constants. Double Periodicity. — Returning to equations (21) and (22), it is seen that, if co' and co" are real quantities, the primary current i\ and the secondary current i2 is each doubly periodic, with the two angular velocities co' and co", and that each of the oscillations has its own damping constant, a! for co' and a" for co".
104. Relations Among the Damping Constants, the Angular Velocities and the Constants of the Circuits. — We shall now make use of the following propositions proved in treatises on the Theory of Algebraic Equations :
regarded as known.
The primed quantities are the resultant damping constants and angular velocities in the coupled system, while the subscripted quantities are quantities belonging to the- circuits I and II respectively when each is standing alone and uninfluenced by the other.
The problem of finding the damping constants and angular velocities in the coupled system consists in elimination among these equations in such a manner as to obtain each of the primed quantities in an equation not involving the other primed quantities. The equations are sufficient in number for this purpose, and the eliminations, though difficult, are effected in the sections that follow.
105. Introduction of Undamped Periods in Place of Undamped Angular Velocities. — It is proposed now to modify the relations (26) to (29) by introducing periods in the place of angular velocities.
undamped periods.
It is often true that the S's are close approximations to the T's in single oscillatory circuits, but when the circuits are coupled the arithmetical differences between the various /S's or T's appear in the equations, and in those cases it is not safe to replace the S's by T's without special investigation.
Returning now to our coefficient equations (26) to (29), let us divide (26), (27), and (28) each by (29) and multiply by (27r)2 or (2ir)4, as required, obtaining, respectively,
These equations written in terms of undamped periods are the equivalents of (26) to (29), which were obtained directly from the coefficients of the fourth degree equation (19) . They are exact.
in terms of known quantities.
106. Combination for Undamped Periods. — We shall now form certain combinations of the equations (34) to (38) . The first combination is here designated combination for undamped periods.
Let us add twice the square root of (37) to (35) and extract the square root; and then let us subtract twice the square root of (37) from (35) and extract the square root. By these operations we obtain, respectively,
Equations (41) and (42) are Z/*e values of the undamped periods in the coupled system. They are exact. It will be noticed, however, that the expressions involve z and hence a' and a". We shall later show how to obtain z in terms of known quantities.
107. Combination for Damping Relations. — Returning now to the equations (34) to (37) let us, first, subtract 1/S'2 times (34) from (36) ; second, subtract l/S"2times (34) from (36). Dividing the differences obtained by S' 2 — S"2, we have
Equations (43) and (44), or ^e alternative equations (45) and (46) , are exact relations for the damping constants a' and a" of the two oscillations in the coupled system. It will be noted, however,
completely isolated.
Before entering upon a determination of z, let us write out still another form of expression for the damping constants, obtained directly from the definition (38) of z, which by transposition gives
In order to determine which sign to use before this radical it is necessary to determine from an independent examination of (45) and (46) whether o! is greater than or less than a". It will be noted that if
then a' <a", and we must use the minus sign before the radical above. Under this condition, elimination between the equation for a' + a" and that for a' — a" gives
In using these equations (48) and (49) ^ is to be especially noted that if the inequality (47) is not fulfilled the signs before the radicals in (48) and (49) are to be interchanged. This rule of signs is based also on the stipulation that of the two quantities S' and S" the greater is designated Sf.
Having now obtained a variety of expressions for the determination of Sf, S", a', and a", we shall next obtain an explicit equation for z in terms of known quantities.
now obtain an equation for z in terms of known quantities.
Since z involves the product of a' and a", let us form this product by multiplying (45) by (46). In performing this multiplication we shall use the temporary abbreviation
clearing the result of fractions, we obtain
a'a"D(l - r2) = -(aA2 + a A2)2 + r2(a1>S12 + a2S22)2 + (ax + a2) (aA2 + a2S22) (V + S22) - (ai + a2)2/Si2iS22 + zS1S2(a1 + a,)
Now let us subtract «ia2D from the left-hand side of this equation, and from the right-hand side this same quantity with D replaced by its value from (50), and note that the difference obtained for the left-hand side is -z^D/S^ by (38). We thus obtain
Equation (53), in tofocA A, 5, and C have the values given in (54), gives the value of z in terms of known constants of the circuits. In these equations, x, 5'i and 62 have the values given in (52).
It is to be borne in mind in using these equations that if ai and a2 are independent of Si and S2 then 5i and 52 are dependent on Si and $2 and may be dependent on x*
109. If the Original Circuits Are Oscillatory when Each is Alone, All the Real Roots of (53) Are Negative. — As a step toward fixing the limits of 2, we shall show that all the real roots of (53) are negative provided each of the two original circuits is oscillatory when it is alone and uninfluenced by the other circuit.
and hence B is positive.
We have thus proved that, if each of the original circuits is oscillatory when standing alone, all of the coefficients of the cubic equation (53) are positive, and that in consequence all of the real values of z are negative.
z, that will simplify the calculation of this quantity.
110. Determination of the Limits of the Value of z for Coupled Circuits Oscillatory when Alone. — In the preceding section we have shown that z is negative provided the original circuits are oscillatory when alone. We can now establish outside limits of the value of z by very simple operations.
To begin, let us take the original definition of z, equation (38) , multiply both sides of that equation by SiS2, and partly replace $i2$22 by its value from (37), obtaining
the original circuits are oscillatory when not coupled.
111. Reduction of the Cubic Equation for z to a Quadratic Equation over an Important Range of Constants. — In equation (53) we have given a cubic equation for the determination of z, and we have shown that z is negative, and that it has the limiting values specified by the inequality (64), provided the original circuits are oscillatory, that is, provided
the terms z* and Bz are the only negative terms. It thus appears that we can neglect z3 provided it is negligible in comparison with the other negative term Bz; that is, provided
It is to be noted that when x is unity the maximum possible value of £2 is of the order of (61 — ^VloV4, while the order of B is 4r2 + (Si — 52)2/V2; so that z2 is negligible in comparison with B, provided
We thus see in a general way that z2 is likely to be negligible in comparison with B. A careful examination of the possible values of z2 and B over the whole possible range of constants of the circuits, shows that occasions may arise in which (66) is not fulfilled, so that we then require the whole cubic to determine z.
In this solution we have chosen the minus sign before the radical, because this gives the smaller absolute value of z as is required by the condition that zs be negligible. The question of this sign is investigated in certain of the special cases treated below, but has not been given any extended general investigation.
We may sum up regarding z as follows: z is exactly given by the cubic equation (53).. Whenever z is so small that its square is negligible in comparison with the coefficient B, as is often the case, the value of z is given with sufficient accuracy by (69). Even if the whole cubic must be used in determining z, the calculations may be facilitated by making a preliminary approximate calculation
the damping constants and periods of the coupled system.
We shall now proceed to a numerical treatment of certain important special cases, and as a result of the calculations we shall have our attention called to important simplifications that sometimes arise.
CASE 1. THE QUASI ISOCHRONOUS SYSTEM
112. The Equations for z in the Quasi Isochronous System. We shall now limit the discussion to the case in which the original two circuits have nearly the same free periods T\ and TV In-
x = 1, A = 4(1 - t>), B = 4(r2 + u), C = ±r*u (72) The cubic equation (53) for z, in the isochronous case, becomes z3 + 4z2(l - v) + 4z(r2 + u) + 4r2w = 0 (73)
From this factored form we can make a discovery of a new fact in regard to the limit of z. We have already shown in the general case the relation (64), which in the isochronous case (since x = 1) becomes
This fact applied to (74) shows that the first term of that equation is negative or zero, and therefore the last term must be positive or zero to make the sum zero. We have just shown in (76) that one of the factors (z + u) of the last term is positive or zero, and hence the other factor of that term is positive or zero; that is,
We have then the result that the quadratic relation is sufficient to determine z in any case of quasi isochronism in which r2/8 is negligible in comparison with unity or in which (5i — 52)2/327r2 is negligible in comparison with unity. The latter of these alternatives is true for oscillatory circuits even when they are very highly damped. The exact degree of damping is easily determined in a specific case.
Let us now write out the simplified value of z for the isochronous system. This is done by replacing the coefficients A, B, and C in (69) by their values from (72), and gives
over without much attention in the statements following (69). Using the second of the forms of (82), transposing the first term of the right-hand side to the left-hand side, and collecting terms over a common denominator, we have
Now by (76) and (77) it is seen that all the terms of the numerator are positive, so that the radical R must be positive (in the second form of (82)), provided v is less than unity; that is, provided the original circuits are oscillatory. Hence the correctness of the signs given to the radicals in (82) .
In the case in which Si = $2 = S the quantity z is exactly given by (73), or (74). In all cases in which the condition (80), or the condition (81), is fulfilled z is given with sufficient accuracy by (82) . For these isochronous circuits, (82) is of almost universal applicability.
It may be noted also, if the original circuits are separately oscillatory, that the absolute value of z is less than u and less than r2 and that z is negative, as is shown by (76) and (77) .
113. The Equations for Undamped Periods and Damping Constants in the Quasi Isochronous Circuits. — With the original circuits separately tuned to the same uadaKi-ped periods so that
By (77) this condition is always fulfilled with oscillatory circuits, and, therefore, by the note following (48) and (49) the signs in these two equations are correct for this case.
Ln the system of two circuits that are separately tuned to the same undamped periods, the resultant undamped periods when the circuits are coupled together and allowed to oscillate freely are given by the equations (83), and the resultant damping constants are given by (84) and (85) in terms of 6 defined by (86). The values of u and v are defined in (71). z is given by (73-) and is usually given with sufficient accuracy by (82) .
Computations were made for various values of T. The method of making the computations consists in first determining z by the use of the equation following (88) and then computing &'S/ir and a"S/ir by the use of (89), (90) and (91). The values of S'/S and S"/S may be computed directly from (83).
Table I. — Computed Values of Damping Constants and Undamped Periods of the Quasi Isochronous System of Two Circuits with Various Values of r. Given b^ = O.STT, 62 =
The results in this case are recorded in Table II and some of the significant values are plotted in Figs. 4 and 5. Although the scale in Figs. 4 and 5 is different from the scale in Figs. 2 and 3, it is seen that the case with the decrements given in (92) has general characteristics in common with the case with the larger decrements given in equation (87).
115. Discussion of the Results in the Numerical Cases of Isochronous Circuits, with Derivation of Limiting Values of z. Certain significant facts are apparent from Tables I and II, compiled for the two sets of specific values of the decrements.
One of these facts is that for small values of r2, z is approximately equal to — r2. This may be derived theoretically from the cubic equation (74) for z, which by transposition of the first term to the right and division by z + u gives
Now by (77) z + r2 must be positive, so that (93) can be employed only when r2 is less than u, and since the fraction of (93) was obtained by replacing z by — r2, it is seen that for (93) to be applicable the fraction in (93) must be small in comparison with unity. If these conditions are fulfilled z becomes approximately
With the quasi isochronous system of circuits, and under the conditions expressed in (94) z may be equated to —r2 as given in (95). In subsequent sections we shall designate the case in which (94) and (95) are fulfilled as the r-case.
Another fact apparent from Tables I and II is that with increasing values of T, z approaches in each case a definite limit, and this definite limit in each case is seen to be — u.
This result may also be established analytically, as follows : Transposing the first term of (74) to the right, and dividing the resulting equation by r2 + z, we obtain
But, since z + u is positive by (76), this can only be true provided u is less than r2, and since we have replaced z by -^u, we must require also that the last term in (96) be negligible. In symbols, we have
With the quasi isochronous system of circuits, and under the conditions expressed in (97), z may be equated to —u. In subsequent sections we shall designate this case as the u-case.
116. Simplified Equations for the Damping Constants and Periods in the u-Case and the r-Case of Isochronous Circuits. In the w-case and the r-case as described in the preceding section, z reduces to very simple values, and the damping constants and undamped periods may be also expressed in simplified form. We shall take the two cases in order beginning with the u-case.
Under the conditions set forth in (99), or in abbreviated form in (97), equation (101) gives the damping constants in the isochronous system of two magnetically coupled circuits. This we have called the u-case.
In the u-case of isochronous circuits, as specified by (99 j, or (97), equations (102) and (103) give the squares of the undamped periods in the coupled system. The value of u is given in (71) .
as is required by Chapter VII.
Equation (105) gives the values of the periods in the isochronous system in which Si and S2 are zero, and is in agreement with Chapter VII. ' Equation (104) gives the undamped periods in the quasi isochronous circuits when Si = S2.
118. The r-Case. — This designation applies to the case in which z — — r2. The conditions for this are given in (94). On replacing u and v by their values from (71), (94) and (95) become
, approximately.
In the r-case of isochronous circuits, as specified in (106), equations (108) and (109) give the damping constants in the coupled system. In the values marked "approximately" we have neglected a quantity twice as large as that specified as negligible in (106). The values of u and v are given in (71).
These results may be inaccurate, since in (83) the radical involves the sum of z and r2 and also involves z2. We can obtain a closer approximation by employing for z equation (93), giving
119. r-Case, Continued. Limits Approached as r2 Approaches Zero. — In the preceding section we have given equations for the damping constants and undamped periods in what has been called the r-case, as specified 'by (94), or (106). Let us DOW suppose that r2 is small enough to be neglected in (108), (109), (111), and (112); then these equations reduce to
values.
The condition under which r2 is sufficiently near zero to make (113) substantially correct, may be derived by examining (108). Expansion of the radical in (108), second form, gives
In making these reductions we have used the definitions of u and v given in (71), and have used also the definitions (52) of 61 and 52 with Si = $2 = S for this special case of isochronous circuits.
The remaining step of reducing a' to a2 and a" to ai, as given in (113), consists in substituting (114) into (108), and making r2 negligible in comparison with 1.
120. Summary of Results with the Quasi Isochronous System of Two Magnetically Coupled Circuits. — Considering first the damping constants, and having reference to Figs. 2 and 4, it is seen that for small values of r2, as specified in (115),
Under this same condition of small r2, with however, a somewhat larger possible value of r2, reference to the Tables I and II, and to the curves of Figs. 3 and 5, and to the analysis of the preceding section, shows that substantially
Referring to Tables I and II, and to Figs. 2 and 4, it is seen that this latter condition is attained for values of r greater than about twice the values of r at which the a' curve and the a" curve come nearest together to form a neck in the figures.
For this same range of values of r, in which r is greater than twice the value at which the neck is formed by the a' and a" curves, Sf and S" are given by (102) and (103), and in the special case of small values of u (that is, small values of (61 — 52)2/4?jr2) these quantities are approximately given by (104), which is
For values of T intermediate between those values that give the simplified expressions for damping constants and periods, the exact expressions involving z must be employed.
CASE II. THE GENERAL CASE WITH NUMERICAL COEFFICIENTS
121. Statement. — If we take the general case of two magnetically coupled circuits, such as are shown in Fig. 1, and suppose that the two separate circuits, when each is standing alone have the undamped periods Si and $2 and the damping constants ai and a2, the equations (41) and (42) specify the values of the undamped periods that coexist in both of the circuits when they are coupled together with a coefficient of coupling T. The equations (45) and (46) give the damping factors in the two oscillations of the coupled system.
Both of these pairs of equations involve a quantity z. The exact value of z is given by the cubic equation (53) which has coefficients A, B, and C defined in (54). If we know the coefficient of coupling r, the decrements 61 and 62 of the original circuits, and x, which is the ratio of S2 to Si, we can compute z
of finding the periods and damping factors of the coupled system.
Instead of using the cubic equation (53) for z, it is usually sufficiently accurate to use the values of z given by (69). The test of this point is specified in (66) .
We shall now proceed to compute S', S", a', and a" for four different values of r2, and shall allow the ratio of *S2 to Si to be varied by varying S2, while Si is kept constant. With this con-
dition, if di and a2 are supposed to remain constant, 61, which is aiSi, will stay constant, but 52, which is a2£2 will vary. We shall therefore assign a fixed numerical value 0.3ir to 61, and shall assign a fixed value O.!TT to 52 at S2 = Si. That is 61 = O.STT, and a2Si = O.ITT.
122. Computation of z in the General Case of Two Magnetically Coupled Circuits with Given Values of Si, a2Si, and with Various Values of r2 and Various Values of the Ratio of S2 to Si. — We shall take in our numerical illustration
and 0.001.
The first computation consisted in determining z. For this purpose the reduced equation (82), or (69), has been sufficient for all values of the computation, except for two values that are indicated in the table, where it was found necessary to use the cubic (53) instead of the reduced equation.
123. Computation of S' and S" in the General Case with Numerical Constants. — Having computed the values of —z recorded in Table III, we shall next make numerical computations of $' and S". For this purpose, we shall divide both sides of (41) and (42) by Si, and replace S%/Si by x, obtaining
Using the values of x, —2, and r2 given in Table III, the values recorded in Tables IV, V, VI and VII in the columns marked S'/Si and S"/Si were obtained. These values are plotted in Figs. 7 to 10.
For comparison, to show the effect of the damping constants in modifying the periods, there is recorded in parentheses after each value of Sf/Si and S"/Si the value obtained by regarding z as zero. In Fig. 8 the dotted curve is a graph of values obtained by neglecting z, while the continuous line curve is the graph of true values with z considered.
124. Computation of a' and a" in the General Case with Numerical Constants. — Continuing with the same set of special values, we have next computed the values of ratios expressing a' and a" in terms of known quantities.
For the formulation of this problem, let us first examine the equation (47), which is used to determine the algebraic sig- s of certain damping constant equations to be employed. Dividing both sides of the inequality (47) by Si, and replacing Sz/Si by x, we obtain
to be interchanged.
125. Criterion Values. — Applying the criterion inequality (121) to the present numerical cases it is found that the signs given in (122) and (123) are correct for all values of x greater than a certain limiting value for each value of r2. These limiting values are as follows:
Keeping these criterion values in mind, equations (122) and (123) were used in computation of the values of a'S\/v and a"Si/ir recorded in Tables IV to VII, and plotted in the curves of Figs. 11 to 14.
126. Examination of Results in the General Case with Numerical Constants. — The results contained in Tables III to VII will now be examined. The given constants used in the computation of these tables are 61 = O.Sr, a2$i = O.lx, while the coefficient of coupling had four different values whose squares are r2 = 0.001, r2 = 0.01, r2 = 0.025, r2 = 0.1.
127. Examination of z. — Table III contains values of —z for various values of x ( = Sz/Si), and for the four different values of r2. These results are plotted in Fig. 6. It will be seen that in each case —z has a maximum.
For the two smaller values of r2 (i.e., for r2 = 0.001 and r2 = 0.01) the maximum value of —z is approximately equal to r2, and this maximum value occurs at a value of x a little less than unity.
different from unity.
128. Examination of the Undamped Periods. — The values of the undamped periods, in the form of their ratios to Si, are given in Tables IV to VII, for different values of x ( = S2/Si) and for the different values of r2. Each of the tables corresponds to a particular value of r2.
In these tables the quantities in parentheses are the values that are obtained if we consider z to be zero, while the values not in parentheses are the values obtained by giving z its proper value, and taking account of its effect on the resultant periods.
A comparison of the values not in parentheses with those in parentheses shows the amount of the error that would be made in this numerical case of rather large damping if z were entirely neglected. The effect of the z differs with the coefficient of coupling r and with the ratio x of the undamped periods of the original circuits.
From Table IV, in which r2 = 0.001, it is seen that the effect of z is inappreciable for large and for small value of x (that is, for values in which the original circuits are widely out of synchronism), but at x = 1 (i.e., with the circuits synchronous) the effect of z in this case is to modify the computed periods by about 1 per cent. »
From Table V, in which r2 = 0.01, it is seen that at x = 0.98 the effect of z is to modify the computed values by about 4 per cent. In this case also, the effect of z is hardly appreciable for large and for small values of x.
Table VI, with r2 = 0.025, shows that the effect of z is to modify the computed periods by about 2 per cent, for x in the neighborhood of 1, with this effect decreasing toward the small values of x and almost inappreciable at the large values of x.
Table IV. — Computed Values Involving Damping Constants and Undamped Periods in the General Case with Various Values of x = 82/81. Given <5i = O.STT, a2Si = O.ITT and r2 = 0.001
on the periods is small for large values of x. The effect of z is about 1 per cent, on computed periods for values of x between about 0.95 and 1 .02. For small values of x the effect of z is smaller than in the neighborhood of # = 1, but is still considerable for the smallest value of x used in the computations.
It will be interesting to compare the effect of z, which is the effect of the damping constants, on the resultant undamped periods S' and S", with the effect of the damping constants OQ the original periods T\ and T2 of the circuits if not coupled.
while if 61 were zero Si would be equal to Ti} so that the effect of the damping in this circuit alone is to modify its period by about 1 per cent. For the other circuit with the decrement dz, which is smaller, the effect would be less.
It appears, therefore, that in the coupled system, the effect of the decrements in modifying the periods is as much as four times as great as with a single circuit standing alone (compare Table V).
Let us refer now to the curves of Figs. 7 to 10. In these curves S'/Si and S"/Si are plotted as ordinates and x ( = Sz/Si) is plotted as abscissae. We have adhered to the convention that of the two quantities S' and /S", the greater shall xbe designated S'. In Figs. 7 and 8, for r2 = 0.001 and r2 = 0.01 respectively, the curves consist of two lines that cross; and the upper part of each of these lines has been designated S'/Si and the lower part S"/Si to conform to the convention that S'>S". In Figs. 9 and 10, which are for r2 = 0.025 and r2 = 0.01 respectively, the two curves do not cross or touch, and the curves for S'/Si and S"/Si are widely separated. The curves in these cases of the
larger coefficients of coupling are very similar in character to the corresponding period curves in which the resistances were considered to be zero, as in the dotted curves of Fig. 8. The values in the present cases, as given in Tables VI and VII, in which the decrements are rather large, differ by as much as 2 per cent, from the values obtained by neglecting the resistances.
A criterion can be obtained theoretically that will determine in any particular case whether the curves of Sr and S" meet, as in Figs. 7 and 8, or do not meet, as in Figs. 9 and 10, but this investigation is here omitted.
129. Examination of Damping Constants. — Tables IV to VII contain values of a' SI/IT and a'fSi/ir for various values of x ( = Sz/Si) and for four values of r2, as indicated in the headings to the tables. Here, as always, a' is the damping constant in the coupled system belonging to the undamped period S', which is the larger of the resultant undamped periods, and a" is the damping constant in the coupled system belonging to S", which is the smaller of the resultant undamped periods.
ordinates.
In Fig. 11, which is for the case of r2 = 0.001, it is seen that for a range of x extending nearly up to # = 1, a' SI/IT is approximately equal to 0.3 (which is the value of aiSi/ir = di/ir — 0.3 in this numerical case). The same quantity is approximately equal to 0.1 (that is, approximately equal to a^Si/ir) for a range of x extending from x = 1 on up to the largest value of x given. The curve of a"$i/r does the same thing over a reversed pair of ranges.
coupling (with r2 = 0.01) the region of transition is spread out so that it embraces practically the whole plotted range of x. The intersection point in this case is at about x = 0.987.
With still larger coefficients of coupling (with r2 = 0.025 and r2 = 0.1), the curves of Figs. 13 and 14 show that the intersecting points are still further shifted toward the smaller values of x. These points appear at x = 0.961 and x = 0.805 respectively, as has been previously determined.
HI. THE LOOSE COUPLED SYSTEM
130. Determination of the Oscillation Constants When r = 0. We can best obtain the result in this case by letting r2 = 0 in the original fourth degree equation (10), which then factors into
Equations (129) to (132) give the values of the oscillation constants of the coupled system in terms of the values of the constants of the system not coupled, provided r2 is effectually zero.
INDUCTIVELY COUPLED SYSTEM OF TWO CIRCUITS
131. Continuation of Preceding Chapter. — In the preceding chapter the discussion was confined mainly to the periods and damping constants of the coupled system of two circuits related as shown in Fig. 1 of Chapter IX.
We have found that the four &'s, ki, k2, k$ and &4, are the four roots of a fourth degree algebraic equation, (19) Chapter IX, and that these roots may be written as two pairs of conjugate imaginary quantities as follows :
In the preceding chapter the discussion of these roots was entered into at length. We propose now to return to the matter of the amplitudes of the primary and secondary currents, for two sets of initial conditions based on two modes of exciting the oscillation. These two methods are first, Excitation by Discharging the Primary Condenser and, second, Excitation by Discharging the Primary Inductance. These titles will constitute the major headings of the material of the present Chapter.
EXCITATION BY DISCHARGING THE PRIMARY CONDENSER
132. Initial Conditions with Ci Initially Charged and Allowed to Discharge. — If the primary condenser Ci is supposed to be initially charged with a quantity of electricity Qi, while the secondary condenser is initially uncharged, and if the currents
133. Relations Among the A's and B's. — There are four relations among the A' a and B's as given in equation (7) or (8) of the preceding chapter, for each of these equations for any given A, Bt and k, all with the same subscript 1, 2, 3, or 4. The subscripts of the L, R, and C, are not to be permuted with permutation of the subscripts of A, B, and k.
If we next take equation (6), and divide it by kn, we shall have four equations, corresponding respectively to n = 1, 2, 3, and 4. If now we add these four equations, we obtain
134. Summary of These Results. — With excitation of the system by discharging the primary condenser initially charged with a quantity Qi of electricity, the four A's and the four £'s were found to satisfy the following group of equations
The determinant of this last expression may be simplified by subtracting l/ki times the second row from the third row, and 1/fci times the first row from the second, giving for the determinant factor alone
This determinant is to be multiplied by the factors before the multiplication sign in (16) and equated to the right-hand side of (15), and gives as the resultant equation
Here it is seen that with the given set of initial conditions the £'s are completely determined in terms of the values of the k's. The values of Ai, A2, A3, and A4, can be obtained from the corresponding values of the £'s by use of the equations (7). We shall, however, not write out the values of the A's, but shall continue an investigation of the B's.1
136. Determination of i2 in Trigonometric Form. — If now we introduce into the equation for BI the value immediately following equation (2), of the &'s in terms of a's and co's, and if we write, as usual,
If now we treat B2 in the same way, we shall find that B% differs from Bj only in that the a/ has a different sign. It will be seen that this changes the sign of the <pi, and also changes the sign of the whole quantity, since co' enters as a divisor. That is,
1 Up to here this chapter follows more or less closely P. Drude, Ann. d. Phys., 25, p. 512, 1908. At this point I depart from Drude to avoid an error he makes in that on p. 531 in taking a time derivative of his equation (51) he overlooks the fact that B is a function of the time. The same error is made by Bjerknes before Drude and persists through much of the literature.
Equation (29) gives the exact value of the current z'2 in the secondary circuit of the coupled system produced by the discharge of the condenser Ci in the primary circuit. The condenser Ci was initially charged with a quantity of electricity Q\.
137. Integral Effect in Secondary Circuit. — If the secondary circuit contains a hot-wire ammeter or other instrument that is affected proportionally to the square of the current, it becomes important to obtain the value of the time integral of the square of the current extended over the time of one complete discharge. If we call this integral J, then by direct integration of the square of (29), we obtain
The terms of this equation are numbered for future reference.
Equation (30) is exact. It gives the integral of the square of the secondary current produced by the discharge of a condenser in the primary circuit, in terms of the resultant damping constants and angular velocities.
certain important cases.
138. Approximate Treatment of the Integral Effect with Neglect of a2 in Comparison with o>2. — As an approximation to the value of J", let us first neglect all of the squares of the a's and the product of two a's in comparison with the squares of the co's or in comparison with the product of two co's, except where there appears differences of the squares of the o>'s.
The term marked (1), within the brace of (30), is of the order o>2/2a. The coefficients, within the brace, of the trigonometric quantities that occur in the other terms have order as follows:
these coefficients are to be multiplied.
Let us call the trigonometric quantities in terms (2), (3), (4), and (5) respectively, FZ) F3, F4, and F5. In these trigonometric quantities we shall expand the an ti tangents of 'those quantities known to be large (that is, of the order of w/o) by the well known formula
1 In the extreme case in which (to' — a*")2 happens to be negligible in comparison with 2(o' -f- a")2- To cover all contingencies we estimate its order as large as it can ever be.
Let us now continue our omission of squares or higher powers of a/co in comparison with unity, and expand the above expressions, with replacement of sin (a/co) by a/co and cos (a/co) by unity. This process gives
The cosine terms in the expressions for F2, F3, and F5 have as multipliers quantities of the order of a/co, and since the coefficients by which these F's are to be multiplied in forming / (see Table of Coefficients) are of the relative order of a/co, these cosine terms will be neglected leaving
Equation (34) /or J {/^es £/&e integral of the square of the secondary current for a complete discharge under the condition that the square of each of the damping constants a is negligible in comparison with the square of the angular velocities co. No other approximation has been made. The result is in terms of the damping constants and angular velocities of the coupled system. .
139. Value of the Integral of the Square of the Secondary Current for Two Circuits of Small Damping, Nearly in Resonance and Very Loosely Coupled. — Under the conditions given in this caption, the expression for the time integral of the square of the current in the secondary circuit reduces to a simple form. Assumptions are to be made as follows :
Assumption I. — The damping constants are supposed to be so small that their squares are negligible in comparison with the squares of the angular velocities. This assumption is fulfilled
by circuits even when the damping constants are large enough to cut the amplitude of current to one-half in one oscillation. The introduction of this assumption permits the use of equation (34) for J.
Assumption III. — The two circuits are assumed to be nearly in resonance so that co2 is nearly equal to coi, and, except in difference terms we shall replace coi2, co22 and coico2 by a common quantity co2. Also we shall assume
Referring now to .equation (34) it is seen that these assumptions make the term marked "Term No. (2) " negligible in comparison with the term No. (1), since the quantity in the square bracket in No. (2) cannot be greater than J^.
in the case of a secondary circuit very loosely coupled to a primary circuit, when the condenser in the primary is charged with a quantity of electricity Qi and allowed to discharge. The two circuits are supposed to have damping constants whose squares are negligible in comparison with the squares of the angular velocities, and the circuits are supposed to be not more than 5 or 10 per cent, out of resonance.
ment of an unknown circuit.
140. Determination of the Decrement of an Unknown Circuit by Measuring the Integral Square Current in a Secondary Circuit Loosely Coupled with the Unknown Circuit. — One of the usual methods of measuring the logarithmic decrement d\ of an oscillatory circuit is repeatedly to charge and discharge the con-
denser C\ (Fig. 1), or inductance LI of the given circuit, and to make wavelength measurements and integral square current measurements in a loosely coupled standard secondary circuit (II) of small decrement d2. The standard circuit is usually a wavemeter, or, if calibrated to read directly in decrements, a decremeter.
The approximate formulas for obtaining decrements by this method are derivable from (41). If we call the value of J when w2 = wi the resonant value of J, indicated by Jr, we have from (41)
Xr = the wavelength setting of the wavemeter at resonance, X = its wavelength setting for the reading /. In terms of these quantities equation (43) becomes
A simple way of applying the formula is as follows: Plot a resonance curve of J against X, as is illustrated in Fig. 2. Then if we take the two values of X (X0 and X& say) that give the same value of J, and call
That is, to obtain di -f dz, we take the width AX of the resonance curve, Fig. 2, in meters wavelength at any height J, divided by the resonant wavelength Xr in meter and multiply by TT and by the square root of J/(Jr — J).
141. Initial Conditions When the Current is Produced by the Discharge of an Inductance in the Primary Circuit. — As has been pointed out in Chapter II, it is the practice in many
electrical measurements and in some small transmitting stations to excite the current oscillations by isolating a current in the primary inductance and allowing the current to subside. We have referred to this method of excitation as excitation by the discharge of an inductance.
The discharge of the inductance is effected in practice by the use of an electromagnetically driven interrupter as shown at J in Fig. 3, where is illustrated a coupled system operated in this way
A current from the battery B is sent through the inductance LI, and when this current has a certain value /i, which is practically steady, the feed current is opened at J.
142. Manipulation of the Initial Conditions. — To obtain further relations concerning A and B, we shall make use of the equations (6) and (7). If in (7) we make n successively 1, 2, 3, 4, we obtain four equations, which added together give
Let us now take equation (6), multiply each term by kn, and sum up for the four &'s; and let us perform a similar operation on (7). These two operations yield
It will not be necessarj^ to go through the detail of solving these four simultaneous equations, as we can obtain the result by a direct comparison of these equations (55) with the corresponding equations (14) obtained with the condenser-discharge method of excitation. If in (55) we let BI = Yi/ki, B2 = F2//c2, etc., equations (55) in terms of Yn will be of the same form as (14), with only the Qi of (14) replaced by /i.
In order now to put our result into trigonometric form we may take the result (23) of the previous problem, multiply it by /i and divide it by Qifa, and, since
In this equation H, <pi and <p% have the values given in (22), (23), and (27) respectively. The H that occurs in (58) is taken from the case of condenser-discharge method of excitation and contains Q\9 but this Qi is eliminated by the Qi of the denominator of (58). The Qi has no meaning in the present problem.
Equation (58) gives the exact value of the current i% in the secondary of the coupled system when the system is excited by the discharge of the primary inductance originally traversed by a current /i. The amplitudes are seen to be absolutely and relatively different from the corresponding amplitudes produced by excitation by condenser discharge (compare (29)). The phase of the current components is also changed from the previous case. The Qi occurring in the demoninator of (58) has no meaning and is eliminated by a Qi involved in the numerator in H.
143. Value of the Integral of the Square of the Secondary Current in the Coupled System Excited by the Discharge of the Primary Inductance. — By making suitable changes in (30) we obtain in this case
This expression is exact. It gives the integral of the square of the secondary current of the coupled system excited by discharging the primary inductance originally traversed by a current I\.
If, now, we neglect the squares of the damping constants in comparison with the squares of the angular velocities, this equation, by the employment of processes similar to those used in deriving (35), reduces to
Equation (60) gwes Z/ie integral of the square of the secondary current, in a coupled system, excited by discharging the primary inductance originally traversed by a current Ii, in case the squares of the damping constants are negligible in comparison with the squares of the angular velocities. No other approximation has been made. The Qi that occurs in (60) has no meaning, in this case, and is eliminated by the Qi occurring in H in (61).
If next we assume the circuits very loosely coupled and assume that they do not depart from synchronism by more than a few per cent., and apply the assumptions and methods employed in deriving (41), we find
Equation (62) gives the value of the time integral of the square of the secondary current in a coupled system excited by a discharge of the primary inductance originally traversed by a current /n. In obtaining this simplified result the squares of the damping conslants have been neglected in comparison with the squares of the angular velocities, and the coefficient of coupling has been assumed
to be so small that the damping constants and angular velocities of the coupled systems are the same as these constants for the circuits uncoupled, as expressed in (36). Also the circuits as supposed to be near enough to synchronism to make (37) applicable.
It is seen that the value of J divided by Jr, which is the value of J at resonance, reduces approximately to the same value as with the condenser-discharge method of excitation (compare (41)), so that the method of decrement measurement illustrated in Fig. 1 and the text of Art. 140 applies also to the inductance method of excitation.
MOTIVE FORCE
In the treatment of two coupled circuits the discussion up to the present has been confined to the free oscillation that takes place when the system is given a charge and is allowed to discharge. It is proposed now to treat the two circuits, when one of them has operating within it, or upon it, a sinusoidal electromotive force.1
144. Form of Circuit to Which the Analysis Applies. — The form of circuit to which the analysis is to apply exactly is shown in Fig. 1, where the circuit I contains a condenser, an inductance and a resistance and a source of sinusoidal electromotive force, indicated at e.
The constants of the circuits are Li, Ci, Ri for the primary,
1 This problem without condensers in the circuits was first treated by MAXWELL, Phil. Trans., 155, 1864. With condensers it was treated by BEDELL & CBEHOBE, Physical Review, 1, p. 117 and p. 177, 1893 and 2, p. 442, 1894. See also OBERBECK, Wied. Ann., 55, p. 623, 1895; and PIERCE, Proc. Am. Acad., 46, p. 291, 1911.
Taking, now, the fall of potential around each of the circuits, and equating it to the impressed e.m.f., we obtain the following differential equations involving the currents in the two circuits:
The result is that the solutions that we shall now obtain will give complex quantities for the values of ii and z'2. Of these complex values of i\ and i2, the real components will be the solution of the given problem with E cos ut as the impressed e.m.f.
146. Nature of the Solution. — The complete solution of the pair of equations (2) (3) is obtained by adding the particular integral to the complementary function.
The Complementary Function in i\ and z"2 is the general solution of the system (2) (3) with the right-hand side of (2) replaced by zero. This we have obtained in Chapter IX in the form of (21) and (22), Art. 101. Such a solution for i\ and iz with the arbitrary constants undetermined is to be a part of the solution of our present problem.
147. Determination of the Particular Integral. — It appears that in order to meet the term involving the exponential in jut on the right-hand side of (2), we shall probably need such an exponential in our value of ii and i2. Let us try setting
where co is specifically the o> of the impressed e.m.f., and is not an unknown quantity to be obtained from the constants of the circuits as was the k in the exponentials in kt employed in Chapters VIII and IX.
It is seen that the exponential factors of (7) and (8) divide out ; and our assumed solutions prove to be correct provided (7) and (8) are satisfied. These reduce to
and completely determine A and B} as we shall soon show. The complex quantities Ri -f- jXi and Rz + JX* that occur in (11) and (12) and, for a given impressed frequency, are constants of the Circuits I and II, and are usually designated by a small z with proper subscript :
These quantities are called complex impedances. As further abbreviations it is customary to designate the magnitudes of z\ and 22 by capital Zi and Z2 defined by
Since in (20) the quantity z'\ occurs as a divisor of the complex e.m.f. to give the complex current, we may call z'\ the apparent complex impedance of the primary circuit. We may anatyze z'\. into its real and imaginary parts by replacing z\ and z2 by their values (13) and (14). Then (19) becomes
in (23), we should see that the current for the primary circuit would be the same as it would be if the secondary circuit were not present, provided the primary resistance were changed to R'i and the primary reactance to X\. These quantities R\ and X\ are called respectively the apparent resistance and apparent reactance of the primary circuit.
It may be noted that the apparent resistance is greater than ihe true resistance; but, since X2 may be positive, negative or zero depending on the relative values of L2co and Cw, the apparent reactance may be greater than, equal to, or less than, the true reactance of the primary circuit alone.
Equations (31) and (32) are the required particular integrals of the differential equations (2) and (3). All of the quantities entering into these expressions are known in terms of the constants of the circuits and the amplitude and angular velocity of the impressed e.m.f. Z'i and <p'i are defined respectively, by (26) and (27).
148. The Complete Solution and the Steady State Solution.— As pointed out above, the complete solution of the given differential equations is made up of the particular solutions (31) and (32) plus the values of i\ and £2 respectively given by equations (21) and (22) of Chapter IX. The latter are the values of the currents for a free oscillation of the circuits. These currents are doubly periodic in general with angular velocities «' and co" and damping constants of and a" determined by the constants of the circuits. Superposed on this doubly periodic free oscillation, are the current values given as our particular solutions (31) and (32). These particular solutions have the frequency of the impressed e.m.f., and are hence called the forced solutions.
After a sufficient lapse of time the free solution terms, which have exponential damping, subside and leave only the terms given in (31) and (32). These values of ii and i2 given by (31) and (32) constitute the steady state values of the currents.
We may note then that the steady-state currents have the frequency of the impressed e.m.f., and are completely given by (31) and (32). Whenever these equations are used as the complete values of the currents, we must make sure that a sufficient time has elapsed after the application of the e.m.f. to permit the subsidence of the transient terms of the form of those obtained in Chapter IX as the free oscillation currents of the system.
MENT OF A SINGLE VARIABLE
149. Attention to Secondary Current Amplitude. — We shall for the present confine our attention to the amplitude of the current in the Circuit II, which may be called the secondary circuit, since the e.m.f. is applied to the other circuit, Circuit I.
Both in the case of the sending station and the receiving station this secondary current is important; for in the case of a sending station the e.m.f. is applied usually to a closed circuit coupled with an antenna circuit, so that the secondary circuit would be the antenna circuit at the sending station, and we are interested in knowing the current in the antenna. At the receiving station the e.m.f. may be regarded as impressed on the antenna from a distant station, while coupled with the receiving antenna is usually a closed circuit actuating the detector. This closed circuit would, therefore, be a secondary
in knowing the current received in this secondary circuit.
We shall here limit the investigation to conditions for producing a maximum amplitude of current, in a steady state, in the secondary circuit, Circuit II, under the action of a sinusoidal e.m.f. in Circuit I.
150. Definitions of Partial Resonance Relations S and P. — When any single element of the system is adjusted to produce a maximum secondary current amplitude, while all the other elements are kept constant, we shall designate the condition as one of Partial Resonance and shall describe the adjusted member as satisfying a Partial Resonance Relation.
Two partial resonance relations will now be derived, and will be designated S and P, where S means that the secondary is adjustable. P means that the primary is adjustable.
Partial Resonance Relation P will be used to describe the adjustment of the primary reactance Xi that will give a maximum amplitude of secondary current, when all the other elements of the system are kept constant. The result will appear as an equation for the determination of X\.
Partial Resonance Relation S will designate the adjustment of the Secondary reactance X2 that will give a maximum of amplitude of secondary current, when all the other elements of the system are kept constant.
It is evident that these two partial resonance relations are determined mathematically by setting severally equal to zero the partial derivatives of 72 with respect to Xi and X2.
Since in (33) M, co, and E are to be considered constant, and since Z2 and Z\ are both positive, we may obtain a maximum value of 72 by determining the condition for a minimum value
of the square of the denominator of (33). With X% as the variable, this is done by setting equal to zero the derivative of the square of the denominator of (33) with respect to X2. That is
This equation (36) gives the value that X2 must have in order to give a maximum current in the secondary circuit when all the quantities except X2 are kept constant. The relation (36) will be called Partial Resonance Relation S.
152. Partial Resonance Relation P. — Let us now return to the general expression (33) for /2, and suppose that, with any arbitrary fixed values of Ri, R2, M, o>, and X2, it be required to determine what adjustment of the Primary Reactance Xi is necessary in order to make the secondary current a maximum. That is, instead of adjusting the secondary reactance X2 we are going to adjust the primary reactance Xi to give the maximum current amplitude in the secondary circuit.
The result in this case can be obtained by inspection, for Z2 does not involve X\. In the denominator of (33) only Z\ involves Xi, and we must choose Xi to make Z'i a minimum. By (34) it is seen that this is attained by making the expression in the last parenthesis in (34) zero; that is
Equation (37) gives Partial Resonance Relation P, which determines the value that Xi musf have in order for the secondary current amplitude to be a maxium for the given fixed values of X2, M2co2 and Z2.
153. Note Regarding Effect of Resistances on Partial Resonance Relations P and S. — In equation (36), Zi contains Ri as one of its terms, while in (37) Z2 contains R% as one of its terms. The resistances do not enter otherwise in these two expressions.
It is to be noted then that the resistance of the secondary circuit has no effect in determining the adjustment that must be given to the secondary reactance to make the secondary current a maximum; and the resistance of the primary circuit has no effect in determining the adjustment that must be given to the primary reactance to make the secondary current a maximum.
154. Secondary Current Under Partial Resonance Relation S. — Let us obtain next the current amplitude in the secondary circuit when the secondary reactance is adjusted to the partial resonance relation S, as given in (36).
To do this let us substitute the value of X 2 from (36) into (35) and extract the square root of (35) to get the denominator of (33). In making this substitution Z22 of the right-hand side of (35) must be decomposed into R^ + X^, so that the X22 may be replaced. When we have made this substitution we shall have imposed upon 72 the condition (resonance relation S) for a maximum; therefore we shall write the resulting value of 72 as We obtain
Equation (38) gives the current amplitude in the secondary circuit, when for fixed values of the other constants of the circuits, X* is set at the value to give a maximum secondary current amplitude. Expressed otherwise, (38) gives the amplitude of secondary current under partial resonance relation S.
155. Secondary Current Under Partial Resonance Relation P. In like manner, if we substitute (37) into (33) and designate the resulting value of 72 by [72max.]P, we obtain
Equation (39) gives the amplitude of secondary current under Partial Resonance Relation P; that is, under the condition that for fixed values of the other constants of the circuits, Xi zs set at the value to give maximum amplitude of secondary current.
H. THE OPTIMUM RESONANCE RELATION
156. The Optimum Resonance Relation. — For given values of certain constants of the coupled system we have found two different adjustments, one of the primary reactance, and the other of the secondary reactance, that would give a maximum amplitude of secondary current. In order to get the biggest possible current in the secondary circuit, it is apparent that we should, if possible, satisfy the Partial Resonance Relation S and the Partial Resonance Relation P both at the same time.
as follows :
Equation (36) tells us what value we must give to the reactance Xz, of Circuit II, for a given X\t Z\, E, M, and o>, in order to obtain a maximum amplitude of current in Circuit II.
If now we take a different set of values of these constants Xi, Zi, we shall require a different value of XZ) and shall get a different maximum value of secondary current. We may now ask ourselves which of these several combinations of adjustments will give a maximum of the maxima of secondary current amplitude.
To determine this let us suppose that X2 is always automatically given the value that satisfies resonance relation S, so that (38) is kept satisfied, even as we vary X\, and let us determine the value of Xi that under this condition will give a maximum
We are now to decide which of these two conditions, (I) or (II), is correct for determining the required maximum of [/2max.]sLet us first replace Zi2 by its value Xi2 + Ri2, which, substituted into (II), gives
Now B is seen to be less than A, because twice the product of any two real quantities is less than the sum of their squares. Hence in this case Condition (II) gives a larger amplitude of secondary current than does (I).
(I) gives the largest attainable secondary current; and under the limitations of Case II, condition (II) gives the largest attainable secondary current; and, if Jf2co2 = RiR2, Conditions (I) and (II) are both appropriate for giving the largest possible current, in the second a^ circuit.
These results have been attained by supposing that, while seeking the optimum condition, we have kept (36) always satisfied ; so (36) must be fulfilled simultaneously with (I) when (I) is optimum and simultaneous with (II) when (II) is optimum.
as the condition for the largest attainable amplitude of secondary current. We shall call the system of equations (44) and (45) the optimum resonance relation at sufficient coupling. In the interest of completion of nomenclature, if
we shall call the coupling critical coupling. Either (43) or (45) is the optimum resonance relation at critical coupling, since both reduce to the form (43) as may be seen from (41).
// (42) is fulfilled, (43) is the condition for maximum amplitude of secondary current. If, on the other hand (44) is fulfilled, (45) gives this condition. If (46) is fulfilled, (45) and (43) reduce to the same value.
that is, each circuit is separately adjusted so as to make its undamped period equal to the period of the impressed e.m.f. From (38) the current obtainable under these conditions is
// the circuits are so loosely coupled that M 2co2 < R\R^ then for a max. max. secondary current, the circuits should be tuned to satisfy (48), and the current obtained at this adjustment is given by (49).
The current is seen to decrease with decreasing M, for if we differentiate (49) with respect to M we obtain a negative quantity for all values of MV less than RiR2.
As an alternative expression, it has been seen that the Condition (II7) of equation (41) was equivalent to the Condition (II), preceding (41), which combined with the first part of (40) gives
// the circuits are so closely coupled as to satisfy the condition for sufficient coupling as defined by (50), then in order to obtain a max. max. secondary current, the circuits should be tuned to satisfy conditions (51), or the equivalent conditions (52), and the current obtained at this adjustment is given by (53).
It is seen that in the case of sufficient coupling (that is, when MWJ$ RiR2) the value of the secondary current obtained is independent oj the mutual inductance.
159. Optimum Resonance Relation Equivalent to Fulfillment of Partial Resonance Relations S and P Simultaneously. — Before passing to a further consideration of max. max. current amplitudes it is interesting to note that the simultaneous fulfillment of Partial Resonance Relation S and Partial Resonance Relation P results in the Optimum Resonance Relation.
of ratio and proportion.
Taking the square root of the first and last members of (55) and combining with (S) we have the optimum resonance relation (51), which is the case of sufficient coupling.
so that alternative to the optimum resonance relation (55) we have (56) as a possible optimum resonance relation. By work done above, it was shown that (56) is the actual optimum resonance relations, provided . ^
We have thus shown that the Optimum Resonance Relation is Equivalent to the 'requirement that the Partial Resonance Relations P and S be fulfilled simultaneously.
Instantaneous Value of Secondary Current and of Primary Current at Optimum Resonance. Sufficient Coupling. — Under the conditions for optimum resonance for sufficient coupling the apparent resistance and the apparent reactance of the primary circuit, as given in (24) and (25), reduce to
This equation gives the value of the instantaneous current in the primary circuit at optimum resonance and sufficient coupling. In this equation E cos ut is the impressed e.m.f., and the result is Jor the steady state.
This equation gives the value of the instantaneous current in the secondary circuit at optimum resonance with sufficient coupling, in a steady state, under the action of an e.m.f. E cos cat impressed upon the primary.
POWER EXPENDITURE IN THE COUPLED CIRCUITS
160. Power Expended in the Primary and Secondary Circuits in the Coupled System at Optimum Resonance for Sufficient Coupling. — If we multiply the instantaneous e.m.f. E cos cot by the instantaneous primary current (59) at optimum resonance (sufficient coupling), we obtain for the instantaneous power Pi supplied to the primary circuit
If we take the time average of this power, over an integral number of half-periods, or over a time that is long in comparison with a half-period, and indicate the average so obtained by PI, the average of the numerator becomes E2/2. This value is the mean square of e, which mean square we may indicate by E*, and obtain
optimum resonance with sufficient coupling.
Next, let us examine the power converted into heat or radiated as electric waves from the primary circuit. This is the square of the current times the resistance of the circuit. If we call this power [pi]R, we have
Equations (63) and (64) give respectively the instantaneous power and the average power converted into heat in the primary circuit or radiated from it as electric waves, at optimum resonance with sufficient coupling.
Equations (65) and (66) give respectively the instantaneous power and the average power communicated to the secondary circuit at optimum resonance with sufficient coupling. These values are seen to be the same as the corresponding quantities converted in the primary into heat or radiated from it.
Let us now as an independent operation calculate the power consumed in the resistance of the secondary circuit. This is obtained by multiplying the square of the instantaneous secondary current (60) by the secondary resistance Rzf and gives
These equations (67) and (68) give the instantaneous power and the average power converted into heat or radiation in the secondary circuit. It is seen that the average value is the same as the average value of power communicated to the secondary from the primary, and the same as the average power consumed in the primary.
A comparison of the instantaneous values (67) and (65) shows that the conversion into heat is not in phase with the transfer from the primary to the secondary. This is not surprising for the power, for a part of the time, is stored in the condenser and inductance of the secondary circuit.
As a general conclusion from this investigation into power the important result is obtained that, with M2co2 greater than R\R^, if we adjust the two circuits to such values as to give a max. max. of secondary current, then one-half of all the power communicated to the system through the impressed e.m.f. is dissipated in the primary circuit and one-half is dissipated in the secondary circuit.
This adjustment is, therefore, not a very efficient one, in general, for communicating power to a coupled system and dissipating it in a secondary load.
circuits and the. affecting of an instrument in the secondary circuit, which instrument ' responds more actively the larger the secondary current, this adjustment though not efficient may give the maximum of response in the receiving instrument. It is to be noted, however, that we have assumed a constant amplitude of impressed e.m.f., and if the radiation from the receiving antenna affects the resultant impressed e.m.f., a proper correction has to be applied.
system.
161. Condition for the Transfer of Power to the Secondary Circuit with Maximum Efficiency. — We must now go back to our original current equations (31) and (32), unmodified by the introduction of any resonance relations, and form the expressions for the average power expended in the secondary resistance and the average power expended in the primary resistance.
This is done by taking the square of the respective currents and multiplying by the respective resistances and averaging as to time. If we merely write the ratio of these average power values, we obtain
Pi Z22flj
It is seen that, for a fixed value of M, co, R^ and Ri, this ratio of the average power expended in the secondary to the average power expended in the primary is a maximum when Xz, comprised in Zz, is zero. That is,
1 JtliKz
To obtain from this expression the efficiency at maximum efficiency it is only necessary to form from (71) the ratio Pz/ (Pi + Pz). This is done by taking the reciprocal of (71), adding unity to both sides, and again taking the reciprocal. This gives
Equation (72) gives the efficiency of the transfer of power from the impressed e.m.f. to the secondary circuit when the secondary circuit is adjusted for the maximum efficiency of such transfer. The efficiency of the transfer is independent of the primary adjustment.
162. Condition for the Transfer of Maximum Power to the Secondary Circuit, The Transfer Being Effected at Maximum Efficiency. — -If we want to get the maximum transfer of power to the secondary circuit at maximum efficiency, we need merely put the condition for the maximum efficiency of transfer (namely, X2 = 0) into the amplitude equation (33) for secondary current and then adjust X\ to make the square of this amplitude a maximum.
Equations (74) are the conditions for a maximum transfer of power at maximum efficiency from the e.m.f. to the secondary circuit. In this equation co is the angular velocity of impressed e.m.f.
163. Comparison of Secondary Current at Maximum Power and Maximum Efficiency with the Secondary Current at the Optimum Resonance Relation. — The amplitude of the secondary current at maximum secondary power and at maximum efficiency of transfer of power is obtained by inserting (74) into (73). This gives
In the first column of Table 1 are arbitrary values of the ratio of M 2co2 to R\Rz. Consistent with these ratios, the second column gives the maximum attainable efficiency of the transfer of power to the secondary circuit from the source of e.m.f. This efficiency increases as the ratio in the first column increases. In the third column is the ratio of the amplitude of the secondary current obtainable at maximum efficiency to the amplitude attainable at the adjustment for maximum secondary current. It is seen that at 50 per cent, efficiency this ratio is unity, while with increasing efficiency this ratio decreases toward zero.
PERSISTENT INCIDENT WAVES
164. Use of Persistent Waves. — Persistent, or sustained, waves have recently come into extensive use in radiotelegraphy and radiotelephony. With these persistent waves, which are emitted by the sending station while the sending key is depressed, tens of thousands of oscillations may arrive at the receiving station even during the production of a single dot of the telegraphic code. This permits the establishment of practically
a steady state at the receiving station, so that the mathematical deductions of the preceding chapter may be applied directly to the radiotelegraphic circuits.1
165. In Respect to Resonance the Antenna Circuit is Approximately Equivalent to a Closed Circuit Consisting of a Localized Inductance, Capacity and Resistance. — With a receiving station of the type shown diagrammatically in Fig. 1,
1 This chapter is adapted from PIERCE, "Theory of Coupled Circuits, Under the Action of an Impressed Electromotive Force with Applications to Radiotelegraphy," Proc. Am. Acad., 46, p. 293, 1911.
certain theory and experiments, not here presented, show that in respect to resonance relations, the system is substantially equivalent to the system of Fig. 2, with antenna replaced by a suitable localized capacity, inductance and resistance.
In the form of receiving circuit illustrated in Fig. 1, the detector D is in series in the secondary circuit, Circuit II, and this whole system goes over into the system of Fig. 2.
In case the detector is of high resistance, it may be advantageous to take it out of Circuit II, and place it along with a condenser C3 on a branch in shunt to C2. This arrangement is shown in Fig. 1 of Chapter XV and is there treated. At present we shall suppose the receiving station to be of the type of Fig. 1, and to be equivalent to the simplified system given in Fig. 2.
All that we have developed in the preceding chapter we shall now assume to apply approximately to Fig. 1, and shall describe our results in terms of the radiotelegraphic circuits of this Fig. 1. It is to be borne in mind that what we shall say applies with greater accuracy to the simplified circuits of Fig. 2.
166. Transformation of Partial Resonance Relations S and P.
If Circuit I and the mutual inductance of the system is kept constant and the reactance X2 of the secondary circuit is used in tuning to obtain a maximum of amplitude of current in Circuit II, the setting required is said to satisfy Partial Resonance Relation S. This relation is given in the previous chapter by equation (36), which is here rewritten
On the other hand, if Xi is used as the adjustable member while all of the other members of the system of circuits are kept constant, the condition for a maximum amplitude of secondary current (in Circuit II) has been called in the previous chapter Partial Resonance Relations P. The equation for
It is proposed now to transform these two resonance relations by replacing Xi, Xz, Zi and Z2 by their customary values. given respectively in (9), (10), (15) and (16) of Chapter XI, This operation gives
We shall now change the form of these equations so that the result is expressed in terms of angular velocities, decrements, and the coefficient of coupling. For this purpose, let
The quantities Oi and fi2 as defined by (5) are quantities that have been extensively used in Chapters VI, IX, and X and have been designated Undamped Angular Velocities. The quantity T, called Coefficient of Coupling, has also been extensively used in the previous chapters.
The quantities 171 and r/2, defined by (6) and (7), are new, and are seen to be respectively I/TT times the loga'rithmic decrements of the two circuits per cycle of impressed e.m.f.
For any given fixed values of the other quantities that occur in these equations, and for fixed amplitude of the impressed e.m.f., equation (8) gives the value that the ratio 122/co must have in order to produce a maximum of amplitude of secondary current in a steady state.
Likewise, for the other quantities fixed, equation (9) gives the value that the ratio fii/co must have in order to produce a maximum amplitude of secondary current in a steady state.
167. Transformation of Partial Resonance Relations S and P into Forms Involving Wavelengths. — As most radiotelegraphic frequency measurements are made in terms of wavelengths, it is proposed to make certain obvious transformations to express equations (8) and (9) in terms of ratios of wavelengths.
We have also used in previous chapters the idea of an Undamped Wavelength of a circuit, which ordinarily differs but slightly from the free wavelength X of the circuit, in that the Undamped Wavelength, designated by a Greek Capital Lambda A, is defined as
The undamped wavelength A of a circuit is the wavelength that the circuit would have if its resistance were removed without changing the inductance and capacity of the circuit.
In these equations \ is the wavelength of the impressed e.m.f., A! and A2 are the undamped wavelengths of Circuits I and II respectively. In applying (13) AI alone is supposed to be varied in obtaining the maximum of amplitude of secondary current. In applying (14) A2 alone is supposed to be varied in obtaining the maximum amplitude of secondary current.
168. Examination of the Partial Resonance Relation S in a Numerical Case.— We shall now take a numerical case in which r and rji2 are given, and shall employ the Partial Resonance Relation S, in the form of equation (13), to determine the value of X2/A2 that is required, for various values of X2/Ai, in order to produce a maximum of amplitude of secondary current.
We shall take, in the example, r = 0.30, and shall give to rji2 the four values 0, 0.001, 0.01, and 0.1. Computed numerical values are contained in Table I.
Where the numbers are omitted near the middle of the table, the values of X2/A.22 are given as negative by the formula, and are therefore impossible of realization, because they would make A2 imaginary.
at 1,1, as may be deduced directly by making rji2 = 0 in (13). When ?? i2 = 0.001, the curve practically coincides with the curve for r/i2 = 0 except in the interval of abscissae between 0.9 and 1.1, where it sweeps from the third quadrant up through the point 1,1 and joins with the part of the curve in the first quadrant. At the bottom of the figure between the abscissae 0.9 and 0.98 this curve for rji2 = 0.001 has a gap in it. In this gap the com-
is hence imaginary in this region.
The curves for ??i2 = 0.01 and 0.1 fall into coincidence with the equilateral hyperbola for large and for small values of abscissae; but in the neighborhood of the abscissa at 1 they cross over from the first to the third quadrant. The greater the value of 77 12 the greater the departure of the curve from the equilateral hyperbola.
tion band.
169. Plot of the Partial Resonance Relation S in the Numerical Case in the Reciprocal Form. — It is deemed worth while to plot the values of the reciprocals of Table I. This will give the curves in the form of (A2/X)2 versus (Ai/X)2. These reciprocals are recorded in Table II, and are plotted in the curves of Fig. 4.
Table II. XII
By reference to Fig. 4, it is seen that in terms of the coordinates of Fig. 4, the curves have lost their symmetry, with the exception of the curve with 77 x2 = 0, and this has shifted its assymp totes. The equation for this case of 77 12 = 0 may be obtained directly as follows:
Equation (15) or the alternative equation (15a) ^s a statemen of the Partial Resonance Relation S in the special case in which ?7i2 is negligible. Equation (16) is the equation to the asymptotes to the hyperbola (15).
170. Note on the Partial Resonance Relation P. — We have given in Tables I and II numerical calculations of the partial resonance relation S, and have plotted the results in the curves of Figs. 3 and 4. We shall not here present the corresponding results for the partial resonance relation P, since by the symmetry of equations (13) and (14) it will be evident that the tables and curves will remain as they are except that the subscript 1 will be replaced by 2 and the subscript 2 will be replaced by 1, in order to change the results into values required by the resonance relation P.
171. Effect of Coefficient of Coupling T on Partial Resonance Relation S in the Case of 17 12 = 0. — If the resistance of the primary circuit be so small that rji2 is essentially zero, the partial resonance relation S takes the form of equation (15), which is the equation of an equilateral hyperbola in terms of (X/A2)2 versus (X/Ai)2, with asymptotes at
As may be seen from the equation (15) and from the numerical results, as r2 is made smaller and smaller, the equilateral hyperbola approaches the asymptotes, and in case r2 = 0, the hyperbola becomes two straight lines coincident with the asymptotes.
II. OPTIMUM RESONANCE RELATION AS SUFFICIENT COUPLING 172. Case of Sufficient Coupling. Equations for Optimum Resonance in Terms of Angular Velocities. — Let us next examine what we have called in the preceding chapter the optimum resonance relation, which is the condition for a maximum maximum of secondary current in the steady state under the action of an impressed sinusoidal e.m.f. The coupling is called sufficient coupling whenever the mutual inductance between the two circuits is large enough to make
The equations for the optimum resonance relation under this condition has been given in suitable form in equations (52) of the preceding chapter. If in these equations we replace Xi and X2 by their customary values, and if further we introduce the subscript "opt" to designate the optimum relation, we have
where we must use the same sign in both equations to obtain a consistent simultaneous pair of values. This follows from the fact given in equation (51), Chapter XI, that the ratio of X2 to Xi must be positive.
These equations give the optimum values of the undamped angular velocities QI and fl2 relative to the incident angular velocity co. These optimum values are values that produce a maximum maximum secondary current amplitude. The equations apply to the case of sufficient coupling, for which
173. The Optimum Resonance Relation in Terms of Wavelengths, at Sufficient Coupling. — If, in equations (19) and (20) we replace the ratios of angular velocities by the reciprocals of the corresponding ratios of wavelengths, in accordance with equations (12), and make certain evident transformations, we obtain
174. Calculation of the Optimum Resonance Relation in Certain Numerical Cases. — In order to facilitate the optimum values of Ai/X and A2/X, let us extract the square root of (21) and (22) and write the results in the form
FIG. 6. — Auxiliary curve to assist in calculation of optimum resonance adjustment. <p\ is defined in (24). These curves give also optimum values of A2/X if <f>\ is replaced by ^ denned in (25) .
The values from this table are plotted in the curves of Fig. 6, with (Ai/X)opt. as ordinates and (p\ as abscissae. The lower curve was obtained by using the + sign within the radical of (24), and the upper curve was obtained by using the minus sign in that radical. Note that the same figure may be employed to obtain the values of (A2/X)opt. for given values of <pz. To obtain a consistent pair of optimum values, if the upper or lower curve is used to determine AI the same curve must be used to obtain A2.
a special case.
Suppose T2 = 0.30 and 77! = 0.1, let us give various values to 772 and compute the corresponding optimum wavelength adjustments, with the results recorded in Table V.
In compiling this table the values of v\ and <p% corresponding to various values of 772 were calculated by equations (24) and (25). The corresponding wavelength ratios were then taken from the curve of Fig. 6.
The results contained in Table V are plotted in Fig. 7. In the same way the optimum resonance relations for various values of T and of r?i may also be obtained, but the single example here computed and plotted serves to show the manner in which the damping constants contribute to determine the optimum resonance adjustment of the two circuits, with the given coefficient of coupling.
optimum resonance.
175. General Facts Regarding the Optimum Resonance Relation with Coupling Sufficient. — From the special example just treated and from the equations (21) and (22) the following important facts are apparent in the case of sufficient coupling as defined by the inequality
1. With given values of the coefficient of coupling and the damping constants of the two circuits the adjustment for a max. max. value of secondary current is in general doubly valued. One may in general get best resonance either by setting both wavelengths appropriately longer than the incident waves, or by setting both circuits to a wavelength appropriately shorter than the incident waves.
fluenced by the resistances of the two circuits, so that, in general, with fixed incident waves, if one tunes a radiotelegraphic system of the coupled type to resonance, with the use of a given detector, and then changes to a detector of different resistance, it is necessary to shift the wavelength of both the circuits in order to bring the system back to optimum adjustment.
3. With fixed values of the damping factors, and provided T2 > rjir}2} the proper adjustment for a maximum secondary current is materially influenced by the coefficient of coupling r, and every change of r requires a readjustment of the wavelengths of both of the circuits of the coupled system.
equation (33) of the preceding chapter we have the general expression for the secondary current amplitude, and this expression, in view of (35) of the same chapter, may be written
In these equations w is the angular velocity of the impressed e.m.f. ; E is the amplitude of impressed e.m.f. ; and M is the mutual inductance between the two circuits. 72 is the amplitude of the secondary current for any values whatever of the constants of the circuits.
In this case the amplitude of current depends upon the ratio of
Table VI following contains a series of values of relative amplitude of /2max. max. for various values of the ratio r/\A?i??2- These results are plotted in the curve of Fig. 8. • 13
OF AVOIDING INTERFERENCE
179. Ratio of Interference. — If we have an electromagnetically coupled receiving station of the form of Fig. 1, and if we set our receiving station in the optimum resonance condition for a given desired wave of angular velocity co0, we shall receive from this wave an amplitude of current /2max. max. given by equation (31), if the coupling is sufficient, and by (33), if the coupling is deficient; where E is the amplitude of e.m.f. impressed by the wave of co0, and where the co of (33) is to be replaced by co0.
If now at the same time someone else is sending electric waves with a different angular velocity co, and is at such a distance from us as to impress an equal amplitude of e.m.f., we shall receive from him an amount of interfering current given by (26).
COo CO CO COO CO
If now we divide the numerator and denominator of the fraction under the radical in (35) by Li2L22co04, and make use of the abbreviations above given, we obtain
In equation (43) F is the ratio of interference at sufficient coupling. It is the ratio of the secondary current produced by the interfering signal of angular velocity co to the secondary current produced by the desired signal of angular velocity co0. The two signals are supposed to be of such intensity as to impress equal amplitudes of e.m.f. on the receiving antenna.
Now we introduce the condition that the constants of the circuits are such that the system is in optimum resonance (with deficient coupling) with the angular velocity coo,* that is, by (48) Chapter XI,
Equation (47) gives the ratio of interference Y at deficient coupling. The quantity Y is the ratio of the secondary current produced by the interfering signal of angular velocity co to the secondary current produced by the desired signal of angular velocity o>o, when the signals are such as to impress equal amplitudes of e.m.f. on the receiving antenna.
180. Tables and Curves Showing the Ratio of Interference in a Typical Case. — • Values calculated for the ratio of interference F in a specific case are contained in Tables VII and VIII. These two tables of values were obtained with
headings to the columns in the Tables.
Graphs of the values given in these tables are exhibited in Figs. 9 to 12. The tables and curves employ as parameter the value of X/Xo ( = WQ/CO) where Xo is the wavelength of the desired signal, and X the wavelength of the interfering signal.
The columns headed (+) were obtained by using the plus sign in the expressions for MI and ut (41), and belong to the long-wave optimum adjustment of the receiving circuits," while the columns headed ( — ) were obtained by using the minus sign in equation (41) and belong to the shortwave optimum adjustment of the two receiving circuits.
ELECTRIC OSCILLATIONS
[CHAP. 9. — Ratio of interference. X0 = wavelength of desired signal. A = interfering wavelength. Black dots = values obtained at critical coupling (T2 SB 0.03). Sign (+) designates use of long- wave optimum adjustment; sign (— ) designates use of short-wave optimum adjustment. Given »no = 0.03, ,20 = 1.00.
FIG. 10. — Ratio of interference. Heavy lines for r2 = 0.30. Dotted lines forr2 = 0.15. Top curves using long-wave optimum adjustment; bottom curves using short-wave optimum adjustment. Black dots obtained at critical coupling. Given ij10 = 0.03; 1/20 = 1.00.
0.00820
By reference to Fig. 12, one sees that with deficient coupling a decrease of the coefficient of coupling always diminishes the interference for any wavelength of the interfering signal.
With the coupling sufficient, as displayed in Figs. 9, 10, and 1 1, the ratio of interference for a given coefficient of coupling may be either greater or less than the interference with the smaller coefficient of coupling designated as Critical Coupling. In this case, with r2 = 0.03, the coupling is critical, for then M2coo2 = R iR2, or, otherwise stated, r2 = rj 101720.
With the coupling sufficient, the curve for the long-wave tuning in the neighborhood of resonance shows generally a larger interference than the curve of short-wave tuning, but if the range of wavelengths is sufficiently extended the two curves cross and show the reverse condition. Such a crossing point is shown at X/Xo = 0.885 on one of the pairs of curves
of Fig. 10. A mathematical investigation shows that the curve of interference for long-wave tuning always crosses the curve of interference for short-wave tuning at the point given by the equation
RESISTANCE
181. At Optimum Resonance with Coupling Sufficient the Total Heat Developed in the Secondary Circuit is Independent of its Resistance. — At Sufficient Coupling; that is, when
which shows the striking property of being independent of the mutual inductance between the circuits, provided only that Mu is great enough to fulfill the condition for sufficient coupling.
If the resistances of the two circuits are independent of the frequency, the higher the frequency the smaller M can be and yet have (50) fulfilled. For this reason, high-frequency transformers may be coupled much more loosely than corresponding transformers for low frequency, and iron which is used to increase M in low-frequency transformers is not advantageous in high-frequency transformers.
Another very interesting and important fact is the fact that can be obtained from (50) that the heat developed in the secondary circuit at optimum resonance with coupling sufficient is independent of the resistance #2 of the secondary circuit; for if we multiply the square the secondary current by R%, we obtain for the power dissipated in the secondary circuit a quantity independent of R%.
This means that at optimum resonance with sufficient coupling there is as much heat developed in the secondary circuit when a low-resistance detector is used as when a high-resistance detector is used. If, therefore, the detector is an instrument whose
indications are proportional to the heat developed, a low-resistance detector would be as sensitive as a high-resistance detector if it were not for the fact that a low-resistance detector is a smaller proportion of the total resistance of the secondary circuit.
Similar considerations apply to a detector of the electrodynamometer type. If the deflections of the electrodynamometer are proportional to n2/22, where n is the number of turns of wire in the coil, and if the size of the channel of windings is fixed so that the resistance R of the detector is pl/s, I and s being the length and cross section of the wire in the coil and p the specific resistance of the material of the wire, then we have
conclusions :
// the detector is to be used in series with the secondary circuit, and if the indications of the detector are proportional to the square of the secondary current times the resistance of the detector, and if the resistance of the remainder of the secondary circuit is inconsiderable in comparison with the resistance of the detector, and if the e.m.f. impressed on the antenna by the incoming waves has an amplitude uninfluenced by the tuning of the secondary circuit, and
if the efficiency of the detector is independent of its resistance, then the indications of the low-resistance detector will be as great as the indications of a high-resistance detector. The low-resistance detector will then be preferred to the high-resistance detector, because resonance with the low resistance is sharper.
This analysis is given in the effort to determine the theoretical limitation upon the choice of a detector for use in series in the secondary circuit of a radiotelegraphic receiving station.
In practice, up to the present time, only detectors of comparatively high resistance are found to be applicable to the reception of weak signals. The reason, in the form of an alternative, is apparent from the analysis here given, to wit:
Or, the low-resistance detector by permitting and requiring a larger value of !<? causes such large reactions on the received antenna current as to modify materially the electromagnetic field of the incident waves.
The first of these alternative possibilities is a matter for experimentation on the conversion factors of the detectors themselves. The second of the possibilities is a matter for theoretical investigation by the use of Maxwell's Theory of the Electromagnetic Field.
CURRENT THEORY
182. Statement of the Reciprocity Theorem. — // we have any system of ironless alternating-current circuits, however complicated, and if we have in the system a sinusoidal impressed e.m.f. applied at any point of the system and an impedanceless ammeter at any other point of the system, the ammeter and e.m.f. are interchangeable without changing the amplitude or phase of the steady-state current through the ammeter.
This theorem will be proved below.
183. Utility of the Theorem. — With a given system of circuits by making suitable interchanges of ammeter and e.m.f., we may obtain several different expressions for the same current, and may then determine important resonance relations by inspection.
This process has important applications (for example, to telephony and radiotelegraphy) in obtaining steady-state resonance relations in respect to the variables of the system.
184. Example with Two Circuits. — To begin with let us prove the reciprocity theorem for two circuits, called Circuit I and Circuit II, as illustrated in Fig. 1. To make the problem as general as possible, let us suppose the two circuits to be coupled together by having a common conductive part which may contain inductance, Z/o, resistance RQ and capacity Co, and to be further coupled by having a mutual inductance M in the form of a transformer.
We shall use the real quantities X\, X2, Z\, Z2 and the complex quantities z\, £2 in their ordinary engineering significance. For the common part of the two circuits, we shall let
and after solving the differential equations take only the real part of the result. If now we let ii be the current in thos<5 parts of Circuit I that are not common to Circuit II and iz the corresponding current in Circuit II, the differential equations, obtained by taking the counterelectromotive force around each circuit and equating it to the impressed electromotive force plus the e.m.f. induced from the other circuit, are
187. Proof of Reciprocity Theorem for These Two Circuits. — From equations (11) and (13) we can obtain the value of the current in the circuit II when the e.m.f. is impressed on Circuit I. The vector amplitude of this current obtained by solving the two equations as simultaneous is
// the e.m.f. is applied to Circuit I, the vector amplitude of current in Circuit II is given by (14). When the same e.m.f. is removed from Circuit I and applied to Circuit II, the vector amplitude of current in Circuit I is given by (17). Whence it appears that the ammeter rending both as to amplitude and phase is unchanged by an interchange of ammeter and e.m.f. The definition of m is given in (11).
188. Proof of Reciprocity Theorem for n Circuits Coupled in Any Way. — Let us .suppose that we have n circuits coupled in any way by common conductive portions and by transformers, any or all circuits being coupled with any or all others. Between any two circuits, for example the third and the fifth, let what we have called the complex mutual impedance m be
where the e.m.f . is impressed on Circuit I.
We may now write down the determinant from which can be obtained the vector current amplitude in any one of the circuits. Let us for example form such a determinant for A3. It is
It will not be necessary to reduce this determinant.
Let us next suppose that the e.m.f. and the ammeter are interchanged. This will put the amplitude E of the applied e.m.f. in the right-hand side of the third of the equations (21) instead of in the first. If we then solve the set of simultaneous equations (21) for AI instead of for A3, we obtain the determinant
It is seen that the determinant on the right-hand side of this equation is the same as the determinant on the right-hand side of (22) except that the rows of the one are the columns of the other. This, however, leaves the two determinants equal. We have then the result that AI in (23) is equal to A 3 in (22).
Since the particular circuits employed in this demonstration are any two circuits, we have proved the reciprocity theorem enunciated in the first paragraph of this chapter, for all cases except where the e.m.f. or ammeter is placed in a common member of
with two circuits shows.
188a. Proof of the Reciprocity Theorem When the E.M.F. or the Ammeter is Placed in a Common Member. — For this proof it will be sufficient to take two circuits, as shown in Fig. 2, with the e.m.f. e applied (say) to the common member of the circuits. The e.m.f. will then be impressed on both circuits, but since the two currents are both estimated positive in a clockwise sense, the e.m.f. will aid one of the currents and oppose the other in the common member, so that the equations for the vector current amplitudes become (compare (12) and (13))
when the e.m.f. is applied to the common member.
Equation (28) gives the vector amplitude of current in the common member when the e.m.f. is applied to Circuit I. The righthand sides of the two equations are equal. It is seen that the general reciprocity theorem enunciated in the first paragraph is therefore true even when the e.m.f. or ammeter is applied to a common member of the system of circuits.
II. CURRENT AMPLITUDES IN A CHAIN OF CIRCUITS
Before attempting to use the reciprocity theorem in the determination of resonance relations it is well to obtain certain useful relations among the current-amplitudes.
189. Definition of a Chain of Circuits. — By a chain of circuits is meant a system in which the first circuit is coupled with the second, the second with the third, the third with the fourth, etc., to the last which is not connected to the first. That is, the chain is left open. Fig. 3 shows such a chain in which the connections are all through transformers. We may also have the connections or couplings made in any other way, as in Fig. 4, where some of the connections are by transformers, some by having
combination of transformer and common member.
190. Current-amplitude Relations in the Chain. — Let us suppose that we have an e.m.f. sinusoidal in character applied to the first circuit, and let us obtain expressions for the vector amplitude of current in each of the circuits of the chain. Using the exponential form of e.m.f. given in equation (5), we can write down a series of equations connecting the amplitudes with one another by using the general equations (21) into which we are to set equal to zero all of the complex mutual impedances m except those that have their subscripts a pair of consecutive numbers. This gives
These equations (29) may be solved by getting A5 from the last equation, and substituting the result in the next preceding equation, etc., giving, in view of (19),
equations (30) to (34) grave //ie relations for finding the vector amplitudes of the currents in the several circuits of a chain with the coupling between the circuits of any character whatever. In this set of equations the e.m.f. is applied to the first circuit and the chain is supposed to stop with the fifth circuit.
If there are more than five circuits, it is evident from the form of the equations how the result may be extended to the greater number of circuits. If, on the other hand, there are fewer circuits than five, it is evident that all quantities having a subscript higher than the number of the circuits are to be set equal to zero.
191. Current-amplitudes When the E.M.F. is Applied to an Intermediate Circuit. — Let us suppose the e.m.f. to be applied to some intermediate circuit, say the third in the chain of circuits above referred to. In that case the equations (29) are the same as there given except that the amplitude E of e.m.f. is shifted from the first equation to the third. We may then get the relations among the current-amplitudes by starting with the last equations and successively eliminating up to the third, and then starting with the first and eliminating between successive equations down to the third, and by then solving the third equation. The result follows :
The equations (35) to (39) grwe tae relations for finding the vector current amplitudes when the e.m.f. is applied to the third circuit. The total number of circuits in the chain to which these equations apply is five. It will readily be seen how this result is to be modified for a different number of circuits, or for an application of e.m.f. to a different one of the intermediate circuits.
192. A Simplification is Introduced When m is Real or Pure Imaginary. Pure Mutual Impedance. — When the several ra's are real quantities or pure imaginaries, a simplification is introduced in that all of the ra2's are reals. We can see under what conditions such a condition is attained, if we write down one of the m's in an expanded form. Take mn, which expanded, becomes
pear in the diagrams of Fig. 5.
The Circuits I and II themselves may have any character whatever, and there may be any number of them. The illustrations in Fig. 5 have reference only to the manner of coupling the circuits together. In the first diagram the two circuits are shown coupled together merely by having a common resistance, and in this case mi2 is real. In all of the other diagrams of the figure is shown as a pure imaginary.
When the coupling factor mi2 is either real or pure imaginary we may appropriately call this factor a pure mutual impedance, to distinguish it from the general case of a complex mutual impedance. It is seen that the case of the pure mutual impedance covers many important systems of circuits, and we shall from here on confine the discussion to the systems of two or more circuits having pure mutual impedances.
6, with a transformer connection between them, and with a sinusoidal e.m.f . impressed on Circuit I, to find the currents in the two circuits and to find also the resonance relations.
a pure imaginary.
194. Currents When the E.M.F. is Applied to Circuit I.— By equations (30) to (34), using only the first two equations with changed subscripts, or using the last two equations with all terms of subscripts above 2 made zero, we have for the vector current amplitudes the equations
From equation (49) it is seen that the current in Circuit I is the same as it would be if II were removed, and the resistance and reactance of Circuit I were replaced by R'i and X'^ respectively. From (50) it is seen that the current in Circuit II is what it would be if I were removed and an e.m.f. mi\ were impressed on Circuit II.
R'i, X'i, Z'i are usually called equivalent resistance, reactance and impedance of the Circuit I. Since we are going to introduce certain other equivalences, we shall designate the equivalences here given the forward equivalences.
195. Currents When the E.M.F. is Applied to Circuit n. — Let us next suppose that the e.m.f. is impressed, not on Circuit I, but on Circuit II, and let us call the equivalences in this case backward equivalences, which we shall indicate by an index (°). We can form the expressions for the current in this backward case by a mere interchange of subscripts 1 and 2 and an accompanying change of index from (') to (°). That is,
There follows a table of equivalences (Table I) in which m is any pure mutual impedance. This Table I has application to any case of pure mutual impedance between the two circuits and may be used in a case more general than that of the transformer coupling here used in the illustration.
We have in equations (51) and (52) the current in the two circuits when the cosine e.m.f. is impressed on Circuit I; in equations (54) and (55), the corresponding currents when the cosine e.m.f. is applied to Circuit II. The Equivalences for two circuits with pure mutual impedance are given in Table I.
196. Resonance Relations Obtained by the Theorem of Reciprocity. — We may now apply the Theorem of Reciprocity to determine the resonance relations in the system of two circuits with transformer coupling. The e.m.f. is to be applied to Circuit I, and we are to obtain the adjustment of either or both circuits such as to give a maximum of current amplitude in Circuit II. Calling the current amplitude in Circuit II /2, we have, by (52)
Now by the Reciprocity Theorem, this current amplitude is the same as the amplitude in Circuit I, with e.m.f. in Circuit II; that is, by (55) and the Reciprocity Theorem
The expressions (57) and (58) are now to be regarded merely as two different ways of writing 72. In (57) Z'i is the only quantity that contains Xi, so the adjustment of Xi that makes /2 a maximum is that adjustment that makes Z'i a minimum; but since of the two terms that make up Z'i, R'\ does not contain Xi, we need' only make X\2 a minimum; and this is attained by making X'i zero. We have then that we obtain Ziopt. by making
In like manner, if we employ the second expression (58) for /2, it is noticed that only Z2° contains X*, and of this quantity Rz° is independent of X%, hence
197. Discussion of Results, and Their Reduction to the Forms Found in Chapter XI. — By Table I and equation (56), we may write equations (60) in the form
This equation is in agreement with (36) of Chapter XI, called Partial Resonance Relation S, and to it much of the discussion in Chapters XI and XII was devoted.
To get the current 72 max. for X* optimum, it is only necessary to notice that in (58) of the present chapter, Z2° reduces to R2°, so that (58) becomes in view of Table I
CAPACITY COUPLING
198. Statement. — Let us consider next two circuits coupled together by having a common condenser Ci2, as shown in Fig. 7. The mutual impedance in this case is
The discussion concerning the case of the transformer coupling, given in the present chapter, applies exactly to the capacity coupling if we give to m the value in (67) in place of the value in (56).
may be retained.
199. Current Amplitude in Circuit II. — The current-amplitude equations (57) and (58) must be changed by replacing Afco in the numerator1 by l/Ci2«. We thus obtain
Equations (70) and (71) are alternative expressions for the current amplitude in Circuit II , when the coupling between Circuit I and Circuit II is by means of a common condenser CM. The values of Z'i and Z%° are given in Table I} which must be employed with the value of m given in (67) .
200. Partial Resonance Relations. — By replacing M 2o>2 by l/<7i22o>2, equations (61) and (63) become the partial resonance relations for the capacity coupling, as follows:
In the case of capacity coupling by a condenser Ciz common to Circuit I and Circuit II, the value of X<i given in (72) produces the largest current amplitude 72, for given values of Cn, Xi, Zi, and o>.
value of 1 2, for given values of d2, X2, Z2, and co.
201. Optimum Resonance Relation and Current at Optimum Resonance. — In order to obtain maximum current amplitude /2 when both X\ and X% are varied and adjusted, it is necessary to give to them such adjustments that both (72) and (73) are satisfied. Let us note that the product of (72) and (73) gives
Equations (77) anrf (78) are </ie optimum resonance relations. Out of analogy with the case of transformer coupling, we may call (77) the optimum resonance relation with Capacity Coupling Sufficient, and (78) the optimum resonance relation with Capacity Coupling Deficient. Either relation is optimum when the Capacity Coupling is Critical (i.e., l/Ci22w2 = RiR%).
202. Current Amplitude I2 at Optimum Resonance. Max. Max. Current, with Capacity Coupling. — The resonance relation (72) is equivalent to making Xz° = 0, as is seen by reference to Table I. In this case equation (71) becomes
Equation (79) gives the amplitude of current in Circuit II, when Circuit II has its optimum adjustment, with any values whatever of the other constants of the system.
Let us now make the additional requirement that Xi shall also have its optimum adjustment. There will be two cases according as the capacity coupling is Sufficient or Deficient.
Second, with Coupling Deficient, we may still employ equation (79) but must satisfy (78) by making Xl = 0. Then in (79) Zi reduces to jRi, and we obtain
When these two quantities that occur in (83) are equal, we shall designate the Coupling as Critical. We have the result that (80) gives the max. max. current amplitude /a when the coupling is Capacity Coupling Sufficient. On the other hand, if the Capacity Coupling is Deficient, 1% has the max. max. value given by (81). When the coupling is Critical, either (80) or (81) gives the current at optimum resonance of both Circuit I and Circuit II.
As in the case of the transformer coupling, we have the result, that so long as the coupling is sufficient, the current /2 at optimum adjustment has an amplitude independent of the size of the coupling-condenser Ci2.
All of the deductions regarding the case of transformer coupling apply consistently to the case of capacity coupling, provided we replace Mu of the transformer case by — l/Ci2« of the capacity-coupling case.
HAVING RESISTANCE COUPLING
203. Partial Resonance Relations. — A diagram of two circuits coupled together by having a common resistance #J2 is shown in Fig. 8. The common mutual impedance in this case is
P and S respectively.
204. Optimum Resonance Relation. — For the optimum resonance relation, (87) and (88) must be true simultaneously. They can be true simultaneously only provided
Xi and Xz must be zero.
In this case of resistance coupling between the circuits I and II, we have only one case of optimum resonance, given by (89), which corresponds to the case of Deficient Coupling in the other examples of Transformer Coupling and Capacity Coupling. . 205. Secondary Current Amplitude at Optimum Resonance with Resistance Coupling. — The general expression for amplitude /2 of current in this case, since this amplitude is essentially positive, is obtained by replacing Mw by Rn in equations (57), and is
Before passing to the case of optimum resonance, let us introduce merely the resonance relation with X2 optimum as given in (88), which is equivalent to X2° = 0. This gives
Equation (91) gives the amplitude of current in Circuit II when all the constants, except X%, have any values, and X2 has its optimum adjustment as specified by (88).
Let us now introduce the condition that Xi as well as Xz shall have its optimum adjustment. By (89) this can be attained only by making Xi = 0, then by (88) Xz automatically becomes zero.
Equation (92) gives the maximum possible value of 72, in the case of two circuits I and II coupled by having a common resistance Riz. The adjustment that gives' this max. max. current is given by (89), and is seen to be an adjustment of each circuit separately to have its undamped period equal to the period of the impressed e.m.f.
IMPEDANCES. STEADY STATE
206. Statement of Problem. — We propose now to utilize the Reciprocity Theorem of the preceding chapter to determine the resonance relations in a system of three circuits arranged in a chain with the couplings between the circuits in the form of pure mutual impedances, as denned in Art. 192. The purpose of this treatment is, first, to give an illustration of the simplicity resulting from the use of the Reciprocity Theorem to determine resonance relations, and, second,* to lay the foundations for solving important problems relating to radiotelegraphic practice.
by transformers.
In Fig. 2, which is analogous to a much-used type of radio receiving system, the coupling between Circuit I and Circuit II is by a transformer, while the coupling between Circuits II and III is by a common condenser C2s.
208. Anticipatory Sketch of the Method. — The method employed in this problem will consist in obtaining three Variant Expressions for the current in Circuit III, when the e.m.f. is applied to Circuit I. These three forms will be found to be
coupling.
The various Z's will be found to have the definitions given in Table I, Art. 211. The values of the various Z's will then be shown to be such that we obtain certain fundamental forms of the resonance relations by inspection.
The principles underlying the method will now be established, first, by directly showing the identity of the denominators of (1), (2), and (3), and, second, by the use of the Reciprocity Theorem.
209. Direct Proof of the Identity of the Denominators of Equations (1), (2), and (3).— Referring to Table I in Art. 211 for definitions of the various Z's, let us note by direct multiplication and substitution that
them. This last step is easy to take, but will be here omitted, as the step occurs in the use of the Reciprocity Theorem following. On account of the importance of the Reciprocity Theorem in itself, we shall now make use of it to deduce again the identity of equations (1), (2), and (3), and shall incidentally supply such steps as have been omitted in the above sketch.
Ln = the sum of all self-inductances in series in the nth circuit, including self -inductances common to the nth circuit and its neighbors if there be such, and including the self-inductance of any primary or secondary coil of a transformer if any such coil be in the nth circuit; l/Cn = the sum of the reciprocals of all capacities in series in the nth circuit, including the capacities of condeners; common to the nth circuit and to neighboring circusits
211. Values of Complex Current Amplitudes and Complex Currents. — By means of the general methods of Chapter XIII, it is seen that with the cosine e.m.f. applied to Circuit I, the currents in the three circuits are the real parts of the complex quantities
where the third members of (7) and (8) are written down from the general knowledge that any algebraic combination of complex quantities is a complex quantity of the form a + jb.
By working out the values of the denominators in (7) and (8), and equating the two denominators for the same quantity in each case, we obtain the values of the primed quantities in the first column of Table I following:
212. Currents in Terms of Forward Equivalences. — We may now write down the values of the currents ii, i2, iz with the use of the Forward Equivalences contained in column one of Table I.
This is done by taking (6) , (7) , and (8) , in terms of the primed quantities, eliminating among them and substituting the results in (5), and then rationalizing and taking the real part of the result, obtaining
Equations (9), (10), and (11) gwe </ie values of the currents in the three circuits respectively after these currents have reached a steady state, under the action of a cosine e.m.f. of amplitude E impressed on Circuit I. Equation (13) gives the amplitude of current in Circuit III.
213. Current Amplitude I3 in Terms of Backward Equivalences. Let us now obtain a Variant form of 73. To do this we shall temporarily suppose that the e.m.f. is applied to Circuit III, and shall obtain the current in Circuit I. The Backward Equivalences of Table I bear to this case the same relation that the Forward Equivalences bear to the forward case, so we obtain
214. Current Amplitude I3 in Terms of Two-way Equivalences. We have, remaining, one more form of expression (3) to obtain for 1 1. This may be obtained by the Theorem of Reciprocity applied to Circuits I and II. By the general equations of the form of (29), Chapter XIII, when the e.m.f. is applied to Circuit II, and when there are only three circuits in the chain, we obtain the relations
The last denominator of the Adequation is an abbreviation for the complex denominator preceding it in the Adequation. Equating the real and the imaginary parts of these two denominators respectively, we obtain, on solving, the values of #'2° and X'2° contained in the last column of Table I. These values are the equivalent resistance and reactance of Circuit II as influenced by the two Circuits I and II, and are hence called the Two-way Equivalences of Circuit II.
We have thus shown that equations (1), (2), and (3) are three different ways of expressing the current amplitude in Circuit III under the action of a cosine e.m.f. applied to Circuit I, provided the current has reached a practically steady state.
The use of the Reciprocity Theorem has enabled us to obtain certain Equivalent Resistances, indicated by R'i, R'Z} R3°, R2°, Rf2°, and certain Equivalent Reactances, indicated by X'i, X'2, ^3°, ^2°, Xfz°t all of which are tabulated with their values in Table I. By taking the square root of the sum of the squares of these resistances and the corresponding reactances we have formed, and included in Table I, the Equivalent Impedances Z'i, Z'2, Z3°, Z2°, Z'2°.
We have then written down in terms of the Equivalent Impedances three different expressions for the Current Amplitude 1 3. In these three expressions (1), (2), (3), the occurrence of Xi, Xz, and X3, as will presently be shown, is such that certain fundamental forms of the resonance relations may be had by inspection.
PEDANCES UNCHANGED
215. Nomenclature. — We shall designate as Partial Resonance Relation re Xi the adjustment of X\ that makes 73 (say) a maximum when all the other members of the circuits are kept constant.
In general a Partial Resonance Relation re a Variable will mean the adjustment of the variable that makes the amplitude of the current in the detector circuit (or work circuit) a maximum while all the other members of the system are kept constant.
of the work current. In those cases we shall designate as a Restricted Resonance Relation re a Variable the adjustment of the variable that will make the current amplitude in the work circuit the largest that can be obtained with any adjustment possible to the variable under the limitations of the restriction. In case, for example, Xi is the variable under observation, we shall refer to the value of X\ that gives the greatest work current, subject to the restrictions of X i, as the Restricted Resonance Relation re X\, or Resonance Relation re X\ Restricted.
216. Resonance Relations for a Chain of Three Circuits With Pure Mutual Impedances Unchanged. — We have already pointed out in the anticipatory sketch (Art. 208) the nature of the steps to be employed. Three forms of expression for 73 were given in equations (1), (2), and (3), and these three forms have now been derived and shown to be identical in value. Since the numerators are supposed to be constant, we can make 73 a maximum, by making the denominators a minimum.
By definition of the various equivalences in Table I it is seen that the denominator Z3Z'2Z'i, of equations (1) involves Xi only in the factor Z'\. To make 1$ a maximum by varying Xi, it is necessary, therefore, only to make Z'i a minimum re X\. Since the resistances of the system are all constants, in it is seen, by reference to Table II, that this is attained by making X'i2 a minimum re Xi
Equations (20), (22), and (24) give respectively the partial resonance relations re Xi, X%, and X$, when the mutual impedances are pure and unvaried. In case restrictions on any or all of the reactances prohibits the attainment of any or all of the partial resonance relations, we must substitute for any of the relations that is unattainable the corresponding Resonance Relation Restricted, as given in (21), (23), or (25).
III. Optimum Resonance Adjustments. Adjustments for a Grand Maximum of Current Amplitude I3, When the Reactances are All Unrestricted. — Let us now determine the adjustments that must be given to all three of the circuits, in order to obtain a grand maximum of amplitude 73, under the condition that all of the reactances are unrestricted.
If now (22) and (20) are simultaneously true, their equivalents (26) and (27) must be simultaneously true; so that by replacing X'2 in the numerator and denominator of (27) by its value from (26), we obtain
This last equation is obtained by dividing (28) by Xi, and clearing of fractions, obtaining the equality of the first term to the second. The third member follows from the second by employing the definition of Zi2.
Equations (31) and (32) constitute a pair of results, one or the other of which must be fulfilled in order to make Xi and X2 both optimum, while Xs may have any value whatever. The quantity Xs is involved in X'2 and R'2 (see Table I).
Equations (33) and (34) constitute a pair of results, one or the other of which must be fulfilled in order to make Xs and X2 both optimum, while Xi (involved in X2° and R2°) may have any values whatever.
We come next to treat of the case where all three of the circuits are at optimum adjustment simultaneously. This treatment consists in solving the equations (31) and (32) as
simultaneous.
218. Adjustments for Grand Maxima of I3 Summarized and Designated Optimum Combinations. Current Amplitude I3 Obtained at the Optimum Combinations. Conditions Under Which the Combinations are Respectively Optimum.— We have given in equations (37), (38), and (39) three combinations of relations any one of which satisfies (20), (22), and (24) simultaneously, and is a possible optimum combination. We shall now show that it is sometimes one and sometimes another of these combinations that is optimum.
Let us designate the three combinations as follows:
Optimum Combination (a), equation (37); Optimum Combination (0), equation (38); Optimum Combination (7), equation (39).
It will now be shown that [Islp, whenever (/3) is attainable is larger than [Iz]a. This is done by multiplying the numerator and denominator of (44) by 7, which makes the numerator the same as the numerator of (43). A comparison of the resultant denominators now shows that
the radicals are all positive.
We have then the result that Combination (0), if attainable, gives a larger value of 73 than does Combination (a). In a similar way it can be proved that Combination (7), if attainable also beats (a). It is not necessary to compare (0) with Combination (7) since the two are never both attainable in the same case, as may be seen by comparing (40) with (41).
^s summary, or key, contains the optimum resonance combinations and the grand maxima of current in Circuit III, obtained when the reactances Xi, X%, and X$ are unrestricted.
RESONANCE RELATIONS IN A RADIOTELEGRAPHIC RECEIVING STATION HAVING A COUPLED SYSTEM OF CIRCUITS WITH THE DETECTOR IN SHUNT TO A SEC-
220. Form of Circuits.— In Chapters XI and XII there is given a theory of coupled circuits approximately applicable to a radiotelegraphic receiving station in which the detector is in series in the secondary circuit. The treatment is approximate in that the receiving antenna of practice had its capacity, inductance, and resistance distributed along the length of the antenna, while the system treated was idealized by replacing
inductance, and resistance.
It is proposed now to undertake a similar analysis of the corresponding problem with the detector and a " stoppage condenser" Cso in shunt to the condenser C2s of the secondary circuit, and to attempt to determine under what conditions, if any, this arrangement is superior to the arrangement of Chapter XII, Fig. 1.
DETECTOR IN SHUNT
The form of circuit constituting the subject matter of the present chapter is given in Fig. 1. If we idealize this circuit by replacing the antenna and ground by a lumped capacity, as was done in the previous chapters, we have the arrangement given in Fig. 2, in which the condenser Ci replaces the antenna and ground, and the local e.m.f . e replaces the e.m.f . impressed by the incident waves. If the waves are persistent and undamped, the current will arrive at a steady state even for the shortest dot made at the sending station. We shall seek, therefore, only the steady-state solution.
221. Notation. — We shall give the various parts of the circuits the designations indicated in Fig. 2. If we compare this notation with that of Fig. 2 of Chapter XIV, we shall see that the notation is the same except that M i2 has now been simplified toM.
Using the methods of the preceding chapters if we let m\z and w23 be the complex mutual impedances between Circuits I and II and Circuits II and III respectively, and refer to the definition of these quantities given in (18) of Chapter XIII, we see that
222. Current Amplitude I3 in Circuit III. — By equations (1), (2), and (3) of Chapter XIV, we may riow write the current amplitude 73 in Circuit III in three variant forms as follows:
Equations (5), (6), and (7) grave three variant forms of expression for the current amplitude 73 in Circuit III. In these equations |8 and y have the values given in (4), and the various Z's have the values given in Table I Art. 211.
223. Investigation to Determine the Resonant Values of the Stoppage Condenser C3o- — The condenser C30 is in practice ordinarily called the Stoppage Condenser. We shall now seek the value of C30 (called optimum value) that gives the greatest current amplitude 73 in the detector circuit (Circuit III). The detector has any resistance Rs.
If, on account of restrictions, it is not possible to fulfill (11), we shall choose C30 to make the value of Xs°2 a minimum, and obtain what we have called the Resonance Relationre C30 Restricted.
We shall use the restricted resonance relation only when the partial resonance relation (11) cannot be attained, for if (11) can be attained it will give a larger 73 than could be had with the restricted relation that does not make ^T3° zero.
that is provided
If (15) is satisfied, there is some value of C3o that satisfies (14), and hence (14) is attainable and is the resonance relation re Cso. In (15) Xz° and Z2° are defined in Table I, Art. 211.
If, now, on the other hand, (15) is not satisfied, then the last two terms in the bracket of (13) are negative. The first term in the bracket is also negative, and by inspection it is seen that we shall make the whole bracket squared a minimum, by making the first term zero. Therefore,
Since in (24) the denominator of the last fraction is positive, and since 7 is negative, and C30co is positive, equation (24) and consequently (26) can be realized, only provided
Equation (26) gives the value of C3o^ for a maximum amplitude of 73. This is the Partial Resonance Relation re C3o. It can be attained only provided (28) is satisfied.
226. Resonance Relations re C23.— We shall now make an independent investigation of the resonance relations re CM, and shall begin with the current amplitude equation (6), which squared gives
In this equation the quantities 7, Z2° and Z3° all contain C23, while the other quantities of the equation do not, so that for a maximum 732 with respect to CM, we must make
To ascertain whether (33) or (34) gives the larger value of current amplitude 73, let us substitute these two values successively into (31), and designate the results respectively by DI and D2, as temporary abbreviations, obtaining
when 7 has the value given by (34). It is seen by inspection that 7) 2 is less than or equal to DI, so that (34) gives more current amplitude 73 than does (33), and is to be used whenever it can be attained; that is, whenever (35) is satisfied.
(35) is satisfied, equation (39) grwes the value of CM that produces a maximum value of 7s. When (35) is not satisfied, equation (38) is to be used to obtain a maximum value of 1$.
227. Optimum Simultaneous Adjustments of Both C30 and C23. Resonance Combination L. — We have now obtained independently the optimum adjustments re C30 as given in (26) and (29) distinguished by the criterion (28), and the optimum adjustment of C23 as given in (38) and (39) distinguished by the criterion (35).
This is done by treating these various equations as simultaneous, keeping in view the criteria under which any of the respective combinations is attainable.
By reference to the descriptive matter concerning (29) and (33) we see that the equations (40) can be a proper resonance combination only provided this combination is inconsistent with (28) and (35) . To be inconsistent with these inequalities (28) and (35) we require that
means that in this case C3o is short circuited and C23 is open circuited or removed. Since in this case the capacities no longer enter, we shall designate this combination (40), under condition (41) as Resonance Combination L.
228. Optimum Simultaneous Adjustment of C3o and C23. Resonance Combination 0. — Let us examine next the combination of (38) with (26). If these two equations are simultaneous we have
Under conditions (43) and (44), the combination (42) is the optimum resonance combination with respect to both C3o and C23. We shall call this Resonance Combination 0.
Transposing the first term of the right-hand side to the left, and collecting these two terms over a common denominator, we obtain, after clearing of fractions
The conditions under which these results can be attained are the conditions that make the radicals real, and make the numerator of (47) positive. These are
Under conditions (49) equations (46) and (47) give the optimum resonance combination with respect to both CZQ and Czz- We shall call this Resonance Combination A.
We shall call (50) the Resonance Combination B Examination shows that the only restriction on this is B > 0, so that Resonance Combination B as given in (50) is applicable coextensive with Resonance Combinations 0 and A. It can be shown, however, that where either 0 or A is attainable the Resonance Combination B is inferior as a resonance relation, as follows :
Taking the general equation (31), introducing in turn Combination 0 and Combination B as given in equations (50), and calling the results D0 and DB, we have
We shall next show that Resonance Combination B as given in (50) is inferior to Resonance Combination A, whenever A is attainable. This is done by comparing the current Is at Com-
We shall now show that the right-hand side of (58), which is obtained with Resonance Combination A is smaller than the corresponding expression obtained with the Resonance Combination B given in (50). We have already found that the result obtained with Combination B is
which is always fulfilled.
We have then the result that the denominator (proportional to D2) in the expression for 73 is less with the Combination A than that (proportional to DB) with the Combination B, so that whenever Combination A can be realized it is to be preferred to Combination B.
We have then the result that Resonance Combination B is to be used only when B is greater than zero, and when neither Combination 0 nor Combination A can be fulfilled.
Before summing up these results in a Key, let us obtain expressions for the current amplitude 73 for these several Resonance Combinations, L, 0, A, and B.
231. Amplitude of Current I3 for Resonance Combinations L, 0, A, and B. — To obtain expressions for the amplitude of current for these several resonance combinations, we may employ equation (6), which squared may be written
This is the current amplitude for Resonance Combination 0. Likewise for Resonance Combination A, we use the value of D given in equation (58) and obtain
This is the current amplitude for Resonance Combination B.
232. Summary and Key to Results for Optimum Values of C23 and C3o and for Maximum Values of I3, with Arbitrary Values of XL — We are now prepared to give a summary of results obtained up to the present. In this we shall use the following abbreviations, which have already been defined:
equations and the several criteria under which the equations are applicable are given in terms of quantities A, B, Rz°, and Zi, all of which involve Xi. For any given Xi the criteria in the form of inequalities enable us to select the proper Resonance Combination and to compute the value of Is max max .
233. Abbreviations in the Form of Ratio Quantities. — For purposes of calculation, it is desirable to introduce into the previous equations certain ratios of the obvious electrical constants or variables of the circuits. As in previous chapters let
7n terms of the abbreviations (81) to (87) ^e several equations of this summary give the relations for calculating the optimum adjustments of CM and Cso, for any given value of Xi, or the related quantity Ji. There are contained also in the summary the values of Izmax. max. obtained when these respective adjustments are made.
Before proceeding to a theoretical determination of the adjustment also of the Circuit I to give what may be called a grand maximum of current, we shall give an illustration of the results up to the present by the aid of numerical computations.
II. COMPUTATIONS IN A SPECIAL CASE
236. Power Developed in the Detector for Various Adjustments of the Primary Circuit, with Optimum Adjustment of Secondary Condenser C23 and Stoppage Condensers C3o, in a Special Case in Which r2 = 0.1, 771 = 0.03, t/2 = 0.01.— If we take the squares of the current equations (88), (90), (93) and (95)
and multiply them by RiRz, we may obtain values of I^RiRz/ r*E2, which are proportional to the power developed in the detector, whose resistance is Rz. This we shall do in a series of special cases in all of which
The values of T, 771, and 772 are approximately those attainable in practice in radiotelegraphic receiving. As to the resistance 7£3 of the detector, reliable experimental values of this quantity are not at present available, and in fact this resistance is a function of the current, and is complicated by an action of rectification. Nevertheless, it is possible that experiment may subsequently separate out from the complicated action of the detectors a term of the character of pure resistance, and also new types of detectors, more nearly approaching constancy of resistive action, may be discovered. These calculations may then be of great importance in pointing the way to proper design of receiving apparatus.
Table I gives a series of calculation of relative power developed in the detectors of various resistance Rz relative to Ri. The quantity called relative power is arbitrarily defined as follows :
Table I was made as follows: Taking various arbitrary adjustments of Ji of the primary circuit, values of fii/w were computed by (81). The result was put into terms of relative wavelengths, by employing the relation
where Ai is the undamped, or forced wavelength, defined in Art. 66, Chapter VI. The values of the generalized wavelength divided by the impressed wavelength X, corresponding to the assumed values of Ji are put into the first. column of the table (Table I). Next, corresponding to the various values of Ji, the several
Ai Relative to the Incident Wavelength X and for Various Ratios
of Detector Resistance to Secondary Resistance. By (97) the relative power was then computed, and placed in the last four columns of the table, with each numerical value designated by a letter indicating the formula employed in the calculation.
236. Discussion of Results for Relative Power. — The results are plotted in Fig. 3, with relative power as ordinates and relative primary wavelength as abscissae. The separate curves marked respectively 104, 103, 102, and 10 are for the ratio of resistances Rs/Rz equal to these values respectively. It is to be noticed that each of these curves has two maxima, except the 102-curve, which has three maxima. Various parts of the
various curves of this figure (Fig. 3) were computed by various formulas, in accordance with the criteria relations of the "Key." The heavy black line serving as a sort of upper boundary of the figure was computed by the formula corresponding to Case A. In Case A the computed value is the same for all ratios Rs/Rz of resistances, so that wherever the criterion of Case A is satisfied by any adjustment of the circuits, the curve obtained comes into coincidence with this heavy bounding line. Each of the curves marked 10, 102 and 103 has a maximum near its junction with the A -curve. The curve marked 104 does not have any A -values
within the range considered. The curve marked 102 has its third maximum (the middle one ) on a part of the curve calculated by the L-formula. This is very interesting, for in this region the condensers of the secondary and tertiary circuit are inoperative, one being zero and the other infinite, or short circuited. For
Certain other facts regarding these curves will be presented in a theoretical discussion to follow a presentation of tables and graphs of the optimum resonance relations in our special case.
optimum adjustments of C23 and C30 in the special case under consideration. Instead of tabulating the capacities it is more convenient to tabulate A2/X and A3/X, where
These values are computed by the aid of the formulas for the resonance relations in the various cases given in the "Key/' and are tabulated in Tables II, III, and IV. The results are plotted in Figs.- 4 and 5.
No especial comment will be given, except that these curves permit a determination of the optimum value of the two conTable II. — Resonance Relations in Case R3/R2 = 104. Optimum Values
place the values in the table presuppose that the optimum adjustments of C23 and C30 have been made, and the numbers in the last four columns are max. max. values of relative power, so that the maxima of the several values give max. max. max. relative power. To avoid the use of the term max. max. max. we shall call these values the grand maxima.
The table shows that when there are any 5-values, the grand maxima seem to fall on the B-sections of the curve or at a point near the junction of the 5-section with the Asection. When there are no B-values, the grand maximum seems to fall on the 0-section near its junction with the A -section. In one of the cases there is a third grand maximum on the L-section of the curve corresponding to R3/Rz equal to 102. These inferences from the special-case curves are now to be corroborated by a theoretical investigation, in which the actual values of the grand maxima of power are to be discovered.
239. Investigation of Grand Maximum of Power with Respect to Resonance Combination L. — Let us designate the relative power developed in the detector Rs by the letter H, defined as in equation (97) ; that is
In this expression r and b involve the reactance constants of Circuit I. We propose now to find the value of Xi (or of the related quantity Ji) that will make HL a maximum, and we shall then determine the magnitude of this maximum value, which we shall call the grand maximum with respect to Resonance Combination L.
This must be solved as simultaneous with (87), in order to have all three variables of the circuit made simultaneously optimum, in those cases in which (87) is an optimum condition.
We shall first make €30 = c°, and C23 = ~~ 1/7, following definition (4), and shall then make 7 approach minus infinity. The first step of this operation gives
The minimum value of X\2 is then seen to be zero, which may be always attained if the condenser of the Circuit I is capable of taking all possible values. Setting X'i equal to zero, replacing 02 by its value from (4), and dividing by LICO, we obtain
Equation (109) gives the value of Ji at which occurs maximum power with the Resonance Combination L, and the value oftherelative power at this maximum is given by (110).
To decide which of these conditions is to be used in a given case, it is only necessary to note that since CM is zero, we have the case of two circuits with the secondary circuit made up of the inductance L2, the capacity C30, and the resistance Rs + R%. An examination along these lines, making use of Chapters XI and XII, shows that (120) is to be used whenever it is attainable.
TF/ien (122) ^4s satisfied, the optimum value of Ji for Resonance Combination 0 fc's grwen 6^7 (120). When (122) £*s rioi satisfied the optimum value of Ji is (119).
TFe mot/ sum wp these results as follows: With Resonance Combination 0, if p ( = Rs/Rz) satisfies the inequality (122), the optimum value of J\ is given by (120). The value of this power is given by (125). //, on the other hand, p does not satisfy the inequality (122), the optimum value of Ji is given by (119), and the value of the relative power at this maximum is given by (124).
241. Investigation of the Grand Maxima of Power with Respect to Resonance Combination A. — If we substitute (93) into (103) we shall have the Relative Power
In this equation, r2, which is denned by (83) contains the reactance constant /i, and it is seen by inspection that the adjustment of Ji that makes (126) a maximum is
The condition under which this maximum is attainable is had by setting Ji = 0 in the criterion inequality given immediately preceding equation (91) in the " Summary and Key in Terms of Ratio Quantities," Art. 234.
The Resonance Combination A is attainable if the inequality (128) is satisfied by p (= R^/R^), and the optimum value of Ji is J\ = 0. The value of the relative power at this adjustment is given by (127).
The second brace is a common factor that cannot vanish. It may be divided out. Doing this and replacing the derivatives obtainable from (82) and (83), we have '
When the quantities on the right-hand side of equations (137) are numerically known, the cubic equation (136) may be solved by "trial and error" or by other known methods of solving a cubic equation with numerical coefficients.
The cubic equation (136) gives the value of Ji at which occurs a grand maximum (or a minimum) of relative power with respect to the Resonance Combination B.
From the solutions obtained for the cubic in any numerical case, one must decide by a separate investigation which of the solutions give maxima and which minima of power, and one must determine the value of the grand maximum of power by substituting the resulting value of J\ into (129), in which a and r are functions of Jl as defined in (83) and (84).
mations that are useful in important cases.
243. Approximate Treatment of the Grand Maximum of Power with Respect to Resonance Combination B. — Instead of employing the cubic equation (136) to determine the value of Ji at which occurs a grand maximum of relative power with respect to Resonance Combination B, we may obtain an approximate result as follows :
The inequalities (140) give conditions under which the approximation (139) is applicable. It may be that (140) is more restrictive as to rji and rj2 than is necessary. From (139) this is seen to be the case when Ji2 is sufficiently different from zero to add appreciably to r4 on the right-hand side of (138).
the Resonance Combination B.
We shall next show that (143) is the condition for a minimum, and that (144) is the approximate value for a grand maximum. This result will be incident to a determination of the magnitude of the Power-maximum.
244. The Magnitude of the Relative Power with Respect to Resonance Combination B. — Before we introduced any approximations into the examination of the Resonance Combination B, we found that J\, in order to give a grand maximum of power, must satisfy (133), which was subsequently put into the form (136). We may, therefore, utilize (133) as far as possible to simplify the power equation (129). Concerning ourselves particularly with the denominator of (129), which is given in (130) we may write (130) in the form
Simplifying this expression, replacing x by its value from (146), with r replaced by (135), and introducing the resulting value of D into (129), we obtain
equation (150) £/ie values of J\ given by the cubic equation (136) must be introduced. The resulting values mil be either maxima or minima of H. Only the maxima are to be selected, and are to be used with the other adjustments incident to the Resonance Combination B.
245. Approximate Magnitude of Relative Power with Respect to Resonance Combination B. — In equations (143) and (144) we have found approximate values of J\ that give either a maximum or a minimum of power with respect to Resonance Combination B. We may write (144)
It is seen from this equation that J\ = r2 gives a minimum of power, for this is equivalent to making a = 0 in (157), and gives relative power zero, to the accuracy of the approximations employed in deducing (153).
Using the approximate resonance value of Ji given in (151), equation (153) gives an approximate value of the grand maximum of power with Resonance Combination B.
values of Ji also taken into account.
246. Collection of Optimum Resonance Combinations. — In the "Summary and Key in Terms of Ratio Constants, " Art. 234, we have given a list of Resonance Combinations designated L, 0, A, and B. In the pages following the Key we have determined the value of Ji that will give grand maximum expenditure of power in the resistance R$ for each of the Resonance Combinations. When Ji is thus made optimum with the several Resonance Combinations, we shall designate the combinations Optimum Resonance Combinations L, 0, A, and B.-
Combinations 0, which we shall refer to as Oo and Oi.
In stating the various combinations, we shall need to introduce the optimum value of Ji into the statement of the optimum adjustment of the Circuits I and II whenever these adjustments are functions of Ji.
for those combinations.
We shall later, where possible, lay down rules as to which of the optimum combinations is to be used for any given relation among the resistances of the three circuits.
To obtain the values of [Hm&x]B) the values obtained for J\ are to be substituted into (150), and then the minimum values, if any appear, are to be discarded.
To obtain the adjustment appropriate to Circuit II, the values of Ji that give maximum values of H are to be introduced into b and a2 of (167), in accordance with the definitions of b and a2 given in (82) and (83).
247. Comparison of the Grand Maxima of Power for the Several Optimum Resonance Combinations. — By comparing the values of the relative power (H max ) for the several combinations, we are able to decide which combination gives the greatest relative power for any given value of p ( = Rs/Rz) - The results are given in Table V,
Table V was obtained (by steps not here given) by noting first that the optimum combination A could be attained only when p was within the limits assigned in (166), which are the limits given in the third line of the table. By subtractipn of the denominator in the expression for Power in the A -case from the corresponding denominator in the 00-case, it was found that the denominator in the A -case was always the smaller, so that combination A, when attainable, gives more power than combination 00. It was next noted that combinations A and Oi are never attainable together, since the upper value of p for which Oi is attainable is
It was then shown by subtracting power-denominators that combination Oi always gives more power than combination 00 so that Oo is to be used only when Oi and A are both unattainable. This range is given in the second line of Table V.
We are left in doubt up to here whether B or L should replace Oi, 00, or A in the ranges corresponding to the first three lines of Table V. A subtraction of the denominators in the case Oi, Oo, and A successively from the denominator in the case of combination L, shows that the combination L is not superior to any of the other combinations within the ranges given in the table.
in determining by direct subtraction whether or not the power for the B combination is greater than that for the other combinations. We find, however, that the B combination gives Ji = 0, when
which is the adjustment of Ji for the A-combination. Also at this adjustment the value of the power for the 5-combination agrees with the value of the power for the A-combination.
The inference from this is that the ^-combination has application to values of p greater than the limit given in (173), and this inference is entered in Table V.
the "Collection of Optimum Resonance Combinations," Art. 246, there are given formula for computing the adjustments of the constants of the circuits to produce maxima of relative power in Circuit III. We shall here give the adjustments of Circuit I, in the form of values of Ji, where
With the values of r, 771, and 772 given in the caption, I have computed the values of J\ opt. for various values of the ratio Rs/Rz, where R% is the resistance of Circuit III containing the detector, and Rz is the resistance of the Circuit II. The values employed for Rz/Rz extend from 1 to 100,000.
Fig. 6 gives the values of Jiopt. at which the grand maxima of power occur for values of Rs/Rz up to 700. The different parts of the curves are labelled to accord with the optimum resonance combinations L, 0, A , and B employed in their computation. The actual amount of relative power for these adjustments are given in the next section.
Continuing the examination merely of the optimum values of Ji, Fig. 7 contains the same curves as Fig. 6, with, however, a different scale for Rs/Rz, and an extension of the results to values of R3/R2 up to 7000.
249. Magnitudes of the Grand Maxima of Power for Various Values of R3/R2. Given r2 = 0.1, ril = 0.03, 7?2 = 0.01.— Using the formulas collected in equations (154) to (172) and employing resistance ratios from 1 to 50,000, values of the relative power expended in the detector were computed in the special case of r2 = 0.1, r?i = 0.03, 172 = 0.01, with the results given in Figs. 8 and 9.
The extension of the range to 50,000 is given in Table VII.
An examination of the curves of Figs. 8 and 9, and Table VII shows that with this particular set of constants, r, 771, and 772, the detector in which the greatest power is developed has a resistance between 150 and 600 times the resistance of the secondary inductance coil, and that the optimum adjustment of the circuits comes under the cases of Optimum Resonance Combinations A and B.
of the secondary coil, the power expended in the detector decreases. With a different coefficient of coupling and different values of 771 and r/2 this optimum range of resistances for the detector is different.
In these Fig. 8 and 9 and in Table VII a maximum, of relative power is called a positive maximum, or a negative maximum according as a positive or a negative value of J\ is used in its computation.
V. SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS
250. Form of Circuits. — The discussion in this chapter pertains to circuits of the form of Figs. 1 and 2, Art. 220, in which the detector and a stoppage condenser C30 are shunted about the secondary condenser C23. The detector may have any resistance Rz whatever, and none of the resistances of the various circuits are neglected.
251. When Should C23 be Zero? — The question arises as to when is it advisable to have a condenser at C23, and when do the resonance devices of the previous Chapters XI and XII without such a condenser give larger secondary current and larger power development in the detector? The answer is found in a consideration of equations (158) and (161) and of Table V. It is seen in (158) and (161) that C23 = 0 for combinations 00 and Oi, and in Table V it is seen that these combinations give grand maxima of power whenever
KI 171172
Equation (175) gives the condition under which the tuning of Chapters XI and XII with the secondary coil, the detector, and a variable condenser in series (without the C23 of the present chapter) , will give more power in the detector than any adjustment with the use of C23 (note, C2 of Chapter X is the C30 of present Chapter) .
case the value of the stoppage condenser C30 is infinite.
We have then the interesting result that, except for possible requirements of the telephone receiver used as an indicating instrument, the stoppage condenser should be infinite whenever the detector resistance is sufficiently large to satisfy (176).
TIONS. ARTIFICIAL LINES. ELECTRICAL FILTERS
253. Utility. — The study of the electrical transmission characteristics of various systems of circuits that consist of recurrent sections in the form of a chain is highly interesting and important.
Circuits of recurrent sections are employed as artificial telephone and telegraph lines.1 By properly choosing the sections a line similating telephone and telegraph lines or cables may be constructed and employed in electrical experiments in the place of the actual lines.
Circuits of recurrent sections may also be employed as electrical filters2 for eliminating disturbances from telephone and telegraph circuits. It is believed that such filters may come to have a wide application to the elimination of disturbances from radiotelegraphic receiving stations. Such filters have also interesting applications to bridge measurements and other laboratory operations, in which it is desired to eliminate harmonics and other disturbances.
Further, by properly choosing the constants of the sections the electrical artificial line may be employed to introduce predetermined time retardation of electric currents in a way that gives time retardation practically independent of the frequency
1 An artificial line with resistances in series and condensers in shunt was patented by Varley in 1862, British Patent No. 3453. A similar line but with uniformly distributed capacity and resistance was patented by Taylor and Muirhead, British Patent No. 684, of 1875. A line with uniformly distributed inductance, resistance, and capacity was made and described by Pupin, Trans. Am. Inst. of El. Engineers, 16, pp. 93-142, 1899. Another form of uniformly distributed artificial line was constructed and described by Cunningham, Trans. Am. Inst. of El. Engineers, 30, pp. 245-256, 1911. For further references and for an extended treatment of the subject see a recent book by Kennelly, "Artificial Electrical Lines," McGraw-Hill, 1917, from which the above references are taken.
over wide ranges of frequency. This has been utilized by the author1 in an electrical compensator employed in determining the direction o£ sources of sound, particularly under water, in submarine boat detection and in submarine signalling. Similar devices are applicable to direction-finding by electric waves and to the elimination of interference in radiotelegraphy by directive receiving.
The principles to be developed in the study of these systems of recurrent sections will serve to show their general application, and will serve also as an introduction to the study of electric waves on wires, to be treated in the next later chapter.
I. GENERAL SYSTEM OF EQUAL SECTIONS
254. General Type of Circuits. Notation. — The discussion will be limited to a system of recurrent sections that are all equal, except at the terminals of the system.
and is of the nature of a mutual impedance.
The impedances z\ are not common to two circuits, but for the sake of generality there is assumed a mutual inductance2 between the elements z\ of each pair of adjacent loops, but no mutual inductance between loops not adjacent.
255. General Equations. — We shall designate the complex current through the non-common elements of the successive loops as ?0, ii, iz) is, . . . in - i, in> These currents are supposed to be positive when in the direction of the arrows marked i0, ii, etc.
it is seen, as in Chapter XIII, that the complex amplitudes of current A\, A?, . . . An will be required to satisfy the following algebraic equations obtained from Kirchhoff's e.m.f. law:
meaning than that given them by the equations (4) and (5), we may replace E in the first equation of (2) and z" in the last equation of (2), obtaining for the whole set (2)
Equation (7) is a generic equation showing the relation of the complex current amplitudes in adjacent sections of the system of the form of Fig. I. This equation in which m is to be given values
zi and zz may be of any character.
corresponding to the subscripts in (6), when taken in conjunction with (4) and (5) enables us to obtain a complete solution of the problem of determining the currents in the steady state.
256. Solution for Complex Current Amplitudes.1 — The equation (7) may be shown to hold for all values of m. For our purpose it will be sufficient to show that it holds for values of m from m = — ltora = n + l. We have already seen in (6) that equation (7) holds for values of m from and including 0 to and including n. To show that the generic equation (7) holds for m = — 1, let us write down the equation that results from makin'g m = — 1, obtaining
This amounts merely to a definition of A_2 in terms of A-i and AQ, and since A_2 has no physical meaning in the problem, we can make this definition, and shall make no further use of it.
We shall now proceed to a solution of (7), which is of a form known as a difference equation. The known method of treating this equation consists in assuming that
Let us note also that if k satisfies (10) then — k also satisfies it, since k and — k enter into (10) symmetrically. Therefore we have another solution of (7) in the form
and of m.
Equation (14), since it contains two arbitrary constants, is known by the theory of difference equations to be the most general solution of the given difference equation (7). In (14) k has the value given by (10), (11), or (12).
257. Introduction of Terminal Conditions, and the Determination of the Arbitrary Constants G and H. — To obtain the values of the arbitrary constants G and H, let us substitute (14), with proper value of m, into (4) and (5).
Equation (26) gives the complex current amplitude Am of the current in the mth section. X and Y are given by (21) and (22); x is given by (17); k, by (10), (11), or (12).
258. Analysis of the Complex Current Amplitude into a Summation, Exhibiting the Effects of Repeated Reflection. — The expression (26) for A m may be put into a more interesting form by expanding one of the factors as follows :
These several exponential terms are consistent with the view that the first term is due to direct transmission from the source, while the succeeding terms are due to successive reflections of current from the terminals of the line. Each step from section to section, on this theory, multiplies the complex current amplitude by the constant (complex) factor e~k.
To account for the multipliers X and Y applied successively to the terms after the first, it is only necessary to suppose that Y is the complex reflection coefficient of the terminal of the line remote from the e.m.f., and that X is the complex reflection coefficient of the terminal at the e.m.f.
259. Complex Current Amplitude in the mth Section of an Infinite Line or of a Line with Non -reflective Output Impedance. If the total number of sections n is infinite, or if Y is zero, all the exponentials in (28), except the first, disappear, and we have
Equation (29) gives the complex current amplitude Am in the mth section of a line of an infinite number of sections or of a line whose reflection coefficient at the remote end is Y = 0.
260. Input Impedance, or Surge Impedance, of an Infinite Line or a Line with Non-reflective Output Impedance. — The input impedance, or as it is sometimes called the surge impedance, of a line is the impedance by which the whole line may be replaced without changing the current in the zeroth section.
For the purpose of this discussion the impedance ZQ represented as inserted in the zeroth section will be regarded as a part of the impedance of the input apparatus, and not a part of the line itself. In like manner, ZT may be regarded as the impedance of the output apparatus attached to the line.
It is to be noted that z* as given by (33), or (34), is the input impedance, or surge impedance, of the line of non-reflective output impedance, or of the infinite line, for by (32) and (31) z» is the impedance by which the line exclusively of z0 'may be replaced without changing the current in the zeroth section.
261. Complex Reflection Coefficient at the Remote End (Output End) of the Line. — We have seen in Art. 258 that the complex reflection coefficient at the remote end of the line is Y, defined in (22). Replacing y in (22) by its value from (18), we have
Equation (36) or the alternative equation (37) gives the complex reflection coefficient Y at the remote end of the line. In (37) Z{ is the input impedance, or surge impedance, of an infinite line made up of the same kind of sections, and ZT is the complex impedance of the output terminal apparatus.
262. Complex Reflection Coefficient at the Input End of the Line. — Since X differs from Y only in having z0 in place of ZT we have by similarity with (36) and (37)
Equation (38) or (39) gives the complex reflection coefficient at the input end of the line. In (39) z» is the complex input impedance of an infinite line made up of the same kind of sections, and z0 is the complex impedance of the input terminal apparatus.
263. Attenuation Constant per Section and Phase Lag per Section for the Current. — The constant k that enters in the various exponential quantities is called the complex attenuation
constant of the current per section of the line. The value of k is given in (11), from which it is seen that k is in general a complex quantity. Let us indicate its real and imaginary parts by writing
Equation (4 la) gives the real current in the mth section of a line without reflection at the output end, and shows that a is the attenuation constant and <f> the retardation angle (of current) per section of the line.
Determination of a and <p. — Let us now determine a and <p. In the expression for k, equation (11) there enters the complex quantity — z/b. Let us explicitly designate this complex quantity as
Equations (46) emd (47), or Jfte alternative equations (49) and (50) a, which is the real attenuation constant for the current per section of the line, and <p, which is the angle of retardation introduced into the phase of the current per section of the line. The value of V is given in (48). The values of U and P are to be obtained from (42).
In regard to the sign before the inner radical, it is to be noted that the same sign is to be used in the equation for a and the equation for (p, in order to satisfy (45), and that this sign is to be chosen so as to make a and <p both real quantities.
where z\ and z2 are respectively the complex series impedances and the complex shunt impedances of the system, as illustrated in Fig. 1. If we suppose that the resistances are zero, these complex impedances may be replaced by j times the reactances, so that
In case the series and shunt elements of the line are both resistanceless, the quantities a and <p satisfy (55) and (56), and are easily determined in the following section.
Equations (61), (62), and (63) gwe ^e values of a, w/w'c/i zs the real attenuation constant per section, and of <p, which is the retardation introduced into the phase of the current per section of the line — in the case of a resistanceless line.
266. Filter Action of the Resistanceless Line. — It is to be noted that the quantity P0, as defined in (53) is determined by the reactances of the series elements and of the shunt elements and by the mutual inductance between adjacent series elements. These reactances and the mutual inductance term as it enters into (53) in general involve the angular velocity of the impressed e.m.f.; that is to say
For those values of co that bring P0 into the range of values of P0 specified in Case I, currents are produced in the line that pass through it without attenuation, when the line is resistanceless, so that except for the effects of reflections the current in the nth section has the same amplitude as in the zeroth section.
On the other hand, for those values of co that bring P0 into the ranges specified by Case II and Case III, the attenuation constant a is not zero, so that with a sufficiently large number of sections, different for the different frequencies, any given frequency in these ranges not included in Case I will produce currents that are attenuated to any desired small fraction of the current in the zeroth element.
In Fig. 2, which we shall call Type I, the line consists of capacities Ci in series and inductances Z/2 in shunt. The end sections in order to be sections of half impedance must be of capacity 2CV
LINES AND FILTERS
In Fig. 3 the line, which we shall classify as Type II, consists of inductance LI as series elements, and capacities €2 as shunt elements, and terminates in inductances of LI/ 2. Both Type I and Type II are examples of what is called a line of Il-sections.
The line in Fig. 4, designated Type III, is similar to Type II except that there is mutual inductance M between the parts of coils common to two loops. The condensers C% are tapped to the mid points of these coils. It is to be noted that while the inductance per loop is L$, this is not the inductance per coil.
With a system of Type I, Fig. 2, which is supposed to have zero resistance, the attenuation is zero for all currents of angular velocity greater than $2/2, where $2 has the definition given in (67). On the other hand, for all currents of angular velocity co less than $2/2, it is seen by reference to (63) that the attenuation constant is
This type of circuit lets through without attenuation frequencies higher than a specified value, and attenuates frequencies lower than the specified value, and attenuates them more the lower their frequencies.
a resistanceless system of Type II, Fig. 3, ^e attenuation is zero for currents of all angular velocities co Zess than 212, wfore fi /ias the value given in (75). On the other hand, for currents of angular velocities greater than 212 the attenuation is given by (76) and increases with increasing value of the angular velocity.
This type of circuit lets through frequencies lower than the specified value without attenuation, and attenuated currents of frequencies higher than the specified value.
If we think of the inductance elements as made up of coils, as ABj having inductance L and tapped at their mid points for the attachment of the condensers, it is to be noted that the inductance LI is made up of two coils in series, each of which has the inductance of a half -coil A B. The mutual inductance M is
With a line of Type ///, Fig. 4, having mutual inductance between adjacent loops, currents are transmitted unattenuated for all angular velocities given by (83) . or (84). // the coils have zero
magnetic leakage, then by (85) all possible frequencies are transmitted without attenuation. Such a line is not a good filter, but will be found useful for its retardation properties when it is desired to transmit with suitable retardation all frequencies.
HI. RESISTANCELESS LINES. TERMINAL IMPEDANCE
271. Surge Impedance of the Three Types of Resistanceless Lines. — In order to adapt a line to its terminal conditions, or to adapt the terminal conditions to the line, it is important to choose the constants so that the line will transmit as large a current as possible with the frequencies that it is desired to transmit. This means that reflection at the output terminal apparatus should be avoided and that the equivalent impedance of the whole line, with its non-reflective output apparatus should be adapted to the impedance of the input terminal apparatus.
Zi = the surge impedance = the impedance by which a line of an infinite number of sections, or of a finite number of sections with a non-reflective output impedance, can be replaced without changing the current in the zeroth section.
We shall now determine Zi for the three types of resist anceless line given in Figs. 2, 3, and 4. In all of these types, since the resistances are zero, we may write
Equations (88), (89), and (90) give the surge impedance, or equivalent impedance of a line with non-reflective output terminal apparatus, for Type I, Type II, and Type III, respectively.
Equation (91) gives the corresponding quantity for Type III if the coils have no magnetic leakage. In this case it is seen that zt is of the character of a pure resistance and is independent of the frequency.
In (88), (89), and (90) z» is also a real quantity, and is of the character of a pure resistance, but in general this equivalent resistance involves the angular velocity and is different for currents of different frequencies. It will be shown later that by choosing the inductances and capacities small, while keeping their ratios large the terms involving angular velocity can be made negligible over considerable ranges of frequencies.
Equation (92) shows that for no reflection at the junction of the line with the output apparatus the complex impedance of the output apparatus ZT must be equal to the surge impedance 2,- of the line. This is true whether the line has resistance or not.
To adapt this result to the three special types of line used in the illustration, it is only necessary to replace z,- in (92) by its known values for the three types.
273. Condition for Non -reflection at the Input Terminal Apparatus. — likewise, by (39), whether the line is resistanceless or not, we can make the complex reflection coefficient X at the input end zero, if we can make
To make the line non-reflective at the input terminal apparatus it is necessary to make ZQ, which is the impedance of the input apparatus, equal to the surge impedance z< of the line. This is true whether the line is resistanceless or not.
current by each section of the line.
It is seen that with the resistanceless line, for the range of frequencies within which P0 satisfies the inequality in (94), the angle of lag per section is equal to the anticosine of Po, and is in general a complicated function of the frequency, since P0 is a function of <o.
In compiling Tables I, II, and III, arbitrary values were taken for the quantities in the first column. Corresponding to these arbitrary quantities, the quantities in the other columns
of Tables I and II is given the attenuation constant a for the current, per section of the line. This quantity for Table III is not given, since it is zero throughout.
In the last columns of Tables I and II there is compiled the quantity £~10°, which is obtained on the supposition of line of ten sections or more. This quantity c~10° is the ratio of the current amplitude in the tenth section to the current amplitude in the zeroth section, and shows the sharpness with which the line of ten sections cuts off frequencies near the limit of frequencies for which the attenuation is zero. As an example, if we take Table I, currents of all angular velocities from co
equal infinity to co equal 0.5/^/LzCi are transmitted unattenuated; while, on the other hand, if co is equal to QA97/\/L2Ci the current in the tenth section is only 11 per cent, of the current in the zeroth section, and if co is 0.48/ V^Ci the current in the tenth section is only 3/10 of one per cent, of the current in the zeroth section. In a similar manner, one may interpret the values in the last column of Table II.
275. Line of Constant Time Lag per Section over Significant Range of Frequencies. — The tables also contain values of the current-lag-angle per section of the line in the columns headed <p. A related quantity is the quantity T, which is the number of seconds by which the current in any section lags behind the current in the preceding section. The quantity T is related to <p by the equation
obtained as follows: If the angle of lag is <f> radians, and the angular velocity of the current is o> radians per second, the time T is such that the system would describe an angle <p in time T at angular velocity o>, provided <p = coT. We should then be able to tabulate T by dividing <p by o>, but since o> is given only as a factor in the quantity at the heading of the first column, we have divided the numbers on this column into the corresponding numbers in the column headed <p, obtaining
An important result obtained in this way is that for Line of Type II, and for small values ofa/^/LiCz the time lag T per section is approximately constant and equal to -\/LiC%.
For a line of Type III (assumed to have zero magnetic leakage in the coils, and for small values of u^LCz, the time lag T per section is approximately constant and equal to \/LCz- In this latter result L is the inductance per coil and not the inductance per loop of Type III, which is the system containing the mutual inductance between the loops. The inductance per loop is LI = L/2.
We have thus obtained a method, using systems of Type II or of Type III, of obtaining per section of line a time lag of current substantially independent of frequency over a significant range of frequencies.
Apart from the use of the tables, we can prove this result theoretically, by expanding in series the anticosine of P0 in equation (94), and neglecting certain higher powers of small quantities. We shall perform this operation, later, in connection with lines of sensible resistance, to be studied in the next few pages.
. V. LINES WITH RESISTANCE. TYPE I
276. General Equations. Types I and II. — To determine a and <pj when the line has resistance, we must return to equations (49) and (50), which are general. In order to get U and V for use in these equations, we need to start with (42), which in view of (3) becomes
Equations (108) and (109) give the values of the attenuation constant a and the retardation angle <p per section of the line of Type I. In these equations rjz and 0 have the values given in (105). Regarding the sign before the inner radical, it is to be noted that the same sign is to be used in both equations, and this sign is to be selected so as to make both a and tp real quantities.
278. Determination of Surge Impedance for Line of Type I with Resistance. — The general expression for surge impedance is given in (34), which in view of (101) and (3) gives
coils.
279. Approximate Treatment for Small Values of 772 and for 40 not too Near Unity. — We may obtain simplified expressions for (108) and (109) for small values of t\^ and for 40 greater than and not too near unity by expanding the radicals in these equations and neglecting higher terms. Assuming, to begin, that
In order to make a and <p real we must use the negative sign in the bracket, whenever 1 — 40 is negative; and must use the positive sign, whenever 1 — 40 is positive.
In case the ratio of the resistance of the coils to their inductive reactance is small and in case 40 is not too near unity, so that the conditions (113) are fulfilled, equation (114) gives a and <p for 0 greater than 1/4, and equation (115) gives the corresponding values of a and <pfor 6 less than 1/4. These results are for line of Type I.
In regard to the attenuation constant it should be noticed from the formulas (114) and (115) that the former gives the case of low attenuation and the latter gives the case of high attenuation. The transition point is somewhere near 40 = 1, but neither of these formulas can be used in this region because (113) fails there. We must go back to (108) and (109) if 40 is nearly equal to unity. It is seen by (108) that the last term under the outer radical changes from a numerically subtractive term to a numerically additive term when 40 passes from values greater than unity to values less than unity, and as 40 goes on decreasing, a increases rapidly. We shall call the value of the frequency at which 40 = 1 the cut-off frequency.
It will be understood that this cut-off frequency is not a point of discontinuity giving a sudden change of the attenuation with change of frequency. The increase of attenuation as we pass the cut-off frequency and pass into the region of frequencies that are more attenuated is rapid for low-resistance coils, and after a change of a few per cent, in frequency the attenuation for a line of five or ten sections may be such as to reduce the current to less than one per cent, of its value at the cut-off frequency. We shall later show this by numerical computations.
To complete the approximate treatment of this type of line (Type I) let us note that under conditions (113), equation (110) for the surge impedance becomes
Under condition (113) the surge impedance of a line of Type I is given by (117), or by the alternative equation (116). This surge impedance is real and of the nature of a pure resistance, provided 40 is greater than unity, and is imaginary, and therefore of the
nature of a reactance if 40 is less than unity. These equations are not to be used for 46 too near to unity for then (113) is not fulfilled. It is seen by (116) that the surge impedance is in general a function of the angular velocity w.
which is independent of the frequency.
With a line of Type I, in case the conditions (118) and (113) are fulfilled, equation (119) gives the surge impedance Zi of the line. This is in the nature of a pure resistance independent of the frequency of transmitted current.
Equations (124) and (125) give the values of attenuation constant a and retardation angle v per section of the line for a Line of Type II. The abbreviations employed are given in (12). The same sign must be employed before the inner radical in both equations, and that sign must be chosen to make a and <p both real quantities.
In the case of small decrement and small value of LiduP, as stipulated in (132), approximate values for a and <p for a line of Type II are given in (131). When the conditions (132) are not fulfilled, the exact equations (124) and (125) are to be used.
With a line of Type II, in case conditions (132) are f satisfied, the surge impedance of the line is given approximately by (133), and is in the nature of a pure resistance independent of the frequency, so long as co satisfies (132).
We can make a simplification in this equation by introducing the inductance L of each of the whole coils, that are tapped at the middle. Since L\ is twice the inductance of a half coil, and R\ is twice the resistance of a half coil,
where L and R are now the inductance and resistance per coil of the system. Using these values, and equating real and imaginary parts of the equation preceding (135) we have
By comparing these values of U and V with the corresponding quantities for Type II, as given in equations (122) and (123), we see that the values of U and V are analogues for the two cases. By replacing ^ and 171 in (124) and (125) by Q and 17 respectively, we obtain for the present case
Equations (140) and (141) give the values of the attenuation constant a and the retardation angle p per section of the line for a line of Type III. The abbreviations employed are given in (138). The same sign must be employed before the inner radical in both equations, and that sign must be selected to make a and <p both real quantities.
Equation (142) gives the exact value of the surge impedance for the line of Type III with resistance in the inductance coil. L and R are the inductance and resistance of each of the coils to the middle of which the capacities C2 are attached. M is the mutual inductance between the two halves of one coil.
285. Approximations for Type III. — Out of analogy of the equations in this case with the equations for Type II, and by an examination of the constants in the two cases, it is readily seen that
In case of small decrement and small value of LCw2, as stipulated in (144), equations (143) give the attenuation constant of the current and the retardation angle of the current per section of line with a line of Type III. Under the same conditions the surge impedance of the line is given by (145).
VIII. COMPUTATION OF APPARATUS
286. Design of a Filter to Cut Out Frequencies Below a Specified Value, and to Operate Between Input and Output Terminal Apparatus of Given Resistance. — For this purpose we require a line of Type I. The coils of such a line will necessarily have certain resistance, and we shall take account of the resistance of these coils in the computation. The equation for the attenuation constant is (108). This expression for a begins to increase rapidly in the neighborhood of the value of 8 at which 1—40 becomes negative, with increasing 0.
We shall next find another relation determined by the resistance of the terminal apparatus. To avoid reflection the complex impedance z0 of the input apparatus and the complex impedance ZT of the output apparatus shall each equal the surge impedance of the line, which is 2»; that is
Now the value of Zi for this type of line is given in (110), and is a complicated function of the frequency. We cannot in general make 2» equal to ZQ and ZT for all values of the frequency.
Let it be supposed that while we wish to cut off all frequencies of angular velocity less than co0, we are also interested in transmitting especially the high frequencies for which the conditions (118) are satisfied. For these frequencies
and is in the nature of a pure resistance independent of the frequency. We should need to make our terminal apparatus as nearly as possible a pure resistance, of value
ratus, which are to be nearly pure resistances.
Equation (151) is another relation for determining L2 and Ci, and is obtained on the assumption that the line is to be non-reflective at the terminal apparatus for high frequencies.
Equations (152) give the value of the inductance and capacity elements of the line to cut off angular velocities above co0 and to operate between an input terminal apparatus of resistance RQ (inductanceless) and an output terminal resistance of the same resistance.
Now as to the resistance of the inductance coils used in the line, it is desirable to have this resistance #1 as low as possible, consistent with space available and cost. Let us suppose that the coils are wound of wire of such size as to give
As soon as we specify the ratio of A to co0, we can compute a and <p by (108) and (109) for various ratios of o> to co0. Let us now compute a numerical example, given
287. Design of a Compensator to Give a Retardation Time of a Constant Amount T Seconds per Section Substantially Independent of the Frequency over a Significant Range of Frequencies, and to Operate with Terminal Apparatus of Given Resistance. — For- this purpose we shall use a line of Type II. In equation (131) it is shown that for ranges of co for which (132) is fulfilled, the angle of retardation per section is
The value of T given in (165) is correct only provided co is sufficiently removed from the cut-off frequency which we shall specify as having the angular velocity a>0.
The angular velocity of the cut-off frequency is the value of co at which the last brace under the outer radical of (124) changes sign. This is approximately the value of co at which
coo = angular velocity of cut-off frequency, which is the angular velocity above which the currents are highly attenuated.
It is to be noted that we can determine the product o/I/iC? either by specifying the desired time lag T per section and using (156), or by specifying the cut-off angular velocity co0 and using (158). // we proceed by specifying T, we must make T small enough to raise the angular velocity of the cut-off frequency to give the operating range of frequency required of the apparatus.
The next step in settling upon the essential constants of the compensator is the choice of the impedance of the terminal apparatus. The impedance of the input apparatus z0, the impedance of the output terminal apparatus ZT and the surge impedance zt of the line must be equal to avoid reflections in the line, and to obtain a maximum transfer of energy to the output apparatus. If we operate the line in the region of frequencies in which (156) holds, then by (133)
The several impedances in (159) being equal to the radical expression are real quantities independent of the frequency, and must be of the nature of pure resistances.
apparatus, which must be both inductanceless to avoid reflection.
It may not be possible to utilize terminal apparatus of the nature of pure resistances and attain the results desired. In that case, we can not avoid reflections at the junction of the line with the terminal apparatus, and we shall sometimes need to make a compromise in practice. We shall not here enter into 'the nature of a profitable compromise, but shall proceed on the assumption that (159) may be fulfilled.
Equations (160) give the inductance and capacity per section of a line of Type II, designed to give a time-retardation of current by the amount T seconds per section, and designed to operate between non-inductive input apparatus of resistance RQ and non-inductive output apparatus of the same resistance.
of angular velocity less than
To compute the performance of such a line we need to specify T and also to specify the resistance Ri of the inductance coils, but this need be done merely by specifying the ratio of R\ to LI. We give in Table V, the computation of the performance of such a compensator with the specific values.
impressed e.m.f. The second column contains the frequency n corresponding to the given values of cu. The third column contains the attenuation constant per section. The fourth column contains the retardation angle per section. The fifth column contains the time-retardation per section of the line. The last column contains the ratio of the current in the tenth section to the current in the zeroth section.
Notice that the time-retardation per section changes only about one per cent, in the range of frequencies between n = 123 and n = 1470. Over this range of frequencies the line can be used to introduce known amounts of time-lag by introducing various numbers of sections of the line. The attenuation for ten sections of the line in this range is slight since over 90 per cent, of the current gets through.
changes considerably.
At n = 4902 the cutting off effect of the line begins to make its appearance, and at n = 5883, the current in the tenth section is less than one per cent, of the current in the zeroth section.
It is to be noted that by making T smaller, the time-lag per section can be made nearly constant for higher frequencies than those given in this table. In fact by making T sufficiently small this compensator action, by which is meant the introduction of time-retardation substantially independent of the frequency, can be made applicable to the ordinary ranges of radio frequency.
289. Diagram, Notation, and Impedances. — Referring to Fig. 1, suppose that we have two parallel wires, with a source of e.m.f . at e, having a complex impedance ZQ, and with an output apparatus at T, having a complex impedance ZT, let it be required to find the current i at any time t and at any distance x from the e.m.f.
of length.
Let there be a certain current i flowing out through the top wire at a distance x from the e.m.f., and, on account of symmetry, let there be an equal current in the opposite direction in the lower wire at the same distance x from the e.m.f.
Am. Philosophical Soc., 49, 1910.
2 This method was employed in a special case by Sir William Thomson (Lord Kelvin) in an examination of the feasibility of the Atlantic Cable in 1855, published in Proc. Roy. Soc., May, 1855. The general problem of waves on wires was first treated by Kirchhoff, Pogg. Ann., 100, 1857. Further extensive work on the subject was done by Heaviside. Phil. Mag., 1876, and Electrical Papers, Vol. 1, p. 53.
Treating the line as made up of sections of length Ax, equation (2) gives the complex shunt impedance per section, provided there is no current leakage between the wires.
section the rath section, a current im flows in the parts of this section not common to the next sections; that is to say, this current flows in each of the wires, as shown in Fig. 3. The complex series impedance of this section is
R = resistance per loop unit of length = the resistance per unit length of outgoing conductor + resistance per unit of length of return conductor; L = inductance per loop unit of length = inductance of the two wires per unit length of the duplex system, when one of the wires is a return conductor for the other.
290. Attenuation Constant and Retardation Angle per Loop Unit of Length of the Wires. — The system of Fig. 2 is an example of a line of Type II of Chapter XVI, and has the attenuation constant and retardation angle per section (that is-, per length Ax) given in (124) and (125), Chapter XVI, in which by (121), Chapter XVI, and (3) and (2) of the present chapter,
Introducing these values into (124) and (125) of Chapter XVI, and calling the resultant quantities Aa and A<p, since they are values per length Ax, we obtain
In deriving these equations, we have omitted within the radical terms added to unity and having a factor Ax, because we are going to make Ax approach zero, and such terms would ultimately disappear. The external multiplier Ax we keep, because the
equations are increments of the same order as Ax.
If we now look at equation (28), Chapter XVI, we shall notice that the complex current amplitude in the mth section contains factors of the form e~km, where by (40) of Chapter XVI
In terms of these quantities e~km taken for a continuous line the form given in (8), where x is the length from the e.m.f. along the wires to the section of the wires under consideration.
We may now obtain values of a and /3 from (6) and (7) by dividing by Ax and taking the limit as Ax approaches zero, noting that the antihyperbolic sine and the antisine approach their moduli as Ax approaches zero. By this operation we obtain
Equations (11) and (12) give respectively the attenuation constant and the retardation angle per unit length of the pair of wires, w is the angular velocity of the impressed e.m.f. R, L, and C are respectively the Resistance, Inductance, and Capacity per loop unit of length.
Equations (14) and (15) gwe respectively the attenuation constant a per unit length of the line and the retardation angle 0 per unit length of the line^ provided (13) is satisfied.
If (16) is satisfied, the corresponding values of a and 0 are given by (17). Under conditions (18), a and /3 are given by (19) and (20) respectively. Under conditions (21), these quantities are given by (22).
Inductance, and Capacity per loop unit of length.
292. Surge Impedance of the Line. — If in (125a) of Chapter XVI, we replace Ri and LI by Rkx and LAz respectively and neglect terms involving (Az)2 in comparison with unity, we shall
Equation (23) is the exact expression for the surge impedance of the continuous line in which R, L, and C are respectively the Resistance, Inductance, and Capacity per loop unit of length of the line.
294. General Expression for the Complex Current Amplitude at a Distance x from the Impressed e.m.f., When the Length of the Parallel Wires from Input Apparatus to Output Apparatus is 1. — To obtain this value, we shall use the general equation (28), Chapter XVI, with proper transformation to suit the smooth line problem.
In this we have made the rath section a distance x from the e.m.f. The total length of the present line is to be I, and the total number of sections of the discrete line of equation (28), Chapter XVI, was n, so that if we replace ra by n and x by I, we have by the equation next above
and is valid only in the steady state.
Equation (30) is a general expression for the complex current amplitude Ax at a distance x from the impressed e.m.f., for the case of two parallel wires each of length I, terminated by an output apparatus of impedance ZT connecting the two wires together at their outer end. The input apparatus has impedance z0 and connects the wires together at their input end. The values of z^ X, and Y are given in (23), (26), and (27).
295. Real Current for an Infinite Smooth Line or a Line with Non-reflective Output Impedance. Velocity of Propagation. Phase Change by Reflection. — If the line is infinite, or if F = 0, all of the terms after the first in (30) disappear, and if we make the impressed e.m.f.
and take 1/j times the imaginary part of (32), in which Ax has been replaced by its value from (30), with all the terms of (30) after the first set equal to zero, we obtain
We may now obtain the velocity of propagation by noting that the periodic term at t = tz and x = xz will have the same value that it has at t = ti and x = Xi, provided
The quantity on the left of (38) is seen to be the velocity of propagation, because Z2 ~ t\ is the time that must elapse for a given phase of the disturbance to travel from x\ to X*, and whatever the values of x^ and x2 the ratio of the distance to time is independent of the distance.
Although we derived v on the assumption of a non-reflective line the result is correct for any line, for the terms after the first in (30) give the same velocity v for each term. We must, however, when X and Y are complex quantities attribute to the reflected waves a change of phase at reflection, which is
real part of X
Equations (40) and (41) give the angle by which the reflected current lags behind the incident current at the output impedance and the input impedance respectively.
296. Velocity and Attenuation of High -frequency Waves on Parallel Wires or on Two Concentric Tubes. — The velocity of a sinusoidal current in the steady state on two parallel wires is
By reference to the value of 0 given in (12) it is seen that v is in general a function of the frequency. But by (16) and (17) it is seen that if u is sufficiently large to make
Equation (42) gives the velocity v of propagation along two parallel wires. The same equation evidently holds for propagation along two tubes, one inside of the other and coaxial with it. In (42) L and C are inductance and capacity per loop unit of length, and the unit of length must be the same as the unit of length occurring in the velocity.
C = capacity per loop centimeter of length of wires, k = dielectric constant of the medium between wires, c = ratio of units = 3 X 1010 cm. /sec.
By taking the square root of the product of L and C in any one of the sets of units, for the case of the parallel wires or for the case of the coaxial tubes, we obtain by (42)
Equation (51) gives the velocity of propagation of high-frequency waves on two parallel wires or on two coaxial tubes. In this equation c, which is the ratio of the electromagnetic unit of quantity to the electrostatic unit of quantity, has been shown by experiment to be equal to the velocity of light. If the medium between the wires is a vacuum k = ju = 1, and
that is, the velocity of the high-frequency waves on parallel wires or coaxial tubes is equal to the velocity of light, when the medium around the wires or between the tubes has dielectric constant and permeability unity.1
where k, n, d, R, Ri and Rz have values given above.
Equations (53) and (54) give the attenuation constants per loop unit of length for two parallel wires and for two coaxial tubes respectively. In these equations R is the resistance in ohms per loop unit of length, using the same unit of length that is applied to the attenuation constant.
297. Stationary High-frequency Waves on Two Parallel Wires Open-ended at Outer End and Non-reflective at Input End. — Reference is made to Fig. 4. Let the length of one wire
the wires, and where
Equation (59) 0wes £/ie steady-state current at the distance x from the e.m.f. for the case of high-frequency waves on two parallel wires of length I open-ended at the outer end and non-reflective at the input end. The current is seen to be the resultant of two wavesystems — one passing direct from the source of e.m.f., and the other reflected with a reversal of sign from the open end of the system. The out-going wave has traveled a distance x and the reflected wave has traveled a distance I -f- I — x.
From equation (62) it may be noted that if e~2al is nearly equal to unity, we shall get the largest value of iQ, if we make the length of the line such that the second term is brought into phase with the first term; that is, if
When the attenuation factor e~2<*1 is nearly equal to unity, we obtain a maximum amplitude of current at the input end when the length of each of the wires is an odd number of half wavelengths of the waves on wires; provided the outer end of the system is open-
298. Stationary High-frequency Waves on Two Parallel Wires Non -reflective at the Input End and Terminated by a Condenser C' at Outer End. — Reference is made to Fig. 5.
We may call the system resonant with the angular velocity co, when the length of the wires or when the capacity C" is so adjusted as to give a maximum amplitude of the current iQ. • When €~2al is nearly unity, i0 is a maximum if
Equation (71) gives a series of relations among C', Z, and co, which are proper relations to make iQ a maximum with the system of circuits shown in Fig. 5, consisting of two parallel wires terminated at their outer end by a bridging condenser C' and having the e.m.f. applied through an impedance that is non-reflective with respect to the line.
299. Examination of the Resonant Fundamental System of the Type of Fig. 5. — As an introduction to the general subject of distributed capacity in coils, we shall examine further the system shown in Fig. 5 with reference to its adjustment f or fundamental resonance with the impressed e.m.f. By fundamental resonance we shall mean the resonance that gives a maximum amplitude of current at x = 0 without any other maximum amplitude of current along the wires. This is to be distinguished from harmonic resonance in which there will be a series of current maxima between the e.m.f. and the condenser.
Equation (74) gives the relation between the attached condenser C', the length of the parallel wires I, and the impressed angular velocity co that must be fulfilled to give the maximum current amplitude at the e.m.f. for the fundamental adjustment of a system of the form of Fig. 5, actuated by a high-frequency e.m.f.
Equation (79) gives the capacity C' that must be placed at outer end of two parallel wires each of length I, to bring the sysi to resonance with an impressed e.m.f. whose wavelength in j space is X. This equation applies accurately provided the condit stipulated in (79) is met. , 'If various values of X2 and the coi sponding values of C' with fixed value of I are plotted the resul a straight line of the form of Fig. 6.
300. Approximate Application to a Coil of Distributed Capaci The result obtained in the form of (79) for the condition um which a system of two parallel wires with a condenser at the ou end is resonant to an impressed e.m.f., is found by experime to hold approximately for a coil attached to a condenser as Fig. 7.
If we apply to the coil an e.m.f. near its middle section, may be done by induction from another oscillating circuit, a if we give to the impressed e.m.f. various wavelengths X, a resonate by giving the condenser Cr various values of capaci it is found that an approximate relation in the form of (79) hoi in that X2 minus a constant X02 is proportional to C", and the p of the result is similar to Fig. 6.
This result can be accounted for by attributing to the c a capacity per unit length and an inductance per unit leng (of wire or of axial length) provided the product of these quj tities is constant for different sections of length. It is not 1 lieved that this is exactly the case, but is true to the degree approximation to which the linear relation of X2 to C' is true.
301. Difference of Potential Between Two Parallel Wires in Relation to Current Distribution Along the Wires. — Returning now to the general problem of the transmission of electric disturbances along two parallel wires, we may note the following general relations that are true whatever the terminal conditions of the wires and whether the currents are in a steady state or not.
of length under consideration.
Reference is made to Fig. 8. Let # be a distance along the wires measured from some arbitrary origin. Let Ax be an element of length at x. Let i be the current flowing into the ele-
If now we let e be the average excess of the potential of top wire over the potential of the bottom wire and note that capacity of a length Arc of the top wire is CAx, we have for charge on the top wire in the element of length Ax the value
Dividing this equation by Ax and taking the limit as approaches zero, and noting that the terms of higher orde Ax disappear, and that the average value of e in the region proaches the actual value e at x, we obtain
Equation (85) is an important differential equation connec the current i at any distance x at any time t with the differenc potential e between the wires at the same x and t.
By continuing this process or reasoning, and applying Kirchhoff s e.m.f. law to the element of length Ax of both w: we can build up completely the proper differential equations the waves on wire and obtain all of the results obtained abov< the other method. We shall not do this, but shall merely rr application of equation (85) to a single case.
302. Distribution of Current and Potential Along Two Par* Wires, with the Outer End Open, and with a Non-reflec Input Impedance, Assuming Negligible Attenuation. — Circ for this case are given in Fig. 4. If the attenuation constant negligible, the current may be obtained from (59) by repla< the exponentials by unity. This gives
shown in Fig. 4.
Let us next take the special case in which the amplitude of current on the wires is a maximum. By (63) and (64) this is the case in which the length of wires I satisfies the equation
Equations (91) and (92) give the current and potential along two parallel wires of length an odd number of times the quarter wavelength of the waves on the wires, provided the outer end of the wires is open, and provided the e.m.f. is impressed through a non-reflective impedance at the input end. The current and potential are out of phase with each other in time and space.
303. Plot of Stationary Current and Potential Waves on Wires of §302.— A plot of equations (91) and (92) for two different cases is given in Fig. 9. In this figure (a) represents the wires; (b) represents the current distribution along the wires if the wires are Y± wavelength long; (c) represents the potential distribution in that case. The curves (d) and (e) show respectively the current distribution and the potential distribution if the length of each of the wires is % of a wavelength.
In each of the diagrams the different curves correspond to different times. For example, in (b) and (c) these curves are numbered 0 to 11. The curves numbered 0 in the two diagrams are respectively the current and potential at t = 0. The curves numbered 1, 2,3 . . . show the values of current and potential at times equal to ^2? 21 2 > %2 • • • of a whole period after t = 0.
ELECTROSTATICS AND MAGNETOSTATICS
1. Electric Intensity. — In a field of electric force the force is said to have at every point a certain intensity, which is defined as the force with which a unit positive charge of electricity would be impelled if introduced at the point without changing the existing distribution of force. In order not to change the existing distribution the exploring charged body must be a very small body with a very feeble charge, and the force per unit charge is obtained by dividing the force by the charge.
The electric intensity is a vector, which we shall designate by E in Clarendon Type. Throughout this volume all vectors shall be designated by heavy-faced, or Clarendon, type; all scalars by light-faced type. The vector components of E in the directions x, y, z shall be designated by Ex, Ey, and Ez. The scalar magnitude of E shall be designated by E with components Ex, Ev, and Ez; unit vectors along the axes of x, y, z, shall be designated by i, j, k, respectively.
means that E is the vector sum of its components; that is, E is in magnitude and direction the diagonal of the rectangular parallelepiped with Ez, Ey, and E2 as adjacent edges. The magnitude of E is seen to be given by the scalar equation
in which the plus sign indicates ordinary addition.
2. No Simple Method of Computing E. — In the most general case in which there are various conductors and insulators aggregated into a system there is no simple method of computing
the electric intensity E. We shall be able to arrive at the laws governing such a system only by successive generalizations from simpler systems. The generalizations made will involve the introduction from time to time of new assumptions which may not have been submitted to immediate experimental tests. Instead of resting on direct tests of the assumptions themselves, the validity of the assumptions may require to be established by tests made on the consequences of the assumptions.
3. Electrical Intensity Due to a Single Point Charge in an Infinite Vacuum. — In this simple case where there is a single point charge in an infinite vacuum the electric intensity at any point distant r from the charge has the magnitude
unit charge,
q = electric charge at 0 in electrostatic units, r — distance from 0 to P in centimeters, Ur = a unit-vector in direction of r from 0 to P.
The inverse-square law1 for electric intensity, as expressed in equations (1) and (2), has been put into an integrated form and submitted to rigid experimental tests by Cavendish.2
4. Effect of Dielectric on Electric Intensity.— If into the field surrounding the point charge various dielectrics are introduced, the intensity is in general changed in a very complicated way. These various dielectrics are said to have different values of inductivity, or dielectric constant. 3
The inductivity, or dielectric constant, of the medium at any point will be designated by c, which is in general a function of the coordinates x, y, z, and in some media (those of a crystalline character) the inductivity is also different in different directions.
value for the capacity of a condenser with homogeneous dielectric.
5. Definition of Intrinsic Charge. — In the statement of the law of force immediately preceding, the charge q is designated as intrinsic charge. An Intrinsic Charge is a charge whose time derivative within a region gives the ordinary electric current flowing into the region. A body which contains an intrinsic charge will suffer a translation if placed unsupported in a uniform electric field. Intrinsic charges are to be distinguished from the induced charges, that are sometimes supposed to exist in dielectrics, in the form of a union of positive and negative charges capable of being oriented under the action of a uniform field, but undergoing no translation in such a field.
In modern electron theory, intrinsic charges are supposed to be due to free electrons; and induced charges due to bound electrons. The motions of the free electrons throughout conductors constitute the ordinary conduction currents of electricity. This subject will be considered later, but for the present the only charges referred to shall be the intrinsic charges.
6. Electric Induction. — Related to electric intensity it is convenient to employ a second vector called Electric Induction, which we shall designate by D, with components Dx, Dy, and D2. Whether the medium is homogeneous or not the Electric Induction at any point is defined as the product of the electric intensity at the point by the inductivity e of the medium at the point. In a non-crystalline, or isotropic, medium the dielectric constant is the same in all directions, and
On the other hand, if the medium is crystalline (anisotropic) the dielectric constant at a given point has different values in different directions, and, in general,
7. Definition of Flux of Induction. — At any point P in a given field of force the electric induction has magnitude and direction that are functions of the coordinates of P. Suppose an element of surface dS to be drawn at P, and let the normal to dS have the direction N, Fig. 1. If the induction at P is D, the flux of induction through dS is defined as the product of dS by the normal component of D ; that is,
We come now to an important proposition due to Gauss, concerning the flux of induction through a closed surface. Let us suppose that we have throughout a certain region a homogeneous dielectric of dielectric constant € and that there is an intrinsic charge q of electricity concentrated at a point within the region, and let us draw within the homogeneous region any closed surface S completely enclosing the charge q, Fig. 2. At any point P on the surface the electric induction is in the direction of r and has, by equations (4) and (5), the magnitude
It thus appears that in a homogeneous medium the flux of induction outward through any closed surface is independent of the position of q within the enclosure. The limitation that q is to be concentrated at a point may hence be
within the enclosure.
If on the other hand we have a charge g0 within the homogeneous medium but outside of the enclosure, Fig. 3, and if we draw a solid angle dti at 50, intercepting, from the closed surface, elements dSi, dSzj etc., it will be seen that at every element dSi where the direction of r is into the enclosure, cos (r, N) is negative; therefore,
Gauss's Theorem. — The total flux of electric induction outward through any closed surface due to charges partly within the enclosure and partly outside of it is 4?r times the quantity of intrinsic electricity within the enclosures.
FIG. 3.
9. Limitation Under Which Gauss's Theorem has been Deduced. — In the preceding section we have started with a very limited experimental result that the electric intensity due to a point charge in a uniform medium is that given by equation (4). To this we have added the definition of induction given in equation (5). From this limited material we have deduced Gauss's equation
which is rigorously established for a uniform medium
The derived result is less definitive of D than the original equation (4). This is evident from the consideration that with a given distribution of intrinsic charges the elementary equation (4) would determine one and only one value of the induction DI (say) at a given point; whereas Gauss's equation would be satisfied by DI plus any other vector Do such that the surface integral of Do over the closed surface is zero.
10. Assumption that Gauss's Theorem is Perfectly General. Equation (12), Gauss's Theorem, is in accord with the equation (4) and the definition (5) when the dielectric is uniform, and is
As the next step in our search for general laws of the electric field, we are going to assume that Gauss's Theorem without any modification whatever is perfectly general for every possible distribution of charges, conductors, and dielectrics at rest. The justification of this assumption is to be sought in a comparison of experimental results with deductions from the assumption.
11. Gauss's Theorem Expressed in Terms of a Point Relation. We shall next express Gauss's Theorem in terms of a pointrelation. Let us take a point whose coordinates are x, y, and z, and for our closed surface, let us take the surface of the elemental volume
Let p be the intrinsic density of electricity at the point x, y, z, and let p be the average density in the elemental volume; then the total intrinsic quantity of electricity in the volume is
The left-hand side of this equation is seen to be the limit as the volume approaches zero of the flux outward of D from a small volume divided by the volume. This quantity is called the divergence of D. There follows a digression in which the divergence of a vector is obtained in a different form.
12. Digression on the Divergence of a Vector. — Let $A be the surface integral of the outward normal component of any vector A over a closed surface, and let it be required to find an analytical expression for the limit of the ratio of the surface integral to the volume as this volume approaches zero.
In Fig. 4 is represented the element of volume AxAyAz with one of its corners at the point x, y, z. Let A be a vector whose components are analytic functions of the coordinates x, y, z. Let Ax be the average value of the ^-component of A over the
Giving a minus sign to the normal vectors that are inward, and multiplying the magnitude of each of the normal terms by the corresponding area of the face of the element through which it acts, we have, as the total outward normal surface integral, the equation
where the derivative with respect to r $,s a partial derivative because <f>A may be regarded as a function of x, y, z and r; so that the partial derivative with respect to r means the derivative at a fixed point x, y, z.
The divergence of a vector A is the flux of the vector outward from a small volume divided by the volume. It is a scalar quantity, has in general different values at different points, and may be obtained directly by performing the operation indicated in equation (20). i
wherever p is finite.
The divergence of electrical induction at any point where p is finite is 4r times the intrinsic charge density p at the point. Equation (21) is known as Poisson's equation.
14. Gauss's Theorem Applied to a Surface Distribution. Surface Divergence. — Suppose that there is an intrinsic charge distributed over a surface, with a surface density cr. At a point in such a surface p is no longer finite, so that Gauss's Theorem cannot be reduced to the divergence equation (21), but is preferably reduced to a new point relation as follows :
1 Assumptions have been made in sections 10 and 11 as follows:
1. In passing to the limit in deriving (16) it was assumed that the intrinsic charge density p at the point x, y, z, is spatially continuous in such a way that for a sufficiently small region about x, y, z the average density differs from the density at the point by an amount less than any predetermined quantity.
At any required point on the surface (Fig. 5) let us mark out an element of surface AS, and through the periphery of AS, draw lines in the direction of the electric induction. These lines bound a short tube of induction, which we shall suppose to be terminated by the surface elements ASi and A$2 parallel to AS. Let h be the distance between ASi and A$2. Over the convex surface of the tube the normal component of induction is everywhere zero, since the induction is in the direction of the convex surface. Over the ends of the tube, let the average component of induction away from AS be Dini and D2n2. Then by Gauss's Theorem
If now we allow the surface AS to shrink toward a point P on the charged surface, the average values in (24) may be replaced by their true values at the point, giving
in which Dini and D2n2 are both drawn away from the charged surface. The sum of the two normal components thus drawn is called by Abraham and Foppl1 the surface divergence of the vector D. The result (25) may be stated as follows:
density.
15. Analogous Treatment of Magnetic Field. — In a field of magnetic force, the force at any point per unit magnetic pole is called the Magnetic Intensity and is designated by H. The unit magnetic pole is a pole that will repel an equal pole at a distance of one centimeter with a force of one dyne in vacuo. The product of the magnetic intensity by the permeability of the medium at the point is called Magnetic Induction, and is designated by B.
The question whether there is or is not any intrinsic volume density of magnetism is open to disputation. It is proposed to limit the discussion in the present work to cases where this volume density is zero; so that reasoning similar to that used in the discussion of electrical quantities in the preceding paragraphs gives from the inverse square law for a uniform magnetic medium the result
16. Summary of Chapter I. — The important results obtained in the preceding chapter are contained in the following equations, which are taken with their original numerical designations:
where D and B are respectively electric and magnetic induction at any point, p is intrinsic volume density of electric charge, and o- is intrinsic surface density of electric charge at the point.
The electric intensity E can be obtained by dividing D by the dielectric constant c; the magnetic intensity H can be obtained by dividing B by the permeability /x.
The above equations are not sufficient to determine D and B.
17. Note as to Additional Requirements. — In addition to the divergence of a vector we need also its curl, which is a related vector to be later defined. These two quantities, divergence and curl, together with certain boundary conditions, are sufficient to determine a required vector.
In electrostatics, where there are assumed to be no electric currents or motions of electric charges and no variations of D and B with the time, it can be shown that the curl of D and the curl of B are both zero. It can then be shown that a scalar potential function exists, and familiar methods are at hand for completely determining D, B, E, and H in cases where proper boundary conditions are given.
When, however, we leave the field of electrostatics and enter upon the general problem, the curls of D and B are no longer zero, the scalar potential functions for these vectors have no existence, and the older theoretical investigations of Laplace and of Poisson are insufficient to describe the characteristics of the electromagnetic field.
The way to proceed under these more difficult conditions was pointed out by Maxwell in 1865-6, in a mathematical research which contained a prediction of the existence of electric waves, determined the velocity of propagation of the waves, and explained the nature of light.
18. Further Experimental Relations for the Electromagnetic Field. — In developing the theory of electric waves, we may make use of the following experimental laws :
I. THE M.M.F. EQUATION. —The work done by the magnetic field in carrying a unit magnetic pole once around a closed path, Fig. 1, linking positively with a closed circuit carrying a steady current I is
in which W is work in ergs per unit pole, and I is current in absolute c.g.s. electromagnetic units of current (absamperes).
Throughout this volume, in order to obtain symmetrical results, we shall measure all electrical quantities in absolute c.g.s. electrostatic units, and all magnetic quantities in abso- FlG- 1.— Arrows marked W
electricity in one electromagnetic unit.1
II. THE EM .F. EQUATION.— The electromotive force produced in a closed circuit, Fig. 2, by varying the flux of magnetic induction linking with it positively is
1 It is a characteristic of the Gaussian units that c always enters along with £, whether t is expressed as in (4) or implied as in (2) — implied in that the current / is quantity per unit time.
prevalent usage in electromagnetic
theory, we shall adopt as our system of rectangular axes the system shown in Fig. 3, in which z points out from the plane of the paper toward the reader, when x is to the right and y is upward in the plane of the paper. This rule merely gives the relative orientation of the axes, and it is evident that the scheme of Fig. 4 is the same system of axes.
set of axes.
20. Transformation of Magnetomotive Force Equation into a Point Relation. — Let us take any extended region (for example, the room of a building) and suppose that there are electric currents flowing in conducting masses within the room, and let the current density at any point x, y, z be u with components ux, uv, and Ui, along the three axes respectively. As a special case u may be zero at some or all points.
Let us now consider the magnetomotive force around a rectangle AyAz, Fig. 5, drawn with one corner at the point x} y, z. The component of current density at the point x, y, z perpendicular to the area A^/Az is ux. The other components of current density, those in the directions y and z} contribute nothing to the M.M.F. around the area.
Let us now get a second expression for this M.M.F., W, by estimating directly from the geometry of the problem the work done by the magnetic forces in driving a unit magnetic pole around the area A?/Az. The magnetic force on a unit pole at the point x, y, z is H, with components H*, Hy, and Hz along the three axes. The magnetic force and its components are different for different points of the region.
Since the work by a force in displacing its point of application is the magnitude of the force times the displacement in the direction of the force, we shall have for the work of carrying a
The vector equation (12) or the equivalent Cartesian equations (11) give a relation2 between the electric current density at a point (in electrostatic units) and the magnetic intensity at the same point (in electromagnetic units) derived under the limitations:
21. Transformation of the Electromotive Force Equation into a Point Relation. — We shall now transform the other fundamental equation (4) into a form analogous to (12), and obtain a second set of Maxwell's equations. We can do this by the similarity of the equations (2) and (4), without going again through the details of a demonstration like the preceding.
It is to be noted that W of (2) is a line integral of the magnetic intensity H around a closed curve. Likewise, in (4) the electromotive force V, defined as the work by the field in driving a unit charge around a closed circuit, is a line integral of the electric intensity E around the circuit. Also the magnetic induction B is related to the flux of induction <f>B in the same way that current
Surround P by a closed curve S in a plane perpendicular to N. This shows that by going through a process Similar to that employed in transforming (2), we should obtain from (4) the equations
The vector equation (16), or the equivalent Cartesian equations (15), gives a relation1 between the time derivative of the magnetic induction at a point and the electric intensity at the same point derived under the limitations:
We shall now show that the current-density equation (12) of §20 cannot be true in general ; for the reason that the divergence of any curl (e.g., div. curl A) is zero, while the divergence of u is not zero except in a special case in which the quantity of electricity flowing out of a given region in a given time is equal to the
These quantities are equal provided it is permissible to change \ ^ the order of differentiation, and this is permissible provided the second order derivatives so obtained all exist.'" The conclusion then is that the divergence of the curl of any vector A is zero, provided A is of such a character that the several second order derivatives of each of its components all exist.
24. Application of This Theorem to (12) and (16). — Taking the divergence of both sides of the current-density equation (12) and the magnetic-induction equation (16), we have, respectively
On the other hand, we shall now show that (18) div. u = 0 is sometimes true and sometimes not true; to wit, div. u = 0 is true when and where there is no changing intrinsic charge density; but div. u does not equal zero when and where there is a changing intrinsic charge density. Let us proceed to a critical examination of div. u.
25. Examination of Div. u. — If we take any small volume AT surrounding a given point P, the quantity of electricity per second flowing out of Ar is the surface integral of the outward normal component of u over the closed surface bounding Ar. This
These equations (20) and (21) express the fact that the quantity of electricity flowing out from a small region in a given time is equal to the decrease of the quantity of intrinsic electricity within the region; that is, these equations are a statement of the law of the conservation of electricity.
that is, such that there is no fluctuating accumulation of electricity. 26. Condensive and Non-condensive Flow. — If w,e have a conductor of electricity in Fig. 6, with an electric current I flowing in it, and if P is any point on or within the conductor, and if we enclose a small region around P, and if I is varying with the time, the small region around P will have a small electro-
static capacity, and will in general variously charge and discharge with the time. We may call such a flow of electricity a Condensive Flow, since there is an action similar to that of a condenser at P. If on the other hand, the current is in a steady state, there is no such fluctuation of charge at P, and the amount of electricity flowing out of the small region is at any time equal to the amount of electricity flowing in. This may be called a Non-condensive Flow.
that is, in a non-condensive flow. In such a non-condensive flow the current density u at a point P may be said to have associated with it a magnetic field of intensity H at the point, and the relation of u to H is that given above.
On the other hand, in the general case where the flow may be condensive or non-condensive, we must replace u, the ordinary intrinsic density, by some other quantity u', such that
A vector whose divergence is zero is called a solenoidal vector. Maxwell made the assumption that the appropriate solenoidal vector u' by which the non-solenoidal vector u should be replaced is
which may be called Maxwell's Generalized Current-density Equation. The addition of the first two terms is a vector addition. It is apparent that there is no mathematical inconsistency in Maxwell's method of generalizing the conception of an electric current, in respect to its effect in producing or responding to a magnetic field. Whether or not this generalized current is related to the magnetic field intensity by an equation of the form of (24) is a question for experimental determination. The experimental test has never been adequately made on the assumption directly. The validity of Maxwell's Assumption rests on his prediction from it of the existence of electric waves, and on his prediction of the electromagnetic character of light. These predictions have been amply verified.
29. At any Surface of Electric or Magnetic Discontinuity the Tangential Components of E and H are Continuous. — We need the proposition here stated, for the solution of problems pertaining to surfaces of discontinuity. It may be proved as fdllows: Referring to Fig. 7, at any surface of discontinuity in conductivity, dielectric constant or permeability, let us draw a
small elongated rectangle with its length a parallel to the surface of discontinuity, and let 6 be the width of the rectangle. Let EIT, EZT, Ez, and E± be the average values of the electric intensity along the four sides of the rectangle; and let B be the average value of magnetic induction perpendicular to the rectangle; then we have by the E.M.F. equation (3) the result
If now we assume that B and E are everywhere finite, and let b approach zero, the left-hand side of the equation approaches zero; also Esb and E*b approach zero; hence
and if we let a also approach zero, the average values of E along the sides a approach the actual values at a point on the surface; whence
from the M.M.F. equation of the form of
(2), with I replaced by a surface integral of u and with u' replacing u to give the equation generality, that the tangential component of H is everywhere continuous.
30. Summary of Chapters I and II. — The important results obtained in the preceding chapters may be summarized in the following equations (in which partial derivative with respect to time is indicated by a dot over a symbol) :
These equations will hereafter be designated by the letters ascribed after them respectively, instead of by the accidental numerical designations with which they first appeared.
In the present chapter we shall treat certain general propositions regarding the energy of the field. For this purpose we need at the outset a few theorems in vector analysis.
We may call AB the complete product of A by B. It is seen to consist of two parts, one of which, consisting of the sum of the first three terms, is scalar; and the other, consisting of the sum of three vector components, is vector. These two parts are called respectively the scalar product, to be designated by A*B (read "A dot B "), and the vector product, to be designated by AxB (read "A cross B"). Then
To find the meaning of the vector product AxB, let us designate by I, m, n the direction cosines of A, and by I', m', ri the direction cosines of B. Then the square of the magnitude of AxB is the sum of the squares of the i, j, and k components; that is
This gives the magnitude of the vector product. Let us next determine its direction. This can be done by taking the scalar product of A and AxB, which by (4) may be written
Hence by (6) the vector product AxB is perpendicular to A and to B. By the convention ij = k, etc., this perpendicular is to be drawn with respect to A and B so that a positive rotation about the product vector will turn A into the direction of B.
Hence, the vector product AxB is a vector whose magnitude is the product of the magnitudes of A and B by the sine of the angle between them, and whose direction is the positive perpendicular to the plane of A and B.
33. Energy and Radiation. — We shall now treat a very important general proposition with respect to the energy and radiation of energy in the electromagnetic field. Let us take any point x, y, z, Fig. 2, and describe at x, y, z an element of volume
Suppose that there are current density u and electric and magnetic intensities E and H at x, y, z. Let us study the energy transformations taking place in the volume Ar. The electromotive force between the two opposite Ai/Ae-faces of the volume element is the average electric intensity Ex times the distance Az. The current flowing between these faces is the average normal current-density ux times the area of one of these faces A?/Az. Whence the electrical power (energy per second)
converted into heat or other form of power by the current in the ^-direction is EJI* Az AT/ Az. Likewise, the power expended by currents in the y and z-directions is EyUyAzA^/Az and E2u*AzA2/A2 respectively.
Sin,ce e and AI are independent of the time, B = MH, D = cE and the first two terms may be written as derivatives of squares ; and the last term, when multiplied by dr becomes by (19), Chapter I, a surface integral over the surface of the volume dY; so that
In this equation (ExH)n is the outward normal component of the vector ExH, and the integration contemplated in the last term of the equation is an integration extended over the surface of the volume.
in which dP is the power, or energy per second, converted into heat or other form of energy within the element dr. This power is the sum of two terms, both with negative signs. We, therefore, naturally look to these terms as the source of supply of the power that is converted. One of the terms is a volume term and, taken with its negative sign, it may be regarded as the time rate of decrease of the magnetic and electrical energy in the element of volume, so that
The other term is a surface term, and taken with its negative sign, it is the time rate at which energy flows into the element through its surface. Then sndS is the quantity of energy per second flowing through dS in the direction of the outward normal, that is,
Poynting.1
The equation (15) for the energy density in an electromagnetic field, and the equation (16) for the flow of electromagnetic energy per second per unit cross section of the energy beam are very important quantities in the theory of electric waves.
Although we have employed in the above derivation the general case in which there is an electric current of density u at the point x, y, z, it is seen that the whole demonstration holds when u = 0.
This means that in this special case that the rate of gain of electrical and magnetic energy within the region is equal to the rate at which electromagnetic energy flows in through the surface.
WAVE EQUATIONS. PLANE WAVE SOLUTION
34. Digression to Find Curl Curl A. — In proper combinations of Maxwell's equations the work may be simplified by the use of a proposition in vector analysis concerning the curl of the curl of a vector. Let us designate the vector by A. Then let us perform elementary operations as follows:
35. Elimination Among the Electromagnetic Field Equations for a Homogeneous Isotropic Medium. — In a homogeneous medium e, M, and 7 are constants. If the medium is isotropic, these quantities are also independent of direction. Under these conditions, Maxwell's Equations (A) and (B), Art. 30 may be written
have, after dividing by i, the scalar relations
Similar expressions for the other components may be had by advancing the letters. Each component is thus obtainable in a differential equation not involving the other components, so that the problem may be completely solved in any cases in which the differential equation of the type of (12) or (13) can be solved. We shall not at present enter into the discussion of the general equations but shall consider certain important special cases.
36. Special Case in Which the Homogeneous Medium is an Insulating Medium Uncharged. — In this case the conductivity 7 is zero and the intrinsic charge density p is also zero, so that each component of electric and magnetic intensity Ex, Ey, Ez, Hx, Hy, Hz satisfies an equation of the form
where M is a generic expression for either of the components of electric or magnetic intensity. This equation. is of a type known in elasticity theory as the wave equations.
37. Special Case of a Plane Wave in an Insulating Homogeneous Uncharged Medium. — The equation (14) applies to this case, but this equation is to be still further specialized by making M a function of s and t alone,
Equation (16) is the equation of all points x, y, z on a plane PQ (Fig. 1) perpendicular to s at its end; so that s is the perpendicular distance from the origin 0 to the plane.
For a fixed value of s, and at a fixed time, the value of M (15) is the same at all points of the plane. M is a generic symbol for each component of electric or magnetic intensity, so that each of these intensities is the same all over the plane s at a given time. As the time changes, these values of intensity in the plane change but remain of uniform value over the plane.
If on the other hand, the time is considered fixed, and different values are given to s, each of the different values of s will represent a different one of a series of parallel planes perpendicular to s, and over each of these different planes the intensity will be uniform but different from plane to plane.
Each component of electric and magnetic intensity in the plane field satisfies an equation of the form of (19). This equation, for reasons that we shall soon see, is called the Plane-wave Equation.
38. Classification of Solutions of the Plane-wave Equation. Let us now undertake a solution of the plane-wave equation (19), in which M is a generic symbol for any of the electric or magnetic intensities.
quantities enter into consideration.
40. Solutions of Class II. — Returning now to the plane-wave equation (19), let us seek for solutions of Class II; that is, for solutions that do not reduce the two sides of the equation to zero.
where G is a symbol for " function," and let us take the second derivatives of G with respect to s and t. For this purpose, let us designate the first and second derivatives of G with respect to its argument (s -f at) by G' and G" respectively. Then
where F and G are any functions of their respective arguments. Now since equation (19) is linear and homogeneous, the sum of the several solutions is a solution; that is
both sides to zero, and the terms F and G being two arbitrary functions include all other solutions of the second-order partial differential equation with two independent variables.
If we omit the P solution, which as we have shown in Art. 39, is of no importance where only fluctuating intensities enter into consideration, we shall have only the F and G solutions of (27).
41. Examination of the Plane -wave Solution. Velocity. — In equation (27) is given the complete solution of the planewave equation (19). In this solution M is any one of the components of electric or magnetic intensity. The functions F and G may be different for the different components, but the arguments of these two functions remain always the same two arguments.
The several functions are interrelated by Maxwell's equations and are further delimited by the boundary conditions at the source of the disturbance and at any surfaces of discontinuity that exist between different media.
Without at present entering into these interrelations and limitations, we can discover certain interesting properties of the field by examining the general solution (27). We can, for example, obtain the result that the F and G parts of the field are disturbances that move with a finite velocity, and we can determine the velocity as follows :
Let us confine our attention at first to the function F, and write
We see that, whatever value M may happen to have all over the plane at the distance Si from the origin at the time t\, it will have the same value all over the plane s% at the time tz, provided
From the above discussion it appears that if we have an electromagnetic field in which all of the components of electric and magnetic intensity are functions of s and t alone, where s is the perpendicular distance from an arbitrary origin, and if the intensities are supposed to remain everywhere and at all times finite, and if there are no constant components of intensity, the quantity P becomes 0, and each component of intensity consists in general of two superposed disturbances, or waves, moving in opposite directions along the axis of s with the velocity given in (29).
The form of the functions F and G will depend upon the manner of the origination of the disturbance and upon the conditions at certain surfaces of discontinuity bounding the homogeneous region under consideration. In particular cases one of the functions G, say, may be everywhere zero, and the whole field will move forward in one direction with the velocity v. In other particular cases, as when we have a reflection of waves, both the forward-moving wave and the backward-moving wave will coexist and give an interference system. The importance of having the two functions in the solution is precisely this — that it enables us to give a description of the phenomena of reflection when they occur.
42. Velocity in Free Space Equals the Ratio of Units, Equals the Velocity of Light. — In space devoid of all matter, e = /* = 1 ; therefore, the velocity (29) becomes in empty space
The prediction that electric waves in free space should have the value here given was made by Maxwell in his original writings on the electromagnetic theory of light. Before that time it was known from experiments that c, the ratio of the units, was approximately the velocity of light. Maxwell himself made some of the measurements of the ratio of the units. Later experimental determinations of these quantities are given in the following table.
Average . . . 2 . 9984
44. Refractive Index for Electric Waves. — To get the index of refraction for electric waves of any insulating medium of dielectric constant e and permeability AJ, it is only necessary to note that the velocity in this medium is
It is to be noted that the derivation of this equation assumes that the medium is non-conductive and that there are no motions of charged particles within the medium; for such a motion constitutes a current, and all such currents have been excluded from the special problem of the insulating medium.
45. The Plane Electric Wave in a Non-crystalline Homogeneous Dielectric is a Transverse Wave, with its Electric and Magnetic Intensities Perpendicular to the Direction of Propagation and Perpendicular to Each Other. — Proof: Each component of electric intensity of the wave moving in direction of positive s is a function of s — vt, and therefore of t —s/v, where
Let us now recall that Z, m, and n are the direction-cosines of s] that is, I, m, and n are the components along the axes of x, y, and z of a unit vector Us along s; whence by (5), Art. 31, equations (32) may be combined into the vector equation
This equation (33) gives the magnetic intensity H in magnitude and direction in terms of the electric intensity E for the case of a plane wave traveling in the direction s (or U«) in a homogeneous insulating medium.
In direction H is 1 to E and 1 to s.
To prove completely the proposition enunciated in the heading of this section, it remains to prove E also perpendicular to s. This can be done by starting with Hx, Hv, and Hz as functions of (t — s/v). The equations will be similar to (31) but with different functions. Then applying Maxwell's equations (A), Art. 30, of the type
This equation agrees with (33) and shows in addition that E is _J_ to U«. The conclusion from (33) and (35) is then that E, H, and Us are mutually perpendicular and are oriented with respect to one another in the same way as the axes x, y} z, in Fig. 3, Art. 19.
It is seen, however, that if we reverse the direction of one of the quantities E, H, s, we must reverse one other of them but not both, since any one of the vector quantities has as a factor the vector product of the other two.
46. The Instantaneous Electric Energy per Unit Volume is Equal to the Instantaneous Magnetic Energy per Unit Volume of a Single Plane Wave. — This proposition follows at once, by
This equation, as well as (34) from which it is derived, holds true when there is a single plane wave moving in* one direction. It does not hold when there exists an interference system, as will be shown below.
47. Harmonic Solution for a Plane Wave, Plane Polarized, in a Homogeneous Insulator. — Up to the present we have treated the problem of the plane wave by means of general functions, and we have shown that the electric and magnetic intensities and the direction of propagation are mutually perpendicular.
Let us assume that the wave is plane polarized. This means that the direction of the electric and magnetic intensities do not change. We may choose the axes so that E is along the z-axis, and H is along the 2/-axis, then the direction of propagation will be the direction of the 2-axis ; and we may write
WAVE EQUATIONS
It is now proposed to limit the problem by assuming that the electric intensity Ex is a harmonic function of the time. By (37) it will then be a harmonic function of (t — z/v), and may be writtten
Equations (40) and (41) give the electric and magnetic intensities of a harmonic wave moving in the ^-direction. It is seen that in such a wave the electric and magnetic intensities are in phase in time and space. At a given time the distribution of intensities for different values of z are given in Fig. 2; where,
As we have shown in the examination of the general functions of (t — s/v), the whole diagrams of Fig. 2, except the axial line oz, are supposed to move forward in the ^-direction with the velocity v.
If the observation is made at a fixed point on the axis, z = constant, the vectors of electric and magnetic intensity will fluctuate sinusoidally with the time.
The plane of the wave is a plane perpendicular to oz and any such plane has all over it a uniform value of electric intensity, and of magnetic intensity, at a given time.
CONDUCTOR
In the present chapter we shall treat the reflection of a plane electric wave from the surface of a perfect conductor. In Arts. 48 and 49 the wave will be considered to be harmonic and to be incident normally. In Arts. 50 and 51 the more general case will be considered, in which the incidence is oblique and the wave not limited to the harmonic form.
on a perfectly conductive surface M .
48. Reflection of a Harmonic Plane -polarized Plane Wave from a Perfectly Conductive Plane at Normal Incidence. — Let M, Fig. 1, be a perfect conductor with a plane surface in the #2/-plane through the origin of coordinates. Let a plane-polarized wave coming from the left of the surface in a dielectric medium of dielectric constant e and permeability ju be incident normally upon the surface, and let us choose the axes so that the ic-axis is in the direction of the electric intensity, and the 2/-axis in the direction of the magnetic intensity.
The characteristic of a perfect conductor is that the electric intensity within the conductor is zero. In the medium in contact with the conductor the tangential component of electric intensity is continuous with its value within the conductor, and therefore zero at all times.
We have assumed the incident wave harmonic, but a single harmonic value for Ex, such as is given in (40), Art. 47, does not possess the property of being zero at z = 0, and is therefore insufficient to represent the system of waves in the present problem. By our general solution (27), Art. 40, we may add to the wave traveling in the ^-direction another wave traveling in the opposite direction, and with proper choice of intensities, phases, etc., it is possible to make the direct and the reflected waves annul each other as to electric intensity at the surface of the conductor. Since the incident wave is harmonic, the reflected wave to annul it must be also harmonic and of the same frequency and same phase angle. By proper choice of the origin of time we may make this phase angle <£ = 0, and write the solution
The second term has its direction of propagation and also its intensity reversed with respect to the first term; whence, by Art. 45, Chapter IV, it is seen that the corresponding amplitude of H for the second term will have the same direction as the amplitude of H for the first term, and by (32), Art. 45, we shall have
This equation for Hv may, if desired, be independently derived by substituting the value (2) for Ex, with Ey and Ez equal zero, into Maxwell's Equation (B), Art. 30.
Equations (2) and (3) show that the magnetic intensity Hv is made up of two harmonic wave-trains traveling in opposite directions, having equal amplitudes, and having the reflected magnetic intensity in phase with the incident magnetic intensity; while the electric intensity Ex consists also of a direct and a
intensity is opposite in phase to the incident electric intensity.
Let us now put equations (2) and (3) into a better form for their interpretation. Expanding the sine terms by the trigonometric formulas for the sine of a sum or a difference, we obtain
sities are at right angles to each other.
The equations (4) and (5) are thus seen to be the equations to two stationary wave systems. There are certain points in space where the electric intensity is always zero and certain other points where the magnetic intensity is always zero. These positions of constant zero-intensity are called nodes. Between the electric nodes and between the magnetic nodes there are points of maximum fluctuation of intensity, which are called loops.
Whereas, in the single free train of waves the electric and magnetic intensities are exactly in phase in time and space; in the interference system, or stationary system, the electric and magnetic intensities are 90° out of phase in time and space.
The wavelength in the incident wave by (42), Art. 47, is X = 2irv/w. The positions of the nodes in the stationary system are seen to be at the following values of z:
Loops exist halfway between these respective nodes.
It is seen that the distance between consecutive electric nodes or consecutive magnetic nodes is half the wavelength of the incident wave. The distance between consecutive electric loops or consecutive magnetic loops is the same distance.
Since the reflected intensities are equal to the incident intensities in amplitude, the perfectly conductive surface is a perfect reflector for electromagnetic waves.
50. Reflection of a Plane Wave from a Perfectly Conductive Plane at Arbitrary Incidence. — Let the conductive plane, which we shall call the mirror, pass through the origin of coordinates and be perpendicular to the #-axis. Suppose a plane direct wave to be traveling in a medium of dielectric constant e and permeability /*, and in the direction of a line s with direction cosines I, m, n. Then any point x, y, z on the incident wave front W, Fig. 2, will satisfy the equation
It is apparent that this direct wave alone is not sufficient, for the reason that the tangential components of electric force must be at all times zero at the mirror, and the values of (9) do not satisfy this condition. It is, therefore, necessary to suppose a reflected wave also to exist and to be superposed upon the direct wave.
We shall assume the reflected wave to be also a plane wave and to be traveling in some unknown direction along a line «i, with direction cosines l\t mi, n\t and shall show that with proper choice of Si and with proper intensities in the reflected wave, the proper boundary conditions are satisfied.
Now by the conditions at the mirror, when we put x = 0, the total tangential electric force must be zero; that is, the sum of the direct and the reflected Ey and Ez values must be zero; hence
where in these -equations y0 and z0 are coordinates of any point in the surface of the mirror. To make (15) true for all such points and for all values of -t, we must have for the operators g and gi, h and hi, the relations
Let us determine the other direction cosine Zi. By the fact that the sum of the squares of the direction cosines of a given line is unity, l\ is equal to plus or minus 1} but if it were plus I, then Si would be identical with s for any given point x, y, z and the total y and ^-components of E would by (16) be zero everywhere at all times, and our incident wave would have only an
z-component and would be traveling parallel to the mirror. This case is of no interest, as the problem is then, so far as concerns the dielectric medium, the same as that with the mirror absent. Excluding this case, equivalent to no mirror present, we have in all other cases
The equations (17) and (18) show that the electric radiation obeys the ordinary law of reflection of light; namely, the reflected ray is in the same plane with the incident ray and the normal to the mirror at the point of incidence, and the angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence. (Proof follows.)
This is seen by reference to Fig. 2. The angle of incidence 9 = cos"1 Z. The angle of reflection 9' = the supplement of cos"1 li — 0. The equality of mi to ra and of n\ to n, makes the incident and reflected beam in the same plane perpendicular to the mirror.
Returning now to the question of electric and magnetic intensities, we have found the form of g± and hi in terms of g and h. It remains to find the form of /i. This can be done by employing the fact that the electric intensity is in the wave front in both the direct and reflected waves; that is, the components in the directions s and «i are respectively zero. This means that
51. Intensities in Direct Wave and Reflected Wave, and Total Intensities at the Mirror. — Summarizing the results, we have for the intensities of the direct and reflected waves and for the total intensities at the mirror the following equations:
It is seen that the effect on the plane wave of the plane perfectly conductive mirror is to double the normal electric intensity at the mirror and annihilate the tangential electric intensities; also to annihilate the normal magnetic intensities and double the tangential magnetic intensities at the mirror.
In the space at any distance from the surface of the mirror the equations (22) and (23) permit the complete computation of the reflected wave in terms of the direct electric intensities where these are known.
VITREOUS REFLECTION AND REFRACTION
62. Reflection and Refraction of a Plane Electric Wave by a Homogeneous Insulator. — Suppose a plane electric wave in an insulating medium of inductivity ei, and permeability MI to be incident upon the plane surface of a second insulating medium of inductivity €2 and permeability /Z2.
Let the surface between the two media be through the origin of coordinates and perpendicular to the x-axis, as in Fig. 1. Let us assume that the direct wave is traveling in the direction of Si with direction cosines Zi, mi, and n\\ and that there is a refracted wave traveling in the second medium in some direction s2 (direction cosines Z2, ^2, n2), and also a reflected wave in the first medium traveling in some direction s3 (cosines 1$, Ws, nz) in the first medium is
In addition to the above equations we have by equation (26), Chapter I, the condition that at the boundary between the two media the normal component of electric induction is continuous, since there is no intrinsic surface charge, and this gives
Now it is to be noted that l\ is the cosine of the angle of incidence of the ray = cos 61 ; lz is the cosine of the angle of refraction = cos 02,* and Is is the cosine of the supplement of the angle of reflection = — cos 03; whence
sin e2 Vz
Equation (14) shows that the angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence. Equation (15) shows that the ratio of the sine of the angle of incidence to the sine of the angle of refraction is the ratio of the velocity in the incident medium to the velocity in the refracting medium.
These are the ordinary laws of reflection and refraction. To make these laws complete we need also to show that the incident ray, the refracted ray, the reflected ray and the normal to the surface are in the same plane. This can be seen to be true by noticing that the y and z axes have not yet been chosen. If we make the 2-axis perpendicular to the incident ray, n\ will be zero; and by (10) HZ and ns are also zero, so that all three of the rays are perpendicular to the z-axis, and are, therefore, in the same plane, which plane also contains x, since it is a concurrent perpendicular to z.
In order next to determine the coefficient of reflection of the surface between the media, let us keep the orientation of axis above suggested. Then the three rays are in the rri/-plane, as shown in Fig. 2. Let us compare the energy incident per second upon any area dS with the energy transmitted through dS per
Substituting the values of the dA's from (16) and the values of of the various H's in terms of their E's from (7), we have for the energy per second at dS on the surface between the media, the values
and by the law of the conservation of energy, from (18), (19) and (20), by equating incident energy to reflected plus refracted energy and dividing out a common factor
electric vector in the plane of the incident wave.
It is proposed now to determine the coefficient of reflection in terms of the index of refraction and angle of incidence alone, for two principal directions of polarization of the electric wave. This is done in Art. 53 for E perpendicular to the plane of incidence, and Art. 54 for E parallel to the plane of incidence.
53. Determination of Coefficient of Reflection when E is Perpendicular to the Plane of Incidence. — In this case, since the plane of incidence is the xy-pl&ne, we have the E entirely in the ^-direction; that is,
sin2 61
Equation (28) gives the coefficient of reflection r in case the electric force in the incident wave is perpendicular to the plane of incidence. In this equation ni and nz are indices of refraction of incident and refractive media respectively and are not to be confused with direction cosines.
54. Determination of the Coefficient of Reflection when E is in the Plane of Incidence. — In this case Ez = 0, Fig. 4, and we have for the total electric intensity in each ray
The condition of continuity of the tangential component of magnetic intensity at the reflecting surface gives, since the whole magnetic intensity is tangential, the boundary condition
Expressing now the coefficient of reflection in terms of #i0, #20, and #30, by replacing the E's in (21) and (22) by equivalent values in terms of the #'s taken from equations (6), we have
Equation (33) gives the coefficient of reflection r in case the electric force in the incident wave is parallel to the plane of incidence. In this equation n\ and n% are indices of refraction of incident and refractive media respectively.
Equations (36) and (37) are known as Fresnel's equations. In these equations r is the ratio obtained by dividing energy per second leaving reflecting surface in reflected beam by energy per second incident on same surface.
Equation (36) is for a plane incident wave with the electric force perpendicular to the plane of incidence. In optics such a wave is said to be polarized in the plane of incidence.
Equation (37) is for a plane incident wave with the electric force parallel to the plane of incidence. Such a wave is said to be polarized perpendicular to the plane of incidence.
MEDIUM1
56. Wave Equations in a Homogeneous Imperfect Conductor.— It has been shown in Art 35, Chapter IV, that in a homogeneous medium of conductivity 7, permeability M> and dielectric constant e, the magnetic and electric intensities satisfy the equations
57. Relaxation Time. — A question now arises as to the value of the intrinsic volume density p in such a medium. We can determine this matter by taking the divergence of equation (8) , Art. 35, remembering that the divergence of a curl is zero; we have
the time. The process is called relaxation, and the time for p to fall to one eth of its value is r, given by (5), and called the relaxation time of the material. The relaxation time for any good conductor is so short that it has never been experimentally determined for any metal. Its determination for so poor a conductor as pure water is a matter of extreme difficulty.
58. Steady-state Plane Wave Equation. — Equation (4) shows that after the lapse of a sufficient time, usually very brief, the value of p in any conductor is substantially zero, and we may omit the p term from (2) .
Having thus simplified the equation (2), let us next restrict the wave field to a plane- wave field. Then E and H will be functions of t and s alone, where s is the perpendicular distance from the origin of coordinates to a plane over which the field is constant at a given time. Then if Z, m, and n are the direction cosines of s,
59. Limitation to Solution Harmonic in Time. — Each component of electric intensity and each component of magnetic intensity must satisfy an equation of the form of (8). Let M be the generic designation for Ex, Ey, Ez, Hx, Hv, Hz, then
This equation is a form of equation that plays a fundamental role in telegraphy and telephony and is known as the telegraph equation, which has been the subject of much theoretical and practical investigation.
Since F" is a complete derivative, (11) is an ordinary differential equation of the second order with constant coefficients, and its solution may be written in the form
This compared with (17) gives, by addition and subtraction and by omitting signs inconsistent with the condition that x and n shall be real and x shall be positive, the result
where a is an arbitrary constant and is in general a complex quantity. The real part of (23) is also a solution of the given differential equation, and may be written in the form
where A and <£ are both arbitrary constants. A solution of the form of (24) is the most general harmonic solution of angular velocity w of the given differential equation (9) ; for the assumption that the solution is a harmonic function of the time with angular velocity o> reduces the equation to the form of (11), which is an ordinary differential equation of the second order, so that any solution that contains two arbitrary constants, is the general solution.
61. Extinction Coefficient, Velocity, and Index of Refraction. Each component of electric and magnetic intensity in a harmonic wave in a homogeneous conductive medium satisfies an equation of the form of (24) — with, however, in general a different value of A and <f> for each component.
It is seen that the intensities are attenuated as the wave penetrates deeper and deeper into the conductor, and that the attenuation is determined by the factor
is called the Extinction Coefficient of the medium for the given frequency of oscillation. The exponential term is expressed in the rather complicated form here given, so that x shall be a quantity symmetrical in form with n.
Returning now to (24), let us see next the significance of n. Apart from the attenuation factor, M is seen to be a function of t — s/(c/ri)\ therefore, the velocity of propagation of a given phase of the wave is
63. Special Case of Large Conductivity. — If, on the other hand, the conductivity is so large in comparison with the dielectric constant that e is negligible in comparison with 47 T,
oscillation.
64. Relation of H to E. — Each component of E can be expressed in the form of (23), where only the real part is to be taken. The y and 2-components are
The factor ar***1 indicates that the real part of (37) may be obtained by taking the real parts of Eg and Ey and retarding their phase angles by tan"1^) . If we indicate such a retarda-
65. Poynting's Vector. Transmission and Absorption of Energy. — We shall next determine the amount of energy flowing per unit cross section per second in the direction of s. The general form of Poynting's vector is
per second per unit area within the conductor.
It is easy to obtain from this expression (42) the average rate at which energy is absorbed in the conductor. The absorbed energy per unit volume per second indicated by P is the decrease of s per unit distance,
Equation (43) gives the average power transmitted per unit area and equation (44) gives the average power absorbed per unit volume. 66. The Reflection of a Harmonic Plane Polarized Wave from a Plane Imperfectly Conductive Surface at Normal Incidence. In Chapter V the reflection from a perfect conductor has been considered. It is proposed to investigate now the reflection at normal incidence of a plane harmonic wave from a surface of a
Let the surface of the conductor be through the origin of coordinates and in the ^-plane, Fig. 1, and let the x-axis be in the direction of the electric intensity. Let a plane electric wave traveling in a vacuum in the 2-direction fall upon the conduc-
If now we consider a unit area of the reflecting surface of the conductor, the law of the conservation of energy, which applies to the instantaneous values and, therefore, .to the time averages, gives
The coefficient of reflection r is defined as the numerical ratio of the average energy reflected per second to the average energy incident per second; therefore,
For the purpose of determining r numerically, we need next the fact that the tangential components of E and H are continuous at the surface between the media. This gives
Equation (61) gives the coefficient of reflection r at normal incidence of a harmonic electric wave of period T from the plane surface of a homogeneous body of conductivity 7, dielectric constant e, and permeability p. in contact with a vacuum.
67. Special Case for Conductivity Zero. — The equation (61) is true in general for normal incidence whatever the value of the conductivity. If 7 = 0, x — 0, and with n = 1, this reduces to
This law has been tested for the reflection of long heat waves from metals in some experiments by Hagen and Rubens1 and has been found to agree with the facts within the limits of the errors of measurement for the metals tested, except bismuth.
This angle fa is the angle of advance of phase of the electric or magnetic intensity of the reflected beam over the incident beam, by reflection at normal incidence.
ELECTRIC WAVES DUE TO AN OSCILLATING DOUBLET
70. Doublet Consisting of an Electron Oscillating in a Positive Atom. — One conception of an oscillating doublet based on the Thomson Atom1 is illustrated in Fig. 1. This system is supposed to consist of a large positively charged and practically immovable positive sphere of uniform charge density, within which a small negatively charged body (an electron) is oscillating about its position of equilibrium at the center of the sphere. Let the distance of the electron from the center of the atom be p. Let the charge of the electron be — e, and the charge of the positive sphere be +e. If every element of the sphere attracts the electron with a force inversely proportional to the distance from the element to FIG. l. — A doublet the electron, the total force on the electron eiTtlo^8^ c^pabte1 of will be proportional to the distance p and oscillating within a uniproportional to e2, and will be in the line £™£ charged solid joining the electron with the center of the sphere; that is,
In modern electron theory the mass m and therefore the quantity M in this expression for the kinetic energy is a constant only provided the velocity of the electron is small in comparison with the velocity of light. We shall need this assumption later for other reasons. The total energy of the system is
71. Alternative Conception of Doublet Leading to Equivalent Results. — An alternative type of oscillator leading to the same form of energy equation is illustrated in Fig. 2. Two bodies A and B of large mutual capacity are connected by a short wire of zero resistance, and electric currents are supposed to flow between A. and B giving them at any time equal and opposite charges q. The capacities of the bodies A and B are supposed to be so large that the capacity of the connecting wire may be neglected. Then the same current i will flow throughout the length of the connecting wire, and i = q. If C is the mutual capacity of A and B, the static energy of the system will be
In this alternative type of doublet, the distance between A and B must be small in comparison with the wavelength of the free oscillation of the system, so that the distributed capacity in the lead wire L may be neglected.
The oscillation in either case would go on undiminished with constant amplitude and frequency, if the system did not radiate or receive any energy. We shall next show how to calculate the energy radiated as electromagnetic waves from an oscillator of these types. But we shall arrive at the result only by an indirect and somewhat tedious process.
73. Treatment of a Polarized Spherical Wave. — In this we shall follow the method of Hertz.1 Without at present entering into a consideration of the source of the waves, let us consider an electromagnetic field in which the component of magnetic intensity in the ^-direction is zero; that is
We shall assume that the medium is homogeneous'everywhere except near the origin of coordinates, where there will be located an oscillator of, as yet, an undefined character.
Equations (15) and (17) show that, without any assumption other than that p = Hz = ux = uy = 0, we have been able to express all of the components of electric and magnetic intensity in terms of the derivatives of F, which is a scalar function of x, y, z, and t\ so far as we have seen up to the present F may be any such function.
which integrated with respect to y gives
In performing this integration we have neglected the arbitrary functions independent of y, which the integration gives as additive terms to v(18).! These may be added ad lib., and when added give an equation for F less restrictive than (18). If we restrict F to (18) we shall have it at least sufficiently restricted.
We may say then that given any scalar function F satisfying equation (18), and performing on it the operations indicated in (15) and (17), we shall obtain for points outside of the region of intrinsic charge a set of possible values of electric and magnetic intensities that will make Hz = ux — uy = 0.
Let us confine our attention to the value of F given by the first of these terms, the /-term, which is a spherical wave of F traveling in the positive direction of r with the velocity v.
Equations (24) and (25) give the values of the electric and magnetic intensities at the point x, y, z in terms of the coordinates of the point and in terms of f and its time derivatives.
Whence H is perpendicular to r in Fig. 3, and (since Hz = 0) toz. Hence H is tangent to the sphere and also tangent to the sectional circle normal to the z-axis.
Equations (31), (32), and (33) give the values of the components of H and E along the spherical coordinates. It is seen that H is in the direction of the parallels of latitude, and that E has a component in the direction of the radius r, and another component in the direction of the meridianal line.
Let us now investigate the electric and magnetic field in the neighborhood of the origin, in order to determine the character of the oscillator that could give rise to the field under consideration.
74. Proof that the Field Here Given is the Field Due to a Doublet at r = 0. — In the equations for the components of H and E, let us investigate the field at distances r from the origin, and suppose that r is so small that
where the symbol < < means "is negligible in comparison with." . The meaning of this assumption becomes clear when we consider / to be a periodic function of the time with angular velocity co; then the amplitude of / is co times the amplitude of /. Thus (34) becomes
We shall now show that this is the potential due to a doublet at the origin with the moment e/, provided the square of the length of the doublet is negligible in comparison with 4r2.
In Fig. 4 suppose two charges e and — e separated by a distance p, lying along the direction of the z-axis, and suppose that the point P is distant r from the origin of coordinates midway between the charges, then the electrostatic potential at P is e e
Comparing (37) with (39) it is seen that if € = 1, the potential^ of the electromagnetic field at points near the origin of coordinates is the potential of a doublet ^ of moment (cf. (2))
magnetic field at points near the oscillator.
The conclusion is that the electromagnetic field given by the dynamic equations (24) and (25), or the alternative polar expressions (31), (32) and (33), satisfies the boundary condition imposed by a doublet of moment e/at the origin; but this doublet must be so short that the square of its length
This means in the case of a doublet of the type described in Art. 70 that the velocity of the moving electron must be not greater than 1/3000 of the velocity of light. In the alternative type of doublet described in Art. 71 the length between the capacities A and B, Fig. 25, must be not greater than 1/3000 of the radiated wavelength.
The electric and magnetic intensities, when the dielectric surrounding the oscillator is air, are equal to each other, and inversely proportional to the distance from the oscillator when this distance is large. The two intensities are directly proportional to the sine of the angle between the direction of the oscillator and the direction of the radius to the point under consideration. The electric intensity is in the direction of the meridional lines from the pole to the equator. The magnetic intensity is in the direction of the parallels of latitude.
76. Power Radiated through a Large Sphere. — If we consider a large sphere with the oscillator as center, we can apply Poynting's Theorem and obtain the power radiated through any surface element of the sphere or through the whole sphere.
Equation (47) gives the total power (energy per second) passing through any distant sphere with the oscillator as center, and with an infinite medium of dielectric constant e.
77. Power Radiated by a Sinusoidal Oscillator in Air or Vacuum. — Let us next take the special case, in which the medium has unity dielectric constant and where the / of the dynamic electromagnetic field is assumed sinusoidal in the form
Equation (53) gives the radiation resistance of an oscillating doublet whose length I (or, as we have previously called it, p) is negligible in comparison with the wavelength X of the radiated wave.
The application of this formula to a radiotelegraphic antenna, as has been made by Riidenberg,1 is without theoretical justification, except in a very special case.
CHARACTERISTICS OF AN ANTENNA1
79. Introduction. — For the proper design of a radiotelegraphic transmitting station it is important to know the radiation characteristics of different types of antenna.
For example, if a flat-top antenna is to be employed, the question arises as to what is the best relation of the length of the horizontal part to the length of the vertical part, when the excitation is to be produced by a given type of generator. It may be known in a general way that the greater the vertical length, the^reater the radiation resistance; it may also be known that the greater the horizontal length of the flat-top the greater the capacity of the antenna will be, and the greater will be the amount of current that can be made to flow from certain types of generator. Now these two quantities, radiation resistance and applied current, are both factors in determining the output from the antenna.
For a given generator, with known characteristics, the problem of getting the greatest output of high-frequency energy is a problem in the determination of the maximum value of the product of current square and radiation resistance of the antenna.
But this is not the whole problem, for there comes also into consideration the question as to how much of the radiated energy is radiated by the horizontal flat-top in what may be a useless direction.
Again, of the energy radiated from the vertical part of the antenna, how much of it contributes to the electric and magnetic forces on the horizon, where the receiving station is situated ?
1 This chapter was originally published by the author in the Proceedings of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Vol. 52, pp. 192-252, 1916. Certain errors in the original publication are here corrected.
even when inductance is added at the base of the antenna for providing coupling or for increasing the wavelength to adapt it to the generator. These quantities 'should be known theoretically, since the ordinary measurements of these quantities do not permit us to distinguish radiation that is useful from the useless radiation as heat losses and from the radiation in useless directions.
It is the purpose of this chapter to give a treatment of this problem. Such a treatment is, so far as I know, up to the present entirely lacking, but the method here employed is that developed by Abraham1 in a very remarkable paper entitled Funkentelegraphie und Elektrodynamik. In that paper, Abraham obtained theoretically the characteristics of a straight oscillator vibrating with its natural fundamental and harmonic frequencies. The present work is an extension of Abraham's method to the much more difficult problem of an antenna with a flat-top and with added inductance at the base.
80. Inadequacy of the Conception of an Antenna as a Doublet. — Apart from the brilliant investigation by Abraham, all other attempts at the treatment of the radiation from an antenna assume that the antenna is a Hertzian Doublet.2 This is only a very crude approximation to the facts, for the derivation of the electromagnetic field about a doublet assumes that the length of the doublet is negligible in comparison with a quantity that is itself negligible in comparison with the wavelength.
Hence, the doublet theory will apply in all of its essentials to an antenna, only provided the length of the antenna is not greater than one three thousandth of the wavelength emitted (see Art. 74). Of course, it may be that at great distances from the oscillator, the theory that it is a doublet may not introduce any large errors into certain problems such as the propagation over the surface of the earth; but the present treatment shows that the doublet theory does introduce large errors into computations of such quantities as the electric and magnetic field intensities and the radiation resistance of an antenna. It seems probable that other problems also should be revised in such a way as to replace the conception of the antenna as a doublet by the view of it as an oscillator that has a length comparable with one quarter of the wavelength.
point of the antenna. This is the device used by Abraham. These elementary doublets are free from the objection regarding their lengths, as they are of infinitesimal lengths, while the wavelength is that due to the whole antenna and therefore is enormously large in comparison with the lengths of the elemental doublets. The electric and magnetic forces due to each of the doublets is determined at a distant point and is summed up for all of the doublets of the antenna, with strict regard to the difference of phase due to the different locations of the different doublets. Such a process performed for all points of a distant sphere surrounding the antenna gives the total electric and magnetic forces at all points on the sphere. Then by integrating Poynting' s Vector over the entire sphere, we obtain the total power radiated, and from this we compute the radiation resistance and other characteristics of the antenna.
The effect due to the vertical portion of the antenna and to the horizontal flat-top portion are computed separately, so as to give information as to how much energy is radiated with its electric force perpendicular to the horizon and how much parallel to the horizon.
In deciding as to the proper distribution of the elemental doublets along the antenna, the form of the current curve from point to point of the antenna is assumed independently. This process is not entirely above reproach, because Maxwell's equations, if they could be properly applied to the problem, would themselves give the distribution that is consistent with the applied electromotive force at the base of the antenna and with the shape and form of the antenna. This step of accurately deriving the distribution is, however, at the present time not possible of mathematical execution.
The distribution here assumed for the current in the antenna, 4s a function of the time and of the position along the antenna, and is given in the next section.
82. Assumed Current Distribution. — The form of antenna to which the whole discussion is devoted is illustrated in Fig. 1, and consists of a vertical portion of length a and a horizontal flat-top portion of length b. These quantities a and 6 may have any relative values whatever.
X0 = natural wavelength of the antenna without inductance, X = the wavelength with the inductance, i = the current at the point P',
In the case with added inductance, \ ^ X0, and we must keep the general form of J given in equation (3) . This equation for positive values of I gives the upper half of the diagram (b). When I is supposed negative the curves obtained continue along the dotted lines of (b) and do not give a figure symmetrical with the upper half. To produce proper symmetry the absolute value of I must be employed in equation (-1) when it is applied to the distribution of the image to take account of reflection.
The discussion will now be divided into several Parts: Part I. Electromagnetic Field Due to Vertical Portion of the Antenna; Part II. Field Due to Horizontal Portion of the Antenna; Part III., The Mutual Term in Power Determination. Part IV. Computations of Radiation Resistance. Part V. Field Intensities and Summary.
FIELD DUE TO VERTICAL PORTION OF ANTENNA
83. Coordinates.— Let the origin of coordinates be at the point of connection of the antenna to the ground. Let the 2-axis be vertical. About this vertical, axis as polar diameter, let us construct a system of spherical coordinates in which the position of any point P is given by its distance r0 from the origin, and the , angles 6 and <£.
angles indicated is given in Fig. 3. ,
If z' is the vertical ordinate of any point P' on the vertical portion of the antenna, and r the distance from P' to P, and if the distance OP is large in comparison with z', we mav write (see Fig. 4)
'84. Field Due to a Doublet at P'.— At a distant point P the electric and magnetic intensities due to a- doublet of length dz'and charges e and — e at P' is, by Hertz's theory, given in Art. 75,
antenna.
Also the r which should occur in the denominator of (10) has been replaced by r0, which can be done without appreciable error for large values of r. The same substitution cannot be made in the argument of / in (10), for there r determines the phase of the oscillation, and this phase changes through an angle of TT for a half wavelength, independent of the distance from the origin.
85. Expression of the Field in Terms of Current. — . . e We shall next express the moment of the doublet and the intensities of the field in terms of the current i at e the point z'. To do this we shall think of the current as delivering a charge -\- e to one end of the element of length dz' and a charge — e to the other end of dz' in a certain time. A neighboring doublet has a different current and delivers different charges + e\ and — e\ partly counteracting the charges of the given doublet, _ and leaving just the charge e — e\ that actually occurs
By integrating this expression from z1 = 0 to zf = a, we obtain the electric and magnetic intensities at the point P due to direct transmission from the vertical portion of the antenna. Indicating this integration, we have
By reflection from the earth, which we shall regard as a perfect reflector, we have intensities that must be added to the above. These intensities may be obtained by considering the radiation to come from an image point at a distance z' below the surface. The effect of this is obtained by changing the sign of the z' in the cosine term of equation (14), but as was pointed out in Art. 82 the sign of zr in the sine term must remain. We obtain thus for the intensities due to the reflected wave emitted by the vertical portion of the antenna the value
86. Total Power Radiated from the Vertical Part of the Antenna. — Having obtained in equation (19) the electric and magnetic intensities at any required point at a distance from the antenna, we shall next compute the total power radiated from the vertical part of the antenna, and shall then obtain its radiation resistance.
Since E8 and H^ are perpendicular to one another and perpendicular to r0, we have, according to Poynting's theorem for the power radiated in the direction of r0 through an element of surface dS perpendicular to r0 the quantity
This quantity, together with the values of Ee and H^ from (19), substituted in (22) and properly integrated, gives for the total power radiated through the whole hemisphere above the earth's surface, the value in ergs per second following :
. This equation when integrated gives the power radiated from the vertical part of the antenna. The integration is a tedious operation, and is given in the next section, which may be omitted by readers not interested in the mathematical processes involved. The result of the integration is found in Art. 88.
Returning now to equation (25), we shall integrate the third and fourth terms, setting them first, and shall substitute (26) to (30) for the other terms, obtaining
Equation (39) gives the total power radiated by the vertical portion of the antenna into the hemisphere above the earth's surface. In this equation, the current factor / is in absolute c.g.s. electrostatic units, and the power p is in ergs per second.
It is convenient to change the current factor into amperes and the radiated power into watts, which can be done by multiplying the right-hand side of (39) by 30 c. This is done, and the equation is rewritten in the next section.
88. Result of the Integration for Power Radiated from the Vertical Part of the Antenna. — By equation (39), when reduced to practical units, the total power radiated into the aerial hemisphere from the vertical part of the antenna may be written
89. Radiation Resistance of Vertical Part of the Antenna.
In equation (40) is given the power radiated from the vertical part of the antenna, on the assumption that radiation from the horizontal part of the antenna does not interfere with it. It will be shown later in §14 et seq. how this interference is computed and allowed for. Accepting for the present the assumption of noninterference, we may obtain the radiation resistance of the vertical part of the antenna.
We shall later give tables of Ri, R2, and Rs, that will reduce the calculations of R to very simple operations, and shall compare the results with calculations on the doublet hypothesis and with observations.
We shall, however, first investigate theoretically the radiation from the horizontal part of the antenna. This is a problem of considerable mathematical difficulty but is capable of solution.
90. Introductory Notions. — To determine the electromagnetic field and radiation characteristics of the horizontal flat-top portion of the antenna, let the rectangular coordinates of any distant point P (Fig. 7) be x, y, z.
As an approximation, let us multiply by the sum of these radicals and divide by the approximate value of this sum for large values of r0; namely, by 2r0, obtaining
91. Determination of Electric and Magnetic Intensities due to Flat -top. — The values of r' and r" in (45) and (46) may be replaced by r0 in intensity factors, but not in phase terms, and give for the sum of the effects of a doublet at P' and another at P" (the image doublet) the electric and magnetic intensities
where fi(t) and /2(0 are the moments of the two doublets respectively. The angles <p and S correspond to the angles 6 and <£ of Fig. 3, except that the figure is turned on its side, so as to put the polar diameter along the a>axis instead of the 2-axis. This arrangement is shown in Fig. 8. The plane of the zero value of S is now to be fixed as the plane of the x and 2-axes. Now using the current distribution of equation (1), we must replace I by a + %', which gives, when treated as (12) was treated,
To obtain the total electric and magnetic intensities due to the flat-top, the equation (50) must be integrated for all the doublets and their images between the limits
r0 = distance of the point from the origin, z = vertical height of the point above the earth's surface, ^ = angle between r0 and the z-axis; this z-axis being parallel to the flat-top.
It is to be noticed that the electric and magnetic intensities due
to the flat-top of the antenna and those intensities due to the vertical portions of the antenna are directed along the meridional and latitudinal lines of two systems of polar coordinates with their poles one quadrant apart. This does not make the respective intensities perpendicular to each other, and it becomes necessary to resolve one set of these intensities along and perpendicular to the other
set of intensities. At a given point on the sphere about the origin of coordinates, the quantities <f>, 0, 2 and ^ are oriented in a manner represented in Fig. 9. If we let
Adding these quantities to the corresponding components of the intensities due to the vertical part of the antenna, we obtain for the total intensities, which are designated by primes, the values
All of these intensities are perpendicular to r0. To get the power radiated through an element of surface dS perpendicular to 7*0, we may make use of Poynting's vector, in the form
We have already found the first term of this power and have obtained its integral all over the aerial hemisphere. This integral we have called the power radiated from the vertical part of the antenna. We shall call the second term above (56), when properly integrated, the power radiated from the flat-top. The third term, since it contains both sets of coordinates, may be called power radiated mutually. These designations are merely for convenience in paragraphing the mathematics involved.
93. Power Radiated from the Flat-top. — Let us now enter upon a determination of the power contributed by the second term of the right-hand side of equation (56), and integrate this
term over the aerial hemisphere; that is, the hemisphere above the surface of the earth regarded as a plane. The element of area of this hemisphere is
Thisi s to be substituted in the required term involving E^ and H?', but these quantities involve the coordinate z, which must be replaced by its value in polar coordinates
Ef and H? are identical, by (55); the product will give certain terms involving sinV, other terms involving cosV, and still other terms involving sin r cos r\ where r has the value given in (51). If we take the time average for a complete cycle, or, if we prefer, for a time that is large in comparison with a complete period, we have
Before substituting in (60) let us simplify the general trigonometric factor in the brace of (60) by placing cos2 \f/ by 1 — sin2 \f/, and letting k = 2A} as in (42), we then obtain
Equation (76) may be further improved for purposes of calculation by expanding the trigonometric functions in power series and collecting the terms. For this purpose
page 464.
In this table the bottom row of terms gives the coefficients of the powers of B, when the summation indicated in (80) is performed with n = 2, 4, 6. . . o> . The various terms in the columns were employed in obtaining the last row by addition.
Substituting the values of the coefficients multiplied by the corresponding powers of B and summing up as indicated in equation (80), we obtain for the power the expression
This equation gives the average power radiated in the aerial hemisphere from the flat-top of the antenna regarded as a separate radiator with the distribution that it has under the fundamental assumptions of the problem. The current is to be measured in absolute electrostatic units, and the power is in ergs per second.
It remains to find how this power is modified by the mutual effect consisting of the interference between the waves emitted from the vertical portion of the antenna and the waves emitted from the horizontal part. This is the subject matter of Part III.
THE MUTUAL TERM IN POWER DETERMINATION
94. The Trigonometric Relations. — In Art. 92, equation (56), it has been shown that the power radiated through an element of surface consists of three terms in the form
The first two of these terms we have already discussed. Putting in the values of Ee and H? from equations (19) and (55) the remaining power term, which we have for convenience called mutual power, becomes in the time average
In forming this equation we have multiplied the expression for Eg of eq. (19) by the expression for HZ, eq. (55). The product so obtained contains terms involving sin cos r plus terms involving cos2r. The time average of the sin r cos T terms is zero; while the time average of cos2 T is J^; these facts have been used in forming (82).
To be able to integrate equation (82) we must replace a, z, ty and dS by their values in terms of 0, <j> and Fio. 10.
In the spherical triangle of Fig. 10, a is represented, as defined, as the angle between 0 and \f/, while opposite to a the side is 7T/2, The important trigonometric relation in a spherical triangle is as follows:
I. The cosine of any side is equal to the product of the cosines of the two other sides plus the continued product of the sines of these sides and the cosine of the included angle.
466 ELECTRIC WAVES [CHAP. , . Integration for Mutual Power. — Now substituting the trigonometric relations (83), (84), (85), (88) into equation (82), we obtain the following integral expression for the time average of the mutual power radiated through the aerial hemisphere:
By a change of variable in the second of these two integrals by replacing 0 by 0' + TT, we find that the integrand is unchanged, while the limits become 0 and TT, so we may write
For purpose of computation it is found advisable to expand all of the trigonometrical expressions in powe'r series and then perform with them the indicated operations. This was done with considerable labor and gave the following expression for mutual power:
This equation gives the time average of the power radiated in the aerial hemisphere by the mutual effect of the fields from both parts of the antenna and is the correction to be added to the power radiated by the two parts, estimated as independent of each other. The current I is in absolute c.g.s. electrostatic units, and the power is in ergs per second.
96. Summation of Flat-top Power and Mutual Power. — We have obtained in equation (81) the time average of flat-ton radiated power, and in equation (105) the time average of mutual radiated power. If we replace the k of (81) by its value in
terms of A, the two expressions may be added together. At the time of the addition we shall reduce the units to the practical system of multiplying the right-hand sides of both power equations by 30 times the velocity of light in centimeters per second (i.e., by 30 c), and obtain
a = length of vertical part in meters, , 6 = length of horizontal part in meters, AO =' the natural wavelength of the antenna in meters, A = the wavelength in meters of the antenna as loaded with inductance at its base,
we may obtain the radiation resistance of the antenna by dividing the power radiated by the mean square of the current at the base of the antenna. This mean square current at the base of the antenna is by (5)
Performing this division as to the flat-top power employing equation (106) and adding the result to the radiation resistance for the vertical portion as given in equation (44) we obtain for the total radiation resistance of the antenna the equation
99. Curves of Resistance Due to Radiation from the Flattop.— We shall now proceed to discuss the curves of radiation resistance of variously proportioned antennae when employed at various wavelengths relative to the natural wavelength. As pre-
FIG. 11. — Radiation Resistance of horizontal top portion of antenna plotted against values of B. The separate curves numbered .1, .2, .3, etc. to 1.0 are for values of A = .1, .2, .3, etc. to 1.0.
liminary, the resistance due to radiation from the flat-topped portion of the antennae is first computed. The equation for this is the summation of terms in (107) containing the small r's as factors; that is,
FIG. 12.— Total Radiation Resistance plotted against values of B. The separate curves through the origin are for designated values of 7. Separate curves not passing through origin are for different values of A + B.
Since the coefficients (small r's) are functions of B only, as given in Table II, it follows that when A and B are given, the value of the flat-top R may be computed. The results of the computations for various values of A and B are plotted in Fig. 11.
In this figure values of B are the abscissae, while the flat-top resistances in ohms are ordinates. The separate curves numbered .1, .2, .3, etc., to 1.0 are for values of A = 0.1, 0.2, 03 etc. to 1.0.
impressed wavelength X and the natural wavelength of the antenna X0; that is, by the value of A + B = v/2, which is the largest value A + B can have for the fundamental oscillation of the antenna.
100. Curves of Total Radiation Resistacne.— The next step consists in computing the radiation resistance of the vertical portion of the antenna, using the first three terms of equation (107), and employing a large number of values of A and B. To these values of resistance due to the vertical portion of the antenna the corresponding resistance of the flat-top are added so
as to give the total resistance of the antenna for various values of A and B. Curves of resistance for various values of A + B are then plotted in Fig. 12, with values of B as abscissaB and values of resistance as ordinates. Figure 13 is an enlarged view of some of the curves that are on too small a scale to read in
Fig. 12. Then to make the family of curves more useful for ready reference a series of curves are drawn through all the points which have a common ratio of length of flat-top to length of total antenna. This ratio is designated by 7, where
the origin.
Next as a final step the curves of Fig. 14 are taken from the curves of Figs. 12 and 13 with the new set
of parameters. These curves of Fig. 14 are the final curves of total radiation resistance, and are in terms of the ratio of the wavelength employed to the natural wavelength (that is X/X0) and the ratio of the length of flat-top to total length of antenna (that is 7). Fig. 15 is merely a magnified view of certain of the curves that are too small to read on Fig. 14.
As an example, let it be required to find the total radiation resistance of a straight vertical antenna for various wavelengths obtained by adding various inductances at the base. For this case 7 = 0, and from the 7 = 0 curve of Figs. 14
and 15 R may be directly read. The values which were used in plotting this curve are given in Table III, where they are compared with the corresponding values computed on the assumption that the oscillator is a Hertzian doublet. This latter assumption1
should be expected.
It should be noted that the first value in the column of resistances computed by the present theory agrees with the value for this case computed by Abraham in the work cited in Art. 89. This one value, for the fundamental oscillation, is the only value arrived at by Abraham and is the case of a straight vertical antenna oscillating with its natural frequency. Abraham's other computed values are for the harmonic vibrations with more than one loop of potential always without loading the antenna by inductance, and without any flat-top extension of the antenna.
102. Comparison of Computations on the Present Theory with Dr. Austin's Values for the Battleship " Maine." — Figure 16 gives the Radiation Resistance of the Antenna of the Battleship "Maine" as computed by the present Theory in comparison with Dr. Austin's measured values of the total resistance of this antenna, and in comparison with values computed on the doublet
FIG. 16. — Total Radiation Resistance vs. Wave length for the Antenna of the Battleship "Maine." Black dots are Dr. Austin's observed values; heavy line, computations by present theory; light line, computations by doublet theory.
theory of Hertz. The black dots of Fig. 16 are Dr. Austin's observed values. The heavy line was obtained by computation by the present theory, and the weaker line, by computation regarding the antenna as a doublet of half-length equal to the vertical height of the antenna.
It is seen that the departure between the present theory and the doublet theory is not so great as in the case of the straight vertical antenna, for the reason that the doublet theory becomes more nearly correct as the half-length of the oscillator becomes small in comparison with the wavelength.
Neither of the theories gives a rising value of the resistance with increase of wavelength, and, as Dr. Austin has pointed out, his rising values for long waves are probably not due to radiation from the antenna but possibly to dielectric hysteresis in the ground beneath the flat-top.
I do not give more extended comparisons with experimental values at the present time, because I am now making some experiments to see how much reliance may be placed in antenna resistance measurements made by buzzer methods of excitation in comparison with measurements made by excitation with gaseous oscillators and other methods of continuous excitation.
103. Example of Different Methods of Constructing an Antenna that Will Have a Specified Resistance for a Given Wavelength. — Let it be required to construct an antenna that will have a given resistance (4 ohms, say) for a given wavelength (2000 meters, say). To solve this problem, it is only necessary to look up the four ohm point on the different 7-curves of Figs. 14 or 15, and find the corresponding value of X/X0. We can then find the X0 of the antenna, since X is given. Dividing the X0 by 4 we obtain the total length of antenna. The value of 7 gives the fractional part of this length which is to be horizontal. The complete result is tabulated in Tab]e IV.
The question as to which of these antenna 1^o choose for the given purpose is now chiefly a problem in economics. The economic question is, which, for example, is cheaper: Two poles or towers 93 meters high and 372 meters apart, or one tower
umbrella.
The problem is, however, not wholly economic because the lower antenna would be preferable as a receiving anterina on account of its weaker response to atmospheric disturbances. There is also the further question as to which of the tabulated antennae will give the greatest vertical intensity of electric and magnetic force on the horizon at a distant receiving station. This is the subject matter of the next Part (Part V).
FIELD INTENSITIES AND SUMMARY
104. The Electric and Magnetic Intensities at a Distant Point in the Horizontal Plane. — Equation (19) gives the values of the electric and magnetic intensities at a distant point due to the vertical portion of the antenna. If we replace / of that equation by its value in terms of 70 from equation (6), and make cos 0 = 0, we have the intensities in the horizontal plane in terms of 7o, which is the amplitude of the current at the base of the antenna. This gives
The quantities outside the square brackets are constant for a given distance r0 and a given amplitude of transmitting current Jo- The relative intensities are therefore determined by the factor in the square brackets, which we may designate by
This quantity X we shall call "The Intensity Factor in the Horizontal Plane." It is to be noted that the electric and magnetic intensities in the horizon plane are not effected by radiation from the flat-top; for, by equation (55), the field intensities from the flat-top are zero for 2 = 0; that is, all over the horizontal plane through the origin.
from these curves the values of the intensity factors corresponding to the values of 7 and X/Xo of Table IV we obtain the results in the last column of Table IV. It is seen that the intensity factor is slightly smaller for the larger values of the relative length of flat-top. This diminished value of the intensity factor should be compensated by the use of a slightly larger transmitting current. The required increase of current may be easily computed by equation (111).
FIG. 17. — Relative intensity of the vertical component of Electric Force in a horizontal plane at a given distance from various antennae and for a given amplitude of transmitting current.
105. Summary. — This chapter contains a mathematical theory of the flat-top antenna. The process employed consists in the integration of the effects of an aggregate of doublets assumed to be distributed along the antenna so as to give a current distribution described by equation (1) and illustrated in Fig. 2. The electric and magnetic field intensity due to each of the doublets is determined by the Maxwell and Hertz Theories for
all distant points in space. These field intensities are summed up for all the doublets with strict allowance for the differences of phase due to different doublets; the summation gives the resultant field intensities. Then by Poynting's theorem the power radiated from the antenna through a distant hemisphere (bounded by the earth's surface assumed plane) is computed by the integration of a number of intricate expressions. From the radiated power the radiation resistance is obtained by dividing by the mean square of the current at the base of the antenna. Tables of coefficients for computing radiation resistance are given, and curves are plotted of the calculated values of radiation resistance for different ratios of the length of the flat-top to the total length of the antenna and for different relative wavelengths obtained by loading the antenna with inductance. Table II at end of volume gives for ready reference computed values of Radiation Resistance for Various Antennae used at various wavelengths. Curves are also given for determining the relative electric and magnetic field intensities in the horizontal plane for differently proportioned antennae variously loaded. Various equations developed in the treatment may find application to problems in the design of radiotelegraphic stations. Although this investigation was undertaken in ignorance of a simple case investigated by Professor Max Abraham, by a similar fundamental method, his work was discovered early in the course of the treatment and served as a check on one of the resistance values here given.
solution, as was to be proved.
If we have a third solution it can be combined with the sum of the first two solutions, just as the first solution was combined with the second so that the sum of any number of solutions is a solution.
and, if A\ is independent of t (i.e., a constant) we may introduce it within the sign of differentiation (only provided all the derivatives enter only to the first degree) and obtain
solution, and by the proposition above their sum is a solution.
The conclusion is this. // we have a linear, homogeneous differential equation with constant coefficients, and we find several solutions of the equation, we may take any number of the solutions, multiply each by any arbitrary constant and add together the multiples and obtain thereby a result which is a solution of the original differential equation.
Note 3. Proof that the Number of Independent Arbitrary Constants in the Solution of a Differential Equation Cannot be Greater than the Order of the Differential Equation. — As a first step toward the proof of this proposition, let us consider the formation of some differential equations by the elimination of constant from a relation between the dependent variable, the independent variable, and the arbitrary constants.
in which A is an arbitrary constant; to form an equivalent differential relation between y and x, not containing A. This can be done by the elimination of A between (9) and its derivative equation. Only one derivative equation is necessary; namely, the equation obtained by taking the first derivative of (9) . This derivative equation is
APPENDIX 491
The differential equation (11) is an equation of the first order. It is of the second degree. The degree of the equation cannot be determined by the number of arbitrary constants in the solution. On the other hand, the number of arbitrary constants determines the minimum order of the resulting differential equation. The differential equation cannot be of an order lower than the first, when the solution contains one arbitrary constant, for in order to eliminate the constant two equations are required — the given equation (9) and some derivative, which results in a differential equation of order at least as high as the first.
in which t is the independent variable, and A\9 At, and A3 are arbitrary constants, to form a differential equation of which (12) is a solution. To eliminate the three arbitrary constants, four equations are necessary: for example, the equation (12) and three equations obtained by taking successive derivatives of (12) . The successive derived equations are
which is a differential equation of the third order.
It is apparent that the three constants of (12) cannot be eliminated without using at least three of the derived equations, and arriving at a differential equation of at least the third order.
In like manner, if we have a functional relation containing n arbitrary independent constants, and we eliminate the constants by using the derived equations, we shall finally arrive at a differential equation of at least the nth order.
differential equation.
Note 4. A Solution Containing n Independent Arbitrary Constants is the Most General Solution of a Linear, Differential Equation of the nth Order with Constant Coefficients, and Embraces Every Other Solution as a Special Case, Obtainable by Giving Specific Values to the Constants. — We shall prove this proposition first for the case in which the differential equation is homogeneous. Taking t for the independent variable and y for the dependent variable let
be a solution of a linear, homogeneous differential equation of th e nth order, and let this solution contain n arbitrary, independent constants A\, A 2, . . . An. To prove that any other function
is a solution by Note 2, where Ar is a new arbitrary constantBut by Note 3 this cannot be for it is impossible to have in the solution more independent arbitrary constants than the order of the equation. Therefore, (18) cannot be a solution unless it be a special case of (17). It may be such a special case, for in that case it would not bring with it a new arbitrary constant Ar.
The proof thus far holds only provided the linear, differential equation is also homogeneous, for only in case of the homogeneous linear equation does the proposition of the additivity of multiples of solutions (Note 2) apply.
is a solution of (21), for yi reduces the left-hand member of (20) to f(t), and 3/2 reduces the left-hand member of (20) to the same f(t) ; and by subtraction y = yi — y2 reduces this member to 0, and therefore satisfies (21). Also by Note 2,
must be a solution of (21 )j which is impossible, because it contains n + 1 arbitrary constants, unless fr(l) is a special case of 2/i. We have the result that if we have of equation (20) any solution containing n arbitrary independent constants it is the general solution, and contains any other solutions as a special case obtainable by giving specific values to some of the arbitrary constants.
this note.
When the equations are not linear it is proved in books on differential equations that the general solution of the nth order equation has n arbitrary constants but that there are certain singular solutions which are not derivable from the general solution by giving specific values to the arbitrary constants.
In employing the criterion of this note as a test of the generality of the solution, care must be taken to ascertain that the n arbitrary constants are independent. If they are not independent the solution is not the general solution.
In performing the integration indicated in equation (34) no constant of integration is to be added, since the only arbitrary allowable for the solution of a first order equation is already comprised in A.
In equation (45) A and B are arbitrary constants, and no further arbitrary constants are to be introduced after the indicated integrations are performed.
Equation (45) is the formal solution of the differential equation (35), and gives i directly when v is given as a function oft, provided the indicated integrations can be performed.
It is evident from a comparison of (36a) with (36) that the solution for q differs from that for i (45) only in having different arbitrary constants and in having v replaced by v, giving
Equation (46) is the formal solution of the differential equation (36a) , and gives q when v is known as a function of t} provided the indicated integrations can be performed. BI and B% are arbitrary constants and no further arbitrary constants are to be introduced after performing the indicated integrations.
Expression of i in terms of v instead of v. — The integrations indicated in equation (45) may be performed by parts in such a way as to replace v by v. This is done as follows:
2jLu r j j
Further Transformation of Equations (46) and (47). — We may now change the expressions for q and i into definite integrals with the constants explicitly determined by the following process, taking (47) as a sample. We may write the identity, employing a change of variable,
Making a similar transformation of the last integral of (47), it is to be noted that in (47) the multipliers of the resulting integrals may be introduced under the integral signs, since the integrations are now with respect to t' instead of t. So that (47) becomes
Equations (50) and (54) give the required values of i and q where the constants, I and 0i have the values given in (57) and (58). In these equations I0 and QQ are the values of currejit and charge, respectively, at the time t = 0. Note. — In case 70 = QQ = 0 (57) and (58)) become indeterminate, but (56) shows that in that easel = 0.
This last factor comes from the fact that a micro-henry is 10~6 henries, and a microfarad is 10~6 farads. The product involves 10~12, of which the square root is 10~6.
1 A table of this character prepared by Mr. Greenleaf W. Pickard has been issued by the Wireless Specialty Apparatus Company of Boston. Mr. Pickard's table has only three significant figures in values of L X C, and four significant figures in values of n. The utility of Mr. Pickard's table has led me to compute and publish the present table, which is augmented by the inclusion of the X2 values, and which is accurate presumably to all of the figures given.
discharge in primary, 86, 138
energy supplied to a perfect, 34 power supplied to a perfect, 33 Condensive and non-condensive
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oNmRVAXzy3NyMbOF | Decline of McKeesport gas pool / by George H. Ashley. | Qn my visit to Western Pennsylvenia last week I found conditions
thet seem to call for an immedicte statement by this office; first, to correct a misuncers’ tanding or a purposeful miscons truetion of two 8. Statements in my former revort, anc second ‘to warn those now blindly~ investing in stock in uncrilled wells- th the MeXeesvort pool, of: tne
utter waste of further drilling in tha ‘pool and the certain losses Shae must come, The »rediction of the Oil City Derrick that in six months the present area of development will be as caead as the proverbial herring may not be fully realized, but with the gas pool obviously one half exhausted and with some wells yielding herdly more than one-fiith of their yield a month ago, according to their ovmers; with other wells yielding less than one-sixth of their "conservatively" repor ted outputs, it is obvious that the public should know the facts
In my former report I sadd ‘If one-half of the gas wells now »rojected in the McKeesport gas ss gdh are drilled, the immeciate fie. will co well to last two yvears.' This statement appears to have di7 averlooked or purposely sunpressec anc another statement applying ro? to this pool but to the fielc as a whole that ‘by extending drilling to the northeastwaré the supply may continue to furnish heat--- for a dozen or a score of years' has been mace to apply to the McKeesport district,
To make the matter vnerfectly clear, the area southeast of MceXeesport will be referrec. to as the Mek reespoi rt pool anc mav be Ccefined as the erea in which as shown by declining gas pressure, there is cirect connection between the wells now crilled near the mouth of Long Run anc. Snake Hollow, Only time will show the extent of this pool, The
ry 4 aah of
field as a whole, may be, as it long has been, known as the Murrysville fielc, and. may ve defined as all of the tux erysville anticline that siiall prove to be gas-bearing.
This field has been supplying gas to Pittsburgh and other cities for 36 years. Exploratory drillings have tested a large part of the anticline, but the variable character of the Syeechley sane and the discovery of local pools; such as that near MeXeesport, in territory .lreacy partially tested, are only two of the facets that convince we that the field as a whole will not be deac. for some years to come.
The concitions in the so-called MeKkeesnort or Snake Hollow ool xre entirely cirferent from those over the field as 2. whole, In the first place, insteac of the land ownershin being in’ isa anc. allowing the essignment of a normal-acreage to each well, say eighty ecres
‘ grain, that the current of Sas flowing into the well ouickly blew out chennels for itself , making what has possibly been the best gas well financially the world has ever known, It has been estimatec that in the first one hundred cays this well delivered about five billion cubic feet of gas to the pipe lines. A calculation of the possible amount of gas in an acre-foot of the sand is sufficient to convince anyone that this well is drawing from a very large acreage and hac it been the only well in ty pool, would doubtless have exhausted the pool’ in a year or two, ith other wells being sumk into the same vool “week “by week, the lta Map ae must be visibly hastened. ene although it may not be possible at this time to predict definitely whether the pool will be dead in six months or in two years, the present concitions leave no doubt that the pool has seen its best deys, end that investments now being mace for future drilling are almost certs rin to result
As hintec in the first part of my statement, I believe the evience fully warrants the statement being maée in certain papers, that .1eé rock pressure and gas flow are on the average only about one-h2li ‘hat they were four months ago, No exect measurement of the original cock pressure was oovtained but from a measurement of ebout 1200 povns nace in the first Philadelphia well before the casing began to rise, it is guessed that the original rock pressure must have been close t i400 pounds to the square inch, Measurements during the last two weeks are reported to have shown 800, 745, and the last one 730 pounce co the square inch, an average reduction of five to six vouncs 2 cay.
If this reduction continves, anc the number of wells now being drilled wovld seem to insure its continuance, it can readily be calculated how long the pressure will be sufficient to @rive the zag into the pipe line. Indeed, were that rate of reduction to continue to the ena, it would indicate the total life for the fielc to be nine months.
decrease of pressure, the curve of production tends to flatten out,
' particularly after the installation of pumps, so that it may be between one and two vears anc possibly a little longer before the rielc is abandoned. But it should be noted thet the earlier Crillec wells to
which open channels have been cut by the high gas pressure, are Likely to be the favored ones in the final roundup, except such welis as are driven at the greatest Cistance from the big well and yet in the pool, |
Concitions in this pool follow very closely those in other pool where diverse ownership of land has allowec overdrilling, and it may be expectec that the financial results will be similar. For exampis in the Cleveland gas field, which resembles this pool in many ways, the total returns from the gas yield were estimated to fall 4100, 000 Short of the cost of drilling alone. Remembering the large returns of the early wells, it is obvious to what extent the losses fall vnon
Therefore, I feel it-cannot be too strongly emphasized ee ft although the Murrysville fielc ag a whole and outsice of the McXeesport pool is a legitimate fielc for cevelopment, further ¢crilling in the McKeesport pool must result in serious financial losses.
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I--q1VdowsoHOt35 | Lettering for draftsmen, engineers and students. A practical system of freehand lettering for working drawings. | E P1 A C E .
IN looking over the books on lettering, which have c.>mc under the writer's notice, he has found, that while doing full justice to the principle of ornamentation and the theories governing the shaping of each letter, no autlior has 03 yet attempted to treat lettering from a purely practical point of view. The need of a practical work on lettering, however, has been and is daily experienced l>y in. my drafttuiub, and in the following pages the writer has endeav iivd \» set forth the projx>r methods ot forming purely free-hand lettering in a simple easily acquired wav, giving, .it the same time, the proper safeguards against the errors mo.-t commonly committed. The letter* exhibited are actual free-hand work and can readily be copied. In this respect the writer has made a radical departure from works of a similar character which generally give ornate carefully engraved alphabets, being of little more use to the average draftsman than ordinal v printed ty|>e, i. e, they can only be copied with a great sacrifice of time and patience. The whole system outlined is the n stilt of the writer's experience during \ears of practice on the staff of a leading technical journal and is intended t,i ]>,• a thoroughly practical guide for doing the best class of work in the shortest pos-nlile time.
INCLINED LETTERING.
TN the following system of lettering no attempt -•- has been made to imitate any special form of printed alphabet, and for all ornate and elaborate lettering the draftsman is referred to some one of the many published collections of this character. What is here intended is to illustrate and describe a type of lettering that looks well upon working drawings ; is reduced to its simplest form ; one that is rapidly made and is clear and distinct under almost any reduction by photography. It is, in fact, especially designed for photo-reproduction. With the purpose of fairly treating 'the subject, the lettering hen; illustrated has been reproduced without any attempt at touching up or cleaning ; it is actual freehand work, such as should be used in general practice. The ordinary slanting and, further on, the upright lettering are described in a somewhat detailed manner, as when the draftsman once becomes proficient
in forming these two types properly, it will then be a very easy matter for him to form also the more ornamental letters satisfactory. The first requisite is to produce sharp, clean corners and bold lines of uniform strength, and this is especially necessary in work for photo- reproduction, as usually such unimportant looking things as filled-in corners and uneven lines are greatly exaggerated on the plate. In Fig. i the correct and incorrect ways of doing this are shown. It will be well at first, for the purpose of obtaining clean convrs, to re-
ters, not less than 2 millimeters high, he uses Soennecken's No. 108, and for small-sized letters, Gillott's No. 303, or Blanzy, Poure & Co.'s crow quill pen. All of these pens should be " broken-in " somewhat before being applied to lettering. As to the type of lettering to be employed, the slanting letter is well adapted to descriptive matter, dimensions, etc., while the upright letter will contrast well with the former type used as reference letters or sub-captions. A^ uniform pressureshould be brought to bear upon the pen — a trick only acquired by practice. The pen should be held pointed forward, as in ordinary writing, and not sideways, as in " round writing." In lettering on tracing linen a sheet of black cross-section paper divided to millimeters, such as given on detached plate (IX), accompanying this book, will be found useful for giving the proper spacing, slant, etc. On drawing paper, pencil lines will be indispensable to the beginner.
A slope of i to 2 y2 »is sufficient for the stems or down-strokes of the lettef^and or/linarily an angle of 45° with the horizontal will suffice for the up-strokes and the axes of ellipses, excepting that of the letter " o." The latter angle will have to be increased, of course, when the
Fig 2.
height. The exception is the lower case " t," which is one part less in total height than " b " or " h," for example. In the illustrations following the incorrect forms of letters, as being constantly observed by the writer, are shown in brackets, and the correct method of forming each letter is shown beneath.
lines and giving the letter the
appearance of a " y." The letter - w " is formed on the same principle as the " v." In putting in the short horixontal cross-line of the "t," Fig. 5, great care should be taken to use very little pressure upon the pen, as otherwise the ink will spread at the intersection of the two lines and make clean
the letter "r" should be purely an up-stroke. slightly curved at its end. In making the letter " f." start with a curve extending down about one space; the -f" shown in brackets would come out with a heavy black knob
for the "j" is practically the same as for the •• f" reversed. Make bold, oblong dots over the •• i " and " j." The third stroke of the letter "k." Fig. 7. should l>e
care should be taken to have the first stroke either vertical or leaning slightly l>ackwanls. and the second stroke ought to cross the first a little above its centre ; in order to produce a clean intersection it may be well to make the latter stroke in two
and from the point of the angle the tail should be drawn in exact line with the upper down-stroke, terminating, if desired, in a slight curve to the left to avoid the little blot of ink which would otherwise form at the bottom of the stroke. In this letter the second stroke may be modified as shown. The " z " is best drawn in one stroke, stopping the pen every time before changing direction. Tinletter "o," Fig. 9, is produced by two curved strol with their ends sufficiently bent, forming a perfect elli]
.RSITT,
the axis of which lies in the direction of the down-stroke. The joining of these two curves, in this and similar letters, can be effected very neatly after a little practice.
The ovals of the following letters should be made somewhat narrower at the top than at the bottom, for obvious reasons ; and especial care must be taken to have the axis of these ovals lie at an angle of 45° with the horizontal. For the purpose of increasing the width of the enclosed space at the bottom of the clown-stroke and the oval, the right-hand curve should be somewhat flatter than the
these letters the down-stroke should be at exactly the proper angle, rather increasing this angle at the beginning, for the learner almost invariably makes the mistake of drawing this stroke too slanting. To further guard against this error, the beginner may slightly curve the end of the down-stroke towards the left, thus widening
The letter " c," Fig. u, is formed with one stroke, care being taken to have its general direction parallel to the down-stroke. The "e" is commenced in the same way, and the upper loop is formed by a second stroke
from left to right at its
apex ; the rest is carefully joined on, turned down into a neat ogee curve and finished by a little crook upwards. The middle part of this letter should be nearly horizontal. If a very narrow letter is to be produced, it may be constructed with one stroke and a flatter curve, making the l»>er curve somewhat shorter than the lower one.
In tin- ordinary letter a first separate stroke at the top is in, ulr necessary l>y the fact, that while turning in ;i horixontal ilircction from right to left anil then descending into the ogee curve, the pen will either clog up and not give tlu; required strength of line at one stroke or otherwise will in turning detach minute particles of paper or tracing-cloth saturated with ink and deposit them at the side of the stroke, necessitating erasures. The method outlined (employing two strokes) is therefore by far the simplest and quickest way of producing a clean letter, as experience will show. It will at first be a somewhat difficult matter to the beginner to lay the main axis of tliis letter parallel with the down-stroke, but this is nevertheless an essential point and should not be lost sight of.
Capital Letters.
As in the rule laid down for the lower case letters, the capital letters will generally be five spaces high. Sharply defined, clean corners are again necessary, and to secure this the beginner may find ii advantageous to curve the upper and lower ends of the down-strokes a little outwards..
The letter "A," Fig. 12, should lie made in three strokes, with the second almost vertical. The crossstroke should be placed low — . .—, -.— ,- ._,_,
torn. The short third Fig. 12.
stroke of the " K'' should be slightly above the renter of the letter, and should not be ton short. The two down-strokes of the letter •• H, ' Fig. 13. should be exactly parallel, and the horizontal stroke should be made as directed for the third stroke of the " K." If the capital " I " is to be followed by a lower case " 1," two short horizontal strokes of even length and projection may be
Fig. 13.
first at the top of the second space from the bottom, and the third stroke should join the second nearly one sjjace higher up. The letter" L " can easily be made with one stroke, analogous to the forming of the same stroke of the letter • K. "
ate strokes, putting in the two parallel lines first ; the two other strokes should join at the top of the first space. If desired, this letter may be made slightly wider at the bottom than at the top. The letter " N" is also formed by drawing the two parallel strokes first. The horizontal stroke of the "T" should be neatly balanced on top of the down-stroke, and if it is not perfectly straight, as often is the case, a hardly noticeable crook downwards
structed precisely upon the lines laid down for the corresponding lower case letters, with the exception that they should be a trifle narrower in proportion. The " Y " is formed with two strokes without any lower crook to
the left ; the " Z " is made in one stroke, with the axis of the letter in the direction of the clown-stroke. If found easier, this " Z " can be made with three strokes. With practice the letters " P," " B " and " D " can each be formed with two strokes, with the curves terminating as shown. In
top, and after joining the stem, return exactly on the horizontal while the ink is yet moist and complete the lower curve. The space enclosed by the lower curve should be somewhat larger than that in the upper one. The curve of the " D" should be parallel with the downstroke in its middle third, but it may sometimes be advisable to make the lower part of the " D " a shade wider than the upper part. The first and second strokes of the " R " are identical with the letter " P."
The "C," Fig. 17, is formed with one stroke, nearly completiag the ellipse of the letter '' O," though this letter should be proportionately narrower than the lower case "c." In making the " G," a somewhat wider ellipse
should be an almost perfect ellipse, special canbeing taken in joining the two curves. The third stroke of the " Q " should begin about the middle of the second space, and extend one space below the base. The letter " S "can be formed, for small-sized lettering, in two strokes, or with an additional stroke, as shown, for larger letters.
short up-stroke at the top ; otherwise, it may be represented by a simple down-stroke. The "4 " is commenced with tin- stroke inclined at an angle of 45°, terminating at the second space from bottom and then turning sharply into the horizontal. The down-stroke should intersect the horizontal in such manner as to leave 3-5 of the horizontal to the left of the down-stroke. The •• 7 " is l)est formed with one stroke, the down-stroke l>eing on an angle of 45°. The " 3 " should be drawn in one stroke, beginning as with the " 7 " to a point a little below the top of the third space, and then curving into a portion of an ellipse, with an axial angle of 45°. Another type of the numeral " 3 " is shown,
ought to be a perfect ellipse, like the capital " O." The •• 5 " is commenced with the down stroke, ending in the ellipse of the " 3 " and the horizontal upper stroke. The •• 2 " can be constructed by one stroke, beginning at tintop 6ffce fourth space, nearly completing an oval with an axial angle of 45°, and then turning shortly into .1 down-stroke running into the base line, where a sharp
turn is made in a horizontal direction. The " 6," Fig. 20, is commenced like the " o," except that its initial point is somewhat beyond the axis of the ellipse. For that reason the first stroke is very - >-...,>., fit < n\ si -n\
to the base, where a stop is Fig. 20.
made, and the pen then returns in the same stroke, and, gradually turning to the right, nearly completes an ellipse with an axial angle of 45°, joining its lower part with the bottom of the incomplete second stroke. The figure " 8 " is commenced with an ogee curve, using a slight crook at its lower end, and is finished by two other curves, as shown. The lower loop should always be somewhat larger than the upper one. The numeral " 9 " is made in two strokes. The ellipse at the top is nearly finished in one stroke when the down-stroke is assumed, which, beginning at the initial point of the ellipse and completing the letter, terminates with a somewhat fuller curve then that employed in lower case " g."
Though Roman numerals are seldom employed on working drawings, they may sometimes be required. The chief requisite is to so form them that they are neat
the general form of the letter " o," modified to suit demands. The second stroke of the " r " is really a part ____________ of the elementary ellipse, as are also
the second stroke of the " n " and the second and third strokes of the '• in." The "u" is here made in two strokes — the first, a down-stroke with the curve attached, and the
the curve.
The numerals follow similar lines of construction. The " 2 " begins at the upper part in an ellipse and ends in a clown-stroke, laid at an angle of 45°, turning sharply to the right in a horizontal line. The " 3 " is formed with one stroke, with its lower curve, as also that of the
UPRIGHT LETTERING.
Upright lettering is employed most advantageously tin- reference letters, designating lines of section, and for raptions. In some instances however, it may !»• deemed advisable to use uprights also for such descriptive matter, dimensions, etc., to which some prominence is to be given, though, as a rule, the slanting lettering will answer this purpose very well.
The relative height of the letters ought to remain the same as that of the inclined lettering. The downstrokes should be perfectly vertical, and in order to produce this effect properly, it will be best for the beginner to form the habit of making the letters at first lean o\er somewhat to the left at the top, as the natural tendency would be to have them lean the opposite way. It will
lie noticed that in some of the uprights a comparatively greater number of strokes is required, as many portions of these letters are being executed in a horizontal direction or nearly so. The letters are again simplified as much as possible, a fact which will IK: especially noticeable in the lower case •• a " and " g," which, though at variance with the ordinary gothic print, look fully as well.
Lower Case Letters.
In the letters shown in l;ig. 23, the same number of strokes is employed as in the slanting lettering previously descrilxxl. The letters are as a rule made wider than those of the slanting tyi>e. The second stroke of
the " n " and the two last strokes of the letter " m " are started with a very slight curve in an upward direction rounding off the corner at the top, making it somewhat more full than in the corresponding slanting letters. The letter " u " — — -^ -— — — — — — -
connecting the Fig 28.
two down-strokes with a well shaped curve. If preferred, however, the ordinary form of gothic lower case " u, " as shown, may also be employed. In constructing the letter " v," the two slanting strokes ought to make the same angle with the vertical. The beginner will invariably construct the second stroke at a greater incline than the first, and will do well to guard against this habit, until after some practice the hand will become accustomed to form the point of juncture of the two strokes equidistant from their starting point. The letter "w"is composed practically of two somewhat narrowed " v"s.
The letter " 1 " (Fig. 24) is sometimes constructed with a lower crook to the right, when used at the side of capital letter " I," otherwise it is made as a down stroke
pure and simple. The second stroke of the "r" starts from the top of the second space upwards as a very slight curve, similar to the one forming first part of the second stroke of letter " n. " Letter " f" is best formed by three strokes ; the first a very short curve to the right, being joined by the second or main stroke. The horizontal third
ly prominent. The letter " j " ought to extend two spaces below the base line and should be made in one stroke, being perfectly straight until the point of curve is reached. If found easier, however, a second right hand stroke, forming the curved portion, may be employed. The latter should be almost a semicircle and one space high.
one apparently more inclined than necessary for reasons explained ;i!)ovi:. \\'hen the pen is very full, the second stroke ma\ In- made in two parts, as shown, thereby preventing tin- forming of a clot of ink at the intersection • •I" those two strokes. The upper part of letter "y" forms a perfect " v. " The second stroke may either be uted with a slight angle terminating in a vertical direction, or in a perfectly straight inclined line, according to the draftsman's individual taste. Letter ••/" is as usual formed in one stroke ; its starting point should he vertically above the point of turning into the hori/ontal. The ellipses of the letters shown in Fig. 26. are as usual constructed in two strokes, joining the respective initial and terminal _
rection towards the Fig. 26.
left and terminates similarly at the right, thus preventing the forming of a point at the top and bottom junctures. The second (right hand) stroke of the ellipse ought to be made apparently more curved than necessary, as that portion is invariably made too flat by the beginner.
The ellipses should be made quite full. The vertical downstrokes of letters "a," "d" and "g" ought to run tangent to their ellipses so that the thickness of the second curve at the joint of juncture is not increased. Tincurved portion or the fourth stroke of letter "g" extends to the left almost or nearly the full width of the oval of this lettn.
running in an opposite direction, as shown, ;is in turning into the lower portion of the curve a somewhat greater pressure is involuntarily brought upon the pen. resulting, if too full, in a badly proportioned lower end.
Letters "c " and "s" (Fig. 28) are started with a short curve towards the right; the upper end of letter "c" should be slightly more curved than the lower one ; still, the form of the perfect oval should be predominant in this letter. The letter -e" is constructed in three strol.
If, as is sometimes the case, the upper part of letters " c " and " e " should not precisely fill the allotted space, or otherwise they should appear too narrow, a flattening
Fig. 28. leaning backward, will
help matters and otherwise not at all injure their appearance, as shown. The completed ovals of letter "s" should, as in the inclined one, form a perfect figure " 8." If at all uneven, the lower oval should be made more prominent than the upper one.
Upright capitals are, as a rule, 5 spaces high, with the exception of the " Q," the appendix of which ought to reach one space below the base line. These letters should be made narrower in proportion than the corresponding lower case letters.
The second stroke of letter "A" (Fig. 29), should be made rather more inclined than the first one by the beginner. The first strokes of letters " E " and
" F " must be made perfectly vertical or leaning backwards, as even the slighest inclination forward in these two letters will be painfully noticeable, especially in the " F." The length of the short third stroke in the " F," is generally depending on the shape of the succeeding
Fig. 29. , cal stroke, longer,
if an oval or inclined stroke is to follow. We will not attempt, however, to lay down any definite rule on this point, as the determining factor in each case should be the draftsman's eye and good taste. Letter " Z " is best formed in one stroke, care being taken to make especially the inclined portion perfectly straight.
The letters comprising Fig. 30 are constructed upon nearly the same principles given in the case of the corresponding slanting capital letters. The termination of the last stroke of
low the initial point of the second stroke. The length of
tin- horizontal portion of thr " I." is again, as ii. the case of the •• I-"." determined by the succeeding (lower case) letter. It is ohvious, that by unduly lengthening that portion of the letter, an unproportionally wide space will result between its vertical part and the succeeding letter.
The curved part of letter " J " (Fig. 31) ought to be a well shaped semicircle, beginning and ending not above the middle of the second space. The second and third strokes of letter " M " converge at the second line, and this point should, of course, be at an even distance from the vertical strol.
that only the center Fig. 32.
lines of the inclined strokes join at the base or top lines of the ruling, thus avoiding two extremes, either the formation of a vertical short end or the reverse, a riattened-out point. This is made apparent in the small illustration, Fig. 320. The first and fourth strokes of letter • \Y ' ought theoretically to be made Fig 32« parallel to the second and third ;
but as the latter two strokes are involuntarily made more uprighi than the first one, the fourth stroke should again be made more slanting to correspond with the first. The reverse mode of procedure would result in a badly shaped letter, as shown alongside. Litter "X" is usually made in two strokes, or, if preferable, a stop may be made in the second stroke shortly before crossing the first, continuing it on the other side, avoiding thus the forming of a lump of ink at the point of intersection.
fully rounding the curve and joining the first stroke again at right angles as a perfectly straight line. The thiid stroke of letter " B " begins at the point of curve of the second, enclosing j^lightly larger area than the second one. The second stroke of letter " D ^ should begin and terminate in a horizontal direction. If a slight " sa»gm» " should happen in the curve, it ought to be near its lower portion. The rule given for the forming of the second stroke of letter " B " applies also to letter " R ;" its third inclined stroke begins at the point of curve of the second. The two vertical strokes of letter " U" are made first ; a right hand carefully formed semicircular curve connects the two.
stop is made and the pen point is carefully pushed upwards in a vertical direction, terminating that stroke as shown. The final horizontal stroke should not be made too short. To those who might find it difficult to execute the second stroke neatly in the way outlined the suggestion of a separate vertical downward stroke is made. The mode of construction of the ovals of the " O " and " Q " differ somewhat from that of the lower case letters ; the point of juncture is shifted diagonally in order to lessen the chance of a point forming at the top and bottom of the oval. The third stroke of letter " Q " begins as shown and extends one space below. The second stroke of letter •• S " should for a very short space run perfectly horizontal. The rules given for the forming of the lower case letter otherwise apply to this letter also.
Numerals.
Upright numerals ought to he like the inclined ones, five spares high. Figure " i " may again, if used in proximity with rapital letter •• 1 " or lowercase •• 1," l>e
with a perfectly straight inclined downstroke, as shown, whence it assumes a horizontal direction. The rule given above and illustrated by Fig. 320 on the forming of a clear cut angle, applies to the top part of this figure especially. The lower terminal point of numeral " 7 " should, in a perfectly formed figure, be vertically below the center of the horizontal portion. The upper part of numeral " 2 '' ought to form portion of a flattened oval. The mode of its construction is clearly shown in the illustration, Fig. ^5. Numeral " 5 " (Fig. 36) begins with a vertical stroke to nearly the middle of the third space ; from there the stroke follows the outline of the oval, which is to be three spaces high. The middle portion of the second
have that part too much curved. The third stroke ought to enclose a perfect ellipse. Numeral "8" is formed in three strokes ; its first a well-shaped ogee curve, with its middle portion running very nearlyhorizontal. The first stroke of numeral "9" ought t<> be part of a perfect ellipse and comprising as it does, nearly two-thirds of its circumference, is somewhat difficult to construct. The middle portion of the second stroke should for a short distance, run almost vertical.
structed, analogous to the inclined on3L with upper and lower short horizontal strokes. Aim:- 'explaining the mode of forming of capital letters "V" and " N," nothing new can be said concerning these, except that as a general rule it will be well to make them a trifle narrower in proportion.
Drawings.
Lettering as applied to working drawings, should be bold, clear and uniform in size, with the exception of the sub-caption,s which may be a trifle larger. Diminutive and cramped lettering on a drawing will never look well.
of the ellipses lie in a horizontal direction in every case. of lettering composing a sentence, for instance, should and it will be well to shape parts of the curves, composing be placed rather close. them, decidedly Hat, sometimes going to the extreme to have the top and bottom parts of the ellipses running perfectly straight for a certain distance.
The complete alphabets of the slanting and upright type are shown in plate I., together with samples of lettering as used on working drawings. The single letters, composing a word, should, especially in slanting lettering, be placed as close as possible, so close, in fact, that they sometimes nearly touch each other. If this principle is followed out at first, the golden middle governing the spacing of letters will soon prevail. The beginner 1,1''')')" j;ypi. L <;?;;• generally spaces his letters too far apart, ^.""f^fl 1 Sufficient space should be allotted be- . tweeii different words.
In expressing tractions, the accepted custom is to place a horizontal dash between numerator and denominator, excepting the instance when numeral ••4" happens to be the latter, in which case, for obvious If possible, the lettering should be kept distinctly by reasons, a slanting dash is employed? The several lines itself and never be allowed to run across lines. If some
"lopsided" arrowheads should be avoided. Notes of the two alphabets above described, are employed, referring to drawings should run parallel to base of Letters relating to rivers and railway lines should be sheet and be used as "fillers." placed parallel to those objects. Otherwise lettering
VARIOUS FREEHAND ALPHABETS.
The principles of construction of the shaded inclined into curves, is gradually released at the proper moment. (Italic) lettering, shown on Plate III., which is occasion- In shading letters "S" and numeral^ "2," "7 " and" 8" ally used on working drawings and maps, are practically the pen has to outline and shade the curves at the
satisfactorily. freehand letterings, and used as a part of title, looks
When reduced considerably, Italic lettering, as a rule, does not show up so well as the same size of the ordinary slanting type described before, the light lines in that case dropping out, leaving only the shaded portions visible.
ing, shown on Plate V. As is known to every draftsman, a lump of ink is apt to form at the end of a straight stroke, when the pen is fairly full. This propensity of the ink is made use of in constructing this type of lettering and the flow of ink thus diverted. The relative number of strokes remains the same, as with the ordinary uprights. A few modifications are introduced in the shape of lower case "a" and "g." This lettering is best produced with a ball point pen, insuring a stroke of almost uniform strength. As a precaution, it may be said that the pen should never be too full while making this type of lettering.
Plates IV. to VII. inclusive, contain Freehand Lettering suitable for main titles, which may easily be constructed by dividing the space to be lettered into squares and sketching in the letters in outline afterwards as shown ; on tracing linen, cross-section paper may of course be used for this purpose. A draftsman able to satisfactorily construct the upright lettering, the principles of which have been exhaustively explained in the foregoing, will experience no trouble whatever in sketching these letters in good shape. As shown, the relative height of lower case and capital let-
ters remain unchanged ; the width of the body of the capital may be taken as 4-5, in some cases 7-8, that of the lower case letters as 3-5 the width of a square. On Plates IV and V suggestions are made as to several methods of shading these letters, although, as a rule, they look very well without it. If, as the case may be, the draftsman should desire more ornamental letters, he will be able by the aid of his eye and the exercise of some good taste, to devolve the letters desired out of the types given. It should, however, be borne in mind, that a title, composed of highly ornamented letters, does not make up for any poorly drawn and lettered .sheet to which it may be attached, but on the other hand, a simple title, constructed of well executed letters of reasonable size, with the several lines composing it well centered, will make an ample heading for any well executed drawing.
| 7,227 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | draftletteringfo00reinrich | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0017.json.gz:5232 | https://archive.org/download/draftletteringfo00reinrich/draftletteringfo00reinrich_djvu.txt |
JImn_haAB66aSqC1 | Utah Conference on Undergraduate Research 2023 - Program | Session D: 3:30PM – 5PM
Engineering. Session D – Oral Presentations, Ballroom, Henriksen, Alumni House
SESSION D (3:20-5:00PM)
Location: Henriksen Room, Alumni House
Post-Aggregation Data Visualization
Todd Lainhart, Brigham Young University
Faculty Mentor Yuri Hovanski, Brigham Young University
SESSION D 3:30-3:45PM
Henriksen Room (1st floor), Alumni House
Engineering
Industry 4.0 is the current initiative being implemented in manufacturing lines. Part of the initiative is to connect the different systems and protocols of the factory together into a single connection that can communicate with all of them. This connection allows for data from various machines and systems to be stored together. This communication includes the aggregation, visualization, and implementation of data. Only through visualization and implementation does data become valuable. As manufacturing lines collect data, the volume of it can quickly become hard to decipher and collate by hand. Thus, a system of visualization is needed to enable workers and managers to gain value from the data stored. The research describes a possible solution and use for collected data through visualization and implementation. This study is done using PTC Inc. products, specifically through an established ThingWorx server with Kepware connections to Allen-Bradley and Siemens PLCs. Kepware is a system-connection software that translates different machine protocols and sends the collected data to ThingWorx, a web-based platform that aggregates the information sent to it. The data was visualized on a single platform called a dashboard in various formats such as tables, graphs, current value displays, and state-based displays. As there are several different formats of data continuously being collected, different implementations included a table that kept track of information from current and previous orders, a pareto chart that keeps track of defect type counts, and graphs that depict uptime and throughput. Because these visualizations are all contained within the same platform, a user can quickly use each capability without needing to move between screens or locations. This allows for greater efficiency and a faster response to errors and problems.
Neuromorphic Computing with Randomly Assembled Nanowire Networks
David Reinhardt, Brigham Young University
Faculty Mentor David Wingate, Brigham Young University
SESSION D 3:50-4:05PM
Henriksen Room (1st floor), Alumni House
Engineering
Neuromorphic computing utilizes analog electrical circuits that mimic biologic neural networks. This form of computing shows promise of outperforming classical computers at a fraction of the power draw. Recently, metallic nanowire networks have been investigated as potential neuromorphic computing devices, often composed of polymer-coated silver nanowires deposited onto a flat surface. Due to their 2D geometry, these nanowire networks are unable to accurately reflect the complexity of 3D biological neural networks. 3D nanowire networks have a higher concentration of interconnections than 2D networks which could allow for the training of more complex computational functions. We have manufactured large 3D Nickel Nanostrand networks and trained them to perform similarly to an XOR
logic gate. The networks are manufactured by suspending nickel nano strands in a resin matrix which is then trained iteratively using a combination of low and high electrical currents. We are currently refining the training algorithm for the networks and are simultaneously working to identify the physical changes that occur in the network as it is trained.
Thermal Management of Embedded Electric Vehicle Wireless Charging Systems
Conner Sabin, Utah State University
Faculty Mentor Abhilash Kamineni, Utah State University
SESSION D 4:10-4:25PM
Henriksen Room (1st floor), Alumni House
Engineering
High-powered wireless charging systems for heavy-duty vehicles such as semi-trucks encounter large temperature increases in high-power circuitry. The lack of knowledge regarding heat dissipation between roadway material and wireless charging systems is a research gap that has previously limited cost-effective and durable designs. Multi-physics simulation can determine power loss and heat rise within the system but is insufficient at determining heat transfer between the wireless charging system and the roadway due to nonlinear parameters and lack of traditional cooling methods. This simulation deficiency leads to results that approximate heat transfer to the roadway with low accuracy. Some researchers have improved simulation results by experimentally measuring thermal effects. Testing wireless charging systems embedded in concrete improves simulation results, but experiments are time intensive and costly. The purpose of this research was to utilize a novel testbed and simulation process for rapidly optimizing the thermal management of high-power wireless charging systems. This technique uses timely experimental results from a “fluidized bed” to refine nonlinear simulation results. This fluidization process is used to easily insert and remove wireless charging systems from a fluidized bed of sand as shown in figure 1. This process will allow researchers to obtain experimental thermal results between wireless charging systems and sand in a few days rather than the concrete-embedded time of two to three months. A fluidized bed is used for rapid prototyping of thermal management designs and results of sand-embedded tests are used in simulation to predict more accurate performance of concrete-embedded systems. This novel testbed and simulation technique will increase the speed with which accurate concrete-embedded thermal simulation can be created.
Demonstration and analysis of thin-cell electrochemical measurements in molten LiCl-KCl eutectic
Cameron Vann, Brigham Young University
Faculty Mentor Devin Rappleye, Brigham Young University
SESSION D 4:30-4:45PM
Henriksen Room (1st floor), Alumni House
Engineering
Analyte concentration in traditional low temperature electrochemistry is solvation limited, but in molten salts solvation limits can be much higher. However, voltammetry measurements, which are predominately used in molten salt, are bounded to diffusion-limited ranges (<5-10wt%). Advanced nuclear technologies such as electrorefining and molten salt reactors require sensors that can measure analyte concentrations >10wt%. Thin-cell electrochemistry is not limited in concentration as other electrochemical measurements, and thus is a promising option for measuring these higher (>10wt%) concentrations. For this reason, thin-cell apparatuses and techniques have been developed for use in molten salts. These apparatuses can take low-latency measurements and have been tested in concentrations from 1-50wt%. | 1,246 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://uen.pressbooks.pub/ucur2023/chapter/engineering-sessiond-henriksen/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:92310 | https://uen.pressbooks.pub/ucur2023/chapter/engineering-sessiond-henriksen/ |
FmcwM01FmucrYvV9 | Indigenous Perspectives on Business Ethics and Business Law in British Columbia | Business Ethics
17 ReconciliACTIONs
Learning Objectives
- Recognize that the individual can contribute to reconciliation.
- Identify what a reconciliACTION is to Indigenous communities and Industry.
Many small-scale reconciliation acts can make a significant change for all. The new term to describe an act of coming together in an ethical way to conduct business is “reconciliACTION.”
According to the Gord Downie & Chanie Wenjack Fund, “A reconciliACTION is a meaningful action that moves reconciliation forward. ReconciliACTIONs aim to bring Indigenous and non-Indigenous people together in the spirit of reconciliation to create awareness, share, and learn. It is the answer to Gord’s call to ‘Do Something’; do something to raise further awareness, do something that improves the lives of Indigenous people, do something that improves the relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people. ReconciliACTIONs act as the catalyst for important conversations and meaningful change, recognizing that change starts with every one of us and each person can make an impact.”
Reconciliation is the right thing to do, and we should do it.
Whether Indigenous or non-Indigenous, we all have a role to play in reconciliation in Canada. With historical knowledge, we can learn from the past so we can move forward in a good way together. The following section has some ideas for reconciliACTIONs you can take.
ReconciliACTIONs
Celebrate National Indigenous Peoples’ Day
National Indigenous Peoples’ Day takes place every year on June 21. Honouring this day is essential because it acknowledges Canada’s history. As stated in an article by Georgian College about celebrating National Indigenous Peoples’ Day, “It’s a day for all Canadians to recognize, celebrate and honour Indigenous cultures and communities. No matter where you are in Canada, there’s a rich history and presence of Indigenous Nations. June 21 is a day to honour the original peoples of this country and also to acknowledge the contributions and sacrifices Indigenous Peoples have made.”
You or your organization can do this by acknowledging the land you are living, working, and playing on, as well as attending National Indigenous Peoples’ Day festivities.
Give territory acknowledgements where appropriate
You can also implement reconciliation principles by shifting the language of your everyday office interactions. For example, giving territory acknowledgements in your communications at the beginning of events and at the start of some meetings will show respect to the Indigenous Peoples on whose territory you live and do business. (Read the article 7 Ways to Incorporate Reconciliation into Your Business for other ideas on how to make reconciliation principles a part of your business practice.)
A good way to get started on writing a territory acknowledgement is to ask yourself the question, “Why do I want to create my own land acknowledgement?” Then, start researching the territory that you are living or working on and write out your own territory acknowledgement that resonates with you personally.
For more information on how to complete this activity, read the blog post Five Steps to Writing a Land Acknowledgment.
Other actions
Other possible things you can do include:
- “Remember that you and your organization are in many cases doing business with a culture, not with another business.” (B. Joseph, 2019) Indigenous cultures are primarily cultures of collectivism. Ensuring everyone in the community has an opportunity to know what is happening with your organization is critical.
- Hire and retain Indigenous talent. When your organization hires Indigenous people, implement a retention plan to ensure they want to stay.
- Provide training for your organization on UNDRIP and the 94 calls to action to inform your employees and prepare them for success when dealing with Indigenous communities.
Exercises
Break into groups and discuss these questions for 15 minutes:
- How do you feel about ReconciliACTION?
- What do you find most challenging when thinking about ReconciliACTION?
- How can you bring your organization closer to ethically working with Indigenous communities?
- What is one way you, as a Canadian, can contribute to ReconciliACTION? | 850 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://opentextbc.ca/indigenousperspectivesbusiness/chapter/reconciliactions/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:14650 | https://opentextbc.ca/indigenousperspectivesbusiness/chapter/reconciliactions/ |
oxNPDs7N4IC3MYQ9 | Introduction to Early Childhood Education | 10.7 Communication with Families: What, When, and How to Communicate with Families about Behavior
Ardene Niemer, M.Ed.
At this point in the chapter, we have a shared definition of behavior, taken a deeper look at behavior and motivation, and established an understanding that all behavior is a form of communication. We also have reviewed how relationships (especially positive relationships) relate to behavior and are needed to support positively guiding the behavior of children. This foundation was built to support a mutual understanding of Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) and trauma (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2021). This critical information is necessary to understand the whole child and not simply react to the behavior(s) that are seen.
In this section, we examine how to have conversations with families about behaviors (challenging and/or unwanted). This communication requires an ability for you to be objective, positive, and culturally aware in the information you share and the method by which you communicate.
Successful work in the field of early learning depends on your ability to build positive, trusting, and respectful relationships with families. No child comes to us alone or isolated, they come to us within the context of a family. Building and maintaining trusting relationships with those families allows educators to engage in more opportunities for open communication and dialogue about children.
Having a conversation about a child’s challenging behavior can be stressful for them and for ourselves. Did you know that you can reduce your stress and gain more positive results when you “invest” in relationships with families? It requires being objective and sticking to facts, while at the same time maintaining a focus on solutions. It is important that we understand that in child development, there are cultural differences relating to beliefs about developmental milestones (Maryville University, 2021). When communicating with families be conscious of your own beliefs related to culture and your personal biases as you make choices about what and how to communicate with families.
It might feel intimidating to have conversations with families about a child’s behavior (Griffin, n.d.). A key strategy in having difficult conversations is to begin with the positive. Start with strengths, including describing what the child can do, and what he/she does well. Include positives about behavior and times when you have noticed positive behaviors or interactions. Remember to always avoid the impulse to blame the family for the child’s challenging behavior. This is an important interaction to have with the family and cannot be avoided out of our fear of potential (real or imagined) conflict. When we look at these extremes of blame and avoidance, realize that neither approach is helpful for the child, and both only add to your own stress. This added stress could even possibly increase the intensity of the behavioral situation of concern.
Did you know that our biases can significantly impact how we respond to children’s behavior in the classroom (Derman-Sparks & Edwards, 2019)? It’s crucial to understand that what we expect from children’s behavior in their early education may differ from what they learn at home. How we react to their behavior is what counts. To eliminate these biases and guide children’s behavior effectively, educators need to communicate expectations clearly and consistently within the classroom. Remember to make a conscious effort to recognize and overcome biases to create a positive and nurturing learning environment for all children.
When the time comes to talk with a child’s family about challenging behavior, Webster-Stratton (2012) shares some strategies to help create a productive interaction. Remember above where “invest” in relationships was mentioned? Webster-Stratton talks about this process of relationship building as a metaphor for a piggy bank. Webster-Stratton believes that we need to make deposits regularly to this piggy bank to have the ability to make withdrawals that support our difficult conversations.
Try these three strategies in your relationship work with families:
- Make sure you have plenty of investments in the “relationship bank” with the family,
- Stick to data from your observations
- Offer possible solutions and support.
Stratton (2012) also discusses how to fill your relationship bank. Each of us (both children and adults) has an emotional piggy bank. It is built with positive relationships. Just like your real-life piggy bank, you must have money in the bank to successfully make withdrawals without a negative outcome. Also take a moment to go back and review the other suggestions for positive reinforcement offered in this chapter.
Research (Webster-Stratton, 2012) has found that children need five positives. For example:
- Great walking feet!
- High-5!
- You are working SO hard!
- You did it!
- I see that you know how to put that puzzle together!
To move forward in your positive relationship, those five positives are needed for “balance” in your piggy bank. Essentially, they will outweigh one negative and help to move forward in your positive relationship. Here are some negatives:
- No!
- Stop!
- Please do not do that!
Now, add your own positives to the list!
Reflection
Take a break and think about that for a minute to let this ratio sink in; you need to say to a child five positives for every negative:
- five positives
- provide balance for one negative
- resulting in a more positive relationship and allowing the child opportunities for success
Stop and practice this formula related to a specific behavior you have observed or can imagine. Write your thoughts in the following table. Duplicate the table for more practice.
| 5 Positives | Balance 1 negative |
|---|---|
| 1. | |
| 2. | |
| 3. | |
| 4. | |
| 5. |
Let’s do some math! Think about that child whose name you say multiple times a day (Danny, don’t do that! Danny, keep your hands to yourself! Danny, Mae is using that now. Danny! Clean up, Danny….) Imagine you say that child’s name 30 times a week. Now, multiply that 30 x 5. Did you calculate that answer to be 150 positives? The child will need over 150 positive comments just to break even emotionally! This deposit strategy is not only for the child, but also the same for families. That very first time you approach a family to discuss a child’s challenging or “unwanted” behavior you are withdrawing a significant amount from the emotional piggy bank.
Refer to the numbered list above with these Webster-Stratton strategies: investing in the relationship bank with family, sticking with data from observations, and offering possible solutions and support.
Do you have enough positive interactions and a strong relationship already in place to avoid a negative balance? With sufficient balance in the piggy bank, you are ready to have challenging conversations and, as Webster-Stratton (2012) found, families will still have emotional money in the bank to work with you on developing possible solutions.
Next, stick to the facts. This is called being objective. Put aside the emotional aspect of challenging behavior when communicating with the family. Taking this emotion-free, positive approach you could share with a family, “Today Michael had a very difficult time with sharing.” This is a much more useful statement that opens the possibility for a conversation about problem-solving. The opposite can be said for using statements such as, “Michael was hitting all day.” This statement is not helpful and it is also most likely not accurate. The positive approach will lead to the strategy to support Michael learning a new skill, which he is. This also provides scaffolding to ask about behavior in the home, “Tell me about how Michael shares at home with his siblings. What methods have you tried that I might try here at school?”
Remember that emotional piggy bank that was shared earlier? Our goal here is to build a positive relationship and partnership with the family. We want to work together to make positive connections between home and school. Approaching challenging behavior in a fact-based manner will help to remove emotion and blame from the conversation and will be much more likely to open doors rather than create walls (Webster-Stratton, 2012).
The third and last strategy shared by Webster-Stratton (2012) is about problem solving. For every conversation, we as the ECE professionals need to be ready to share some solutions. At the same time, it is of benefit to the partnership to engage in give and take by asking for and offering ongoing partnership with the family. Always get ideas and input from the family. You will have an opportunity to share other strategies with the family after they communicate what they are currently doing at home to support their child. This partner-based communication will work to build a bridge between home and school that will support the child’s learning. You will also need to talk about going forward, and how you will continue to communicate about the child’s skill building. This should include any information you will be collecting from your ongoing classroom observations. Remember the importance of sharing successes in all written and verbal conversations with the family to keep adding to the family’s and child’s emotional piggy bank.
Here are some guiding thoughts for conversations with the family:
- Begin with strengths: “Let’s talk about what Sarah is doing really well!” This will begin your conversation with the positive and will focus on what the child can do so that you can build (scaffold) from there.
- Share concerns using facts: “I am concerned about Sarah and how she’s doing with her frustration. Are you seeing similar challenges at home?” Remember that you are working to build that positive relationship with the family, and you should always bring up concerns with collaboration in mind.
- Together, define a clear and measurable goal. “I really want to work with you to help Sarah develop her social skills to support positive behavior.”
- Create a plan together. “What do you think we should include in the plan for Sarah, so that each of us has strategies to follow that develop new skills for success?” Always focus on skill development, not on behavior.
- Finally, discuss next steps for moving forward. “The more we all work together, the more successful Sarah will be.” Remember that consistency between home and school will support the child to be more successful, and faster.
Attributions
- Figure 10.10: image released under the Pexels License
- Figure 10.11: Money Box by 401(K) 2012 is released under CC BY-SA 2.0
- Figure 10.12: Author-created Image of the 5 Steps to Creating a Cooperative Plan by Ardene Niemer, for WA Open ProfTech, © SBCTC, CC BY 4.0
- Figure 10.13: image released under the Unsplash License
A core skill in a child’s development based on the ability to understand and to be understood,
Inappropriate behavior that children use and rely on to get their needs met.
The specific steps to a goal, stated in measurable, objective terms. | 2,360 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://openwa.pressbooks.pub/earlychildedu1/chapter/wa10-7/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:27099 | https://openwa.pressbooks.pub/earlychildedu1/chapter/wa10-7/ |
N6xL6pEdL4hujmpm | 6.7: Numerical Experiment (Frequency Response of First-Order Filter) | 6.7: Numerical Experiment (Frequency Response of First-Order Filter)
Consider the exponential moving average filter
\(x_{n}=\sum_{k=0}^{\infty} a^{k} u_{n-k ;} \quad a=0.98\)
- Write out a few terms of the sum to show how the filter works.
- Write \(x_n\) as a recursion and discuss the computer memory required to implement the filter.
- Compute the complex frequency response \(H(e^{j\theta})\) for the filter
- Write a MATLAB program to plot the magnitude and phase of the complex frequency response \(H(e^{j\theta})\) versus \(\theta\) for \(\theta =−\pi\) to \(+\pi\) in steps of \(\frac{2\pi}{64}\) Do this for two values of \(a\), namely, \(a=0.98\) and \(a=-0.98\). Explain your findings.
-
Write a MATLAB program to pass the following signals through the filter when \(a=0.98\):
- \(u_{n}=\delta_{n}\)
- \(u_{n}=\xi_{n}\)
- \(u_{n}=\xi_{n} \cos \frac{2 \pi}{64} n\)
- \(u_{n}=\xi_{n} \cos \frac{2 \pi}{32} n\)
- \(u_{n}=\xi_{n} \cos \frac{2 \pi}{16} n\)
- \(u_{n}=\xi_{n} \cos \frac{2 \pi}{8} n\)
- \(u_{n}=\xi_{n} \cos \frac{2 \pi}{4} n\)
- \(u_{n}=\xi_{n} \cos \frac{2 \pi}{2} n\)
Plot the outputs for each case and interpret your findings in terms of the complex frequency response \(H(e^{j\theta})\). Repeat step 5 for \(a=-0.98\). Interpret your findings. | 239 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://eng.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Electrical_Engineering/Introductory_Electrical_Engineering/A_First_Course_in_Electrical_and_Computer_Engineering_(Scharf)/06%3A_Filtering/6.07%3A_Numerical_Experiment_(Frequency_Response_of_First-Order_Filter) | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:39047 | https://eng.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Electrical_Engineering/Introductory_Electrical_Engineering/A_First_Course_in_Electrical_and_Computer_Engineering_(Scharf)/06%3A_Filtering/6.07%3A_Numerical_Experiment_(Frequency_Response_of_First-Order_Filter) |
DrUcWs0coSt9IVey | Introduction to Art Concepts | 14 Design Principles
In this reading you will learn to identify and distinguish how the principles of design are used to visually organize an artwork.
Art As Visual Input
Visual art manifests itself through media, ideas, themes and sheer creative imagination. Yet all of these rely on basic structural principles that, like the elements we’ve been studying, combine to give voice to artistic expression. Incorporating the principles into your artistic vocabulary not only allows you to objectively describe artworks you may not understand, but contributes in the search for their meaning.
The first way to think about a principle is that it is something that can be repeatedly and dependably done with elements to produce some sort of visual effect in a composition.
The principles are based on sensory responses to visual input: elements APPEAR to have visual weight, movement, etc. The principles help govern what might occur when particular elements are arranged in a particular way. Using a chemistry analogy, the principles are the ways the elements “stick together” to make a “chemical” (in our case, an image).
Another way to think about these design principles is that they express a value judgment about a composition. For example, when we say a painting has “unity” we are making a value judgment. We might also say that too much unity without variety is boring and too much variation without unity is chaotic.
The principles of design help you to carefully plan and organize the elements of art so that you will hold interest and command attention. This is sometimes referred to as visual impact.
In any work of art there is a thought process for the arrangement and use of the elements of design. The artist who works with the principles of good composition will create a more interesting piece; it will be arranged to show a pleasing rhythm and movement. The center of interest will be strong and the viewer will not look away, instead, they will be drawn into the work. A good knowledge of composition is essential in producing good artwork. Some artists today like to bend or ignore these rules and by doing so are experimenting with different forms of expression. The following page explore important principles in composition.
Visual Balance
All works of art possess some form of visual balance – a sense of weighted clarity created in a composition. The artist arranges balance to set the dynamics of a composition. A really good example is in the work of Piet Mondrian, whose revolutionary paintings of the early twentieth century used non-objective balance instead of realistic subject matter to generate the visual power in his work. In the examples below you can see that where the white rectangle is placed makes a big difference in how the entire picture plane is activated.
The example on the top left is weighted toward the top, and the diagonal orientation of the white shape gives the whole area a sense of movement. The top middle example is weighted more toward the bottom, but still maintains a sense that the white shape is floating. On the top right, the white shape is nearly off the picture plane altogether, leaving most of the remaining area visually empty. This arrangement works if you want to convey a feeling of loftiness or simply direct the viewer’s eyes to the top of the composition. The lower left example is perhaps the least dynamic: the white shape is resting at the bottom, mimicking the horizontal bottom edge of the ground. The overall sense here is restful, heavy and without any dynamic character. The bottom middle composition is weighted decidedly toward the bottom right corner, but again, the diagonal orientation of the white shape leaves some sense of movement. Lastly, the lower right example places the white shape directly in the middle on a horizontal axis. This is visually the most stable, but lacks any sense of movement.
There are three basic forms of visual balance:
- Symmetrical
- Asymmetrical
- Radial
Symmetrical balance is the most visually stable, and characterized by an exact—or nearly exact—compositional design on either (or both) sides of the horizontal or vertical axis of the picture plane. Symmetrical compositions are usually dominated by a central anchoring element. There are many examples of symmetry in the natural world that reflect an aesthetic dimension. The Moon Jellyfish fits this description; ghostly lit against a black background, but absolute symmetry in its design.
But symmetry’s inherent stability can sometimes make an image look static. View the Tibetan scroll painting below to see how the implied movement of the central figure Vajrakilaya lessens the severe symmetry. The visual busyness of the shapes and patterns surrounding the figure are balanced by their compositional symmetry, and the wall of flame behind Vajrakilaya tilts to the right as the figure itself tilts to the left. Tibetan scroll paintings use the symmetry of the figure to symbolize their power, stability, timelessness, and spiritual presence.
Vajrakilaya. Image by Yurei Fukuro, license CC BY 2.0
Spiritual paintings from other cultures employ this same balance for similar reasons. Sano di Pietro’s ‘Madonna of Humility’, painted around 1440, is centrally positioned, holding the Christ child and forming a triangular design, her head the apex and her flowing gown making a broad base at the bottom of the picture. Their halos are visually reinforced with the heads of the angels and the arc of the frame. You might say that this one and the Tibetan scroll painting are mostly symmetrical, but notice how much more symmetrical the second Madonna and child image is with the right and left halves of the painting almost identical. This is achieved by the Christ child being placed in the middle of Mary’s lap and her two hands raised in unison.
The use of symmetry is evident in three-dimensional art, too. A famous example is the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, Missouri (below). Commemorating the westward expansion of the United States, its stainless steel frame rises over 600 feet into the air before gently curving back to the ground. Another example is Richard Serra’s Tilted Spheres (also below). The four massive slabs of steel show a concentric symmetry and take on an organic dimension as they curve around each other, appearing to almost hover above the ground.
Asymmetry uses compositional elements that are offset from each other, creating a visually unstable balance. Asymmetrical visual balance is the most dynamic because it creates a more complex design construction. A graphic poster from the 1930s shows how offset positioning and strong contrasts can increase the visual effect of the entire composition.
Claude Monet’s Still Life with Apples and Grapes from 1880 (below) uses asymmetry in its design to enliven an otherwise mundane arrangement. First, he sets the whole composition on the diagonal, cutting off the lower left corner with a dark triangle. The arrangement of fruit appears haphazard, but Monet purposely sets most of it on the top half of the canvas to achieve a lighter visual weight. He balances the darker basket of fruit with the white of the tablecloth, even placing a few smaller apples at the lower right to complete the composition.
Monet and other Impressionist painters were influenced by Japanese woodcut prints, whose flat spatial areas and graphic color appealed to the artist’s sense of design.
One of the best-known Japanese print artists is Ando Hiroshige. You can see the design strength of asymmetry in his woodcut Shinagawa on the Tokaido (below), one of a series of works that explores the landscape around the Takaido road. You can view many of his works through the hyperlink above.
In Henry Moore’s Reclining Figure the organic form of the abstracted figure, strong lighting and precarious balance obtained through asymmetry make the sculpture a powerful example in three-dimensions.
Radial balance suggests movement from the center of a composition towards the outer edge—or vise versa. Many times radial balance is another form of symmetry, offering stability and a point of focus at the center of the composition. Buddhist mandala paintings offer this kind of balance almost exclusively. Similar to the scroll painting we viewed previously, the image radiates outward from a central spirit figure. In the example below there are six of these figures forming a star shape in the middle. Here we have absolute symmetry in the composition, yet a feeling of movement is generated by the concentric circles within a rectangular format.
Raphael’s painting of Galatea, a sea nymph in Greek mythology, incorporates a double set of radial designs into one composition. The first is the swirl of figures at the bottom of the painting, the second being the four cherubs circulating at the top. The entire work is a current of figures, limbs and implied motion. Notice too the stabilizing classic triangle formed with Galatea’s head at the apex and the other figures’ positions inclined towards her. The cherub outstretched horizontally along the bottom of the composition completes the second circle.
Repetition
Repetition is the use of two or more like elements or forms within a composition. The systematic arrangement of a repeated shapes or forms creates pattern.
Patterns create rhythm, the lyric or syncopated visual effect that helps carry the viewer, and the artist’s idea, throughout the work. A simple but stunning visual pattern, created in this photograph of an orchard by Jim Wilson for the New York Times, combines color, shape and direction into a rhythmic flow from left to right. Setting the composition on a diagonal increases the feeling of movement and drama.
The traditional art of Australian aboriginal culture uses repetition and pattern almost exclusively both as decoration and to give symbolic meaning to images. The coolamon, or carrying vessel pictured below, is made of tree bark and painted with stylized patterns of colored dots indicating paths, landscapes or animals. You can see how fairly simple patterns create rhythmic undulations across the surface of the work. The design on this particular piece indicates it was probably made for ceremonial use. We’ll explore aboriginal works in more depth in the ‘Other Worlds’ module.
Rhythmic cadences take complex visual form when subordinated by others. Elements of line and shape coalesce into a formal matrix that supports the leaping salmon in Alfredo Arreguin’s ‘Malila Diptych’. Abstract arches and spirals of water reverberate in the scales, eyes and gills of the fish. Arreguin creates two rhythmic beats here, that of the water flowing downstream to the left and the fish gracefully jumping against it on their way upstream.
The textile medium is well suited to incorporate pattern into art. The warp and weft of the yarns create natural patterns that are manipulated through position, color and size by the weaver. The Tlingit culture of coastal British Columbia produce spectacular ceremonial blankets distinguished by graphic patterns and rhythms in stylized animal forms separated by a hierarchy of geometric shapes. The symmetry and high contrast of the design is stunning in its effect.
Scale and Proportion
Scale shows the relative size of one object in relation to another; a person compared to a dog, for example. Proportion indicates the relative size of parts to the whole; a person’s head compared to the rest of their body, for example. Scalar relationships are often used to create illusions of depth on a two-dimensional surface, the larger form being closer to the viewer than the smaller one. The scale of an object can provide a focal point or emphasis in an image. In Winslow Homer’s watercolor A Good Shot, Adirondacks the deer is centered in the foreground and highlighted to assure its place of importance in the composition. In comparison, there is a small puff of white smoke from a rifle in the left center background, the only indicator of the hunter’s position. Click the image for a larger view.
Scale and proportion are incremental in nature. Works of art don’t always rely on big differences in scale to make a strong visual impact. A good example of this is Michelangelo’s sculptural masterpiece Pieta from 1499 (below). Here Mary cradles her dead son, the two figures forming a stable triangular composition. Michelangelo sculpts Mary to a larger scale than the dead Christ to give the central figure more significance, both visually and psychologically. If they were both depicted the same size, Mary would appear awkward trying to cradle a full-size adult figure in her lap. At first we don’t notice how much larger Mary is because of Michelangelo’s masterful sculpting ability.
When scale and proportion are greatly increased the results can be impressive, giving a work commanding space or fantastic implications. Rene Magritte’s painting Personal Values constructs a room with objects whose proportions are so out of whack that it becomes an ironic play on how we view everyday items in our lives.
American sculptor Claes Oldenburg and his wife Coosje van Bruggen create works of common objects at enormous scales. Their Stake Hitch reaches a total height of more than 53 feet and links two floors of the Dallas Museum of Art. As big as it is, the work retains a comic and playful character, in part because of its gigantic size.
Emphasis
Emphasis—the area of primary visual importance—can be attained in a number of ways. We’ve just seen how it can be a function of differences in scale. Emphasis can also be obtained by isolating an area or specific subject matter through its location or color, value and texture. Main emphasis in a composition is usually supported by areas of lesser importance, a hierarchy within an artwork that’s activated and sustained at different levels.
Like other artistic principles, emphasis can be expanded to include the main idea contained in a work of art. Let’s look at the following work to explore this.
We can clearly determine the figure in the white shirt as the main emphasis in Francisco de Goya’s painting The Third of May, 1808 below. Even though his location is left of center, a candle lantern in front of him acts as a spotlight, and his dramatic stance reinforces his relative isolation from the rest of the crowd. Moreover, the soldiers with their aimed rifles create an implied line between them selves and the figure. There is a rhythm created by all the figures’ heads—roughly all at the same level throughout the painting—that is continued in the soldiers’ legs and scabbards to the lower right. Goya counters the horizontal emphasis by including the distant church and its vertical towers in the background.
In terms of the idea, Goya’s narrative painting gives witness to the summary execution of Spanish resistance fighters by Napoleon’s armies on the night of May 3, 1808. He poses the figure in the white shirt to imply a crucifixion as he faces his own death, and his compatriots surrounding him either clutch their faces in disbelief or stand stoically with him, looking their executioners in the eyes. While the carnage takes place in front of us, the church stands dark and silent in the distance. The genius of Goya is his ability to direct the narrative content by the emphasis he places in his composition.
A second example showing emphasis is seen in Landscape with Pheasants, a silk tapestry from nineteenth-century China. Here the main focus is obtained in a couple of different ways. First, the pair of birds are woven in colored silk, setting them apart visually from the gray landscape they inhabit. Secondly, their placement at the top of the outcrop of land allows them to stand out against the light background, their tail feathers mimicked by the nearby leaves. The convoluted treatment of the rocky outcrop keeps it in competition with the pheasants as a focal point, but in the end the pair of birds’ color wins out.
Time and Motion
One of the problems artists face in creating static (singular, fixed images) is how to imbue them with a sense of time and motion. Some traditional solutions to this problem employ the use of spatial relationships, especially perspective and atmospheric perspective. Scale and proportion can also be employed to show the passage of time or the illusion of depth and movement. For example, as something recedes into the background, it becomes smaller in scale and lighter in value. Also, the same figure (or other form) repeated in different places within the same image gives the effect of movement and the passage of time.
An early example of this is in the carved sculpture of Kuya Shonin. The Buddhist monk leans forward, his cloak seeming to move with the breeze of his steps. The figure is remarkably realistic in style, his head lifted slightly and his mouth open. Six small figures emerge from his mouth, visual symbols of the chant he utters.
Visual experiments in movement were first produced in the middle of the 19th century. Photographer Eadweard Muybridge snapped black and white sequences of figures and animals walking, running and jumping, then placing them side-by-side to examine the mechanics and rhythms created by each action.
In the modern era, the rise of cubism (please refer back to our study of ‘space’ in module 3) and subsequent related styles in modern painting and sculpture had a major effect on how static works of art depict time and movement. These new developments in form came about, in part, through the cubist’s initial exploration of how to depict an object and the space around it by representing it from multiple viewpoints, incorporating all of them into a single image.
Marcel Duchamp’s painting Nude Descending a Staircase from 1912 formally concentrates Muybridge’s idea into a single image. The figure is abstract, a result of Duchamp’s influence by cubism, but gives the viewer a definite feeling of movement from left to right. This work was exhibited at The Armory Show in New York City in 1913. The show was the first to exhibit modern art from the United States and Europe at an American venue on such a large scale. Controversial and fantastic, the Armory show became a symbol for the emerging modern art movement. Duchamp’s painting is representative of the new ideas brought forth in the exhibition.
In three dimensions the effect of movement is achieved by imbuing the subject matter with a dynamic pose or gesture (recall that the use of diagonals in a composition helps create a sense of movement). Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s sculpture of David from 1623 is a study of coiled visual tension and movement. The artist shows us the figure of David with furrowed brow, even biting his lip in concentration as he eyes Goliath and prepares to release the rock from his sling.
The temporal arts of film, video and digital projection by their definition show implied movement and the passage of time. In all of these mediums we watch as a narrative unfolds before our eyes. Film is essentially thousands of static images divided onto one long roll of film that is passed through a lens at a certain speed. From this apparatus comes the term movies.
Video uses magnetic tape to achieve the same effect, and digital media streams millions of electronically pixilated images across the screen. An example is seen in the work of Swedish Artist Pipilotti Rist. Her large-scale digital work Pour Your Body Out is fluid, colorful and absolutely absorbing as it unfolds across the walls.
Unity and Variety
Ultimately, a work of art is the strongest when it expresses an overall unity in composition and form, a visual sense that all the parts fit together; that the whole is greater than its parts. This same sense of unity is projected to encompass the idea and meaning of the work too. This visual and conceptual unity is sublimated by the variety of elements and principles used to create it. We can think of this in terms of a musical orchestra and its conductor: directing many different instruments, sounds and feelings into a single comprehendible symphony of sound. This is where the objective functions of line, color, pattern, scale and all the other artistic elements and principles yield to a more subjective view of the entire work, and from that an appreciation of the aesthetics and meaning it resonates.
We can view Eva Isaksen’s work Orange Light below to see how unity and variety work together.
Isaksen makes use of nearly every element and principle including shallow space, a range of values, colors and textures, asymmetrical balance and different areas of emphasis. The unity of her composition stays strong by keeping the various parts in check against each other and the space they inhabit. In the end the viewer is caught up in a mysterious world of organic forms that float across the surface like seeds being caught by a summer breeze. | 4,494 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://library.achievingthedream.org/sacartappreciation/chapter/oer-1-8/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:79506 | https://library.achievingthedream.org/sacartappreciation/chapter/oer-1-8/ |
gxC-neug--vlAJ6_ | Differential diagnosis ... | PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
I HAVE corrected some typographical errors kindly pointed out by correspondents, reorganized the index and table of contents, and made a few more material changes. Two new cases are introduced: one by the kind permission of Dr. Frederick J. Bowen of Mount Morris, N. Y., whom I take this opportunity of thanking.
Some of the symptoms not treated in this volume ie. g., hematuria, edema, diarrhea, dyspepsia, glandular enlargement, etc.) will be dealt with in a second volume along the same lines.
PREFACE
The attempt to make and defend a differential diagnosis brings all one's failings into sharp relief. Though I ha\e done my Ijest to avoid obvious errors in this book, I am confident that it contains much that deserves — and I hope will recei\e — challenge from other physicians.
My lx;st thanks are due to Dr. James H. Young for help in the diagrams, and to my secretary, ]Miss Edith K. Richie, who has made the index and rendered many invaluable services throughout the preparation of the book.
I. THE PRESENTING SYMPTOM
Cases of disease present, as we say, certain leading symptoms. They thrust forward, like a soldier who presents arms, a complaint such as pain, cough, or "nervousness," so that it occupies the foreground of the clinical picture. Such a ^^ presenting symptom,''^ comparable to the "presenting part^' in obstetrics, may turn out to be of minor importance when we have studied the whole case. But at the outset it has the power to lead us toward right or wrong conclusions in diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment, according as we ha^•e or have not learned the art of following it up.
This book is an attempt to study medicine from the point of view of the presenting symptom. I hope to show how the complaints of the patient — fragmentary expressions of the underlying disease — should be used as leads, and how their lead can be followed to the actual seat of the disease.
The plan thus outlined has three parts:
(a) To present a list of the common causes of the symptoms most often complained of by patients, e. g., the causes of pain in the back, of vomiting, or of hematuria.
so far as this is possible.
(c) To illustrate them by case-histories in which the presenting symptom is followed home until a diagnostic ]:)roblem and its solution are ])resentcd.
This book will not help any one to recognize the signs of disease, but it ought to aid physicians to solve those clinical puzzles wherein the diagnosis is missed because the ])atient's disease is not among tlic^sc
l8 DIFFERENTIAL DIAGNOSIS
considered and looked for. In other words, correct diagnosis depends upon what enters the doctor's head as possible, and on what his head does to sift the possibilities after they have entered it, as well as on the direct recognition of signs by physical examination.
To throw open the mind's door and allow all disease to enter into consideration each time that we are called to a bedside is foolish in the attempt, and impossible in the performance. Each case should lead us to arrange before the mind's eye a selected group of reasonably probable causes for the symptoms complained of and for the signs discovered. What we select should depend upon the clues furnished us by the patient himself, or by the results of our own examination.
When, for example, a patient pronounces the word ^' headache,^' a group of causes should shoot into the field of attention like the figures on a cash register. Blue lips and finger-nails call up quite another group of ideas. Each clue or combination of clues should come to possess its own set of radiations or "leadings," determined partly by what we know of anatomy and physiology, partly by the hard knocks of clinical experience.
3. ADVANTAGES OF THE PLAN HERE ADOPTED
This way of working into a knowledge of medicine has the advantage of following the course of procedure by which we often question and examine patients in the office or in the clinic. We begin with the chief complaint and work inward and backward to the causes, the organic lesions, the evolution, probable outcome, and rational treatment of the case. Cases do not often come to us systematically arranged like the account of typhoid in a text-book of practice of medicine. They are generally presented to us from an angle, and with one symptom, often a misleading one, in the foreground. From this point of view we must reason and inquire our way back into the deeper processes and more obscure causes which guide our therapeutic endeavors.
Because they do not know how to get beyond symptoms. They ha\"e not been Uiught from the point of \iew of practice — /. f., of the presenting symptom. What are the possible causes and linkages of any symptom? Which of them are most probable? Bv what methods of questioning or of examination can the actual cause be found? This book aims to put into the physician's hand the means of answering these questions.
INTRODUCTION 1 9
I quite realize that the art of forming reasonable hypotheses about a case of disease and then of testing these hypotheses by such experiments as shall establish the correct and nullify the incorrect, is useless unless the methods of physical and chemical diagnosis have been mastered and unless the natural history of all common diseases has been learned by observation and reading. But experience shows that a man may possess a considerable acquaintance with physical diagnosis and with the course of disease, and yet be quite helpless in the presence of a suffering person, simply because he cannot apply his knowledge to this case. He can observe, he can remember, but he cannot constructively think and experiment. Every item of physical or chemical examination is an experiment made to test the soundness of an idea about the case in hand. Skill in thinking and in putting our thoughts to such a test of experiment are not learned either by drill in physical diagnosis or by reading upon the history of disease.
To give such practice in thinking and working one's way into the mastery of a case of disease, through the intelligent verification of our thoughts by physical examination, is my object in the following chapters. They follow the method of case-teaching which I have used for eight years at the Harvard Medical School, applying there a method long employed at the Harvard Law School, and first described by Dr. W. B. Cannon.
4. LIMITS
To keep the book within reasonable limits I have selected 12 symptomfe (see Table of Contents) which are most often complained of by patients. I am well aware that others, such as diarrhea, constipation, loss of weight, paralysis, pallor, edema, purpura, or palpable tumors, might well ha^•e been discussed did space permit.
5. VULNERABILITY OF ALL DIFFERENTIAL DIAGNOSIS
The discussions which here follow each ])rintcd case arc concerned with differential diagnosis, a very dangerous topic — dangerous to the reputation of physicians for wisdom. It is. To state the symptoms of ty])hoid perforation is not dilTicult. To gi^•e a set of rules whcre1)y the conditions which simulate ty])hoid perforation may l)e excluded is exceedingly difficult. Pliysicians are very naturally reticent on such matters, slow to commit their thoughts to |)a])er, and ^■ery susjMcious of any attempt to tabulate their methods of rcasonini.'.
Yet all diagnosis must become differential before it can be of any use. All recognition of a lesion or a disease involves distinguishing possible sources of error and excluding them by a reasoning process — more or less definite and conscious. To be of any value, then, diagnosis must descend into the arena where it is questioned and assailed, where all sorts of errors and uncertainties arise to unsettle our wisdom. Those differential tables which we all distrust so much are really no more untrustworthy than the diagnoses we make in practice — for every diagnosis expresses the results obtained by using such a table more or less unconsciously, as we exclude possible errors and alternative diagnoses.
I am very well aware, therefore, that the differential diagnostic statements which fill this book are one and all subject to such limiting phrases as "in most cases," "as a rule," etc. This must always be so as long as the list of possible causes or diagnoses which we call to mind when we attack any diagnostic problem is an incomplete list (or possibly an overinclusive one) . To decide which of the known causes of jaundice is the cause of the yellowness of Miss Smith we investigate, by the experiments known as "history," "physical examination," and "therapeutic test," a list of these known causes. But some day we may meet a case in which none of these well-known causes is present. Some new cause, so far unlisted, may, in fact, be at work. There are probably as many fish in the sea as ever came out of it; the unrecognized infections, poisons, and maladjustments are probably as many as those already described in text-books.
One other limitation must be mentioned. Whenever one says: "The symptoms produced by typhoid (or by peritonitis or by renal stone) are such and such," one should tacitly add — "provided that it produces any characteristic symptoms at all." It is certain that the three diseases just mentioned may exist without producing any symptoms of which the jjatient is aware. It is probable that this is true of all other diseases. But as we can have no direct dealing with these silent types of disease, we can give them place in the theater of our reasonings only in that outer circle reserved for "possible sources of error," a great and distinguished company whose presence serves to keep us within the bounds of humility and of scientific caution.
6. OMISSIONS
Some diseases are omitted by choice, others by necessity. The 385 cases which I have selected for study were all seen in private or hospital practice. To prevent the possibility of their recognition by the individuals concerned I have changed or omitted certain personal details. In essentials the cases are reproduced as they were observed.
I have chosen no cases in which diagnosis was obvious and none in which it was impossible or dependent chiefly on good luck. To avoid the obvious, I have omitted discussion of such clinical pictures as the following:
Patient of twenty-five, who has had two attacks of rheumatic fever, complains of dyspnea, dropsy, and cough. Examination shows a rapid, irregular, transversely enlarged heart, with a presystolic murmur and thrill at the apex and an accentuated pulmonic second sound. There is evidence of passive congestion of the lungs, liver, legs, and gasIro-intestinal tract, with dropsy of the serous cavities.
thence to our conclusions.
While selecting cases in which diagnosis was difficult, but not impossible, I have tried to choose those in which in the end we could attain a reasonable certainty. Absolute certainty is attainal^le only as the result of of)eration or autopsy, and not always then. Hence it is possible that certain of my readers may disagree with the diagnosis Imally reached in some cases. This is inevitable in a book of this kind, as it is in actual practice. Book and practice aHke can only reflect the existing state of medical knowledge, medical uncertainty, and ignorance. But 1 sincerelv hope that my errors may be pointed out by correspondents.
After restricting the field in the way just mentioned, I have tried to exemplify in each cha|)ter all the diseases which often lead a ])atic'nt to consult his pln-sician, comj)laining of the symptom which forms tlie sul)ject of that cha])ter. Xow and then, however, I have altogether omitted some imitortant disease because T could not find an}- suit;il)le example of it within my own cases or among those wliicli I had myself stucHed.
In a few cases certain items lia\"e l)een omilted here because they \\ere hkewise omitted in the \ersion of the case gi\en me Ity tlie atten(hng [)liysieian. ]M\- task was lo iiolicc their ioiispi( nous or inronspicunus
last need some explanation.
The diagrams, which are introduced in each chapter just before the illustrative cases, represent an attempt (the first that I know of) to estimate the relative frequency of the commoner causes for each symptom discussed. This estimate, which can be but approximate, rests upon the following data:
(a) An enumeration of the total number of cases of every disease treated at the Massachusetts General Hospital during the last six years. About 180,000 cases are thus classified according to diagnosis, and the relative frequency of eacli disease in this material is thus roughly computed. But these figures do not give us the relative frequency of any of the symptoms (such as jaundice or headache) studied in this book. Many cases of gall-stones are not jaundiced; hence we cannot directly compare the number of gall-stone cases with the number of cirrhoses (for example), but must estimate the percentage of jaundiced cirrhoses and jaundiced gall-stone disease in each group. This is done by consulting—
{b) Statistical articles from the literature in which the percentage occurrence of each symptom in a large series of cases is worked out. Such statistical articles, however, are not common. In Rollcston's magnificent monograph on the liver almost every statement has a statistical basis, and the wearisome recurrence of phrases like "as a rule," "not infrequently," "sometimes," etc., is replaced by concrete quantitative estimates. But there are not many such books. Hence I have been forced in some instances to compute the percentage occurrence of a symptom by —
(c) The study of the symptom and of the frequency of its occurrence in 250 cases of the disease in question; these cases were taken from the more recent records of the ^Massachusetts General Hos])ital.
By the methods described under (a), {b), and (c) the length of every line in every diagram has l)ecn calculated. I am well aware that tliere are numerous sources of error in these calculations. The diagnoses in the ^Massachusetts General Hospital records ma}' be faulty in some instances, though the large number of cases used tends to minimize such errors. The statistical articles referred to under {b) may be incorrect, and do not often include a very large bulk of cases. Finally, the number of cases
referred to in the calculations under (c) is smaller than I should wish. More important than any of these errors are the absolute omissions which are sure to be discovered among my tables of causes. I hope for much aid from my critics in supplying such missing links. Indeed, I am confident that some one will be so indignant at my mistakes that he will at once begin to write a better book on similar lines — a result which I most earnestly desire.
grams are given in Appendix A, p. 743.
The list of causes represented in these gridiron-shaped diagrams is not wholly the same as that exemplified in the illustrative cases. Only the commonest, clearest, and most important causes are drawn in upon the "gridirons." Still a third group of causes, which do not lend themselves either to diagrammatic or to detailed illustrative treatment, are mentioned briefly in the introductory section of each chaj^ter. Hence the complete list of causes discussed is to be found — (a) In part in the gridirons; (b) in part in tlie illustrative cases; (c) in part in the introductory section of each chapter.
The Charts. — Beside the three lines, which represent in the ordinary way the course of temperature, pulse, and respiration, there is a fourth line interwoven with the respiratory curve, and distinguished by the presence of cross stria;, like the railroads on a map. This line stands for the twenty-four-hour amount of urine measured in ounces.
GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS
Before we begin to study the cause or the cure of any pain, we need to convince ourselves that it really exists. Not only in the cases of deliberate deception or malingering, but in dealing with perfectly honest people, we are liable to error. Many persons, especially of the less educated classes, do not distinguish between pain and the other varieties of discomfort, such as itching or a sense of pressure. Many patients who say at first that they have a headache or a stomachache may be brought, by a little questioning, to recognize that they are referring to a sense of weight, constriction, or vague discomfort, rather than to pain in the narrower sense.
When a patient's face is contorted and his body writhes, stiffens, or doubles up, we can have no doubt that he is suffering, unless we believe him an impostor, but obviously these evidences of pain may be easily simulated or exaggerated.
It is in such cases that we need the testimony of some third person who can watch the patient at a time when he supposes himself to be alone. Many patients who do not intend to deceiA'e us show far greater evidences of suffering when a doctor, a nurse, or a friend is near at hand than when they believe they are unoljserved. This is partly due to the fact that a })erfectly genuine though distinctly mild lesion is very much more painful to the patient when his self-pity is aroused by the presence of a sympathetic onlooker.
When a patient who bears the ordinary marks of blooming health states that he has been suffering excruciating pain for many months, the lack of any of the ordinary evidences of suffering naturally and
suffering is pretty sure to leave its mark on the face and body.
In cases of suspected malingering, when an individual states that a certain motion or a certain pressure upon a supposedly tender point causes great suffering, we may control his statement to a certain extent by measuring the peripheral blood-pressure at the time. Severe pain almost always causes a notable rise in blood-pressure, and if we find nothing of the kind, we may rightly conclude that if pain is present, it is probably not intense.
DEGREE OF PAIN
I have long been accustomed to compare, as a matter of routine and in every case, the extent and quickness of the knee-jerks with the patient's statement regarding his own suffering. I ha\'e found that those who describe all their troubles as "terrible," "awful," "fearful," and the like, are very apt to have lively knee-jerks, and that those who are more moderate in their expressions have usually less active reflexes. It seems quite probable that there is a parallelism here between reflex sensibility and sensitiveness to pain. Those who respond to a given stimulus by an exaggerated knee-jerk might well be expected to res])ond to a given cause of pain by an exaggerated complaint. So it has seemed to me as a result of many observations, and I have come to believe that people are more likely to be o\ersensilive and to exaggerate their sufferings when the knee-jerks are unusually lively.
This is, of course, a very rough and uncertain method of measuring pain, and would ])erhaps be more truly described as an attempt to measure the severity of the cause of pain, rather than of the pain itself. We are greatly in need of some more accurate method of estimating how much peo])le suffer. For the present, we have to judge largely by such uncertain evidences as were mentioned in the last section — facial ex])rcssion, bodily movement, the accounts of onlookers, and the e\idences of such physical clianges as ])ain might produce. In addition to tlicsc we get a certain amount of information by asking:
"\\'t; know that certain races— -for exam|)le, the C'liinese — are much less sensiti'.e than others to ])ain in that they exhibit far less exidence of "shock" after a bullet wound or a (liseml)owelment. We can only u'k-s at the sensory side of tliis ])henomenon, but tlie absence of tlie ordinar}" organic elfects ])roduced l)y the same injury in a C'auca>ian gi\-es us some
same race.
Though women are generally believed to be more highly organized and more sensitive than men, it is a well-known fact that they bear pain, especially prolonged pain, better than men. I have never heard any plausible explanation of this fact.
TYPES OF PAIN
Most of the adjectives which are attached to the complaints of patients, either by themselves or in the text-book description, give us no information of value because they are not regularly associated with any one disease. Boring pains, tearing pains, and knife-like pains do not characterize any particular disease. Nevertheless, there are a few distinctions of importance.
Pains that recur rhythmically, or at regular intervals, working up gradually to a climax each time, and then disappearing suddenly or gradually, are often associated with hyperperistalsis within some hollow tube, such as the intestine, the ureter, the bile-ducts, or the uterus. To such pains the name of "colic" is traditionally attached, though it is often used much more vaguely to denote any type of severe and sudden pain in the abdomen.
Throbbing pains, increased momentarily with each Ijeat of the heart, are characteristic of vascular hyperemia, such as occurs about the roots of an inflamed tooth. In connection with vasomotor headaches and in dysmenorrhea we occasionally see the same phenomenon.
Pain luith a sense of constriction is of great diagnostic \'alue when it occurs in the precordial region, pointing, as it does, in the great majority of cases, to angina pectoris as its cause. Other diseases producing pain in this region are rarely, if ever, accompanied by this sense of constriction, which the patients often express in very vi\-id phrases, e. g., "as if I were squeezed in a \ise," or "as if some one gripped my heart in his hand."
Thoracic or abdominal pain increased or produced by exertion and promptly relieved by rest is almost always due to the cause just mentioned— angina. ^lany pains supposed by the patient to be due to indigestion, to rheumatism, or to neuralgia may thus be recognized as anginoid.
Pain that shoots and darts, es]3ecially if it follows the course of some nerve-trunk, usually turns out to be neuralgic. In many cases such a pain is associated with prickling, burning, numbness, or other paresthesias.
RELATION OF PAIN TO OTHER FACTS
A careful history of the bearing of various factors in the patient's habits and environments upon the occurrence or the severity of pain is of prime importance in diagnosis. Among the elements to be taken account of are the relation of pain to:
medicine, rest, occupation.
Neurasthenic headaches and the pains of chronic joint troubles are apt to be worse in the morning and to imj)ro\e as the day goes on. Any ]jain associated with fever and infection is likely to be worse in the evening, when the temperature is at its highest.
Pains affected by ])osition are especially those due to diseases of the joints and muscles, such as lumbago, sacro-iliac strain, all the types of arthritis, stiff neck, and the like. Almost all varieties of pehic disease are worse when the jtalient is on her feet, as the position is likely to in\ohe some pressure or dragging upon ])ainful ])oints. For the same reason the surgical affections of the kidney and all diseases which in\ol\e splenic enlargement are usually more painful wlien the upright ])Osition is assumed. Occasionally a headache is distinctl}' im])ro\ed or aggra\ated when the patient Hes down. The distress accompanying uncom])ensated cardiac disease is always aggravated by recumbency.
Most muscular ])ains are aggra\ated by the use of the muscle; hence the ])resence of such an aggra\ation ma}' helj) us to distinguish muscular })ains from those of different origin. It must be remembered, liowexer, that in some cases the ])ains of neuritis are increased l)y use of llie i»art. even when no muscular lesion is disco\'erable. The motion of cougliing brings great distress in pleurisy, pneumonia, and all diseases in\()l\ing the intercostal nuiscles. Anginoid ])ains are increased not onl}' by motion, but by any other cause whicli raises blood- pressu.re ^ga^tric digestion, mental exertion, or excitement).
On the other hand, some pains are made worse by rest; for examiile, all types of haljit pains, to which 1 shall refer more in detail in the next section. The pains of chronic joint troubles are worse immediately after rest, when the patient attem))ts to moxe his stiffened joints.
The effect of jolting, as in riding on a rough road or a rough-gaited horse, is traditionally associated with an increase of the distress produced by stone in any part of the urinary tract. Doubtless this is a true observation, but there are many exceptions to the rule.
Aggravation of any pain by the taking of food properly inclines us to believe that the pain is produced in the stomach (gastritis, gastric ulcer, gastric cancer, gastric neurosis). Many intestinal pains, however, are likewise produced or increased when food enters the stomach. Thus the sufferings due to enteritis and to chronic intestinal obstruction are often much worse immediately after a meal. It appears to be true, moreover, that pain due to gall-stones, and even to chronic appendicitis, may be set agoing by the presence of food in the stomach. I have already referred to the excitement of anginoid pain through the rise of blood-pressure produced by the act of digestion. Possibly an accompanying gaseous distention may help to call out the attack.
chlorhydria, as well as of the vaguer gnawings due to hunger.
Many types of muscular, articular, and neural pains are subject to aggravation as the result of various meteoric conditions, of which we understand all too little. It cannot be questioned, I think, that the muscular pains involved in lumbago and stiff neck are more apt to be present in damp, rainy weather, such as occurs in the spring and fall, than in dry heat or dry cold. The persons who can foretell a storm by the disagreeable sensations in the neighborhood of diseased joints are very numerous, but I have never been able to associate this form of prophecy with any one type of disease. I am also convinced that the approach of a thunder-storm may precipitate a headache not only in those predisposed to migraine, but in other sensitive persons. Whether this is due to barometric, to electric, or to quite unknown conditions I am unable to say. Alany of my patients have noticed that their headaches are more apt to occur on especially bright, bracing days, when the air is unusually clear.
Relief by vomiting docs not prove that the disease is of gastric origin. Intestinal pain, biliary colic, renal colic, and the sufferings of duodenal ulcer may also be relieved by emesis.
Relief by heat or by cold cannot be predicted for any variety of jjains. The same disease in different individuals may be assuaged now by the one now by the other agencies. It is wholly a matter of experimentation. But in my experience most of the pains which cold relieves are more completely and more permanently abated 1)y heat.
(b) As the microscope discovers bodies invisible to the unaided eye, so the patient's focused and concentrated attention discovers sensations due probably to some of the physiologic changes occurring normally in the part to which attention has, unfortunately, been directed. These changes go on normally without producing any sensation noted by the brain. But when the brain is sensitized, especially in relation to the part attended to, even the heart-beat may be felt as painful, or the normal blood, lymph, and nerve-currents of the pharynx may be magnified into painful events.
we ordinarily disregard.
(d) Finally, some actual disturbance of the function of the part may follow this almormal interference of consciousness in acti\ities which should be subconscious. The heart-beat becomes irregular; the pharynx secretes abnormally. This redoubles, of course, the patient's alarmed concentration upon the part, and so a vicious circle is established.
Such a circle is broken, and the diagnosis of habit pain confirmed when we succeed in switching off the patient's attention u])on other subjects — and thus making him forget, at any rate for a time, his habitual sufferings.
THEORIES REGARDING THE PRODUCTION OF PAIN I wish to refer briefly to the beliefs of McKenzie and Head, also to those of J. Pal, regarding the means whereby pain is produced under certain conditions.
To James McKenzie^ and to Henry Head- we owe the elaboration of a theory whereby pain and cutaneous hyperesthesia are viewed as associated manifestations of morbid irrital)ility in one or another group of spinal ganglion-cells. According to their theory, this irritability is due to impulses transmitted from a diseased organ, which, though 7!ol itself the seat of j)ain, yet causes in the corrcs])on(ling ?i)inal scgnunt
* Jamos McKcnzi<>, Symptoms and their Inlcrpretatinn, Shaw am! S.ms, Lonii^n, iooq. -llenrv Head, On ])isturl>anccs of Sensation, Brain, iSy3, vol. .xvi, p. i; alsi in 6ul>sc"([Ucnt numbers, 1S94, 1S96, iqoo, etc.
from the organ diseased.
Thus these writers account for the umbilical pain experienced in intestinal obstruction, no matter where the stoppage occurs, by supposing that all parts of the intestine are represented in the cord by the same spinal segment, and that the umbilical region is the seat of centrifugal impulses from that center, resulting in cutaneous hyperesthesia, as well as pain.
The best confirmation and exemplification of this theory are seen in the so-called radiations of the pain known as angina pectoris, and in the similar radiations from the site of biliary colic. It is difficult to account for the arm pains of angina and the shoulder pains of gall-stone disease on any other hypothesis, and if all other types of pain could be traced with similar accuracy to a spinal segment, rather than to an organ directly underlying the painful spot, the theory of McKenzie and Head would deserve our unqualified assent. In point of fact, however, the two examples given above are almost the only ones in w^hich the theory is clearly verifiable. The pain of appendicitis, of pleurisy, most kidney pains and splenic pains do not well accord with the tneory, and the zones of cutaneous hyperesthesia which are essential to the confirmation of their theory have seldom been found by other observers. In spite of my profound respect for the originators of this theory, I have been unable to apply it successfully in clinical work, except in the two diseases just referred to, and in the localization of spinal lesions.
More useful, on the whole, is the book on Gefasskrisen^ in which Pal elaborates, upon the basis of careful observation, both at the bedside and at the dead-house, a theory of the origin, not of all pains, but of certain paroxysmal types of suffering associated especially with the vessels of the brain, the heart, and the kidney, but to a lesser extent with those of the intestine and of the extremities. He supposes that arterial spasm (favored and prepared for by arteriosclerosis, by uremia, by lead-poisoning, and by the nerve lesions of tabes) is the cause of a large group of pains, paralyses, and other fimctional disturbances which had never before been brought together under any single explanation. Taking lead-poisoning as an impressive example of the theory, he points out that we have here a notable rise of blood-pressure, associated sometimes with cerebral crises (headache, convulsions, coma), often with abdominal crises (lead colic), and occasionally with anginoid seizures. In arteriosclerosis we have likewise cerebral, abdominal, and cardiac crises, and, in addi-
tion to these, well-marked peripheral crises (intermittent claudication). In uremic and eclamptic poisoning we have likewise cerebral and abdominal crises. In tabes dorsalis the abdominal crises are the most familiar.
In all these affections postmortem examination may demonstrate that there is no gross lesion, such as cerebral hemorrhage or thrombosis, coronary occlusion, or blocking of a peripheral artery. Indeed, the arteries and the surrounding tissues may appear almost or quite normal postmortem. It is natural, therefore, to assume some functional change, such as spasm, to account for the pain, paralysis, and other functional changes recognized at the bedside. In favor of the hypothesis of vascular spasm, or Gefasskrise, are two considerations :
(a) A rise of blood-pressure has many times been demonstrated by Pal before, as well as during, the crisis. This h}-pertension cannot be accounted for as a result of pain, since in many of Pal's cases it preceded the pain. He has found it in the gastric crises of tabes, as well as in the uremic, saturnine, and arteriosclerotic cases.
{h) During an attack of transient blindness occurring in a patient who had been subject to various other ''crises," ophthalmoscopic examinations showed a high-grade spasm or contraction of the retinal arteries.
So much for the theory and the e\idence on which it is based. It seems to me a good working hypothesis as an explanation of many of the transient amauroses, aphasias, monoplegias, hemiplegias, and headaches associated with chronic nephritis. Like other theories, it is to be tested partly by what it enables us to discover. Like the atomic theory, it may lead us to perceive and so to fill in certain gaps, such as appear in the following talkie:
In discussing this, probably the commonest of all symptoms, I shall exemplify by cases only such causes as are likely — (a) to be complained of by the patient as his leading symptom, and (b) to occasion diagnostic difficulties. Others will be briefly mentioned here.
1. Anemia of any type — pernicious, chlorotic, posthemorrhagic— is now and then accompanied by headache, usually as a minor symptom. It is noteworthy, however, that intense anemia often persists for months without producing any headache whatever. It may well be doubted whether anemia is ever in itself the cause of headache.^
2. Fatigue^ hunger, and bad air often produce a headache (perhaps due to the circulation of ''fatigue poisons") whose cause is made obvious by its disappearance after rest, food, and fresh air.
3. Poisons, such as alcohol, morphin, and lead. Except after a drinking bout, I have never known a patient whose chief complaint, as a result of any of these poisons, was headache. Other symptoms usually occupy the foreground.
4. Arteriosclerosis. — It has long been stated in medical lectures and text-books that the headaches of elderly persons are frequently caused by arteriosclerosis. My own experience, however, coincides entirely with that of Thomas, of Walton, and of Paul,^ who deny any such association. In my experience, it is only when the kidney is extensively involved and blood-pressure thereby raised that headache results from arteriosclerosis.
5. Indigeslion and Constipation.— Gsistric stasis, arrested digestion, and the resulting abnormal fermentation of food often lead to a headache which needs no further mention here. The patient can usually make the diagnosis for himself. The same is often true of the headaches
A remarkable feature of this type of headache is its swift disappearance, in certain cases, after defecation. From several very intelli2;ent patients I have heard repeatedly the story of a headache that disappeared, wholly or mostly, within a few minutes of the time of defecation. This is hard to reconcile with any chemical theory regarding the origin of such a pain.
6. Many common infections — rhinitis, tonsillitis, the exanthemata, etc. — are often accompanied by headache, which, however, is rarely the patient's chief complaint. There are other infections — examples of which will be given below — which cause so sc\ere and persistent a headache that it becomes the "presenting symptom."
7. The headache sometimes accompanying otitis media and other forms of aural disease gets its recognition, in the vast majority of cases, from the concurrent aural symptoms.
by headache the exact origin of which is very obscure.
9. Trigeminal neuralgia, with or without the paroxysms and ST)asms of tic douloureux, ])resents, as a rule, no serious difiicultics in diagnosis, and will, therefore, not l)e further mentioned here. Mild types may originate in dental caries or other peripheral irritations. The sc\erer forms appear to be due to changes in the Gasscrian ganglion.
10. Insolatimi, with or without actual sunstroke, has often been listed am.ong the causes of headache. In my experience, however, there is usually a large neurasthenic element in these cases, and the history of insolation is often vague and forced.
11. Adolescence is fref|uently associated with a headache for which no local cause can be found. \\'e connect such headaches vaguely with adolescence, because they pass ofl" with the end of that ])eri()d.
13. Indurative Ileadaclie. — "This — j)rol)ably the most J'ru/utiit form of headache — seems to be unknown to the majority of ])hysicians, ahhough it has been described in text books for decades" (I'-dinger, in Die Deutsche Klinik').
The term ^^ indurative''' ex])resses an attemj)t to characterize the malady without committing oursebes to anv theorv ri'garding its cause or morbid anatomy. In some of tlie okler l)ooks it is retV'rriHi to as
"rheumatic headache." Its distinguishing feature is the presence of painful "indurations" near the insertions of the muscles at the occiput. Bits of the trapezii, sternocleidomastoids, scaleni, or splenii become sensitive, uneven, and nodular, "as if something were deposited in the substance of the muscle." (See Fig. i.)
Pain which is chiefly, but not exclusively, occipital is associated with these "indurations," and disappears when they are removed by massage. It is on this account that the disease is so much better known to
the masseurs and to the physicians who ha\"e studied and practised massage than to tlie medical ])rofession at large. Writers on massage do not hesitate to speak of the "indurations"' as foci of ''chronic myositis,^' but there are, so far as I know, no histologic examinations on which we can base such a term. PMinger ^ ap])arently considers the condition a neuralgia. Swelling of the neighboring lymph-glands and of the cervical sympathetic ganglia is mentioned b}- some writers.
HEADACHE
to the vertex and even to the frontal region; also down along the outline of the trapezius on the shoulder. In this as in many other respects it resembles "lumbago" and ''stiff neck."
The disease is often referred to as "rheumatic," because it seems in some cases to follow exposure to cold and wet, e. g.: "A few days before the appearance of the symptoms he had been overtaken l^y a hailstorm while riding a bicycle." To some these statements still carry conviction, c. g., to Edinger, who says: "It is certain that refrigeration may produce the disease."
I have, I regret to say, no cases in my own experience which exemplify this disease. I have referred to it here because it seems to me to deserve more careful study by clinicians and because of Edinger's statement, based on his extensive experience at the Neurological Institute in Frankfurt-am-]\Iain, that it is probably the most frequent form of headache, and that: "The examination of the insertions of the muscles should never be neglected in any case of headache."
14. Vasomotor Headaches. — Though vasomotor disturbances may occur in various types of headache, esi)ccially in migraine, there remains a group of cases in which only the vasomotor trouble (vasoparalysis and vasodilatation) is discoverable as cause. These patients have ^■ery red faces in the attack, and usually show reddish blotches or stride over the rest of the body. The diagnosis is made 1)y the presence of the above signs and by exclusion of all other known causes.
2. POSITION AND NATURE OF THE HEADACHE
(i) ]Many text-books map out the surface of the skull witli s])ccial "headache areas," reminding one of a ])hrcnologic ma]), l)ut in my experience there is not often much to be learned from the position of a JicadacJic. Ocular headaches often ])egin or center near the eyes; ])ains due to otitis media often sjjread from an initial focus near the ear. Inllammations of the antrum or frontal sinus cause ])ain o\cr the affected ca\ity. The ])ain of syphilitic ])eriostitis corres])onds with the ]i()sition of the lesion. ^Migraine, with its uniUiteral distribiUion, and triireirinal neuralgia ]ia\'e also a t}"j)ical distribution.
On tlie other hand, ocular and a.ural lieadaclie is often not tluis loeah'/.ed, and the ])ain (hie to an\' of tlie other famihar causes lureniia. infection, l)rain tumor, (•onstipati<»n, nienstrualion, neuvastlienia' mav 1)e in any ])art of tlie head, and is ofti-n unilateral, so as to be ini-'.alcr for migraine.
A sense of constriction and pressure is mentioned by many patients of the psychoneurotic group, especially if they have been to France and have been told that they have a "tete en casque."
(3) The severity of headache is probably greatest in organic diseases of the brain or periosteum (cerebral tumor, meningitis, syphilitic periostitis), in the paroxysms of tic douloureux, and in those of migraine.
(4) Chronic headaches, sometimes lifelong, are associated with all the psychoneuroses (neurasthenia, hysteria, psychasthenia), and are sometimes present without any discoverable cause. They are often referred to the ''base of the brain" (meaning the nape of the neck). Blows on the head, sunstroke, arsenical poisoning, and all sorts of "reflex" disturbances (pelvic, ocular, gastro-intestinal) are often vainly invoked as causes, and the term "constitutional" is often attached to such pains, but a frank confession of our ignorance seems to me better.
(5) The time of day markedly influences some headaches; those associated with frontal sinus disease often begin at the same hour each morning, last a certain time, and pass off. This is also true of the psychoneurotic group, but the time of seizure and of relief is much less accurately recurrent.
3. TWO TRADITIONAL FALLACIES ABOUT HEADACHE
(a) The belief that physiologic and pathologic states of the female generative organs often produce headache is widespread. Textbooks, such as Butler's, list dysmenorrhea, " uterine disease," disease of the ovaries, and even of the bladder (!) as causes of headache. No proper justification for these ideas has yet been attempted, so far as I am aware. Headache is, of course, exceedingly common in menstruation, but so it is in eclampsia; yet no one to-day connects the eclamptic headache in any direct way with the condition of the uterus. Toxemia of the puerperium, toxemia of the menstrual period, is a much more plausible, though not a demonstrable, hypothesis. (For further evidence on this point see p. 8;^.)
(b) " Lithemia " and " rheumatism " are also frequently invoked to explain headache. Neither word is defined by those who use them in this connection. '' Lithemia " means constipation and the indigestion of lazv, gluttonous people, conditions which certainly do produce headache. (See p. ^5.)
" Rheumatic headaches " refer usually to the type associated with ''stiff neck " and indurations in the bellies of muscles attached to the occiput or the temporal region. (See above, p. 36.)
In the history, the following clues should be attended to:
(a) Is the headache of paroxysmal occurrence and fixed duration (usually, twelve to twenty-four hours), accompanied by disturbances of vision and great prostration (migraine)?
Case 1
A married woman of forty-two consulted me March 17, 1004, for longstanding headaches which had been present, off and on, during the last live years, since an attack of what was called ''grip,'' followed by deafness and ringing in the left ear. The ])atient li\es in a very malarious part of a specially malarious suburb of Boston, but has ne\er had the disease, so far as she knows.
For the past year the headaches have been much more se\ere. and have come with especial frequency at night, together with a burning sensation over the left side of the head, and to some extent over the entire body, and accompanying this burning sensation she feels chilly, but the temj)erature has ne\er been taken. I'he menopause occurred a year ago. and since that time she has noticed that she is getting stouter, tliat her skin is very dry, harsh, and sallow, with scarcely any j>er>j)iration. and that her lips look bluish. Pain and the sense of coldness are often telt in the lower left axilla. Each winter she feels the eold more and more.
present time there is none, but she gets out of breath upon the sHghtest exertion, and her heart then beats violently, rapidly, and irregularly. Her urine is thick, dark, offensive, and at times its passage is followed by vesical tenesmus. The headache often wakes her in the night, and as soon as she wakes she has to pass water, which gives relief to the headache. She thinks she passes more urine at night than in the daytime. She is very irritable, and has much twitching and quivering of the Hps. Her only child was born ten years ago, and died within the first year.
On examination the hands and lips were of a dark, slaty-blue color, yet quite warm. The face showed a yellow pallor, the total effect being that often seen under the Cooper Hewitt mercury light, such as is used in automobile garages. The heart was negative, save for a slight systolic murmur at the base. The lungs showed nothing abnormal. The edge of the spleen was easily felt on full inspiration. Its consistency seemed increased. The abdomen was otherwise negative. The temperature was 99.2° F. at 5 p. m. The urine, save for high color and other evidences of concentration, showed no abnormality.
Discussion. — -The possibilities which were first considered in this case included cardiac disease, myxedema, malaria, and another presently to be mentioned. The diagnosis of the attending physician was "some queer kind of heart disease," but on examination I could lind no heart disease, queer or otherwise, although the breathlessness and cyanosis made it natural to search for a cardiac lesion.
Myxedema was suggested by the cutaneous changes and the sensitiveness to cold, but on cross-questioning neither of these two characteristics was at all well marked, and there were no mental changes, no subnormal temperature and no special alteration in the physiognomy except as regards the extraordinary coloration before mentioned. It was easily made clear that this cyanosis did not depend upon any disease of the heart or lungs. The enumeration of the red cells showed but 4, 1 8c, 000, ])roving that the color of the lijjs was not due to polycythemia. There was nothing in the symptomatology nor in the gross characteristics of the feces to suggest a cyanosis of intestinal origin, nor did the coloration a])pear to he of the vasomotor tvj^e, so often seen in neurotic and hysteric [)atients. There was no ebb and !low about it, no variation in the tint from hour to hour, nor from day to da v. By rough tests tliere ^\■as no notable deafness and no mastoid tenderness.
After excluding the causes above referred to. it was natural to think of methemoglobinemia, such as is often produced by overdose of headache j)Owders containing acetiinilid. Her attending ph}"sician had given her no such powders nor any diug l^elonging to the group {)rone to pro-
duce methemoglobinemia, but on questioning the patient I learned the following facts: For the last five years she had been taking headache yx)wders in increasing numbers. Her husband obtained a box of them from the local druggist once or twice a week, and by calculation it appeared that she had averaged ico grains a week for some months, great relief being thus obtained for the headache.
A drop of her blood soaked into the bibulous paper of the 'rak|\ist hemoglobin scale produced a chocolate-brown stain, quite incom])arable with any of the hemoglobin tints of the scale. Spectroscoj)ic examination showed the familiar spectrum of methemoglobin.
Outcome. — The patient was ordered at once to stop the headache powders and to take no medicine containing acetanilid or any member of that group. May 3d she reported that her headaches were much less, her sleep and breathing much better, and her sensitiveness to cold much less troublesome. She was still weak and pale, but her appetite was much impro\'ed, and she had gained eight pounds since March 17th.
January 26, 1907, the attending physician writes me: "A year after you saw her the general condition was much better, although she occasionally had severe headaches. The color of the l^lood was imj)ro\ing, but at the time of the last examination which I made, a year after you saw her, blood still showed a tinge of brown."
A longshoreman of thirty-six v,as first seen March 8, 1904. The patient has been in the habit of taking three glasses of whisky a day. He had gonorrhea at twenty-six, and chancre twehe years ago. fi)lloued by sore throat, a mucous j^atch, and an eru])tion.
He had tyjihoid and pnevnnonia at thirty. Family history good.
For a good ])art of the past fne vears lie lias had frontal headaclie. I>ast ( )ct()l)er he Ijcgan to take potassium iodic), but in Xoxenibcr the headache became worse, and a swelling ai)i)eare(l on the forelu'ad over the left eve. The pain lasted a week and then disappeared. A week ago. after being exposed to a \iolent draft on a sleeping-ear. he IkkI a similar attack. This time his exfs were closed by a >\\T]lin!.' ot the lids. Ilis forehead \\as tcncK'r and swolK'n. csiXH-iallx- on tl c Ktt. Now he complains of sewre pain iii the forrliead. with s'.'a'lIinL: aii'l tcp.iKiru ->.
Two vears ago he had what mtiiumI like a similar pi"o< {» :•'. l!u metacarpal bones of the riglit hand, the hone lieconiing i-nlai-gnl ami vvrv tender. Ilis general e<»n(iition is no\'. In-tter than ^i\ iiionih- a-o. lie- lias taken jxitassium iodid, but finds that it make- !k,e lain .'.Mi>r.
He has taken as much as 225 grains a day, but not regularly. His appetite is good, his bowels regular. He has had no symptoms of iodism, and feels perfectly well but for his headache.
On physical examination the points mentioned in the history were verified, and nothing else was discovered. The second left metacarpal bone was much enlarged and irregular in outline. There were also enlargements at the base of the first phalanx of the left index-finger, and a slight rounded prominence over an area the size of an egg above the left eyebrow. The temperature ranged between 98° and 99.5° F. The leukocytes were 17,200 at entrance, 78 per cent, of them being polynuclear. The hemoglobin was 70 per cent., and the red cells showed a slight achromia.
Probably the "effect" of the draft was coincidence, at most, an exciting or favoring cause. Many headaches miscalled "rheumatic" are really syphilitic. There is no reason to believe that "rheumatism" ever causes headache except in acute infectious cases. The failure of potassium iodid is discussed below.
Outcome. — The day after entrance two distinct craters al)out the size of a half-dollar v/ere felt on the forehead. The headache was given some immediate relief ])y 10 grains of phcnacetin with 2 of caffein, but
sulphonal and trional, lo grains each, were also needed for sleep. He was given inunctions of mercury and potassium iodid grains lo, increasing to loo. Black-wash was also a])plied to the forehead, and on the twelfth the iodid was omitted on account of marked swelling of the left eyelid. By that time the swelling of the forehead was much less, and after omitting the iodid, the swelling of the eyelid also became normal. By the fifteenth of March his symptoms had almost disaj)peared. Obviously, the mercury, rather than the iodid, was what helped him. He showed at no time any signs of salivation.
In view of the above facts the diagnosis of syphilis is not in doubt, and needs no further discussion in this case. The relation of syphilis to headache seems to warrant us in dividing sy])hilitic headaches into three groups:
The latter group is of es|)ecial importance, since they are often mistaken for genuine brain tumor, whence follow a hopeless ])rognosis, a neglect of vigorous antisyi)hilitic treatment, and much unnecessary suffering. I have three times seen recovery after antisy])hilitic treatment in cases given up to die of brain tumor. I'he only safe rule is: Give mercury (in moderate doses) and potassium iodid (in doses gradually becoming enormous) in every case presenting the signs and symptoms of cerebral tumor.
A married Russian housewife of thirt\--se\en entered tlie li(^-!'ital MaN' 17, i()04. In i()Oi she had l)iH'n in ihr surgical ^^anl^ tor a -liirture of tb.c rectum of intlanimatorx- origin, for which an inguinal colo.^tomv was done, .\fler this oixTation >lie had no trouMr \'. illi hci- I'ov. els
(which had been seriously constipated) , the inguinal wound was closed, and she remained well until May i, 1904, when she began to have pain in the back of her head, at first mild, and relieved by "bromo-seltzer,' but for the past week very severe and extending over the whole head. It now lasts through the entire twenty-four hours, and has prevented sleep for the past two nights. Day before yesterday she had an attack of nausea and vomiting. The headache is so severe that she wants to jump through the window and kill herself. She feels first hot, then cold, sweats a great deal, especially at night, and easily becomes tired. Physical examination, including the fundus of the eye, shows nothing abnormal except an inequality of the pupils. Their reactions, however, are normal, likewise the blood and urine.
For the first two days her headache was continuous and severe, despite lactophenin, lo grains, caffein, 5 grains, sodium bromid. ,^0 grains, potassium iodid, 10 grains, three times a day. Compound jalap powder, i dram, and high enemas of oil and suds were given in the ho])e that the headache might be relieved by purgation. In spite of all these remedies the headaclie was undiminished at the end of the first week in the hospital.
Discussion. — -Xo certain diagnosis can be made in this case. Tlie relief following potassium iodid may well ht a coincidence, for many headaches of unknown origin sul)side without any treatment after a period similar to the course of this case.
The rectal stricture was of the type ordinarily regarded as always or usually syphilitic, but on insufficient evidence. There is no good histologic evidence for syphilis in such strictures, whereas it is well known that gonorrhea is prone to produce stricture in any tube. The presence of syphilitic lesions elsewhere in the body often gives color to the diagnosis of syphilis in a rectal stricture, but in this case there were no such lesions.
The study of the previous history is of prime importance in the diagnosis of such cases. It revealed in this case that the woman had been sterile, but had had no miscarriages and no lesions suggesting syphiUs, so far as she knows.
The prognosis is for immediate recovery, but probable recurrence, if the diagnosis of syphilis is correct, though the recurrence may invohe any other organ (liver, aorta, bones, subcutaneous tissues).
condition of the patient.
Outcome.-— The potassium iodid was increased after the first week to 15 grains and then to 30 three times a day. The headaches had rapidly diminished in severity and frequency. Slight signs of iodism had in the mean time appeared. By the eighth of June she was feeling well and ready to go home. Three months later there had been no recurrence.
A married cloakmaker, forty years old, was seen June 21, 1894. Eight years previously she had begun to ha\e womb trouble, characterized by bearing-down j)ain in the uj)pcr abdomen and Ijack. l-'iw years ago she had an accident to her head, and 17 stitches had to be taken. Since then she has liad unilateral ''sick headaches"' about four times a year, lasting usually one day. She b.as l)et.n pret'iianl >i.\ times, and has three times produced an abortion.
F<nir weeks ago she began to lia\'e pain in the back of lier neck, soiiu-times darting, sometimes constant, worse in the day-tinu', not ]iri.-\i'iiting sleep. With the pain there seemed to bt- a swelling, wlu'ch iiiiprrssrd her as being both inside the throat and in thr najtr. Shr had 110 dillicultv in swallowing, though hvv throat was somewhat >orr at the sanntime. Three weeks ago this pain e.xtendeil to the- whole head, alleiiing
has had no other symptoms.
Physical examination showed the patient sallow and covered with a reddish, papular eruption, with a shot-like feel under the skin. It is most marked upon the face and trunk. \^isceral examination is otherwise negative, as is the blood. The urine is alkaline, high in color, 1023 in gravity, with the slightest possible trace of albumin. The sediment shows large squamous epithelial cells in clumps, also polynuclear cells, triple phosphate crystals, and some octahedral crystals which resist the action of acetic acid. The fundus oculi is normal.
3. Due to syphilis.
Traumatic headaches, following violent cerebral concussion, as in foot-ball or coasting, are apt to follow an initial period of coma, and usually persist steadily for wrecks or months. Periodic pain, such as is here described, is not often associated with trauma.
more frequently than in this case.
It is important to realize that unilateral periodic headache accompanied by nausea and vomiting deserves the term ^'migraine'''' only when all known causes of headache can be excluded. The headaches associaled with nephritis or cerebral tumor are often migrainoid in type, especially in the earlier stages of the malady. The study of the urine and of the fundus oculi is thus often omitted because the attacks are so described by the patient that "typical migraine" is assumed and treated from the start.
A migrainoid headache \\hich later became constant, aroused, therefore, the suspicion of nephritis and of cerebral tumor. Nephritis, however, could be excluded in this case by the absence of urinary changes and of vascular hypertension. The fundus oculi was negative; there were no focal symptoms (such as aphasia, paralysis, Jacksonian or general epilepsy, paresthesia, or astcreognosis), and the absence of vertigo, vomiting, and vascular hypertension also militated against the diagnosis of cerebral tumor, whicli, however, could not be absolutely excluded.
Syphilis is suggested by the rash. Further examination showed a postcervical adenitis. The absence of any knowledge of infection is of no importance. Only ])0sitive evidence is of value in relation to syphilis.
and it cannot be too positively stated that in any person, young or old, rich or poor, whatever his character or circumstances, syphilis is always a possible diagnosis. The opportunities for the non-venereal acquisition of syphilis are very many.
In this case the rash was not typical, but might have been an ordinary skin infection. Its generalized distribution, the associated adenitis, and the persistent headache made it, however, more suspicious.
43 and 45.
Outcome. — The headache was relieved temporarily by 5 grains of phenacetin with ^ grain of codcin. Later, some morphin was required on one or two occasions. Alercury and iodid of potash were gi\'en ])y mouth, in small doses, and in a week she was very much better. In two weeks the headache was very slight, the rash nearly gone, the glands barely palpable. July 12th she was discharged well, with the ad^•ice to continue the iodid of potash in 5-grain doses three times a day for a number of months.
A Jewish shoemaker of thirty-seven was seen July 8, 1908. He has had some trouljle with his stomach since he hrst came to this country, fne years ago. Five days ago he l^egan to ha\'e "pain o\er his heart," followed by shortness of breath and fainting. This attack lasted only a few hours, but since that time he hii* had severe headache, loss of appetite, and gastric distress without vomiting. His bowels ha\e become constii)ated, and his sleep is disturbed by bad dreams.
On examination a few fine transient rales were found at the base of each lung. Respiration at the left base and axilla was somewhat louder than on the right. There was slight epigastric tcndrrness. and tlie edge of the spleen was easily felt i^. inches below the costal margin. 'i'hcre was anterior and internal l)owing of the right tibia, witii prcniinence, but no roughening. The temperature at entrance was 100° l.; ])ulse, 75; leukocytes were 4800; the Widal reaction negati\e. Illoodculture was negative; urine normal.
any other disease of the lung.
The prominence and bowing of one tibia might be due to old rickets, to osteitis deformans (Paget's disease), or to syphilitic changes, but the latter are usually accompanied by roughness, unevenness, and cutaneous changes, while Paget's disease should atTect the femora and the clavicles more extensively than the tibiae. Rickets seems the more likely explanation.
An acute headache (five days' duration) with fever suggested, naturally enough, an infectious disease. The acute infectious diseases most often causing headache in a temperate climate are the milder respiratory infections ("common colds"), tonsillitis, sepsis, and typhoid — malaria less often.
paucity of visceral lesions rule out these infections.
There are many items pointing to a psychic origin for this headache. It began immediately after an attack of thoracic pain, which was evidently believed by the patient to be due to heart disease — that terrifying affliction. The subsequent bad dreams and gastro-intestinal disturbances are very common results of a scare about one's heart, especially in high-strung people like the Jews.
The therapeutic test also bears on the diagnosis here. As soon as the patient was assured (after a searching and thorough examination) that his vital organs were sound, his headache and other trouble began to improve. The application of suggestion (in the form of menthol) completed the cure. It is, of course, impossible to exclude some obscure infectious or toxic disease, but the weight of evidence is against it.
Outcome. — ^A diagnosis of typhoid had pre\iously been made, but the next morning the temperature was normal and the man complained of nothing but headache. Tliis continued for several days, but was relieved by a 25 per cent, alcoholic solution of menthol applied to the painful part. Reassurance played a considerable part in his recovery.
This is a fit piace to consider tlie so-called "neurasthenic," "essential," or "constitutional" headaches. There are some persons so al)normally sensitive to sensory stimuli that the weight of the l)ody gi\cs j)ain, even when they are seated on soft chairs; the ]>ressure of tlie clothing, the ordinary changes in atmospheric temperature, hurt them as a decaying tooth is hurt by simple pressure, heat or cold. In sucli persons the circulatorv or neural processes in the head may be sufficient to cross the pain threshold and to present themselves as pain. Not all such persons
have any of the mental or physical characteristics of the neurasthenic, and it seems to me to darken counsel if we class such headaches as "neurasthenic" merely because we discover no organic basis for them.
In another group of persons the headache is clearly dependent upon psychic states, which can be used both to produce and to allay the pain. The suffering is forgotten when the person is active and interested, returning when the sufferer's attention relapses upon himself.
In a third group there are no general hyperesthesia and no variation of the pain with psychic states. I have followed several such cases through the period of adolescence and up to their disappearance with the end of this state.
Others occur in later life, and may be steady or vaguely periodic. Of this large group we know practically nothing, and this should, I think, be plainly indicated in our terms. I believe then that we should distinguish within the so-callcxi '' neurasthenic" group:
As an example of the type last mentioned, I recently studied the case of a hearty, vigorous Italian laborer who began to suffer from constant headache in July, 1908. In August I saw him in consultation, but could discover no cause for his steady suffering, which now disabled him from work. I sent him to the jMassachusetts General Hospital, where the most careful study of his internal viscera, body fluids, eyes, cars, nose, throat, and bony sinuses revealed absolutely nothing. Just as we reached the end of this fruitless search the headache — after nine weeks' duration — suddenly ceased altogether without treatment, though quinin, mercury, and potassium iodid had been proved ineffectual by thorough trial ])revious to his entering the hospital. Up to the present time (Septeml:)er, 1910) there has \)ccn no recurrence of pain.
A housewife of forty-seven entered the hospital Dcccml)er 23, igo;. Since tlie beginning of her menstruation at the ele\cntli year she liad noticed a fullness in tlie front of her throat, which became more jironiinent at the time of her first ])regnancy in her twenty-sixth year, it became smaller after (leli\'ery, l)ut increased with tlio ni'xt and \\ itli i ach of the succeeding eiglit ])regnancies. Eacli tiinc the swelling imrri'.M'd more during the ])regnancv than it diminished after (leli\er\". so tliat the total effect has been an increase of tlie tumor. It ha^ ne\er causeel any discomfort or inconxenience.
For the past two years she has had " sick headaches," beginning earl) in the morning or long after eating, lasting twenty-four hours, coming about once in two weeks, until lately, when they have begun to come twice a week and have been accompanied by nervousness. She feels hot most of the time, and prefers cold weather. For six months she has noticed a weakness of her hands. Two weeks ago she had the "grip," and has since then noticed considerable shortness of breath, amounting of late to orthopnea. She has lost 30 pounds in the last two years. The bowels have been slightly loose; the appetite excellent.
Physical examination showed emaciation, cyanosis, a slight exophthalmos (not previously noticed by the patient) , a fine tremor of the hands, and marked asymmetric enlargement of the thyroid, its greatest circumference being 16 1 inches. The heart's impulse was in the sixth interspace, I inch outside the nipple-line, 4 inches to the left of midsternum. The action was rapid, ranging between 100 and 120, accompanied by some irregularity. The first sound was very sharp at the apex, and was preceded by a presystolic roll. The pulmonic second sound was much greater than the aortic second sound. Systolic bloodpressure, 175 mm. Hg. Shadows and movements of the intestinal coils were visible over the abdomen. There was considerable tenderness in the epigastrium and about the navel. The edge of the liver was felt 3 inches below the costal margin. There was no ascites, but both legs showed soft edema throughout. The leukocytes were 15,400. The blood was otherwise normal. The urine was pale, loio to 1012 in specific gravity, with a trace of albumin. There were many leukocytes; no casts. The twenty-four-hour amount ranged betv^'een 15 and 30 (Ounces.
goiter" and "exophthalmic goiter." The case illustrates well the transition from the first to the second condition; also the relation of the thyroid to pregnancy. From her eleventh to her forty-fifth year the patient had no symptoms from her goiter. It was increasingly unsightly, nothing more. After the forty-fifth year came the familiar sym.ptoms of hyperthyroidism — loss of weight despite good appetite, a sense of increased bodily heat corresponding with the abnormally rapid metabolism; finally tachycardia, tremor, and exophthalmos.
The only important diseases causing loss of weight despite good appetite are diabetes (either form), Graves's disease, and some cases of arteriosclerosis. In one of my cases of Graves's disease loss of weight was the symptom which brought the patient to me. He wanted to know why he was losing weight despite an excellent appetite. He mentioned no other complaints.
In the present case the emaciation explains the visibility of intestinal peristalsis, for emaciation is all that is necessary to produce this S}mptom. In patients not emaciated such a sign usually means intestinal obstruction.
The condition of the urine in this case can hardly be explained (as one might at first think) as a result of renal stasis due to a dilated heart, for the low specific gra\ity and pale color are the opposite of what we expect in renal stasis. When taken in connection with the abnormally high blood-pressure, these features of the urine suggest nephritis. Such vascular hypertension is unusual in" Graves's disease. The headaches are also much more comprehensible if we suppose that the patient had both nephritis and Graves's. I have already referred to the frequency of so-called "sick headache" in nephritis, as well as in i)rain tumor and syphilis. In simple hyperthyroidism headache is not common.
The cardiac signs suggest, first of all, a mitral stenosis with dilatation of the heart, but another possibility is to be remembered, namely, that the dilatation itself may be the cause of the murmur. It has been repeatedly noted of late that not only in connection with aortic regurs^itation (the so-called Flint's murmur), l)ut in any form of cardiac h}])ortrophy and dilatation affecting tb.e left Aentricle, a presystolic roll may be heard at the apex. Thus in adhesive jxTicarditis and in .^imi'lc nephritic hypertrophy we often hear such murmurs. 11. ere is no v.;;y of deciding in this case whether or not mitral stenosis is ] -resent, but it is a good rule, often l)orne out 1)y j)ostmortcm experience, to assmne as te.v lesions as can be made to explain the facts. On this ]>rineij>Ie. ib.e (hai;nosis of this case should be (ira\'es's disease; chronic nepliriti- with resulting cardiac hyjiertroph)- and dilatation.
The prognosis is for a few months of life at best. In treatment rest is the essential. Morphin, followed by bleeding, purgation, and diuretics, may give some relief. Digitalis is not likely to be effectual.
Outcome. — The pulse-rate steadily declined during her first week in the hospital, and the swelling became less; but on January ist the patient became noisy and mentally confused, the respiration slow and deep, the breath having an ammoniacal odor. There were frequent attacks of severe dyspnea. In the next thirty-six hours she was, for the most part, semiconscious, but never unconscious, and was comfortable except during the attacks of dyspnea. It was impossible to purge, as she refused to swallow anything. Her heart continued strong and not rapid.
She died on the third of January.
Autopsy showed chronic glomerulonephritis with hypertrophy and dilatation of the heart and general dropsy; simple adenoma of the •thyroid; obsolete tuberculosis of the spleen.
One of the interesting points in this case is the existence of nephritis without albuminuria during the period under observation. The bloodpressure gave more correct indication for diagnosis, as is often the case.
A young woman of twenty-fi\-e, a student, entered the hospital November 7, 1907. One of her aunts died of consumption. She was treated by Dr. R. W. Lovett for three years for some spinal trouble, beginning with her fifteenth year. When she was eighteen her menstruation stopped and her spleen becam.e enlarged. She was then treated for some time by Dr. Franz Pfaff. Two years ago menstruation again ceased during the winter. The intervals between her periods are still five or six weeks long, and she always has headache during the catamenia. She has been overworked for the past three years, and has been nervous, but has had no actual breakdown and no hysteric symptoms; she has been especially tired most of the time since the first of October. She takes two cups of tea and one of coffee a day.
Eight days ago she found it \'ery hard to concentrate her mind upon her v/ork. The next day she had severe headache, and that night was sleepless. Six days ago the headache became still worse, and she coughed up a little blood and ])hlegm. E\er since then she has coughed a little, l)ut without sputa. Fi\e days ago she had photophobia and felt
tender lumps upon the back of her head. That evening she had chill, followed by sweating. Three days ago she had another chill, and her teeth and her left ear ached. This time she began taking aspirin in 5-grain doses for the relief of her headache, and found it \ery effectual. The last two days her headache has been less severe, but it is still present in the back of her head. She has been slightly constipated and has felt somewhat weak.
Discussion. — Certain features in this case suggest tliat tlie liradache mav l)e due to tuberculors meningitis. The history of consunu)tic^n in the familv and rf a ];rrl(^rgecl treatment addressed to the sj-iiu', together with the cessation (>f ni( nstrr.ation at !ht eiglUrcntli vi-ar, are all factors \\liicli make us tliink of tuberculosis. The ])hoto]'holiia, t(n>, is a common meningeal symptom.
Against meningitis, ho\ve\'er, is tlie absence of an)' tulxTcnlous ti hus now disco\'('rable on jih\'sical exanunation. the absi-n.re ot ;iry !e>;i 'Us referable to the cranial nerxi'S. and the recent sul)si(lence of the iieadache without an\' oncoming coma.
Could this be a neurasthenic headache, so called? She is at the age when such things are commonest, and there is a history of nervousness and overwork. But the continued fever seems to me to make this impossible. I do not think there is any good evidence that a fever such as is shown in the accompanying chart ever results from neurasthenia, hysteria, or any psychoneurosis.
Malaria is suggested by the chills and the headache, but is excluded by the absence of parasites in the blood. The lumps complained of in the occipital region were not discoverable on physical examination. Had they turned out to be glandular, syphilis might have been suspected.
With the exclusion of the above possibilities we have to consider what diseases are the most frequent in patients who have fever with a negative physical examination and a low leukocyte count. The answer must, I think, be as follows : If the fever is a short one, it is generally labeled "grip" under these conditions, though I prefer to call it an unknown infection. If the fever persists for two weeks or more without the development of physical signs, typhoid usually turns out to be present, as was the case here.
Outcome. — On the right side of the abdomen there developed later two red macules which decolorized on pressure. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart. The Widal reaction was positive at entrance. Blood otherwise negative. The course of her illness was uneventful, and she was discharged well on the seventeenth of December.
It is worth emphasizing the fact that constipation, cough, and chills are common symptoms at the onset of typhoid, also that the headache is usually earlier and more prominent than in other infections. (For the treatment of this case see Appendix, p. 743.)
A Russian clerk, eighteen years of age, entered the hospital February 27, 1908. The only history which could be obtained from liim was that two days ago he fell dov/nstairs and since then he has had a good deal of headache.
Physical examination showed that he was drowsy, his right pupil slightly larger than his left, Ijoth reacting normally. His throat was red and slightly swollen. There was considerable rigidity of his neck, but no actual retraction. Rotation and backward flexion were normal, but the head could not be bent forward. Visceral examination ^vas entirely negative, with the exception of Kcrnig's sign, which was present
on both sides. The temperature was 100.3° ^-5 ^he pulse, 60; respiration, 25. Fundus ocuh normal. Blood and urine normal. Bloodpressure, 145. During the night he became unconscious, and the next morning had marked retraction of the head, unequal and unresy)onsive pupils, a strabismus, absence of superficial reflexes, Babinski's reaction on the right, and a rectal temperature of 102.8° F.
Discussion. — Concussion of the brain and meningitis were the diagnoses at lirst suggested in this case. Any headache following a fall on the head is rightly suspected as being due to concussion, but there are certain symptoms in this case not thus to be explained, i. e., the inequality of the pupils, the rigidity of the neck, and the presence of Kernig's sign.
These three signs, together with the presence of fever and slow pulse, the rapidly developing coma, strabismus, and Babinski's reaction, all point to meningitis, which was the diagnosis made at the outset. Acting upon this a lumbar puncture was done, and 35 c.c. of bloody, turbid fluid were remo\'ed. The examination of this fluid, however, showed nothing but macerated red corpuscles, no micro-organisms either in cover-glass or culture. This speaks strongly against epidemic meningitis, while the great rapidity of onset and the absence of any lymphocytosis in the spinal fluid make tuberculous meningitis unlikely. The presence of blood in the spinal fluid suggests cerebral hem.orrhage or fracture of the base of the skull.
Normal urine and normal blood-pressure rule out uremia, and normal blood excludes malaria. Brain tumor may manifest itself suddenly after a long latent period by symptoms like those in this case, but the absence of paralysis, of changes in the fundus oculi, and the presence of the rigid neck and the bloody spinal fluid militate against this diagnosis. No al)Solute decision was arrived at before death, which occurred on the first of !March.
A domestic of twenty-three was seen March 14, 1908. She was perfectly well until noon of the day before, when she was sci/rd wwh sharp, cutting pain in the forehead and a slight .^ore throat, witli tt\rr. She went to bed and slfpt wril, but.a\\()ke wilh [hv sanic hcachiclic. and vomited when she trot out of bed. 'Vhv lieadachc has conlinued >hue.
When seen at the hospital the patient's temperature was 102.5° F.; her pulse, 125, the skin hot and dry. The pupils were equal, regular, and reacted normally; the fundus negative; the throat slightly reddened and swollen; face t^ushed. The viscera, negative. Leukocytes, 9000. Blood and urine were otherwise normal. Blood-pressure, 125. During the first thirty-six hours of her stay in the hospital she suffered a good deal with headache, relieved more or less by phenacetin and an ice-bag in the frontal region.
Discussion. — I have known tuberculous meningitis to manifest itself first by intense pain at the root of the nose, as in this case. All the ordinary symptoms of that disease, howe\'er, except headache and fever, are absent in this case. Typhoid, malaria, and most other infections are ruled out by the negative physical examination and the short course of the disease, which was practically gone in four days. On the third day careful questioning showed that the pain was limited to the region of the frontal sinuses. On the eighteenth she was able to go back to work.
In ^'iew of these facts an infection of the frontal sinus seems the most likely cause of her headache. In some cases of this disease the headache appears in a characteristic \vay at the same hour each morning, perhaps owing to the accumulation of secretions during the night. Sometimes the diagnosis is assisted by the sudden appearance of a nasal discharge coincident with the cessation of pain; in other cases the close limitation of the pain to the region of the frontal sinuses is our best clew to diagnosis.
A cook of twenty-three entered the hospital April 9, 1908. Her family history and past history were excellent. Two months ago she stopped work for a fortnight because of fatigue and persistent headache. Ten days ago the headache returned and has persisted since. It is se\ere in the frontal and occipital regions. Four days ago she began to vomit, and since then has vomited about six times every twenty-four hours. E\-en water is rejected. There has been no abdominal ]:>ain, but persistent nausea. She has had no cough and no other sym]jtoms. The course of the temperature is seen in the chart on page 57. The white cells were 4400 at entrance, 4900 on April 20th; the Widal reaction al\^■ays negati\-e; the blood otherwise ncgati\-e. Tlie urine ranged between 20 and 30 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a specific
gravity between 1026 and 1036; a trace of albumin; a few hyaline and fine granular casts. The pupils were equal and reacted to light and distance; the fundus oculi, normal; the chest and abdomen negative, save for slight tenderness and rigidity in the epigastrium. During the first week she seemed rather hysteric at times, complained continually of headache, and was hungry, but no diagnosis could be made.
Discussion. — Typhoid is suggested by the course of the temjjcrature, the subnormal leukocyte count, and the headache. Indeed, there is nothing in the case, as here stated, positively to exclude typhoid. Against it, however, are the long duration of the headache, which is usually gone after the first ten days in typhoid. The persistent nausea is also very unusual in typhoid. Perha])s the strangest symj^tom, however, is the excellent appetite, which is almost unknown in a patient seriously sick with typhoid.
The question of hysteria must be considered. All the symptoms in the case are consistent with this diagnosis, with one exception — the continued fever. There is, in my o])inion, no such thing as a hysteric fever of this type. An elevation of less than one degree over a considerable period or a sharp sudden, sh()rt-li\"cd rise occurs in hysteria, but not a persistent fe\er of this type.
The two diseases seriously to Ijc considered are cerebral syphilis and tuberculous meningitis. As a matter
of fact, the diagnosis of syphilis was made in this case by a skilled neurologist. I'he entire alxscncet^f any history and of any visible k-sions of this disease is not in itself at all conclusive against it, ncitlier is the age of the jjaticnt. although tlu" great irajorit}" of ca^L■^ oi cvwln'vA syphilis occur in older persons. More important cxidcncc against syj)hilis is the subnormal leukocyte count, which is distinctl}' niw \n sy])hilitic cases.
I'lpidemic meiiingitis comes on more suddcnlv, almost always ]'ro duces a Icukocvtosis, and usualh' runs a siiortcr coursi'. Nr\ i. rt!u-k\— . it cannot be cxclucU-fl without an examination of tlie si>inil fk^rid.
clear pale fluid was obtained, the sediment showing 72 per cent, of lymphocytes, 28 per cent, of epithelial cells. In the Thoma-Zeiss counter, this fluid showed 42 lymphocytes per c.mm. On the twenty-third the patient seemed to be restless, the left pupil slightly larger than the right. During the forenoon the left hand became flexed. At noon, the left leg and the left side of the face became paralyzed, and the reflexes absent. Syphilis, producing softening from thrombosis in the region of the right internal capsule, was suspected. The patient soon after became semicomatose. The head was drawn sharply to the right. At times the patient would recognize and talk with her relatives, and is even able to move the left arm and leg.
pin could be passed through the skin of either leg without pain.
On the twenty-fifth there was left lateral conjugate deviation with lateral nystagmus, more constant in the right eye. Respiration became labored. Edema appeared in the hands, and the patient died at noon on the twenty-fifth.
retroperitoneal glands.
It should be distinctly stated that cases of proved tuberculous meningitis have recovered. Probably this outcome takes place in less than i per cent, of the cases, but it is important to know that it is possible.
A house-painter of forty-two entered the hospital December 4, 1907. He is in the habit of taking three drinks of whisky a day, but has had no previous illness. A year and a half ago he began to have headaches, vertigo, cramps, and vomiting; was sick for three or four days. He was treated in the Somerville Hospital for five weeks, but did not improve much, and has been unable to work since. He is now troubled much with occipital headache, worse in the morning and after he has been drinking. He now rarely vomits. Last night he had a nosebleed. He has had no abdominal pain of late. He has had occasional nightsweats, but none for two weeks. Headache is his chief complaint.
Physical examination of the chest is negative except for a short systolic murmur at the apex of the heart and accentuation of the aortic second sound. The pulse tension seemed to be high. The blood-pressure was 160 mm. Hg. On the right side of the abdomen, at the level of the navel, a smooth, rounded, slightlv tender m.ass is felt. The
patient subsequently said that he had had blood in his stools for fifteen or sixteen weeks, averaging a gill a day. An expert proctoscopic examination showed no sufficient cause for this blood. On examination in a warm bath the tymor previously described was much easier to feel. It appeared to be about the size of a grape-fruit, and connected with the kidney. The urine was about 30 ounces in twenty-four hours, milky, 1013 in specific gravity, the sediment containing a large amount of pus, and an occasional granular cast. The hemoglobin was 70 per cent.
showed a shadow, probably of stone in the right kidney. The profuse intestinal hemorrhage suggested malignant disease, but no other evidence of it could be found. The amount of urine passed became smaller and smaller. On the seventeenth of December the sputum became bloody and the patient continued to vomit blood and to pass it by rectum. Numerous purpuric spots appeared on the skin. He sweated profusely in the hot-air baths and seemed better after them.
cause of his sufferings.
Lead-poisoning is naturally suggested by the patient's occupation, by the history of abdominal cramps, and headaches. If lead-poisoning were present, it might also account for the renal symptoms and for the rather high blood-pressure. As a matter of fact, the patient was treated for five weeks for lead-poisoning, and the fact that he did not improve during that time is, in itself, against the diagnosis. More important, however, is the tumor above described, which cannot possibly be explained l)y lead. The presence of this tumor, togctlier with the pus in the urine cind the results of .v-ray examination, ])oint strongly to stone or tuberculosis of the kidney. The headaches, pains, and sweats are quite explicable if there is sup])uration of tu]:)ercuIous or calculous origin in the renal pelvis.
We have still to explain in some way the mysterious hemorrhages from the rectum, stomach, and rcs[)iratory tract. The accentuation of the aortic second sounrl, the ])loo(l-pressure, the low specific gravity of the urine, and its constantly diminishing amount suggest a c(^nconutant nephritis.
At autopsy the right kidney was found to contain a very large stone and several smaller ones. Three-quarters of the .organ was converted into a bag of pus, and the remaining portion showed as cystic degeneration. The left kidney showed the lesions of chronic glomerulonephritis.
severe, shooting pain in the forehead, spreading to the rest of the head. His face ^vas puffy and red every forenoon and his hands became swollen. Yesterday he became very dizzy and could hardly see to walk, but did not fall. He lost three pounds in two weeks and is thirsty and nervous.
been drugged.
On examination, the face was distinctly puffy. The muscles a1)out the eyes tvv-itched in^"oluntarily from time to time. Fundus oculi negati\e. The incisor teeth were worn do\\n — the patient says because he grinds
them at night. The spleen was not palpable. Physical examination was otherwise negative. Blood-pressure, loo mm. Hg. Temperature, 102.6° F. White cells, 3400. Urine negative. The blood showed no malarial organisms. The symptoms seemed to point strongly toward uremia at the time of entrance, but the urine was absolutely negative.
Discussion. — Nephritis is suggested by the drowsy condition, the edema of the face and hands, and the headache. The negative urine does not necessarily exclude chronic nephritis, but the low blood-i)ressure and the normal size of the heart are strongly against this diagnosis.
Brain tumor is suggested by the headache, the vertigo, and the drowsiness. Against it are the negative fundus examination, the low blood-pressure, the absence of focal symptoms.
Migraine may produce symptoms similar to those in this case, but one almost never sees a patient of thirty-three in his first attack of migraine, and this patient had had no previous attacks like this.
There is no e\idence of reflex causes. In fact, the diagnosis was not suspected until the fall of temperature to normal next morning, and its subsequent rise on the succeeding day suggested malaria.
A Russian housewife of fifty-eight entered the hospital November 30, 1906. She entered the hospital first in April, 1906, suffering from "interstitial myocarditis" with paroxysmal tachycardia. She was next seen on the thirtieth of Novem])er; her physician states that since leaving the hosj)ital she has had attacks of tachycardia every few weeks, the attack usually lasting two days and often accompanied l)y headaclie. Between attacks she felt well; her appetite was good, lier bowels regular, there was no loss of strength.
but she feels weak and tired.
Physical examination showed sliulit j)allor and marked ]>ulsiti()n in tlie neck. The left border of carcHac (hdncss was six inclies t<.) the left of the midsternuni in the fifth space, the rii^dit border (mc inch to the
right of midsternum; sounds rapid, but regular; the first apex sound sharp; the second, barely audible; a rhythm like that of the fetal heart, the rate something over 190. All the heart-beats were transmitted to the wrist, though the tension was low.
Physical examination was otherwise entirely negative. During the first part of her stay in the hospital the tachycardia showed only slight remissions, sometimes for a minute, sometimes for several hours. The rate did not seem to be affected by sleep, talking, or food. Digitalis had no effect. Tincture of aconite had no effect. Except for weakness and some mental anxiety, the patient seemed well.
physical examination, which made tachycardia prominent. Our chief problem is to interpret the tachycardia existing in this case, more especially as regards prognosis, which is always the essential point in tachycardia.
moned in hot haste to the bedside of a woman of forty, where I found the family assembled awaiting her death. The attending physician thought she had but a few hours to live. Her pulse was 210, her heart action absolutely regular and of the fetal type, her heart not enlarged, her breathing slow and easy in a recumbent position. The tachycardia had come on six hours previously, during a family quarrel, the patient being partly drunk.
cardia ceased.
I have seen a similar attack in a high-strung young girl who was in the dentist's chair during menstruation. The dentist was excessively alarmed, as the pulse was over 200 and barely perceptible, but the patient was as well as usual next day.
Attacks may follow a gastric upset or come after a surgical operation.
Tachycardia of this type occurring in patients who have definite signs or history of cardiac insufRciency, whether from valvular or myocardial lesions, are more serious, but I have never known a patient to die during or soon after such an attack. The prognosis is that of the underlying lesion, and is not appreciably modified by the occurrence of tachycardia.
Treatment. — Some cases are immediately relieved if the patient is placed head downward for a few seconds; others ha^"e been known to recover immediately after by drinking ice-water after emptying the stomach or after moderate exercise. Drugs have no obvious effect.
Outcome. — On the twelfth of December the tachycardia ceased during the night, and on the sixteenth she had two days without any. rVom this ])()int on the attacks grew shorter and occurred at longer intervals. There was no evidence that they were influenced in any way by any drug or other treatment given her, and she left the liospital much relieved, on the third of January, though the myocardium still showed evidence of weakness.
A scho()M)()v eight years old cntcTcd the hospital ]\Iay 16, IQ07. Since earlv cliildhoo;! he and his l)rotlH'r and his sister havo liad vomiting S])ells about once a montli. In such a si)ell he goes to l)rd fc'xcrish, xoniits in the night, is fe\erish and slec])y tlie next day; after tliat he is perfrctly wt'll. It is surmised that tliese eUccts are due to eatintr too much candv.
Five days ago he had headache and fever and vomited once. The headache and fever have coniimied since, and he has been unable to go to school. He has had a slight loose cough, but no expectoration. Last night he slept poorly and complained of epigastric pain. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 7).
Physical examination of the head, neck, and heart was negative. The abdomen was slightly distended, tympanitic, firmly held, and very tender throughout. The child breathed rapidly, with short, groaning expiration. He was admitted to the hospital with a diagnosis of acute appendicitis. The right lung showed dulness from the apex to the fourth rib in front and over the entire back, associated with bronchial breathing, increased voice, and fremitus.
Discussion. — I have known several cases like this operated upon for appendicitis owing to the lack of a thorough physical examination. Especially in children it is essential to make a thorough examination of the chest whenever the presenting symptom is abdominal pain. The backs of the lungs are often not thoroughly examined, because we shrink, very naturally, from having a patient sit up or even turn upon his side; but in a case of this kind this is a shortsighted kindness.
Outcome. — On the twenty-second the temperature reached normal and the patient felt finely. On the twenty-fifth the temperature again rose, and the white cells, which had been 35,000 at entrance, were found to be still at approximately the same figure, with 92 per cent, of polynuclear neutrophiles.
When fever persists in a case of this kind and the percussion dulness does not clear up, one of three possibilities is generally entertained: One thinks of an unresolved pneumonia, of a pleural thickening, or of postpneumonic empyema. In nine cases out of ten the latter turns out to be the true diagnosis. Unresolved pneumonia is mostly a myth. In the vast majority of cases it spells empyema. Pleural thickening causes no such elevation of the leukocyte count.
A little girl of fifteen, a chocolate dipper by trade, entered the hospital December 27, 1900, complaining chiefly of headache, which she has had for three days. It has been accompanied by some aching of the feet, general fatigue, and weakness. Her appetite has been good, but her food has been frequently vomited. She has had to stay in bed for the past three days. The course of her temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 8).
Physical examination showed good nutrition, flushed face, heavy eyes, pupils equal and reacting, tonsils enlarged and red, a soft, sharply localized systolic murmur at the apex of the heart; the spleen palpable on inspiration. The internal viscera were otherwise negative; the first phalanx of the right ring-finger was a little red and swollen. On the ulnar side there were a patch of granulation tissue and a large bleb, from which pus could be expressed. From the history and spleen typhoid seemed to be the most probable diagnosis.
The Widal reaction was absolutely negative. White cells, 11,000. There was a diazo-reaction in the otherwise negative urine. The headache continued very troublesome.
On the night following entrance the patient complained of a little pain in her right knee, the inner side of which was found to be very slightly swollen and tender, not red or hot. The next three or four days there was the same com- ^^^- ^•— Chart of case 15.
swollen, and there was a suggestion of floating of the patella.
Discussion. — In the early days of this case, with headache, high fever, and nothing to show for it, it was probably impossible to make a definite diagnosis. The presence of the heart murmur suggests an endocarditis, with or without general sepsis. Such infections are very common in girls of this age. The white count of 11,000 is somewhat against this; the condition of the ring-finger favors it.
Ty]-)hoid seems more probable in many respects. The history and the enlargement of the spleen especially favor that diagnosis, and the diazoreaction would be generally considered confirmatory e\i(ience, while the
absence of the Widal reaction by no means excludes typhoid. In fact, the only decided evidence against typhoid during the early days of her illness was the leukocyte count.
tion excludes it.
With the appearance of pain in and about the right knee thirty-six hours after entrance a new crop of possibilities springs up. Rheumatic arthritis or gonorrheal arthritis comes first to mind. The fact that only one joint is involved is against ordinary "rheumatism," and in any type of arthritis we should expect more pain when the fever and constitutional manifestations are as marked as in this case.
I have recently seen a case of trichiniasis with symptoms a good deal like those in this case, and absolutely without eosinophilia during the first week under observation. In this case the diagnosis was made by finding the trichinella embryo in the peripheral blood.
Osteomyelitis should always be considered in a case presenting the symptoms here described. It is not at all unusual to have the fever and constitutional manifestations precede, by a considerable interval, any localization of the process. We get strongly the impression that the infection is first general and later local.
Occasionally we see a case beginning exactly like this one, but going on to rapid recovery without ever presenting symptoms any more definite than those here described. We have then to be content with surmising that some low-grade infection has been overcome.
Outcome. — On January 2d the temperature was still high, and the knee intermittently painful. At times the patient awoke from sound sleep complaining bitterly of knife-like pain in her knee. The swelling increased over the inner condyle of the femur, where there was also the greatest tenderness. There was no cording of the veins, no glandular enlargement or tenderness, no edema of the leg.
January 6th: "The swelling of the knee has been increasing. The whole leg is now somewhat swollen. At the knee it measures i \ inches more in circumference than the left. The patella now floats. Leukocyte count is now 16,000. At entrance it was only 11,000. The temperature is also lower, and in the past two days there has been some decrease in the swelling. There was a diazo-reaction in the urine at the time of entrance, and this has persisted since.
two ounces of greenish staphylococcus pus. Three perforations were found in the periosteum at the lower end of the femur, with pus all around the bone. The bone was opened and pus found in the lower epiphysis and the lower end of the shaft. Convalescence normal.
A laborer of thirty-six entered the hospital September 25, 1906. For three years he has complained of indefinite stomach symptoms. For sixteen months these symptoms have been more marked, but have not amounted to actual pain, though they have been severe enough to prevent his working ; there has been no vomiting. During these sixteen months he has had fairly constant headache, not localized, not very severe, but often accompanied by vertigo. A year ago he was so sick that he was in bed four months, after which he was much improved, and has not been in bed since.
His bowels move from one to three times a week, and only with purgatives or encmata. He has no appetite and has lost about thirty pounds. He has had many doctors, many diagnoses, and much treatment. He denies alcoholic excess and venereal disease.
Physical examination shows slight irregularity and sluggish reactions in the pupils; the left is larger than the right, and there is right external strabismus. There is a well-marked tremor of the tongue when protruded, and at times his lips arc tremulous, as are his hands. The edge of the liver is palpable on deep inspiration. White cells, 12,000; urine normal. Gastric examination with the stomach-tube showed the lower border of the organ reached two inches below the umbilicus; its functions and secretions appaired to be normal. Visceral examination otherwise negative.
A "neurasthenic " headache — /. c, one of unknown cause and l)enign outcome — is suggested by the long course of the symptoms, by tlie absence of fever and visceral lesions, and by the apparent ner\(v.:sness
manifest in trembling of the lips and hands. But against this hypothesis is, in the first place, the fact that he is a day-laborer and has, therefore, no right to such troubles unless under the influence of alcoholism or some severe and obvious mental strain. Furtlier, this hypothesis does not explain the irregularity and sluggishness of the pupils nor the tremor of the tongue.
Eye-strain causes chronic headache, and the strabismus here present might well be a favoring cause. How long that strabismus has existed the patient has no idea, but it is certainly a very old affair as compared with the headache. Again, it is inherently unlikely that a day-laborer should begin to suffer from eye-strain at thirty-three. The point could only be definitely settled by a more accurate examination of his eyes.
Dementia paralytica is distinctly suggested by the association of pupillary defects with the tremor of the tongue and lips and the chronic headache. The absence of a syphilitic history does not exclude the existence of that disease. We might expect more change in the reflexes and more obvious mental symptoms, but these are by no means necessary. The diagnosis could be made much more certain in case the spinal fluid obtained by lumbar puncture contained an excess of cells with a lymphocytosis.
Outcome. — By the eleventh of October his stomach ceased to trouble him, but he showed a marked lack of initiative; he was perfectly content to sit and gaze absent-mindedly at nothing in particular. He expressed himself as greatly improved, and had gained a couple of pounds. It was subsequently ascertained that he had been in an insane asylum in November and December, 1905. There they obtained a history of convulsive attacks, said to be brought on by eating, and characterized by twitching of both arms, with numbness of hands, occurring daily for about a week and lasting something less than an hour. During these attacks he was sometimes unconscious, and after coming out of them, failed to recognize people for a considerable time.
While at the asylum his eyes showed typical Argyll -Robertson pupils. The knee-jerks were exaggerated, and there was a Babinski reaction on the left, with marked incoordination of the upper extremities and in the gait. Examination of the eyes was entirely negative. Mentally, he seemed more cheerful than the situation justified.
"brain fever" at twenty-four, and was four months in bed. Ten years ago she had an attack similar to the present one, but less severe. She has become very nervous in the last few years. Six weeks ago she was taken with sharp pain in the eyes, spreading later to the top of the head and the left side of the face, sometimes shooting along the jaws or behind the ears. The pain has been steady during these weeks — at times sharp enough to make her cry out. Light hurts her eyes. Cold increases the pain, and her jaw is so painful that she cannot chew.
Physical examination showed obesity, but was otherwise negative. When the patient's attention was turned from herself, she seemed to be perfectly happy. One night she kept the whole ward awake because of an indefinite fear that something was going to happen to her.
Discussion. — In this case, as in the l^st one, dementia paralytica is suggested, but there is really very little to support that supposition. The tremors and pupillary signs present in the last case are quite absent here.
Although the pain here started in the eyes, there is nothing else in the case to suggest eye-strain, and as the suffering has not been closely limited to the region of the frontal sinuses, we have no good reason to suppose any inflammation there.
On the whole, the headache seems to be one of that large class of mysteries from which we divert our attention because we are unable to give them a name and because they pass off fairly quickly. Xo doubt in this case the psychic condition was in some way an important cause.
Outcome. — On examination by an eminent alienist she showed no proof of insanity, but was believed to be a nervous, hy{)ochondriac, weak-minded old lady. Magnesium sulphate, 1] ounces daily, seemed to do her good. She was easily controlled Ijy reason and by appealing to her better nature. Since the first night when she raised the roof for a time she had no bursts of temper or loss of self-control. The pain did not seem to mean much, and she was discharged on the nineteenth.
An Irish housewife of twenty-three entered the hospital A])ril 30. IQ07. She was confined eighteen days ago, the labor being accompanied bv a large loss of blood. At the end of a week she coniplaiiud of a severe pain in the side of her face; later in the otlur side as well, but was
able to get up and take care of the baby. Last night the doctor found her in a slight stupor, which has increased during to-day. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 9).
The patient was semicomatose, had considerable pigmentation of the face and neck, normal pupils, twitching right eye-brow, pulse of high tension, viscera otherwise negative; reflexes normal; urine normal; red cells, 3,832,000; white cells, 10,000, with 76 per cent, polynu clears. By May 2d Kernig's sign, photophobia, and marked stiffness of the neck had developed. The patient moaned continuously, and had headache unless she was kept under morphin.
Discussion. — Any headache near the time of parturition naturally suggests uremia or some related autointoxication, but in this case nothing was found in the examination of the urine or of the heart to support these ideas.
or aphasia.
Cerebral tumor should l)c considered and cannot be excluded without an examination of the fundus. The al)scnce of focal symptoms and the presence of Kernig's sign, photophobia, and retracted head militate against it.
Outcome. — On lumbar puncture a clear fluid spurted eight inches through the cannula ; immediate and great relief followed. The patient ceased moaning and went to sleep. A sediment of the fluid thus obtained showed very rare leukocytes or degenerate mononuclear cells and a few Gram-decolorizing bacteria not characteristic. Cultures remained sterile; urine, normal. After the lumbar puncture the pupils, which were previously inactive, became normal, the Kemig sign less marked, and the head, though still stiff, was not retracted. By the thirteenth of May there was marked improvement. The temperature, as seen by the chart on p. 70, was entirely normal. I>ess morphin was required to control the headache. Consciousness returned on the ninth of May. May 13th she fed herself.
May 29th: The patient anxious to go home and is discharged.
Just what type of meningitis was present could not be determined. At the present day an injection of Flexner's antimeningeal serum would probably be indicated, despite the dubious results of this lumbar puncture.
A married woman of thirty-live entered the hospital December 9, 1897. She had septicemia after the birth of her baby, six years ago. She has never been quite as well since. For three weeks she has had a little cold in her head and a little headache, gradually getting worse, until four days ago, when she went to bed. Three days ago she began to have severe "neuralgic" headache, localized just al)ove the left eye. She has had a hard, dry cough, which is now somewhat better; and for three days there has been some pain in the left chest on full inspiration.
Physical examination showed the evidences of intense suffering from headache, marked tenderness at tlie exit of tlie left su])ra-orbitul ncr\e, and less marked tenderness over its distril)uti(m. There is consi(leral)!e voluntary s])asm of the right rectus abdominis. The tem])erature is Too.5° F.; pulse, 90; respiration, 25; wliite cells, 14,000; urine, normal. Freezing the supra-orl)ital nerve with ethyl chlorid ga\e no nlitf. ]M()ri)hin in ^;-grain dose eased the pain, 1)ut soon after she l)c''janH; hysteric, noisy, a.ppreliensixe, and almost delirious. Slic sat uj) in Ik'iI, treni])ling, breathing rapidlv, witli widt-Iy dilated pupils, said shr tn.ild not get her breath, and wanted something to counteract the rttcc t nt the morphin.
The fact that no relief was afforded by freezing the supra-orbital nerve argues against neuralgia. Sinusitis is made more likely by the direct sequence of the symptoms upon a cold in the head. There is nothing in the history to suggest any other diagnosis.
Regarding .the cause of the thoracic pain and the abdominal spasm, we must say, in the light of the outcome, "ignoramus." It should be said with emphasis that in almost every carefully studied case there are one or two facts like these which stray across the clinical field quite wild and untamed, and never submit to any rational explanation. If a case does not manifest some such S}Tnptom, but reels itself off like a textbook account, I always suspect that it is carelessly reported.
At the time of the acute attack abo\-e described meningitis was suspected on account of the association of the mental symptoms and headache, but there was at no time any fever, and the results of treatment (see beloW') made it obvious that it was one of those semihysteric attacks of excitement which not infrequently follow the administration of morphin in idiosyncratic individuals.
Outcome. — She was reassured in regard to her breathing, and given common salt in water to counteract the morphin, after which she was quiet for the rest of the night. The next morning the pain had almost disappeared. The temperature was normal, and on the third day she was allowed to go home.
A farmer of thirty-five was seen October 8, 1906. x'\bout August ist he began to have eruptions described as resembling giant urticaria in various parts of his body. He had previously been treated for an attack of angioneurotic edema. In the middle of August he had smothering sensations in his chest, which lasted from one to three hours. The coagulation time of his blood was then two minutes.
Four and a half days ago he began to have headache, which has grown rapidly worse. Two days ago he had a chill at 3 p. m., and yesterday one at 7 p. m. Fever has been continuous since the onset.
money of late, but says he does not worry about it.
Physical examination showed palpable glands in the neck, axillae, and groins. Examination of the chest and abdomen was negative. The blood showed no Widal reaction.
this case are:
I. Can the headache and fever be due to some of the urticarial group of lesions, which, as we know, are sometimes associated with fever and sometimes manifest themselves in the internal organs (respiratory and gastro-intestinal tracts)? The smothering sensations complained
In relation to the first question it must Ije said, first of all, that urticarial or erythematous lesions almost never occur on mucous surfaces and serous membranes alone. If the fever and headache were of this tyi)e, there ought to be some external lesion.
The text states that glands are palpable in the neck, axillce, and groins, but this is far from indicating that the glands are now in a diseased condition. Glands are palpable in health in a large majority of adults in one or more of the above-mentioned situations. Nevertheless, the possibility of leukemia cannot thus be dismissed. I recently saw a leukemic case with signs much like those here described, and with a total leukocyte count nearly the same, the differential count, however, showing 95 per cent, of lymphocytes. As a matter of fact, this examination was made in the case here under discussion, but the blood was wholly normal.
General glandular enlargement certainly suggests syphilis, but such enlargement was not present in this case, the glands being no bigger than normal. There is nothing else in the case to suggest syphilis, though a fever of this type is quite compatible with syphilis.
blood examination.
The clinical picture then is that of a Jever with nothing to show for it. This makes us suspect typhoid, especially in October. The absence of Widal reaction at this stage of the fever is, of course, not evidence against typhoid. Still the diagnosis is not certain. Is there any way of making it more certain? Blood culture should certainly be undertaken.
Outcome. — ^A blood culture showed a bacillus giving all the reactions of the typhoid organism. White cells, 6000. The Widal reaction did not appear until the seventeenth. The course of the fever was uneventful. He was discharged well on the eighth of November.
This case well illustrates the value of blood-cultures, which are most likely to be positive at the very time when the Widal reaction oftenest fails us, viz., at the begiiming of the disease.
A sailor of twenty-seven entered the hospital November 26, igo6. He has lost one sister of " meningitis." Six months ago he had malaria, with chills every second day for tliree weeks. He has not felt perfectly well since. He denies \'encreal disease. Two weeks ago he began to have slight, throbbing headache, with blurring of eyes and general fatigue. Three days later he felt feverish. Eight days ago th.e headache became severe enough to confine him to bed, \\'here he has been since. His appetite has been poor. Vomiting has been frequent. He
On physical examination the right pupil was found to be slightly larger than the left; both reacted normally; heart and lungs normal, except that respiration at the left apex was rather harsh, with slight dulness. A rare sibilant rale was heard over this area. White cells, 8300; polynuclear cells, 80 per cent.; there were no malarial parasites. Widal reaction negative, November 26th, 29th, and December ist. The urine was normal; fundus oculi perfectly normal; sputa negative; stools normal.
Discussion. — Naturally, our first thought is of typhoid, but after ten days of fever the temperature should be higher in typhoid, unless, indeed, we are dealing with one of the rare abortive cases which finish themselves up within ten days, so that we are here seeing only the tail end of the disease. Against this, however, militates very strongly the total leukocyte count (almost always subnormal at this stage of typhoid), and especially the high percentage of j)olynuclear cells, which is practically unknown under these conditions.
The history of a previous malaria makes that disease worth a moment's consideration, but as this individual has not been out of a temperate climate for many months, it is practically impossible that he should have acquired an estivo- autumnal malaria, which is the only type com])atible with a fever-curve like that shown below. The patient's occupation brings syphilis to our minds as a possibility, but there is nothing else about the case to support this supposition.
Brain tumor often produces a remarkably slow pulse, such as is seen in til is case, but there is nothing else about the patient to verify this hypothesis. The fact that the patient is ob\iously sick and yet has a very slow pulse directs our attention still furth.er to the ])()ssilHhty of a brain lesion. C\in he be sulTering from tubi'rculous meningitis? There are no disturbances of tlu; cranial ner\es nor retraction of the h.ead, and no Icukocvtosis, but the lung signs suggest a ])ossil)le tul)erculosis there. Lumbar puncture should certainly be dtme unless further exidenct.- soon appears to clear U]) the diagnosis.
required restraint and refused to swallow.
On the first of December he became comatose, and the stiffness of his neck disappeared. On the third of December he died. Autopsy showed general miliary tuberculosis and tuberculosis of the mesenteric and retroperitoneal glands.
A bricklayer of sixty-four entered the hospital May 15, 1908. Three uncles upon his father's side died of consumption; his family history is otherwise good. He takes from a pint to a quart of whisky a day; has had gonorrhea many times; had chancre fourteen years ago, for which he was treated three years. He was down South at the time the present illness began, two weeks ago; he does not seem to know exactly how he got there. He has been in bed for a week and a half, complaining of nothing but headache and poor appetite.
On examination, his pupils are equal, regular, and react normally. His temperature is as seen in the accompanying chart. His tongue is covered with a thick, dry coat. The heart-sounds are faint. A faint, systolic murmur is heard all over the precordia, transmitted into the axilla. The aortic second sound is slightly accentuated; heart not enlarged; the arteries palpable. In the lower half of the right lung, behind, slight dulness, diminished breathing, many medium and coarse crackling rales; abdomen and reflexes normal; white cells, 13,600; urine normal; Widal reaction negative.
The patient was sent in with a diagnosis of typhoid fever, but showed at entrance only headache and bronchitis in an alcoholic subject. May 19th: The hospital record states that he does not need hospital treatment, and will be sent home in a day or two.
he was found unconscious.
Discussion. — The family history, the presence of lesions suggestive of a pleurisy at the base of the right lung, suggest the possibility of a tuberculosis with involvement of the meninges. This could only be
in the diagnosis of this case.
Headaches with nocturnal exacerbations suggest syphilis, especially in a patient who has certainly had that infection in previous years. It is impossible, however, to go beyond suspicion unless we can get further evidence, such as disturbances of the cranial nerves, of the reflexes, a positive Wassermann reaction, or other syphilitic lesions.
The history naturally suggests alcoholism ("wet brain"), but in the absence of any sign of delirium tremens this seems unlikely, since the amount of alcohol consumed in the last ten days has been almost nil.
the temperature fell to normal and stayed there.
Can the diagnosis be malaria? The patient has recently come from a malarial country, where he may have acquired a type of the infection not characterized by the familiar tertian or quotidian chills seen in temperate climates. In a case very similar to this, occurring in a drummer who had recently returned from a southern trip complaining of fever, headache, and prostration without chills, I found large numbers of estivo-autumnal "rings" in the red cells. The present case, however, showed no such evidences in the blood.
It is much to be regretted that we made no measurement of bloodpressure in this case. An elevated pressure would support the supposition that some brain lesion (tumor, hemorrhage, softening, or meningitis) existed. As it was, no diagnosis was made during life.
Outcome. — In the evening the pupils ceased to react; the left arm and leg w£re cooler than the right; Babinski on both sides; abdominal reflexes absent; no paralysis made out. He died on the twenty-second.
Autopsy showed subdural cerebral hemorriiage; hemorrhage into tegmentum of epencephalon; arteriosclerosis; atheromatous endocarditis of the aortic valve; fibrous endocarditis of the mitral valve; hyi)ertro])hy of the heart; syphilitic cirrhosis of liver; ])roncho])ncumonia; acute fibrinous pleuritis; congenital cyst of kidney; round ulcer of stomach; fibrocalcareous tuberculosis of the lungs; chronic pleuritis; subca})sular hemorrhage of kidney.
LUMBAR PAIN
Some years ago, when I was doing a good deal of work on the blood, I was asked to substitute as visiting physician to a convalescent home intended primarily for tired domestics and shop-girls. The matron met me with that patient and respectful expression which long service under many enthusiastic young physicians produces in some nurses. "I hear," she said, "that you are specially interested in the blood. Dr. R., the gynecologist, who was visiting last autumn, found that all the patients were gynecologic. When Dr. C. visits us in summer, he finds them all nose and throat cases — that's his specialty. Now that you are to visit us, I suppose they will all turn out to be hlood cases."
It must be explained that there was no election on the patients' part. They did not seek the institution because they heard that Dr. X. (a specialist in their particular trouble) was on duty. They were sent there by a variety of other physicians who had no knowledge of the interests of the different attending specialists.
Now, in a similar way, we may explain, I think, the various interpretations of backache given by different physicians, each according to his point of view. To the gynecologist backaches are usually gynecologic symptoms; to the orthopedist, they result from sacro-iliac disease or postural strain; to the neurologist, they represent one phase of hal)itpain due to a psychoneurotic make-up. There are stomach specialists who explain backache as a result of malnutrition, gastroptosis, or constipation (loaded colon).
So it goes! The one thing which remains unchanged is the backache. When we find 15 or 20 drugs recommended for one disease, we are inclined to believe that none of them has mucli value. Similarly, wlicn wc find many and various ex])lanations for one condition, it is natural to doubt whether any of them are true.
The one thing clear about the obscure backaches called "functional." "postural," "uterine," "sacro-iliac," etc., is relief by mecluDiieol eomprcssion exerted al^out the pelvis and lower lumbar region by nican< of corsets, plaster stra])ping, Ix'hs, or i)laster-of-Paris.
In many cases a strong neurotic element can be traced — the ir.ental or nervous weakness actinia on the back through a reduction o[ nniscular tone. Flabby mind, fiabby muscles, unsu])])orted joints, pain. Doubt-
less any of these factors (and probably various others) may so "activate" the rest that in various ways the back may be made to ache. I do not think that any one knows much about it.
On the gynecologic side the most careful study of backache (and other pains) in relation to pelvic disease is that reported by Dr. C. T. Dercum,^ of Philadelphia, in which she shows statistically what I have long believed from unrecorded but fairly extensive observations in the Women's Medical Clinic of the Massachusetts General Hospital, viz., that there is no type of backache or other " reflex" pain which can reasonably be referred to pehic disease. All types of pain in the back, head, and extremities occur with equal frequency with and without pelvic disease. All types of pelvic disease exist with and without backache. Even deep-seated cancerous growths may be latent and symptomless for many months.
faction the mutual independence of backache and pelvic disease.
Aside from this huge group of backaches cured by mechanical support and lateral compression of the pelvis, but explained in many ways, as gynecologic, neurasthenic, or functional, as sacro-iliac strain or as loss of balance,^ etc., we have two other aflfections which I have found it convenient to bracket with it under the clumsy title of the orthopedic group of backaches. These diseases are:
the larger and vaguer group above referred to.
The '^kidney group" of causes for backache is a term which I shall use throughout this chapter to denote the "surgical" diseases in or near the kidney: tuberculosis, stone, neoplasm, abscess, cystic degeneration.
Sometimes, ho\ve\er, the fati-^iie has become cumulative, and is so chronic that it has develo])ed, as it were, into a member of the household. Its source and origin may have been forgotten, and come to light only after close questioning or as a result of a therapeutic test, viz., a thorough rest. In persons of high-strung, hypersensitive, and neurotic temperament, these simple fatigue pains merge into what may be called —
{b) The psychoiwurotic backaches, which ha\"e certain characteristics worth noting here. Pains of this type are often confined to the region of the coccyx, and, unfortunately, they are apt to lead the patient into the hands of some fervid and eager surgeon, who speedily does an operation on the coccyx. If the operation is followed by prolonged rest with hypernutrition and a considerable amount of reeducation given consciously or unconsciously by the surgeon or his assistant, the patient may recover, but the credit is falsely given to the operation, which would have been quite useless — as, indeed, it often proves — without the nutritive and educational influences linked to it.
Another type of psychoneurotic backache makes the patient abnormally conscious of the whole length of his vertebral column, which is affected, not only by pain, but by a variety of paresthesiae, tingling, sensations of heat or cold, sensations of pressure or crawling. This type of trouble may arise without any obvious reason, but it is also often met with following some accident, whence the term, "railway spine." In the vast majority of these cases, however, the accident has served merely to direct the patient's attention to a certain part of the body, in this case the spine, and also to perturb his moral consciousness through the expectation of damages and court-room scenes.
A third type of psychoneurotic backache, to which further reference will be made Ijelow, is recognizable by its obvious connection with psychic and especially emotional states. A depressing emotion will ])roduce it, a Joyful event will cure it; but one must beware of doing the patient injustice by dublnng the pain imaginary or unreal, either in this or any other type of })sychoneurotic trouble. What the facts show is that a certain direction and morljid concentration of attention is followed by pain, and that a new habit of life, physical and mental, leading to a more prf)fitable direction of attention, is follo\^ed by relief. The most plausi1)le hyj)othesis, and also the most useful one, because the most helijfully com])rchensible to the patient, is that which assumes the followin.y;: Xuml^erless ])hysiologic changes are occurring e^■ery moment in ever}- part of our anatomy — the circulation of blood, the distention and contraction of blood-\essels, the movements of lymphr^urrents, tlie \arying tension and pressure of muscular masses, ligament-
ous strands and fasciae — all these and presumably many otlicr phenomena go on very busily but quite unconsciously when our minds are normal; but when attention gets caught and concentrated upon the spine or the coccyx or the back of the neck, and when the patient has made a mental picture of the organ which he supposes to be diseased ("the base of the brain," "the whole spinal cord," "the outlet of the stomach," "the left ovary"), then this unfortunate begins to be aware of physiologic processes normally unfelt. This \-ery awareness, through the formation of brain habits and ]:)Ossibly also through vasomotor influences acting upon the [)oints supposed to be diseased, reinforces and increases the sensations referred to this ])oint until they linally attain the dignity of pain, which ultimately becomes a habit ("habit pain").
is one of the most common in the jjractice of all busy physicians.
(c) Lumbar pain due to parlurilion is only rarely mistaken for any other variety, and offers, as a rule, very little diagnostic difficulty. Obviously, it is one of the commonest of all such causes.
{(I) BackacJie from infectious disease of any t}-])e, from a simple cold to the severest se})ticemias and pneumonias, is, I su])pose, the next commonest variety. Occasionally this type offers some difficulties in diagnosis, examples of which will be considered later. In the great majority of cases, however, the jjresence of fexer, headache, and widely distributed pain in other parts of the body enables us to identify infectious backache without much difficulty.
u) Postoperative backache aj)pears usually about twenty-four hours after the oj)eration, and is troublesome for the next two or three days. Though often associated with gaseous distention of the lower bowel, there seems to me to be no good reason to believe that the distention causes the ])ain, since similar distention is so commonly ])resent in typhoid, jmeumonia, and other infectious diseases without any backache. The ])ostoperati\e lumbar pain seems to be more common after prolonged operations in which the })atient's l)ack rests upon a flat table, so that the normal spinal cur\'ature is no longer maintained l)y muscular tone, which the anesthetic relaxes. Pressure by the surgeon or his assistant u])on the patient during o|)eration may contriliute to the result. If this explanation be correct, the backache should be ])re\\'nte(l by padding or cur\ing tlie surface of tlu' table to correspond ^^ith (lie norma. 1 hmibar cur\e of the spine.
Tht' types of lumbar j)ain next to be discussed all differ from those al)o\e mentioned in two important resoects: those listed so far ha\e been far commoner than those still to l)e mentioned, and far les- deoend-
ent upon direct physical examination for their recognition. It is for this latter reason that diagnostic difficulties are far commoner in the still remaining groups already mentioned on p. 80.
(/) The Orthopedic Group. — What was almost universally called lumbago ten years ago has now been split up into three main subtypes of disease: spinal osteo-arthritis, sacro-iliac disease (non-tuberculous), and a residue still known under the name of lumbago. Despite the important differences which have now been demonstrated and have given rise to this separation, these three diseases are still loosely bound together by the fact that their treatment is very similar. It is, however, altogether for reasons of convenience in the discussion of differential diagnosis that I have linked them together under the title of the orthopedic group. They differ sharply, both in prognosis and treatment, from all the types of disease above referred to, as well as from those next to be described.
(g) The pressure group of diseases causing lumbar pain includes vertebral tuberculosis (Pott's disease), aortic aneurysm, and neoplasm in or near the spinal column. I am quite aware that this term has no other merit than that of convenience for discussion, since in two members of the lumbago group pressure is also the cause of the pain.
(h) The kidney group of causes for lumbar pain includes renal stone, tuberculosis, neoplasms, hematogenous infection of the kidney, and paranephritic abscess as its chief members. Among the rarer causes for lumbar pain may also be mentioned renal infarct, hydronephrosis, pyonephrosis, and cystic kidney.
(i) Lumbar neuralgia or neuritis, clearly recognizable only in the presence of the vesicular eruption (herpes zoster or shingles), is a comparati\'ely rare cause for lumbar pain. Of about equal rarity as a cause of such pain is—
(j) Cholelithiasis. — -Perhaps one case of gall-stones in a hundred shows itself by pain starting in the back and working toward the gall-bladder instead of in the opposite direction, as is usual.
With lumbar pain or tenderness due to ulcer or cancer of the stomach or bowel I have had no experience, though I have asked and examined for such pain many times. Schmidt^ mentions very specifically that in lead-poisoning sharp lumlmr pain is occasionally associated with the ordinary abdominal colic.
to the psychoneuroses and to the pressure group of causes.
(3) Is it made much worse by stooping or sidewise bending? This is the characteristic of the lumbago group and of many psychoneurotic cases, while diseases of the pressure group and the kidney group are not thus characterized.
(4) Is the lumbar region sensitive to pressure or percussion? Such sensitiveness is especially common in diseases of the renal group, but if localized over the sacro-iliac joint, it often points to disease there.
EXAMINATION OF PATIENTS WITH LUMBAR PAIN
Incredible though it seems, there are physicians in practice to-day who do not hesitate to treat lumbar pain without stripping the patient so that the naked back can be examined. I have known a case of herpes zoster to be treated for " rheumatism " (salicylates, alkalis, vegetable diet, etc.) simply because the vesicular eruption was unknown to the patient and had never been looked for by the physician.
Osier mentions a case of aneurysm of the descending thoracic aorta, which presented as a pulsating tumor near the angle of the left scapula, quite undiagnosed through many weeks of treatment for lumbago and neuralgia. The attending pliysician had never examined the ex])()sed back, presumably because the ])atient, being a male, wore clothes which opened in front and did not offer to remove them.
1908. On June 7th, while sitting in a chair upon his piazza, he had a sudden attack of sharp pain in the right lower back. This pain continued severe for the next six da}'S, and on the day after its onset he began to be short of breath on slight exertion. A dr\' cough began at the same time, and has persisted since. His appetite has been poor, but he has not been in bed. He has had no constipation or other symptoms.
When first seen, his temperature, pulse, and respiration were normal. His heart's apex was i'* inches to the left of the nipple-line in the fifth space, the right border of cardiac dulness two inches to the left of the midsternum line in the fourth space. The heart-sounds were of good quality, and there were no murmurs. The upper part of the right chest was slightly dull as low as the third rib. Below this there was tympany extending two inches to the left of the midsternal line, below the costal margin, and to the middle of the right axilla. Tactile fremitus was diminished o\-er this area, and breath-sounds distant or altogether absent, except at the right apex, where the \'oice sounds were increased and the breathing was bronchovesicular.
In the back, with the patient sitting up, there was relative dulness down to a point i\ inches below the angle of the sca])ula, the line of resonance rising from that point obliquely across the axilla to the level of the third rib in front. Below this there was tympany.
Over the dull area in the back fremitus is diminished, and at the extreme base absent. Otherwise the signs are the same as in the corresponding area in the front. There are no rales, no friction or other abnormal sounds.
urine are normal.
Discussion. — As we read the signs set down in this case, pneumothorax is naturally our first thought. But can pneumothorax occur so suddenly in a person of excellent health and without any of the known causes of pneumothorax (phthisis, trauma)? Let us consider the other possibilities before answering this C|uestion.
exclude this.
A sharp thoracic pain, followed by dyspnea and cough, constitutes the ordinary onset of ])leurisy, but tlie physical signs of this case, especially the tympany at the base of the chest, together with the absence of the friction sounds, exclude this.
and is never of sudden onset. The j^resence of gas below the diaphragm, either in the bowel or in an abscess cavity, would explain many of the signs in this case; but there is no history of any previous abdominal symptoms, such as usually lead to the so-called subphrenic pyopneumothorax. There has been nothing to suggest appendicitis, ])erfo rating gastric ulcer, or hepatic abscess. There are not enough fever and constitutional disturbance.
We, therefore, return to the first supposition, viz., pneumothorax. Investigation of any large number of cases of this disease shows that its symptoms may be cither stormy and virulent, or so mild as to be practically negligible. Twice I ha\e seen pneumothorax (proved to be such by the liberation of air through puncture) in patients who felt practically well and were examined almost by chance. This means that the cause present and leading to the vast majority of all cases of pneumothorax — namely, tuberculosis — may be absolutely latent and symptomless. This is, of course, a well-known fact, but the sudden appearance of a tuberculous pneumothorax brings the truth home to us in a startling way.
Outcome. — The patient was given 3 milligrams of tuljcrculin after {we days of normal temperature, and the temperature thereafter rose to 101° F. and was accompanied by headache and malaise.
culosis.
The prognosis in a case of this kind and the treatment are those of the underlying process — ])hthisis. The advent of pneumothorax docs not render the outlook much gra\"er. In the great majority of cases the air is readily absorbed, and no special treatment need l)e directed to it. If the air persists in the chest unchanged for a numljer of weeks, or if its amount is so large as seriously to embarrass the action of the lu-art and lungs, it may be remo\ed In' puncture, after which it may, or may not, reaccumulate.
A stationary fireman of fifty entered the hospital November q. kjoi. Se\"en years ago, following an injury to his left elbow, the joint graduallx" grew stiffer, and he was lokl that there was a growth ot l)onc there. He came to the out-patieiU department for treatment, and the ellmw \vas baked daih" for the weeks, with consi(k'ral)k- benefit, l)ul he has nex'er been able full}- to t'xtend the arm since that time.
of his back, brought on by any motion. Three days ago these pains became so severe that he could scarcely move. The pain now starts in the small of the back and extends down the left leg as far as the ankle. Three days in bed has given him no relief.
Physical examination showed well-marked Heberden's nodes on the fingers. The physical examination was otherwise negative, except that the left elbow could not be flexed beyond 80 degrees or extended beyond 45 degrees. There was tenderness along the back of the left thigh from the popliteal space to the sacrum, also o\-er the Achilles tendon, pressure on which causes pain to shoot up the thigh.
So long as the patient remained absolutely quiet he was comfortable, but coughing, sneezing, any movement of the leg or body caused pain to shoot from the sacrum to the foot. Fixation with a ham splint afforded no relief, nor did the application of cold along the nerve. Drugs were without effect. Heat, on the other hand, relie\'ed him somewhat. Tight criss-cross strapping of the lower back and, later, a supporting belt, gave still more relief, although numbness of the thigh and calf developed as the pain diminished.
The first and the last of these may be excluded by the absence of fever and of urinary signs. "Within the group which I have called orthopedic fall chiefly lumbago, sacro-iliac strains and displacements, spinal osteo-arthritis.
Lumbago is pretty definitely excluded by the long duration of the disease. After three weeks of pain we must find some other cause, especially as the pain is no longer confined to the lumbar muscles, but extends down the left leg.
Sacro-iliac disease (strain, sjjrain, disjjlacement, or ])inching of joint fringes) should cause the ])atient to stand with a list to one side, and should produce tenderness over the sacro-iliac joint, together with [)ain increased when the leg is raised without bending the knee. Direct physical examination of the sacro-iliac joint usually reveals nothing in these cases except localized tenderness. In this case the above tests were all negative.
Spinal osteo-arthritis is favored by the age of the patient, and by the presence of similar joint outgrowths elsewhere (ell~)ow and fingers). Pain on couirhina; and sneezin" is also rather characteristic of osteo-
arthritic processes, because they so often in\-ohe the costovertebral joints, which have to move sharply and suddenly when we cough or sneeze. This symptom, however, also occurs in all the orthopedic group of diseases above referred to.
Malignant growths in or near the spinal column might account for all the symptoms here present, and can only be excluded by x-ray examination or by the outcome of the case.
Outcome. — X-ray showed osteo-arthritic outgrowths in the lower lumbar region. By December 5th he was able to walk about with crutches, and by the eleventh he was able to go home very much relieved.
A motorman of twenty-four entered the hospital August 19, 1907. His habits and [)revious history were good, but for the past two weeks he has had pain across the small of his back. For the past four days the pain across the small of his back has become more severe and he has been nauseated when he tried to eat, although he has felt hungry.
Six days ago he felt chill}- in the evening and sliivered a little; but he did not give uj) his work until two days before his entrance to the hosj)ital. This morning he had a brief spell of tingling in the left arm. He continues to feel hungry, but cannot eat. He does not feel at all weak. His bowels move once daily.
At entrance the patient's temperature was 103.8° F.; pulse, 88; respiration, 24. He was mentally alert, and did not look very sick. There was a harsh, systolic murmur heard all over the ])recordia. loudest in the jmlmonary area, where there is a suggestion of a s}stolic llirill. The ])ulmonary second sound was sHghtly greater than in the aortic. The heart shows no evidence of enlargement. A sliglulv tender mass was felt to descend below the left costal margin on full inspiration.
Discussion. — The presence of continued fc\er excludes most of the so-called orthopedic group discussed in the last case. We lia\'e left the infections, local and general. Local infections ])ro(lucing pain in the back are cliietl}' spinal tuberculosis, lu-matoL^u-nous renal infection, and ])erinephric al)scess. These are excluded in tlie preseiU ease, because the spine, the regicm of tlie ki(liie\', anteriorlv and ])osteriorl\'. and the urine, are all negative. We are left with the ([uestion, What general infections are most apt to cause backache? The answer is: "griii." tonsillitis, typhoid, and sepsis. Of tonsillitis and sepsis we ha\e no
positive c\-idence, though the harsh systoHc murmur mentioned in the text might suggest a sepsis of tlie t3'ije known as ulcerati\e endocarditis. There is, however, nothing conclusive about this murmur as described, and nothing else in the case to support the diagnosis of sepsis. The murmurs most suggestive of a septic endocarditis are those that rapidly change their characteristics under observation, especially diastolic murmurs.
The good appetite and the mental alertness are not characteristic of typhoid, but there is nothing in the case absolutely inconsistent with that diagnosis. The tender mass felt below the left ribs might be the
typhoid.
In the absence of a well-marked infection of the upper air-passages with the influenza bacillus predominating in the discharges there is never any good reason for the diagnosis "grip." Such a diagnosis is usually a rather cqui^•ocal way of saying ''T don't know." The word is used largely to satisfy the patient.
On the e\"idcnce thus far presented, then, one can only guess at the diagnosis of this case. Only as the chart devclo])S do we ])egin to feel any more confidence that our original guess, tyjtlioid, is correct.
in the accompanying chart. The Widal did not appear until August 25th. The mind was clear and alert throughout, and after the twentyeighth the mass was no longer felt in the left hypochondrium. The patient sat up on the twenty-second of September, and went home well on the first of October.
A widow of fifty entered the hospital March 17, 1908. The pain was sharp, constant, and increased by motion. It was usually relieved by heat, but last night she had to take morphin to get to sleep. She has worked until four days ago, though her appetite has been poor, and she has some nausea and loss of weight.
On the right back, on a line with the spine of the ilium, is a group of broken vesicles covering an area of 2] inches by one inch, and extending at right angles to the spinal column. Tem[)erature, pulse, and resjnratiop normal.
Dr. R. B. Osgood found nothing wrong in the bones and joints. Vaginal examination was negati\'e, as were the blood and the urine. Dr. James J. Putnam considered the pain due to herpes. She slept well on the night of the twenty-first after 10 grains of veronal, and aspirin in doses of 10 grains also relieved her. Acetanilid 5 grains with 2 grains of caffein was later given to insure sleep. Aconitin in 0^77 to y^^ grain doses had no effect, although it was pushed up to the point of toxic symptoms, when she remarked that it made her feel cold and clammy, like a chicken just taken ofi" the ice. I>ater her ])ain became more se\erc, and was not relieved either by aspirin, by quinin, or by strychnin. Phenacetin and salol relieved her more, and by the sixteenth of April she was able to sleep without any drugs at night. \'eronal and codein, the former 10 grains, the latter half a grain, were repeatedly needed before April loth for slecj).
After she had ])een In the ward five weeks witli normal tcm])eratiire and pulse throughout, her temperature suddenly rose to 10:;. 5^ I*"., and her leukocytes, which had previousl}' l)een normal, rose to i<).2oo.
The lungs were negati\"e, but there was marked tfiKkTiicss in thiright lower abdomen, witliout s]»asm. M1k' patient was so liypcrMMi-itiNc \' hen slie was touched at auN' j)oint that it was (liflicult to l^lll>^\ ho>\nnich weigjit to la}- u])on her abdominal pain.
to be very sensitive in the right iliac fossa.
Discussion. — Lumbar pain without fever and without evidence of any disease of the orthopedic group or of the kidney group should always suggest the possibility of a neuritis. The group of vesicles, though covering so limited an area, gives strong support to the hypothesis. Neuritis of the thoracic region, involving, presumably, in every case a lesion of the spinal ganglion corresponding, is especially apt to l^e accompanied by that \'esicular eruption which we call herpes zoster or "shingles." In the majority of cases the painful area is much larger that the vesiculated area. It need not surprise us, then, that in this case the vesicles co\"er such a small spot, and we have no good reason to hesitate regarding the diagnosis — herpes zoster. Presumably this is due to a local infection of the spinal ganglion similar to that which has been demonstrated in the ganglia corresponding to the facial herpes in pneumonia.
Regarding the treatment of this painful affection, it is worth noting that the application of an ethyl chlorid spray over the corresponding spinal ganglion sometimes gives very striking relief to the pain.
Can the abdominal pain, occurring in the sixth week of this case, be attributed to a second attack of the same trouble? Experience has taught us ne\er to multiply causes or diagnoses if the facts can be explained otherwise. But in this case the occurrence of fe\er and leukocytosis, with the new pain, should make us look for some local inflammatory cause. We should search for evidence of a local abscess, of tonsillitis, of phlebitis, arthritis, or pneumonia. By the twenty-ninth, when tenderness in the right iliac fossa was marked, there seemed to be every reason to susj^ect the appendix.
This case constitutes one of those exceptions which prove the rule — the rule, namely, that we do not often deal with two diseases as the explanation for a group of sym])toms. In the light of the findings at operations wc naturally ask oursehes whether the whole thing, from start to . finish, might not have been due to appendicitis. I should answer decidedly, "No." The location of the original pain, the absence of
fever, and the presence of the vesicular eruption seem to me to make this supposition impossible, though it is conceivable that there may ha\e been a common cause both for the zoster and the subsequent appendicitis.
A married woman of twenty-one had ''grip" three times last winter, but has otherwise been well until two weeks ago, when, after her last attack of "grip," she began to have pain in her back, and to a less extent in her arms, chest, and knees, without any limitation to the movement of the joints. For the past week she has been in bed, l)ut for the past two nights she has slept litde on account of pain in the l^ack.
The temjjerature remained elevated for four days; after that it was, for the most part, normal. The action of the heart was regular and rapid, with a gallop rhythm. The pulmonic second sound was accentuated, and the first sound at the aj)ex was accompanied Ijy a rough s}stolic murmur heard all over the [)recordia and in the axilla. There Wcis no obvious enlargement of the organ. Physical examination was otherwise negative, except that the white cells numbered 16,300.
Rest in bed, 10 grains of salicylate of strontium every four hours, with an ice-bag over the precordia, an occasional A. S. and B. pill, and an occasional I, grain of morphin, gave her relief within a few days. Later, she comjjlained of piercing ])ains in the precordia, which made her \"er}nervous. Xolhing was found there on physical examination.
Discussion. — I ha\e included this case because it seems best that my book should mirror some of the most annoying defects of our ])resent knowledge, as well as its strong points. This is the sort of case which is ordinarily called "grip" at the start, while we watch for (levflo])ments. If none come, the diagnosis is formally confirmed.
For what other possil)ilities should we be on the watch in a case of this kind? Endocarditis, first of all, on account of the cardiac murnuir, the leukocytosis, and the early joint pains. Only the disappearance of these symptoms with the lapse of a few days excludes endtnarditis.
marked leukocytosis.
As T have already said in the discussion of pre\i()us cases. 1 think "luiknown infection" should be our \erdict. It is time to droj) the ecpiivocal use of the word "grip" as a cloak for our ignorance.
It is worth noting that the use of an ice-bag over the precordia very probably accounted for a good deal of the patient's later suffering. It drew her attention to the possibility of heart trouble. In a nervous person this is enough to produce heart pains.
Outcome. — Nervousness was throughout a prominent feature, but by the sixteenth of April she was nearly well, and was discharged to finish her convalescence at home.
A night watchman of sixty-nine entered the hospital January 31, 1907, complaining that when he got up two days before he "felt his hip catch." Within three hours he was unable to bear any weight on the left foot and went back to bed. The pain has continued since, and he has been helpless.
On physical examination it was found that any motion of the left hip or back caused exquisite pain. There was some tenderness at the upper point of exit of the nerve. Physical examination otherwise negative. Temperature oscillated between 98° and 101.4° F. for four days, then normal. \Miites, 8000.
Discussion. — Can the symptoms be due to strain of the back? What tests should be employed to confirm or exclude the diagnosis of lumbago, of sacro-iliac disease, of hip disease, of spinal osteo-arthritis? What further data are necessary?
In answer to these questions I should say that it is wholly unlikely that strain entered into the causation of these symptoms, since the pain was first felt after the blameless action of getting out of bed.
bone or kidney.
In relation to sacro-iliac disease we should endeavor to ascertain whether the patient stands with a list to the other side, whether the pain and tenderness are referred especially to the sacro-iliac joint when the thigh is flexed with the knee straight, whether there is any sacro-iliac pain on compressing the wings of the ilium.
The therapeutic test, the effect of attempting to immobilize the ioint by strapping or otherwise, is also of importance. Hip-joint disease is to be excluded in case the motions at that joint are really free.
Osteo-arthritis is difficult to exclude or to identify positively. We suspect it in the presence of long-standing lumbar pain associated with radiations along the thoracic, lumbar, and sciatic nerves, aggravated if when the muscular protection is relaxed in sleep, the patient attempts to turn over. It is aggravated also by coughing and sneezing. An vT-ray picture and the exclusion of sacro-iliac disease complete our task.
The present case offers a fairly characteristic picture of what is ordinarily known as sacro-iliac sprain or strain. The pathology of this affection is still very obscure. It may be that one of the joint fringes gets pinched owing to slight relaxation or subluxation of the joint when the muscular or ligamentous protection is imperfect. A person becomes debilitated or tired, muscularly or nervously. His muscles are no longer as alert and well toned for protection as they should be. A slight slip occurs, and a joint fringe or some other sensitive joint structure is impinged upon. If this were true, it would explain the frequent association of the trouble with neurasthenic and debilitated states.
Outcome. — The patient was considerably relieved by lo grains of aspirin every four hours and tight cross-strapping of the back and hip. He was able to leave the hospital by the twenty-fifth of February.
A nurse of thirty-six who had previously suffered from dysentery when nursing in the Philippines, entered the hospital March 21, 1908, complaining that for the past four months she had had pain in the lower part of her back, extending down the right leg. She has also had swelling of the right foot and stiffness of the neck off and on during these four months. The pain is somewhat relieved by heat, but she has had to have morphin pretty continuously in order to keep her comfortalile.
lost 20 pounds in the past five weeks.
On physical examination the thyroid gland was found to be slightly enlarged. Temperature, ])ulse, and respiration were normal, the chest and abdomen negative. Urine normal.
The pulsations of the aorta were \'iolent in the epigastrium. The knee-jerks were extremely li\'ely, but there was no clonus and no Babinski. Ooss-straj)ping gave her a great deal of relief.
Discussion. — Here is a long-standing ])ain which, in a woman of thirty-six, sliould make us consider Pott's disease and cancer; but examination shows no evidence of either of these troubles, and a denser
study of the case shows two causes whereby the duration of the pain may well have been inordinately prolonged. I refer to the use of morphin and to the evidence of a hypersensitive temperament, shown in the exaggerated knee-jerks and the violent pulsation of the abdominal aorta. Coming then to the milder possibilities, we should naturally think of lumbago, because the patient has also suffered from stiff neck (so often associated with lumbago). The duration, however, is somewhat too great. She should have been relieved by rest within a week or two.
The pain extends down the right leg, and is accompanied by swelling of the right foot. Can it be due to neuritis? There were no nerve tenderness and no disturbance of sensation. The ordinary tests for sacro-iliac disease (see above) were positive.
complaining of dull, constant pain in the right side of the lower back,
Vv'orse at night, accompanied by fever, vomiting, and constipation. Her bowels have not moved for four da}-s. There has been no injury to the back, no cough, and no chill. Family history and previous history are negative.
Physical examination showed a
herpes on the lips. Nothing abnormal was found in the chest or abdomen except for a general tenderness, especially marked in the costovertebral angles and in the flanks.
The urine showed a large amount of pus, and the culture revealed a characteristic growth of colon bacilli. The temperature remained abo\'e 101° F. for a week. (See accompanying chart.) The patient was at first very sick, with a white count of 24,000, 82 per cent, of the cells being polynuclear.
This being excluded by the absence of any kyphos or muscular spasm about the spine, we have next to note that the patient is rather young for any of the orthopedic group of diseases.
If it is an infection, as the fever suggests, is it local — that is, renal or perirenal — or is it general? The condition of the urine and the leukocytosis point strongly to a local urinary infection.
Outcome. — The leukocyte count fell to normal along with the temperature. The treatment consisted of alcohol sponges at 80° F. every four hours; urotropin, 4 grains, three times a day, an abundance of water to drink, and a liquid diet.
the following four groups:
1. Those presenting in girl babies or young girls an apparently unaccountable fever, without anything to suggest its source. It is not always easy in these cases to collect and examine the urine, hence this most important clue is often neglected. The presence of a moderate or considerable number of leukocytes in the sediment of such a urine, when vaginal contamination is excluded, strongly suggests a urinary infection. A pure culture of colon bacilli can usually be obtained from the urine, as it was in this case, and the thera])cutic test (rapid impro\'ement under forced water-drinking and urotropin) puts the diagnosis upon a fairly firm foundation.
2. In other persons the disease often sets in in an acute and tiireatening way, like apjx'ndicitis or acute cholecystitis. Fever, leukocytosis, pus in the urine, and tenderness in the costovertebral angle are a very suggestive group of sym})toms and demand cystoscopy as confirmation. Nephrotomy or ne])hrectomy may be necessary to save life if the S}m]itoms do not ra])idly abate after the ingestion of urotropin and large amounts of water.
3. Relatively mikl and clironic cases, characterized by pyuria, with wa\es of irregular fe\er and ])()ssibly some bladder symptoms, often occur in women Ijcfore or after ])arturition. In some of these chronic cases the urotro])in and ^^•ater treatment may be assisted by the use of a A'accine ])re])are<l from the organism isolated from ilie urine — almost always the colon bacillus.
4. There seems to me to be good reason to believe that most, if not all, cases of perinephric abscess represent neglected forms of the hematogenous infections just classified. It is a notable fact that in the past two years, since our attention was called to the frequency of hematogenous renal infections by the papers of Brewer and Cobb, the number of cases of perinephric abscess has greatly diminished.
In my opinion there is no longer any ground for supposing that a primary pyelitis, distinct from ascending infections, exists at all. It has neither a pathologic nor a clinical basis.
A waitress of twenty-six, of good family history and previous history, entered the hospital January 30, 1908. Up to yesterday morning she had been well. She then was seized with pain in the right lumbar
Physical examination showed many papules scattered over the entire body. The conjunctivae were injected and watery; the breath offensive. At the angle of the right scapula the respiration was slightly diminished, and the whisper slightly increased. The right kidney was doubtfully felt, and there was some tenderness there, but more marked tenderness under the risfht costal border and in the right iliac fossa. The general abdominal tenderness was so marked that the patient was seen by a surgical consultant who, however, found no evidence of peritonitis. The urine was negative.
The temperature ranged for seven days above 101° F. fsee accompanying chart), and the white count between 13,000 and 15,000. The chest was strapped, with very slight relief.
suggests several possibilities.
1. Since the pain began upon the right and is accompanied by some tenderness in the region of the right kidney, a renal infection must be considered, especially as the right kidney is far more often affected than the left by such infections. But in the presence of a negative urine all the other possibilities must first be carefully canvassed before proceeding to cystoscopy or any such bothersome tests.
acute febrile onset and the absence of confirmatory tests.
3. Against the diagnosis of local peritonitis (gall-bladder, appendix, perforating gastric ulcer) is the entire absence of muscular spasm and the very wide area of tenderness.
4. Despite the exclusion of all these possibilities, the diagnosis remained uncertain. The rather doubtful signs at the base of the right lung were sufficient, however, to make us examine this part very frequently in anticipation of the possible development of pneumonia. So many cases beginning with abdominal symptoms have ultimately turned out to be pneumonia, escaping laparotomy narrowly, if at all, that we are always on the watch for such an event.
Outcome. — On February 2d the signs of solidification finally appeared at the right base. Abdominal distention and tenderness were marked. The patient had a crisis on the evening of the sixth of February, and by the fourteenth was out of bed and convalescent, though loud pleural friction, entirely unaccompanied by pain, persisted from the eleventh of February until her discharge from the hospital on the sixteenth.
It is a familiar and a puzzling experience that many infections, especially pneumonia, cholecystitis, and appendicitis, begin with vague general symptoms (fever, wide-spread pains, chills, vomiting) before settling down to business in any discovera]:)le locality. Looking back over the course of such a chain of events, after the ])neumonia or the ap])endicitis has been found, we arc apt to suj)|)ose that the local trouble was really there all the time. The weight of e\"i(lence, hc)\vc\er, seems to me to point the other way. The local manifestation of an infection is often, I lx'lie\e, a late event in fact, as well as in our diagnoses.
introduction of a sound into the uterus, and a second miscarriage, without known cause, four years ago. Otherwise than this she had been always well until seven weeks ago, when she was taken with severe pain in the small of the back, which has lasted ever since, and which extends at times to the front of the abdomen. Her bowels are very costive, moving about once in five days. The pain in her back is not affected by motion, but has been severe enough to confine her to bed for the first two weeks of her sickness. Since that time she has been up part of each day, but has gained very little in strength, and has lost 20 pounds in weight. The range of temperature and pulse are seen in the accompanying chart. The right lobe of the thyroid gland is palpable, and seems about the size of a plum. The patient has noticed this lump for several months, and says that it varies greatly in size, at times being scarcely palpable.
The chest shows nothing abnormal. The abdomen shows slight general resistance and considerable general tenderness, the latter most marked in the left iliac fossa. Motions of the back are limited in all directions by muscular spasm, and seem to cause pain, especially when she bends to the right. Pelvic organs normal.
of free HCl, no lactic acid, and no blood.
In the course of two weeks all the pains disappeared. Dr. Goldthwait found no lesion of the spine, hip, or pelvic joints. A firm binder about the hips gave no relief. Tonics, sodium bromid, enema ta, and hypnotics were given for the control of symptoms as they appeared from time tc time.
By the eleventli of November the patient seemed nearly well. Discussion. — The case is afebrile, and apparently not of the renal or orthopedic groups. The pain is not affected by motion and, therefore, is not due to lumbago. There is no evidence of sacro-iliac or spinal disease. The most definite and important feature in the case is the fact
that the woman is debilitated, has lost 20 pounds in weight, is badly constipated, and probably has a wide-spread depression of other functions. There is no reason to suppose that the thyroid enlargement has any bearing on the symptoms.
Nothing certain can be said regarding the diagnosis of such a case until the lapse of some time has made it clear that nothing else is going to develop. After this we may settle down more or less discontentedly, with the diagnosis of what some orthopedic specialists call a " functional back." This is a very familiar clinical entity, whatever its real cause and best nomenclature may be.
Two things seem to me clear about this trouble: first, that psychic causes enter into it, and, second, that they are not the whole of it. For example, I have seen a young woman drag herself painfully down the street to the post-office with lumbar pain at every step, while each foot seems to weigh a ton and every muscular contraction is an effort. She calls at the post-office, gets a certain kind of letter, and walks home erect and free from pain. We are apt to say that such symptoms are imaginary, but this seems to me wholly unscientific. Certainly psychic causes enter powerfully into their production and destruction. May we not plausibly suppose that discouragement has slackened the muscles as it does those of a tired army on the march? A psychic cause renders them taut — a band of music, a long-expected letter; they thereupon begin to support the sagging joints, and the pain disappears as sensitive parts are relieved of pressure. It is in cases of this type that practitioners are apt to seek a cause for the symptoms in the pelvis, with what scanty justification I have endeavored to show in the introduction to this chapter.
A metal polisher of thirty-six entered the hospital June 24. 1908, because of |)ain in the l)ack, ])eneath the twelfth ril:), on both sides. This yrn'm had been ])resent for one week before entrance, accom])anied by fever for the jmst four days, and vomiting for the })ast three days. Ten days ago micturition was frequent and painful for one da}' and the urine bloody.
The urine at entrance showed much pus, a little blood, ;i slight trace of albumin. The s])ecific gravity varied between 100:; and 10 10. Tlie twenty-four-hour amount was from 80 to too ounces a day. .\n occasional granular cast was found in the sediment. Tlie li'ukdcytes ranged from 16,000 to 19,000 ])er cubic milHmctcr. \\'idars reaction
accompanying chart.
On physical examination the man was emaciated, pale, with sunken eyes. The edge of the spleen was easily felt. Physical examination was otherwise negative, except for considerable tenderness in both costovertebral angles. On the second of July a macular erythema appeared upon the back of the trunk and hands, and was seen by Dr. Charles J. White, who stated that he could not definitely recognize the nature of these macules. His bowels were moved by calomel and enemata, and he was given liquid diet. A culture specimen of urine showed a pure grov/th of colon bacilli. By the thirteenth of July pus
had disappeared from the urine. The white cells were 8700. The Widal reaction was negative, as it was throughout the illness.
Discussion. — The symptoms point obviously to the kidney, but the enlargement of the spleen suggests the possibility of some other cause for the fever. With such a urine, with costovertebral tenderness and leukocytosis, a urinary infection must form at least a partial explanation of the symptoms. Owing to the persistence of fever and the splenic enlargement, a routine blood-culture was taken, which, to everyone's surprise, showed typical typhoid bacilli. In view of this fact it may well be questioned whether the macular erythema was not, in fact, due to some form of typhoid rose spot— in other words, whether it was not due, like the ordinary crop of rose spots, to the lodgement of typhoid bacilli beneath the skin.
Evidently we were dealing, in this case, with a double infection, both typhoid bacilli and colon bacilli being active pathogenic agents. The colon bacilli, in process of elimination from the body, presumably caused the renal infection. The lumbar pain was probably of the general infectious type, and not due to kidney lesion.
Outcome. — The patient was given urotropin, yh grains three times a day, and left the hospital well on the twenty-sixth of July. Diagnosis. — Typhoid and colon bacillus infection.
A laborer of thirty-Bine entered the hospital June 11, 1907, In 1899 he wrenched his back in lifting a heavy jack, and was lame for three or four weeks afterward. In February, 1906, he had sciatica. For the past two months he has noticed an ache in his back when he gets up in the morning. Ten days ago he noticed tingling and numbness in his toes and the pain in his back increased. Since then he has slept very little, and six days ago he had to have morphin, which has been frequently used since then, but lately with only slight relief.
Present Condition. — The range of temperature and pulse are as seen in the accompanying chart. The patient is well developed and nourished, but looks worn out and in much pain. Indeed, he can scarcely lie still a moment. The chest and abdomen show nothing abnormal. From the third to the eighth dorsal vertebra the backbone is bowed ])()stcri()rl\-. There is much tenderness on pressure over the se\-enlh cervical spine. There is no disturbance of sensation in the feet or legs, and motion is everywhere normal.
The urine is normal in amount, to2(S specific gravity, with the slightest possible trace of albumin and a few finely granular casts. Xo blood or pus. The white cells number 14,800. The red blocxi-cclls show
no stippling; :x--ray is negative. The lines of expression in both sides of the face are flattened out. The right side moves less than the left. The patient cannot whistle, and protrudes his tongue slightly to the right.
clear.
Discussion. — Clearly, we cannot blame the old wrench for the present trouble. The sciatica also seems to be ancient history, though both of these events may ])e of some importance as indicating a locus minoris resistencio'.
In contrast with all the types of lumbar pain previously discussed this case stands out, marked by the presence of sensory symptoms (numbness and prickling) in the legs. It is also notable that the face and arms are affected, though not at the beginning of the case.
Though the backward bowing of the spine brings the possibility of Pott's disease to mind, there is nothing else in this region to support any such hypothesis, and neither here nor in the cervical region, where some tenderness was present, did .v-ray show any lesions. The entire absence of muscular spasm helps to exclude spinal tuberculosis. No other disease of bone or joint is definitely suggested, and there is nothing to point to the urinary system or to any general infection as the source of these troubles. The urine cannot be called normal, but its abnormalities are of a very vague and general nature, consistent with the presence of almost any disease and with the absence of all known disease, so that in this differential diagnosis they may be disregarded.
In view of the general sensory symptoms, the loss of muscular power and tone and the diminished reflexes, multiple neuritis is the natural diagnosis. Were the spinal cord involved, one would expect pupillary changes, increased reflexes, relaxed sphincters, and the absence of such wide-spread sensory symptoms.
As to the cause of the neuritis, we are here, as in so many other cases, quite in the dark. Alcohol and lead can be definitely excluded. There is no reason to suspect arsenic. The presence of moderate waves of fever and a continued leukocytosis makes it reasonable to suppose that an infectious process is at the bottom of the symptoms.
Outcome. — The leukocytes continued to range high, and the pain and the tenderness continued to be very troublesome. Sterile water was given at times instead of morphin, and the patient was gradually weaned from his fondness for the drug.
A negro of fifty, with a negative previous history, entered the hospital August 2, 1906, complaining that for three weeks he had been suffering from loss of appetite, nausea, fever, and weakness, and had been in bed a good deal of the time.
Ten days ago he was beginning to recover his strength, but four days ago he suddenly began to have shooting pain in the lower back and buttocks, the pains running down the backs of both legs, especially the left, and intensified by motion. He is fairly comfortable when quiet in bed.
His bowels now move every two or three days.
On physical examination, temperature, pulse, and respiration were found to be normal, the cnest and abdomen likewise normal, the blood and urine negative. Movements of the leg with knee flexed were not painful. There was tenderness o\er the left sacro-iliac joint and over the lower dorsal spines. X-ray was negative. The motions of the spine were markedly limited in all directions.
Discussion. — Apparently the symptoms in this case followed a three weeks' febrile illness, the nature of which we do not know. The possibility of typhoid and a post-typhoidal spondylitis is naturally suggested, but if typhoid is often complicated by a late spondylitis, presumably other infections may have a similar sequel.
The marked limitation of s])inal motion and the tenderness in the lower dorsal region make it necessary to consider spinal tuberculosis. The negative .r-ray, however, goes far to exclude this possibility. Only the course of time and the effects of treatment can make us more certain on this |)oint. The same remarks apply to the possibility of malignant disease.
Outcome, — Dr. Rol:»ert B. Osgood, who saw the case in consultation, considered it one of infectious arthritis of the spine and the left sacro-iliac joint; strap})ing of the back, with enemata and tonics, was the treatment. The [)atient was able to leave the hospital almost well in twelve da}-s.
A Swedish housemaid of twenty-five, with an excellent family history, entered the hospital March 27, 1907. She states that eight or nine years ago she was in bed for six weeks with "catarrh of the lungs," and that since she was ten years of age she has had frequent attacks of tonsillitis. Otherwise she has been well. At Christmas, 1906, she caught cold and was weak and feverish. At this time her back became very sore and painful on motion, and she had to give up work the first of January. Since then she has not improved at all, and has been in bed a considerable part of the time. At entrance, the temperature, pulse, and respiration were normal, the chest and abdomen negative, the spine held rigidly and all motion painful. There was no kyphos and no sacro-iliac tenderness.
Discussion. — The long duration of the symptoms holds our attention at once. Chronic backaches may be due to functional causes, to osteoarthritis and the pressure group (Pott's disease, new-growths, and aneurysm) . It is notable that in this case a rest in bed has not produced any marked improvement, neither has there been any alarming advance in the severity of the symptoms, such as would probably occur with malignant disease. The physical signs are confined to the evidence of a rigid and painful spine. Renal lesions and general infections are easily ruled out. Any ordinary lumbago would have been cured long before this. The spinal rigidity and tenderness make it ver}- improbable that sacroiliac disease is the only lesion present.
The so-called functional, neurasthenic, or hysteric affections of the spine are naturally suggested by the long duration of the symptoms, by the age and sex, and by the absence of fever, kyphos, and other obvious lesions. The outcome of the case shows the great importance of not jumping at such conclusions until every method of physical examination, including the .v-ray, has been used. This is especially true of all dubious and chronic cases.
Outcome. — At entrance, the diagnosis was "acute osteo-arthritis with a neurasthenic background." An x-ray taken the first of April showed that the body of the second lumbar vertebra was extensi\'ely diseased, and a knuckle was later developed in the lumbar region. The patient was put at once into a plaster jacket, and by April 6th was able to sit up with comfort. On April 9th she left the hospital.
A carriage painter of thirty-four entered the hospital March 20, 1907. His father died of a paralytic shock; his family history was otherwise excellent. Had a soft sore eleven years ago, and a bubo about the same time; had no rash, sore throat, falling of hair, or pains following it, but was treated for a year after it, with what medicine he does not know.
In his work he lifts from 100 to 200 pounds every day. He was perfectly well until five months ago, when he began to feel weak. Since that time he has been losing weight and has done no work. Three months ago he strained his back, and since then he has had a burning pain m the small of his back and below the region of the heart on the left. This pain has increased considerably in the last three weeks, and is now so severe that he has to bend forward and to the left to ease it. It is made worse by walking, and interferes with sleep. He has no dyspnea and no other symptoms.
Physical examination showed normal temperature and respiration; pulse somewhat accelerated, keeping most of the time between 100 and 120. His pupils are equal and react normally; his heart and lungs negative, except as shown in the diagram (Fig. 19), his right radial pulse slightly larger than the left.
Discussion. — As in the previous case, the element of duration is a most important one in the diagnosis. A steady pain lasting three months is not likely to be due to functional causes when it occurs in a carriage painter of thirty-four. Lead-poisoning, suggested by the occupation, never produces such a pain as this without other symptoms. The general infections and the renal group of lesions are easily excluded by the physical examination. This leaves us with the diseases which I have called the pressure group (Pott's disease, aneurysm, and neoplasm) especially deserving of consideration. Only one diagnosis is possible in tliis case, provided it occurs to our minds at all. The danger is that it will not be thought of, and, tlierefore, will not ])e found in ])hysical examination. Nothing but aneurysm produces an impulse and thrill with dulness and absent breathing between the S])inal column and the left scapula. Pulsating ])leurisy and pulsating sarcoma do not i)resent thenisehcs at this point.
seemed to be explained by pressure of aneurysm on the intercostal nerve.
There is now no pain in the region of the tumor. The patient was given iodid of potash. 15 to 30 grains, four times a day; nitroglycerin, T^TT grain, every three hours; when needed for pain an occasional dose of morphin, | grain.
A laborer of twenty-two entered the hospital July 4, 1906, with a negative family history. All last winter, he says, he suffered from "rheumatism around the heart"; otherwise his past history and habits are good.
For the past two weeks he has been ailing, especially on account of pain in the abdomen, the back, the neck, or the head, every day. The pain in the back has prevented any continuous sleep for the last five nights, but he also aches all over, although he was able to work until two days ago. For the past week he has had a bad taste in his mouth in the morning. He says a number of his friends have the same trouble, and call it the "grip." His appetite is poor, and he has nausea after eating. The bowels are regular; there are no other symptoms. A soft, systolic murmur is heard all over the precordia, loudest in the pulmonary area. The pulses are of low tension and dicrotic. The chest and abdomen are negative. On the forearms are a number of sharply defined macules and papules, which decolorize on pressure (mosquito bites?). In the left hypochondrium is a group of rose-colored macules, five in number.
Leukocytes were 5900; Widal reaction — persistently negative. Xo malarial organisms were found in the blood. The urine was negative. His abdomen was always rigid, and his bowels difficult to move. On the twenty-first of July, after four days of normal temperature, his Ijack still showed limitation of motions in all directions, with consideral)le tenderness on his shins. A diagnosis of lumbago was made this day by Dr. Joel E. Goldthwait. Under criss-cross strapping his pain was almost gone by the twenty-fifth. His lips were cyanotic throughout his stay in the hosi)ital; his appetite, enormous.
laxatives. At entrance he was treated as for typhoid.
Discussion. — The diagnosis of lumbago is very plausible in this case, owing to the fact that the patient has general limitation of the lumbar motions, and has previously suffered from stiff neck and other apparently muscular pains. But there are other features about the case which make it seem more like a post-febrile spondylitis of the type most often seen after typhoid. Lumbago does not produce a fever like that here described, and there are many other facts pointing to the existence of a general infection. The rapid recovery under a simple strapping treatment does not necessarily prove that the diagnosis is lumbago, but does tend to exclude all other possibilities, except the two above mentioned. The cyanosis and the enormous appetite are not explained.
An ice-man of twenty-five entered the hospital April lo, 1906. His family history was negative, his past history good. He had urethritis six months before. He has taken five or six glasses of beer a day, and one or tvvo glasses of whisky a week, as a rule, but has seldom been drunk.
Except for the urethritis, he was well until two weeks ago, when he began to have a dull, aching pain in the right side of his back and flank, not severe enough to make him give up work nor to keep him awake. After a couple of days this pain disappeared, but returned five days ago. This time it extended into the right leg, but not into the groin or testes. The painful area is tender, and the pain is constant. He has noticed no change in his urine; he thinks, however, that he passes more urine in the night than in the day. He has some shortness of breath and pal])itation on exertion.
He had no temperature above 99.5° F. during his stay of ten days in the hospital. The abdomen was held firmly al)o\e the navel, was e\erywhere tympanitic, and in the right u])])er f|uadrant was tender. At this ])oint a mass tlie si/c of the fist was felt, mcninii; with respiration, ap])arently l()l)ulated, and coming down a hand's breadth l)el()w the ribs on full ins[)iration. It was easily felt bimanually, and could be partially re])Iaced behind the ribs.
The urine was between 60 and 80 ounces in twenty- four hours, and contiiined a very slight trace of albumin, in the sediment were many intracellular di])lococci, decolorizing bv (Iram's stain. Twenty niininis of the sediment of urine was inoculated into a guinea -])i^. 'ilie animal was killed two months later, and showed no t'\ idenee i^i tiibereiilosis.
On the twentieth of April jc-ray showed a definite shadow in the region of the right kidney. Dr. Davis catheterized the right ureter and obtained pus containing gonococci.
Discussion. — Everything points to the kidney as the source of this patient's troubles. Our suspicions in that direction are promptly confirmed as the result of cystoscopy, x-Ta.y examination, and animal inoculation, a group of procedures demanded in almost every case of chronic renal pyuria.
Since "surgical kidney" is excluded by the cystoscopic examination, and tuberculosis by the results of animal inoculation, the only important possibility left is renal stone, a supposition strongly supported by the rc-ray evidence.
Outcome. — The patient was transferred to the surgical ward and operated upon on May 2d. A stone was removed. The patient's convalescence took place without any incident and he was discharged May 26th.
He was readmitted December 5, 1907. After leaving the hospital he was well and strong, and worked hard until three weeks ago, when he began to pass blood and pus in his urine and suffered pain in the right lumbar region, similar to that which he had previously had. He now suffers from two sorts of pain : (a) A dull ache in the right side, present most of the time; and (b) a stinging pain occurring only after micturition, starting from the urinary meatus and running up into the right side. The urine continued bloody for the first week of this attack, the last two Of three spoonfuls of each discharge being bright blood with threads of yellow pus. Of late, no blood has been visible. He has lost appetite and has been very thirsty, although he has not been conscious of any fever. He has lost about 10 pounds in weight. The patient entered the hospital with a temperature of 102° F., pulse 120. After two days the temperature subsided to normal. His leukocytes were 10,000 at entrance. The abdomen was altogether normal, but in the right flank there was a visible prominence and a palpable, tender, dull, rounded, lobulated mass, apparently retreating under the ribs on pressure.
The urine, as at the previous entry, was persistently of low gravity, ranging from ion to 1014, and rather large in amount — from 50 to 70 ounces a day. The sediment was composed almost entirely of pus in moderate amounts. The pus persisted in his urine, and the patient continued to have considerable pain in the right flank, A'-ray showed only doubtful shadows of a possible stone.
A housewife of fifty-one entered the hospital August 11, 1906, for the third time. At her first entry, in June, 1899, a diagnosis of gallstones had been made; at the next entry, June, 1901, neurasthenia was the diagnosis. Her attacks of illness between February, 1899, and December, 1901, were very frequent and of a similar character. There was a sudden occurrence of pain, severe and cramp-like, doubling her up. It always started in the right side of the back, thence radiating to the right h}'pochondrium, but never to the right shoulder. It would last from two hours to two days, and was relieved occasionally by household remedies, but always by morphin. After relief there would be no recurrence for weeks or months. The pain was associated with \omiting, but showed no special tendency to occur at night. The urine and feces were normal, and there was no fever with the attacks. Twice she entered the hospital for these attacks, ])ut has always been free from pain while here. For the past two and a half weeks she has had an attack every day, sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes at night. Morphin has been injected several times, and she has had mor]:)hin pills on hand. Her bowels are moved daily, but she has had no appetite.
Her physical examination, including blood and urine, temperature, pulse, and respiration, was wholly negative. On the thirteenth, at 3 a. m., she began to have severe pain. A rounded tumor was easily felt below the ribs, in the region of the gall-bladder, moving with respiration, and easily mapped out by percussion.
Discussion. — Colicky pain in the right lumbar region naturally suggests renal stone. In the absence of any urinary changes, however, an .r-ray would be necessary to confirm the diagnosis. The account of the ])ain does not sound like that of lumbago, which is not }iromi)tly driven away by morphin, and is rarely so severe as to call for its use.
Another cause for the pain is suggested l)y the rounded tumor in the right hypochondrium. This tumor might be connected with the stomach or intestine, but the absence of gastric or intestinal symptoms l)ctwecn the attacks of colic makes this unlikely. It seems more ])robal)le that the tumor is due to distention of the gall-])la(kler. the absence of jaundice being due to the fact that the common duct is patent.
of neurasthenia, based, apparently, on the fact that the patient happened to be in the hospital during an interval between her severe attacks. Such a diagnosis, based wholly on negative findings, is always unjustified; for the patient it is often adding insult to injury. It is far better to make no diagnosis at all and watch for a recurrence of the previous symptoms.
hospital March 7, 1907.
He had used a quart of ale daily until five weeks ago. In 1883 he had malaria in India. In 1890 he had blood-poisoning of the arm, and was in the Royal Infirmary, Liverpool, twenty-five days.
taken from his left chest.
March 28, 1906, he had some operation done on his right testis, just for what cause he does not know. Since then he has been well until five weeks ago. He entered the hospital March 7, 1907, complaining of constant pain across the small of his back. It has been severe for the past two weeks, so as to prevent work or sleep. For a week he has had frequent cramps in his calves, and lately has been short of breath. He has lost 14 pounds in the five weeks.
Physical examination of the abdomen showed in the right hypochondrium and epigastrium two smooth, rounded masses, palpable bimanually, descending with respiration. (See Figs. 20 and 21.) On inflation of the stomach the masses appeared to be behind it. Physical examination was otherwise negati\-e, except that the urine was of low gravity — 1007 — ranged in amount from 70 to 120 ounces during the week of his stay in the hospital, and contained in its sediment a few hyaline and fine granular casts. X-ray of the spine was negative.
acids or fasting contents.
Discussion.— The occupation is one of those often associated with lumbago or spinal osteo-arthritis, but for simple lumbago the pain has been rather too steady and prolonged. The question of osteoarthritis will be referred to later.
spinal pain, often points to a spinal tuberculosis. It is quite possible, also, that the previous operation may have been for tuberculous epididymitis. Against this diagnosis, however, is the absence of fever and muscular spasm, as well as the negative jc-ray examination.
though this cannot possibly be excluded.
We naturally desire to connect all the symptoms and signs in the case into a mutually explaining group, and this brings us to the consideration of the abdominal tumors. Cystic kidney (congenital) would produce such a tumor and such a urine, but as it is in^'ariably bilateral, we should expect to get some evidence of a tumor in the left hypochondrium.
would not account for the pain.
Can the tumor be in the stomach, possiljly with spinal or glandular metastases to account for the pain? This is suggested by the absence of hydrochloric acid in the gastric contents, but it must be remembered that a similar lack of hydrochloric acid has been frequently demonstrated in association with malignant tumors of any organ, e. g., cancer of the breast, as well as in a variety of debilitated conditions. Since no gastric sym])toms are complained of, and there are no changes in the size or motility of the stomach, a gastric tumor seems unlikely.
Retroj)eritoneal growths certainly deserve consideration. The previous tumor of the testis may well have been sarcoma, and if so, a metastasis in the retroperitoneal lymph-glands would be ^"ery likely. Further than this one cannot go without exploratory operation.
Outcome.- — The abdomen was opened on March 15th, and a retroperitoneal mass the size of a grape-fruit was found ])ehind the ])ylorus. It was afterward learned that the tumor of the testis was sarcoma.
He had tyj)hoid fever in the Alassachusetts Hos])ital in August and Septcml)er, 1906. After that lie went back to college for the seccMid half-year in February, 1907, taking his work easily, but finding it hard to concentrate his attention, having a good deal of pain in the [(^rrhcad after studying, and needing to lie down every afternoon. Ol^ March ist he had an attack of severe ])ain in the small of his Inick; this lasted live days, with much stiffness. Four weeks ago he had am)t]KT attack,
following exposure to cold and wet, lasting four days. For the past three weeks he has been in bed with the same trouble. Ten days ago he woke up in the night, doubled up with pain, and had to have morphin to relieve it.
to sit erect. The hip motions were free and normal, except that hyperextension of the right hip is painful. There is slight tenderness on pressure over the right sacro-iliac joint.
Discussion. The chief objection to, such a diagnosis in this case is the long duration of the interval between the typhoid fever and the present symptoms. Almost all cases of "typhoid spine" come on within three months, while in this case the interval is almost six months. This, however, is by no means convincing evidence against the diagnosis.
In the earlier editions of Osier's text-book this disease was described as a neurosis without anatomic basis. The reason for this belief is suggested in the present case, as in the majority of all cases. Mental symptoms, of the type usually referred to as neurotic or neurasthenic, constitute one of the varieties of post-typhoidal psychosis, and may be obstinate and long continued. Various types of insanity are also met with as sequelae of typhoid, though nearly all of them recover. It is easy to see how mental depression, associated with muscular relaxation, might accent and aggravate the symptoms of an otherwise latent spondylitis. That spondylitis may be latent is proved by the occasional finding of rigid spines in patients who have never experienced any previous pain, and in whom x-ray demonstrates osteo-arthritic lesions.
On the twenty-third a plaster jacket was applied, with complete relief to the pain in the back. The patient had a good deal of vomiting, and for some days took nothing but cracked ice by mouth. At this time the urine showed a trace of albumin, with hyaline, granular, and epithelial casts in small numbers.
The Widal reaction was positive.
The second week of his stay in the hospital he had a rise in temperature (see accompanying chart) lasting five days. The patient was very hysterical, and a false chart hung at the head of his bed had a salutary effect. After the application of his plaster jacket he had no pain. On the eighth of August he was able to sit up in a chair. On the fourteenth he was discharged, much relieved. On the twenty-sixth of August he reported that he had been walking as much as twice a day without pain. He was still hypochondriacal and introspective, but was otherwise well.
A Jewish housemaid of t\\-enty, with a good family history and pa?t history, entered the hos])ital September 2, 1907. She said that/*:?;' tico years she had had a steady and rather severe pain in the small of the haeh. At the beginning of this period slie was in l)e(l for three months, after which she was able to work, although her back was stilT and her trunk l)cnt toward the riglit. Last winter she had for scwral \vceks a jtainful cough, without expcct()ration; she had no fever at an}" time. Ahliougli in constant pain, she lias worked until three days ago.
livelier than the right. The spinal muscles were rigid.
Discussion. — The most important fact about this particular case of lumbar pain is that it has lasted far longer than any other hitherto described. Such prolonged suffering suggests either some member of the "pressure group" (aneurysm, tuberculosis, or neoplasm), or a functional neurosis; no general infection, no form of renal disease, and none of the orthopedic group of diseases would last so steadily and so long.
A functional neurosis is not likely in a girl who keeps steadily at work, although in constant pain. The difference in the knee-jerks is also decidedly against this diagnosis. The patient is rather young either for neoplasm or for aneurysm. The muscular rigidity, the long duration of the pain, and the history of a previous cough support the suspicion of tuberculosis.
Outcome. — Just below the level of the twelfth rib a knuckle the size of a small apple was later made out; it was very tender and hard, not red or hot. The patient was then in exquisite pain, but on the application of a plaster jacket was greatly relieved.
A married woman of fifty entered the hospital October lo, 1907. Her family history was good. She passed the menopause one year ago. Her menstruation has always been irregular, profuse, and painful. She has had no children and no miscarriages. In childhood she had rheumatism, typhoid fever, and abscesses on the forearm. For the past fifteen years she has had stomach trouble, symptoms consisting of lack of appetite, distress after eating, and constipation. For the past two months she has had frequent severe pains in the back, chest, neck, and legs; also occipital headache, "pins and needles" in the legs, noises in the head, buzzing in the ears, palpitation of the heart, insomnia, and great nervousness. Examination of the throat showed a linear aperture threequarter inch long in the soft palate in the median line.
There was anterior bowing of both shin bones, with roughening of their front surfaces, and three large white scars; also two or three deep scars on the extensor surface of the left forearm. Spinal motions were limited in all directions, but the pain was greatly relieved 1)y strapping and rest. Dr. E, G. Brackett examined the spine and considered the trouble an acute infectious ostco-arthritis.
as the menopause has recently occurred. There are a number of data, however, brought out by the physical examination, which point in another direction. The hole in the soft palate is almost pathognomonic of old syphilis, especially when taken in connection with the scars on the extremities and the roughening and the prominence of the shin bone.
There is no reasonable doubt, then, that this patient has suffered from S}'philitic infection. The question remains whether this can explain her present complaints. That syphilis may attack the spinal column has been satisfactorily demonstrated by :x:-ray evidence. At the same time, it is quite possible that her present troubles may be due to an acute infectious process of some other origin, or to purely functional derangements. Only by further observation and by noting the effects of treatment can the diagnosis be definitely established.
Outcome. — -The patient was also given sodium salicylate, 10 grains every hour, until toxic. Citrate of potash, 45 grains four times a day, until the urine became alkaline. Later, iodid of potash, 15 grains three times a day, increasing 10 grains daily, when the other drugs were omitted.
An Italian fruit-dealer of twenty-three is in the habit of carrying heavy loads, and thinks he has strained his back. He has never been sick otherwise, and has good habits and a good family history. He was first seen August 16, 1907. For five years he has had attacks of pain in the right side of his back almost every day. The pain is sharp, and he says it feels as if something was "rolling over" in his back. Six days ago the pain lasted all day. It never radiates to any other point, and has not often kept him awake. It does not hurt him to stoop.
both chests.
Discussion. — Muscular strain or luml^ago is our first thought in this case; it was the patient's own explanation of his troubles. The long duration and paroxysmal occurrence of the symptom, however, and its independence of stooping, make this idea impossil^le. Any lumbar pain that lasts so long suggests one of the pressure group of causes, but physical examination does not bear this out. The pain should be steadier and less intermittent were it due to j^ressure. Tlie same considerations, together with the absence of radiation or niglit attiicks, tend to exclude
and urinary changes militates against the idea of renal disease.
Vertebral tuberculosis was suggested by the prominence of certain vertebral spines, and by the doubtful phenomena in the lungs. The absence of any muscular spasm or tenderness makes this more unlikely, but :v-ray should be taken in confirmation. On the whole, from the paroxysmal nature of the attack, some renal lesion seems the most likely.
Outcome. — Aug. 19th there was no muscular spasm or tenderness about the spine or sacro-iliac joints, but he could not bend to the left as well as to the right. The vertebral spines from the eighth to the twelfth dorsal were slightly more prominent than their neighbors. There were slight prolongation of expiration and a shade of dulness at the right apex. Numerous musical rkles were scattered through both chests. There was no fever. Blood and urine were still normal.
Physical examination was otherwise negative. The patient was free from pain and said he felt perfectly well. X-ray showed a stone in the right kidney. Operation on the twenty-fourth verified this diagnosis.
A housewife of twenty-three was first seen December 29, 1907. For three months she has been having pain in the left side of her back, worse at the menstrual period, and accompanied by constipation and general weakness. She has kept at work until two days ago. Family history, past history, and habits are good. The physical examination is negative in all respects.
Discussion. — The chronicity and steadiness of the pain are like those often seen in spinal tuberculosis, and this disease can only be positively excluded by x-ray examination and by the course of the case, though it is made unlikely by the absence of muscular spasm of fever and of local tenderness or prominence.
Outcome. — After a week's rest in bed with German powder as a laxative the patient's symptoms were entirely relieved, and as the rc-ray was wholly negative, she was allowed to resume work.
A blacksmith of thirty-one was seen July 21, 1906. Seven days ago he began suddenly to have sharp stabbing pains in the lower part of both chests and on both sides of his back, and was unable to take a deep breath on account of the pain. Three days ago he gave up his work. Two days ago he went to bed. He has felt feverish, especially at night; for the last two days has had general headache and has slept poorly. Just before the onset of the present illness a horse had thrown him heavily against a building. He had a negative past history and family history and good habits.
On physical examination the pupils were found to be equal and to react normally. The chest showed nothing abnormal. The abdomen was full and rather rigid, but showed nothing else of interest. The spleen was not palpable. Flexing the neck caused pain in the back, but there was no rigidity of the neck muscles and no Kernig sign.
reaction and blood culture negative. The urine was normal.
The temperature ranged between 102.5° and 105.5° ■^- ^^^ ^^^ days, the pulse gradually rising from 100 to 120, the respiration most of the time ranging between 40 and 50 to the minute. The abdomen became more distended, and on the twenty-fourth the patient developed delirium and tremor. On the twenty-sixth his neck was found to be entirely rigid, though rotation was possible without pain.
Discussion. — The onset of the present symptoms immediately after an accident makes it natural that we should attempt to connect them with some injury then sustained, but the negative \isccral examination and the presence of continued fever make it probable that the accident had nothing to do with the case.
I have known tertian makiria to begin exactly in this way, with sharp stabbing pain in the lower part of both chests, but in that case the characteristic course of the fever, with remissions on alternate days, quickly led me to examine the blood and to demonstrate malarial jxirasites. In the j)rcscnt case the temperature curves and the results of blootl examination enable us to exclude malaria.
even without demonstrable signs in the chest and without leukocytosis. Within a few days, however, repeated and painstaking examinations of the lungs usually demonstrate some evidence of solidification, even when cough and sputum are absent. No such signs developed in this case.
Typhoid fever was the diagnosis made during the first five days of the patient's illness, and in the absence of all physical signs, with continued fever and low white count, this was probably as good a guess as we could expect to make. With the appearance of stiffening of the neck on the twenty-sixth of July the diagnosis was promptly changed to meningitis, though the condition known as meningismus complicating typhoid was also a possibility; indeed, between meningitis and meningismus— /. e., between cerebral congestion and actual exudation of the pus-formation — we have no certain way of distinguishing.
Outcome. — Kernig's sign and leukocytosis appeared next day, and the delirium ceased, though a low muttering and twitching of the arms continued. Lumbar puncture was tried on the twenty-seventh, but no fluid was obtained.
typhoid. Death occurred on the second of August.
Autopsy showed acute purulent leptomeningitis ; septicemia (streptococcus pyogenes) ; hypertrophy and dilatation of heart; septic hyperplasia of the spleen; obliterated extra ureter on the left side; fatty metamorphosis of the liver; fibrous cord from umbilicus to the mesentery.
An unmarried seamstress of nineteen entered the hospital January 25, 1908. The girl had never been sick until a few days ago, when she began to have pain in the small oftlie hack, relieved by lying down, a good many headaches, and an occasional vomiting spell. There was no costovertebral tenderness; the urine was negative. The spine was normally flexible without pain, and no tenderness in the sacro-iliac joints could be elicitated by any maneuver. Fever was absent. Tlie catamenia had been absent for three months.
Vaginal examination showed a mass the size of a horse chestnut, reddened and eroded, protruding slightly from the vulva, but reducible. In the posterior culdesac was a mass the size of a large apple, not at all movable, apparently in the back of the uterus. There was milk in the breasts, and the areolae were darkly pigmented. Under light ether anesthesia it was easily possible to free the fundus from the sacrum and to put the whole organ into normal position. Examination then
Discussion. — In the absence of all the causes of lumbar pain heretofore discussed, and in view of the amenorrhea, a pelvic examination was obviously indicated. The only remaining question is whether the symptoms are likely to have been due to the condition of the uterus. The anatomic position of the displaced and enlarged organ as here described seems to me to put it in a different category from any of the minor pelvic disorders to which I have previously referred as unlikely of themselves to cause lumbar pain. The question seems to me sohed in all reasonable probability by the —
A Russian housewife, twenty-eight years old, entered the hospital December 10, 1908, complaining of sharp pain in the back and on both sides of the chest below^ the ribs, which has lasted a week. She has also had a cough for the past three weeks. She is eight months' pregnant. At entrance her temperature is 101° F.; pulse, 125; respiration, 32. She is slightly cyanotic. The heart's apex is in the fifth interspace, anterior axillary line, 14 cm. to the left of midsternum. A harsh systolic murmur is heard at the apex and in the axilla. The pulmonic second sound is accentuated. The superficial veins over the chest are very prominent. Near the junction of the second rib with the sternum on each side are seen tortuous arteries which pulsate visibly. In the lower left axilla there is flatness, absence of breath-sounds, and fine crackHng sounds. (See Fig. 24.) The abdomen is distended as by a pregnant uterus. A fetal heart is heard in the left lower quadrant; rate, 148. The pain in the back is intermittent.
signs in the left lower axilla, which are quite consistent with a pleurisy.
On the other hand, the intermittence of the pain is what we should expect if it coincided with uterine contractions. The next thing to do, then, is to watch the patient continuously with the hand over the uterus, and see whether the pains coincide with the uterine movements. In a somewhat similar case, occurring in a young, neurotic Jewess six and a half months pregnant, and sutTering also from a moderatcl}' a<l\anced
tuberculous process in the lung, I stood by the patient, with my hand upon the abdomen, until I convinced myself that the lumbar pain was dependent upon her restless movements and not upon uterine contractions. In this latter case the patient went on to full term, though the tuberculous process developed ominously.
Called May 9th, 191 1, to a girl eight years of age, who complained of severe pain in back and thighs, with difficulty in walking. The father is addicted to the too liberal use of intoxicants, but is otherwise in good health. Mother in good health. The patient is the third child in a family of seven children, all living and well. On questioning, it appeared that two days before, while playing at school, she was thrown down a bank ; she thinks that the vertebrae in the dorsal region struck a stone. No history of any previous illness or injury could be obtained. She had pain in the back during the forenoon of the injury, and while walking home at noon she lay down beside the road for some time because of the pain in back and legs, and the consequent difficulty in walking. She felt unable to return to school in the afternoon, but went as usual the next day.
On the third day she was seen by a physician. The brows were then contracted, the eyebrows raised at their inner ends, and the muscles of the face rigid. There was stiffness of the back and legs. When she was turned on her side the legs would remain separated, with no support for the upper one except the tonic spasm of the muscles. The hands were rigidly flexed at the metacarpophalangeal joint. There was no anesthesia. No signs of injury along the spine or elsewhere on the body were found on casual examination. At this time a consultant saw the case and was unable to decide between myelitis and meningeal hemorrhage.
Next morning there was a general muscular tonic spasm, lasting one or two minutes, with involuntary micturition and defecation. The mind was perfectly clear. This condition continued for about twelve days, the temperature varying from 100° to 102° F., with several tonic convulsions daily. The jaws were not tightly closed, but would not open over a third of an inch. The respirations were "grunting'' in character, and during the spasms there was marked cyanosis. No
cough. The patellar reflexes were present at the time of the first examination, but were not tried for after that. Physical examination (including the urine) was otherwise negative.
Discussion. — In view of the history of trauma to the spine, one thinks first of some abnormal pressure upon the cord, perhaps a hemorrhage. But with hemorrhage into the cord one would expect a more definite localization of the symptoms below the level of traumatism. The muscles of the face would not be affected as they are here. Paroxysmal and general tonic spasm is also uncharacteristic of hemorrhage into the cord. Fracture of the spine seems to be excluded by the physical examination and by the free power of locomotion.
In view of the presence of fever, pain, and muscular weakness, with relaxation of the sphincters, acute myelitis or poliomyeUtis might be considered. The latter is easily excluded by the absence of definite paralysis and the very widespread tonic spasm. In transverse myelitis or difi'use inflammation of the cord, anesthesia or other sensory symptoms are almost always present, and convulsions with involvement of the face are, so far as I know, unknown.
The muscular spasms present in this case have something in common with those seen in poisoning by strychnin, which may have been taken accidentally or with suicidal intent. Continued fever, however, is not usually present in strychnin-poisoning. The face is not often involved and the sphincters are rarely relaxed. No strychnin was found in the house, and none had been given therapeutically.
Epileptic convulsions may occur, as in this case, without loss of consciousness, but so far as I know they almost always include clonic as well as tonic spasms, whereas in this case clonic motions were altogether absent. Continuous fever without loss of consciousness is also rare in epilepsy.
Hysteria may produce tonic spasm not unlike that here described, but is practically never associated with continued fever nor with involuntary micturition and defecation.
A rigidly resistant condition of all the muscles is sometimes seen as a feature of the negativism in dementia i-)r;ecox. but this disease can here be ruled out by the great suddenness of this {xitient's attack without any accompanying or preceding mental al)n()rmah'tic's, and by the presence of continuous fc\-er and relaxed sphincters.
to ask one's self what infectious disease can produce fever like that here present, associated with widespread muscular tonic spasm. Obviously tetanus is such a disease, but we have no history of any wound or injury whereby the bacillus of tetanus could have been introduced. There has been no subcutaneous injection of any substance which could contain the tetanus bacillus as an impurity {e. g., diphtheria antitoxin, gelatin). Nevertheless cases are on record in which it was not possible to discover the portal of entry for the bacillus, though such a portal had to be assumed, since the bacillus was later isolated from the tissues. It is not generally believed that infection can enter through the gastro-intestinal tract. On the whole, tetanus is the best choice among available alternatives.
Outcome. — After the diagnosis of tetanus had been decided upon and tetanus antitoxin administered, repeated and prolonged inquiries were again instituted regarding any previous injury, and it was learned that two weeks before the onset of symptoms there had been an abrasion of the knee from the edge of a rough board; a sliver had been removed and the wound had healed. A closer examination of the knee was accordingly made; it revealed a small bluish area on the inner side of the right knee, posterior to the hamstring and superficially healed except for one small spot from which a drop of pus could be expressed. This area was incised and curetted and a further sliver of wood about one-third of an inch in length was thus found and removed. The wound was swabbed out with iodin and a second injection of antitoxin administered. No cultures were made. On the fifteenth day of the illness the patient was convalescent, and twenty-four days from the onset was well. There had been marked loss of flesh and a decidedly round-shouldered condition of the upper spine persisted; also occasional muscular pains.
GENERAL ABDOMINAL PAIN
The diagnosis of the causes of abdominal pain is one of the most unsatisfactory, as well as one of the most important, in medicine; unsatisfactory, because our methods of examination are so inadequate. The chest, the cranium, and the extremities present far less difficulty, partly because their diseases are more accessible to direct inspection, partly because (in relation to thoracic disease) we have developed the technic of auscultation, percussion, and :x:-ray examination to a point quite out of the question in dealing with the belly. Our methods of investigating the abdomen are rough and primitive compared to those for the study of the chest.
Aside from the information obtained by study of the urine, blood, gastric and intestinal contents, practically all our knowledge depends upon palpation and a good history of the case. The latter is of crucial importance in this diagnosis of gall-stones, peptic ulcer, gastric cancer, colica mucosa, and many other common diseases. Palpation is materially assisted by immersing the patient in a bath as hot as he can bear. In some cases the procedure gives us almost as complete a relaxation of the belly walls as can be obtained under anesthesia. It should be employed in all dubious abdominal cases (questionable tumors, unexplained pains, etc.), especially if spasm of the muscles makes ordinary palpation difficult.'-
Further reference will be made at the end of this chapter to another obstacle to correct abdominal diagnosis; namely, the tendency of local lesions to produce generalized pain, and of generalized lesions to produce localized pain. These obscure radiations often deceive even the expert.
A clerk of thirty-nine, of good family history and habits, entered the hospital January 31, 1907. He had rheumatic fever eight years ago. Three and one-half years ago he was doubled up by an attack of pain and aching all over his bowels. He was seen in the Brockton Hospital by Dr. Daniel F. Jones, who said it was nol appendicitis. Since this attack he has been well up to three weeks ago, when, after lifting, he had a stitch in his back, could not straighten up, and had to
stop work. The pain in his back was eased by lying down, and has not recurred. His bowels have since been very costive; hence after taking laxatives without result he took two injections, which caused cramps in the abdomen so severe that he "almost went crazy." The doctor came, gave him some " dope," and explained that he had appendicitis or gallstones. He is very nervous and sleeps poorly. He has sometimes a voracious appetite.
Physical examination showed good nutrition and slight pallor. Temperature, pulse, urine, and blood normal. The patient was a cribber. Physical examination was entirely negative, except for slight tenderness in both iliac fossae. There was considerable mucus in the feces, binding the whole stool together into a single tenacious mass, like sputum. The patient was very much afraid of appendicitis, and complained frequently of terrible pain relieved by cooking soda. Guaiac test persistently negative.
Discussion. — Appendicitis is and should be our first thought in any case beginning with such symptoms, but the suspicion is shown to be groundless by the absence of elevation of the pulse, temperature, or leukocyte count, and by the fact that there is no tenderness or spasm in the appendix region.
Lead colic is consistent with all the symptoms here mentioned, but no such diagnosis can l)c made in the absence of all other evidence that lead is in the system (lead-line, stippled red corpuscles, occupation involving lead).
Pain relic\-ed by cooking soda is often the result of duodenal ulcer, a disease always to be thought of in patients with acute abdominal symptoms. The history and the physical examination, however, offer no confirmatory evidence. No blood has ap])arently been discharged, either by the mouth or by the l)Owels, and we ha\'c not the usual history of long-standing digestive disturbance, r^fucous colitis or coHca mucosa is a diagnosis consistent with all the symj^toms here described. The chronic constij)ation, the suggestion of a neurotic constitution, the occasional attacks of sexerc al)(loi"nin;!l ])ain, i\nd the ])resence of a large amount of mucus in the stools ])asse(l soon after such pain coni})lete a typical picture of this disease.
(i) Those with much nervousness, some pain, and sonie nnxus. (2) Those of much pain, some nervousness, and some uuicus. 'v Tliose of much mucus, some ner\'ousness, and some ])a;n.
Outcome. — ^His points of tenderness varied from day to day, but at no time did he have tenderness in the right iliac fossa. After his bowels got to moving regularly, the pains disappeared and he gained 4 pounds inside of a week. Simultaneously his urinary excretion increased from 30 to 60 ounces. He left the hospital well on the eleventh of February.
A stenographer of twenty-four entered the hospital March 26, 1908. Six years ago she had six attacks of cramp-like pain in the abdomen, each lasting six or eight hours, and relieved by morphin. The pain was not localized in any one place, but after an attack she had soreness in the left lower quadrant. Since that time she has had a more or less continuous "hard ache" in the left lower quadrant, never moving to any other place. She also has stiffness in both legs down as far as the knees. Her pain is not aggravated by motion. She has had no vomiting at any time. Working at the typewriter seems to cause cramp-like pains in the stomach. On account of these she was operated on in August, 1907, for appendicitis, and was told that "chronic appendicitis" was found and cured. The pains have continued as before. , Her appetite and sleep are good, but she is markedly constipated. Last August she weighed 126 pounds; now she weighs 118. She often has pain on micturition, and occasionally difficulty in passing her urine.
On physical examination her pupils are widely dilated, equal, and react normally. The gums are normal. There is a short, rough, systolic murmur heard all over the precordia and in the left axilla. There is no enlargement of the heart nor accentuation of the pulmonic second sound. The abdomen is negative; likewise the blood, urine, temperature, pulse, and respiration.
Discussion. — The gist of this case seems to be: non-localized abdominal pain, with a negative physical examination in all essentials. Lead-poisoning is easily ruled out by the absence of changes in the blood or in the gums. Since the pupils react normally, tabes dorsalis seems very unlikely, though tliere is nothing said about the reflexes in the description as given above.
Dilatation of the pupils is common in a great variety of psychoneurotic states; nevertheless, it should always suggest the possibility of a cocain habit, especially if any heart trouble is complained of or comes
evidence, and the habit was firmly denied.
In a considerable number of cases of pulmonary tuberculosis there is dilatation of one or both pupils, and the presence of this sign always leads me to examine the pulmonary apices with particular care. In this case such an examination was negative.
The controverted question of chronic appendicitis is raised afresh in this case, but I suppose no one will maintain that an appendix can produc'e symptoms seven months after it has been removed. When the patient's symptoms persist unchanged after the removal of a socalled chronic appendix, it is generally agreed upon that in this case the appendix was not the cause of the symptoms. Indeed, this is one of the few points regarding chronic appendicitis on which physicians do very generally agree. Personally, I believe that in a considerable proportion of the cases operated upon as chronic appendicitis the appendix has nothing to do with the symptoms. The disappearance of symptoms following operation is not ahvays a proof that the appendix was the offending member. The operation itself, with the postoperative rest, diet, physical and mental training, may well have been the cause of the relief.
In the present case, if we take account of the age and sex, the marked constipation, and the variety of "wild symptoms," such as painful micturition and stiffness of the legs, it seems more than likely that a general neurosis based on faulty habits and unfortunate environment is at the root of all the troubles. The domestic and industrial background should be looked into.
Outcome. — On further investigation it appeared that insufficient food, hurry, worry, and sedentary occupation in a close office had much to do with her condition. All the rellexes were lively.
A Russian Jew, apparently without occupation, forty-eight years oki, entered the hospital December 26, 1907. For seven \vceks he has Ixcn having pain and "burning" in the center of the abdomen, not very scvcv:', but constant and worse at night, though he sleeps well. It is worse, also, immediately after eating. His appetite is ]X)or; he has taken nolViiiig but a little milk of late. Ilis 1)0wels arc very irregular, usikiII}' constipated. He does not vomit or cough.
scratching on the upper arms. The chest shows nothing abnormal. Beneath the umbilicus, and extending out toward the right flank, is a smooth, rounded, cyUndric mass, about three inches long, one and a half inches wide, freely movable, not hard or tender, feeling not unlike a kidney. Physical examination, including the blood, urine, temperature, pulse, and respiration, is otherwise entirely negative.
Discussion. — The important objective findings are the macular eruption and the cylindric mass in the abdomen; the former suggests syphilis, the latter, an abdominal tumor. Against syphilis, however, is the itching of the eruption, as evidenced by scratch-marks. There is also no evidence of a primary lesion, and the patient denies all knowledge of the disease.
Russian Jews in general, and unoccupied Russian Jews in particular, are very prone to neuroses and vague unexplained pains. It is striking how often they refer to these pains as "burning." "Es brennt mir das Herz," or "Es brennt mir iiberall," are very common complaints among them.
prevent him from sleeping well.
Turning now to the abdominal mass, we note that it occupies the position in which a displaced kidney is often to be felt, especially in women. It seems, however, rather too short and too little sensitive. In view of his chronic constipation a mass of retained feces may well be the explanation. It seems reasonable, then, to explain his indigestion, eruption, and anorexia as the result of constipation, the latter in turn being the commonest of all manifestations of a general neurosis.
Outcome. — The patient was given an A. S. and B. pill, and the next morning the tumor had entirely disappeared. The following day it w^as again felt just at the level of the umbilicus, and considerably smaller than at entrance. Similar masses were then felt in the left iliac fossa. These also disappeared with free movements of the bowels. On December 31st his abdomen was wholly negative, his eruption gone, and he had a wonderful appetite.
A storekeeper of twenty-six, of good family history and habits, entered the hospital October 17, 1907, stating that he had always had a weak stomach and had been troubled by pains in the chest and limbs off and on for the past ten years. Nevertheless he kept about and did his work in this condition until January, 1907, when he was confined to
bed for fifteen days by an attack of pain "in the lungs and back." In March he was again confined to bed for two days with pain across the upper abdomen. In April and May he felt poorly, but kept at work. In June he first noticed general abdominal tenderness and considerable enlargement, with painful micturition. He was then in bed for three weeks. After that he worked until August, when he was suddenly taken with violent headache, chills, sharp pain under the left breast, in the back and in the loins, with enlargement of the abdomen. He remained in bed thirty-five days, his temperature rising every afternoon to 102° F. or 102.5° F. He sweated profusely every night. Since then he has been poorly and his night-sweats have continued, but the size of his belly has diminished. During the past nine months he has lost II pounds in weight. He had at times a slight cough, with sputa rarely blood-specked. During the past few days there has been slight swelling of his legs.
Examination of the lungs and heart showed nothing abnormal. The abdomen was symmetrically distended; there was slight tympany in the flanks; the belly elsewhere was dull, tense, firm, slightly tender throughout. There was vague resistance at and about the umbilical region.
The blood and urine showed nothing abnormal, and the temperature, pulse, and respiration were not elevated during the seven weeks of his stay in the hospital. After the injection of 5 milligrams of tuberculin there was no rise of temperature, but he felt sick and weak, and his belly became much more tender.
Discussion. — Chronic abdominal pain and tenderness, with fever and sweating, form a clinical picture characteristic of very few diseases occurring in the male sex. Subphrenic abscess may produce such symptoms, but not without further physical signs, either in the abdomen, near the costal margin, or in the chest through displacement of the diaphragm. Perforative peritonitis could not be so chronic without either healing or killing.
T}q^hoid fever might produce such a pyrexia, and would account for most, if not all, of the abdominal symptoms, but during his stay in the hospital his abdominal symptoms continued despite the absence of all fever. Ty])hoid would not explain this.
Can he be suffering from chronic intestinal obstruction? The abdominal pain and distention suggest it, but his bowels Innc mowd regularly througiiout. There has been no vomiting, visible peristalsis. or other evidence of local lesion.
clinical picture at all like this: (a) The psycho-neurotic state, and {b) abdominal tuberculosis. Since the former can be ruled out by the five weeks of daily fever, only one diagnosis seems reasonable.
Outcome. — On the second of November the spine of the fifth dorsal vertebrae was found to be very tender on pressure. This, in connection with the fact that sitting erect caused sharp pains in the chest and abdomen, suggested spinal tuberculosis, but an orthopedic consultant thought it more likely to be glandular tuberculosis in the abdomen.
chronic appendicitis.
On the sixth of December the abdomen was opened, and the intestines found to be everywhere adherent to each other, to the omentum and to the abdominal wall. A large chain of glands was matted together in the appendix region, and many others were scattered about. There was no fluid. Microscopic examination of a piece excised showed tuberculosis.
A housewife of forty-four who had been in the hospital in May, 1905, and been operated on for inflamed tubes and ovaries (which were removed), chronic appendicitis, and sigmoid adhesions, entered the hospital February 20, 1908. Ever since May, 1905, the symptoms which then led to operation have persisted. She has been treated in the medical, surgical and orthopedic departments for out-patients, and has worn flat-foot plates and abdominal supporters without relief. She has been unable to do any work on account of soreness in the lower abdomen, together with sharp attacks of pain starting in the back and passing around the sides to the center of the abdomen. These attacks come on when she steps or moves quickly, even when she turns o\'er in bed at night. The pain is somewhat less sharp when her bowels are open, but she is exceedingly constipated. She complains of a "drawing, scratching" feeling in her bowels, as if they were trying to move, but could not. She has gained 20 pounds since the operation at ^vhich the tubes and ovaries were removed.
soft edema over the shins.
Discussion. — In an analysis of "One Hundred Christian Science Cures," printed in McClure's IMagazine for August, 1908, I pointed out that patients who have had many doctors and many diagnoses are very
to the fact that in such cases no organic disease is present.
The history of the present patient and of the vicissitudes through which she passed suggest that she belongs in this group. Doubtless many of her symptoms represent only the discomforts inseparable from extreme obesity, especially when it is associated with constipation.
If this be true, the question may be asked how the edema of the leg is to be accounted for, but I think it is generally recognized that obesity is in itself sufl&cient to account for such a swelling, without supposing any insufficiency of the heart or kidneys.
Doubtless this patient's symptoms are due in part to the nervous instability often following the removal of the ovaries, but the constipation, the obesity, and the firmly acquired "doctor habit" are also important factors.
Such a diagnosis, though satisfactory enough from our point of view, may be of very little use to the patient, whose sufferings often go on unabated unless we can succeed in the almost superhuman task of changing most of her habits, mental and physical.
Outcome. — ^When the patient is alone in the ward, she does not seem to suffer, but her complaints are very numerous whenever a doctor or a nurse approaches. She complains that she is restless at night, but snores loudly. A tight abdominal binder and vibratory massage had relieved her considerably by the eleventh of March.
Seven days ago he began to ha\"e general abdominal pain. Five days ago the pain was much aggra\ated, and seemed to be more troublesome on the right side of the abdomen. Four days ago he had a sore throat. His ai)])etite has been good; his bowels regular. He has had no headache or nausea.
Fxamination Se])tembcr 23d was negati\e, exce]>t for a tem])erature of 103.6° F., and the leukocyte count of 22,000. with a negative Widal reaction. There was at that time slight tenderness at and abo\e McRurney's point.
September 26th the fever still continued; ])hysical examination was negative in all respects. The Widal reaction was negative; white cells, CS400; the course of the temperature was as shown in the accompanying chart.
Discussion. — During the eariy days of my attendance on this case I could make no diagnosis. The fever, the leukocytosis, and the abdominal signs favored appendicitis, though the absence of all spasm and of all but very slight tenderness in the appendix region made this doubtful. The sore throat was practically gone before I saw him, and could not be held responsible for the symptoms then present.
On the twenty-sixth, however, the clinical picture had quite changed. Continued fever with a low white count and a negative tuberculin reaction were now the essential features. This means, in all probability, either typhoid fever or some of the unknown infections unwisely called "febricula" or ''grip." The latter possibilities were soon ruled out
by the long duration of the fever. Under the hypothesis of typhoid fever it was left for us to explain the initial leukocytosis and the absence of the Widal reaction. No such explanation, however, was then forthcoming. The phenomena just referred to remained as examples of the wild, untamed, residual items so characteristic of any accurately described case of illness.
A Portuguese housewife of thirty-two entered the hospital October 25, 1907, with a negative family history and good habits. She had a miscarriage two years ago, and two other miscarriages since her marriage three years ago. She has one healthy child. For seven years she has been subject to general abdominal pain, not severe.
Three weeks ago she began to have dull, steady pain, starting in the left lower quadrant, whence paroxysms of more severe pain extended across the abdomen and up both sides of the chest to the neck. The appetite is poor; there is occasional nausea, but no vomiting. The bowels are constipated. For the past three weeks micturition has been somewhat painful.
Physical examination shows obesity. The chest is normal, the abdomen tympanitic in the upper part, dull in the lower part, where tenderness is so great that palpation is impossible. The blood-pressure is 100 millimeters of mercury; the white count, 14,900. Urine, temperature, pulse, and respiration are normal. During the week of her stay in the hospital she complained of pain in every part of her body.
Discussion. — Syphilis is the first possibihty that occurs to us in this case, in view of the frequent miscarriages. It is impossible, however, to incriminate any particular organ or to obtain any more definite history of the disease, which must remain in the background as a possibility incapable, at present, of further verification.
We naturally ask ourselves next whether the alsdominal tenderness and painful micturition are not due to gonorrheal infection of the tubes and bladder. This ])ossibility cannot be absolutely excluded, but in the absence of fever, leukocytosis, and urinary changes, it seems decidedly unlikely.
The very wide distribution and radiation of the pain, and its association with vomiting, constipation, and anorexia, lead us to conclude that if any infiammatory lesion has existed in the pelvis it is now burnt out and exerting its eO'ect chiclly through the nervous system.
Outcome. — A few nights before her discharge she was rolling and groaning with pain, but a subcutaneous injection of sterile water ga\e immediate relief. Vaginal tampons also improved her mental condition.
Obviously, the thera])eutic test was here of considerable diagnostic value. T believe, ho\ve\-er, tliat the same im])()rtant information can be obtained througli tlie in\estigati()n of the ])sychic state, and without anv of the charlatanry wiiich seems to me inherent in the niethcKls here employed.
A factory girl of twenty-six, a Canadian by birth, was first seen May 28, 1907. In April, 1906, she had a sickness similar to the present one. At that time medication gave no relief, but a six weeks' vacation in Roxbury entirely relieved her. Her home is in Blackstone, Mass.
In March, 1907, she began to have dull, colicky pain and tenderness in the lower part of her abdomen, constant, showing no relation to meals nor to the kind of food eaten, often keeping her awake at night, usually relieved by pressure. Frequently she has to sleep upon her belly all
and has noticed that she is getting pale.
On physical examination the abdomen was full, soft, tympanitic throughout, and showed no tenderness at any point. The chest was likewise normal. A blood-smear showed 60 per cent, hemoglobin, some achromia and many stippled cells.
The urine averaged about 25 ounces in twenty-four hours, and contained a trace of albumin, many hyaline and granular casts with an occasional cell adherent.
Discussion. — Although this case puzzled a number of physicians, there would have been no puzzle about it but for the neglect of a routine blood examination, for there is only one disease which often produces basophilic stippling of the red cells in the absence of marked anemia. That disease is chronic lead-poisoning. Other diseases (e. g., diabetes) have been known to produce a similar blood-picture, but this is rare.
Lead-poisoning is a very common disease, but the failure to recognize it is, in my experience, still commoner. This is not because it is difficult of diagnosis, for the very reverse is the case, but because physicians so often fail to suspect its possibility and to examine patients for definite e\'idence of its presence. When once our attention is turned toward this diagnosis, we shall note, as in the present case, a very striking group of confirmatory signs. A chronic abdominal pain relieved by pressure would be likely to have more relation to meals if it were due to duodenal ulcer or to any cause other than lead. Association with constipation, pallor, and albuminuria should certainly make us search for a lead line
Outcome. — The gums showed a typical lead line. Her mother and sister have a similar but less severe trouble. The patient was given magnesium sulphate, an ounce every morning; iodid of potash, 5 grains three times a day, and an occasional dose of morphin and atropin \vas also needed. Turpentine stupes relieved her pain more or less.
The reader will note the striking rise in pulse-rate and its continued rapidity after the first week of treatment. The bradycardia of plumbism has often been recorded, but never, I think, satisfactorily explained.
An Italian meat-cutter of thirty-five was seen June 20, 1907. He stated that he had never been sick before until a year and a half ago (six months after his arrival in this country), when he began to notice that his abdomen was slightly larger than normal. He also noticed a beating in the pit of the stomach with vague abdominal pains, much loss of strength, occasional chills, and slight fever. At times his abdomen has seemed to be swollen, but of late it has been smaller. The pain is steady, dull, worse on dark, cold days. He is easily fatigued and has done no work for six months, but his weight has remained steady. He has had dizziness and buzzing in his head for three months, and for one month night-sweats. He eats and sleeps well, but his bowels move only with laxatives.
Physical examination of the chest was negative. The abdomen showed dulness in the left flank, which, however, did not shift with change of position. There was slight tenderness in the region of the umlnlicus. Near this tender point a violent pulsation was felt, synchronous with the heart-beat. It was expansile in character, and during palpation a systolic thrill could be appreciated over it. A systolic murnuir was audible at the same site. The tuberculin reaction (subcutaneous) was entirely negative. The urine averaged about 22 ounces in twrntyfour liours, was free from iilbumin, but contained rare hyaline and granular casts. Blood examination was negatixe; white cells, 7000. Temperature, ])ulse, and respiration were normal.
Discussion. — In the presence of chronic abdominal pain with swelling of the abdomen, weakness, night-sweats, and constipation, the possibility of tuberculous peritonitis should always be entertained, especially when the patient is an Italian recently settled in America. In the present case, however, the absence of fever at the present time, the negative tuberculin reaction, and the fact that no characteristic lesions — either of "dry" or of "wet" tuberculosis — can be detected in the abdomen make this diagnosis unlikely.
More plausible is the idea of aortic aneurysm, and this was, in fact, the diagnosis of the attending physician. Against it, however, were two very important facts: the pain was in the wrong place and there was no tumor. The pain of abdominal aneurysm is almost entirely in the' back and legs. Further, the diagnosis of aneurysm is never well grounded unless we can feel a definite tumor with a beginning, middle, and end. However violent the pulsation we may find in the abdomen, — and I have seen it sufficient to shake the bed in which the patient lay, — we have no right to make the diagnosis of aneurysm unless we have, in addition to the pulsation, a definite tumor or severe pain in the back. Expansile pulsation, thrill, and systolic murmur can be appreciated over any abdominal aorta which is superficial enough to be reached with the fingers and with the stethoscope.
It seems almost incredible that an illness so prostrating as this could be produced by the mere accident of having one's attention directed to the normal, though lively, pulsation of one of one's own bloodvessels; but such was really the case here. Dynamic aorta — that is, a somewhat unusual liveliness in the pulsation of a perfectly normal blood-vessel in a person of neurotic constitution — is very frequently mistaken for abdominal aneurysm. Indeed, I should say that five out of every six cases in which I have known the diagnosis of abdominal aneurysm to be made have turned out to be nothing but dynamic aorta. Nothing but the experience of following such a case to complete and lasting recovery, as the result of the policy of disregarding all the symptoms and turning the attention in other directions, can convince the patient and his physician of the facts just quoted.
In true abdominal aneurysm the tumor is seldom in the median line. It is much larger and more globular, and pulsates less violently than the dynamic aorta. One of the most astonishing things about the latter is that it often appears just beneath the skin of the abdominal wall, seemingly separated from our finger-tips only by the thickness of a piece of blotting-paper. As we recall our dissecting-room experiences, it does not seem possible that the aorta can lie so close to the abdominal
(2) A sensitive and impressionable temperament, such as shows itself in rapid bodily motion, quick excitable speech, lively knee-jerks and easily excited heart action.
(3) The abnormal concentration of attention upon the pulsation. This latter condition is favored by the physician's obvious interest and concern, as expressed in his careful and repeated examinations of the part, his overclouded countenance, and sometimes his unguarded utterances. If by any mischance the patient begins to suspect that he has an aneurysm, he is pretty sure to learn from a dictionary or otherwise what the disease really means. Thereafter he passes his days and nights feeling very much as though he had inside of him a dynamite bomb which might explode at any minute. This, of course, reacts upon his mental condition, and makes him watch himself all the more carefully, thereby increasing the pulsation and soon leading to the development of pain; but it should be reiterated that the pain is in the spot to which his attention has been directed, and not in the place where it would be were aneurysm really present.
I have dwelt at considerable length upon the nature of this trouble and the means of its recognition, because it is by no means uncommon, is prone to lead to a great deal of unnecessary misery when mistaken for aneurysm, and because it is not treated at any length in most text-books.
Outcome. — Gas in the abdomen and the perception of the ])ulsaling artery were ai:)parently the cause of his symptoms. This was cxj)kiined to him, and by June 27th he was free from complaint. He returned to work after ten days more and has since (1910) remained well.
A printer of twenty-seven entered the hos])ital August 19, 1Q07. His family history and habits are good. He states that he had ''renal colic" last May for two days, and has since tlien l)een well. Two weeks ago his bowels began to ])e ratlier loose. 1 lis api)etite has remaiiU'd i:ood and he has slept well. Beginning this morning he lias liad sewre alidominal cram])S, his bowels ha\-e moved six times, and he has Noniited six times. Tlie ])ain is felt throughout the alxlonn-n.
right axilla. No other glands seem to be enlarged. There is a soft systolic murmur at the heart's apex. The chest is otherwise negative. The abdomen is slightly retracted. There is general muscular rigidity, especially in the epigastrium, and in the right side near the navel. On percussion the belly is tympanitic, except in the left flank — no definite mass or tenderness found. Temperature at entrance 99.8° F.; white count, 16,600, with 96 per cent, of polynuclear cells. The next day the temperature and the white count were normal. The diarrhea had ceased.
Discussion. — What further evidence should be searched for in this case? In any printer who complains of abdominal pain we should at once look for a lead line on the gums and search for basophilic granulations in the stained blood-smear. Both these lesions were absent in this case. The presence of diarrhea is also very uncommon in lead-poisoning.
An ^c-ray examination is indicated in view of the patient's statement that he had renal colic a few months before. There is nothing, however, pointing to any such disease in a physical examination.
Perforative peritonitis would account for the pain, vomiting, fever, leukocytosis, spasm, and tenderness, but the presence of a diarrhea with good appetite and sleep makes this very unlikely, especially as there is no local point of maximum pain and tenderness.
But for the definite evidence afforded by the blood examination, it would be necessary to consider an acute lymphoid leukemia. I have seen leukemia presenting the symptoms here described with no more striking glandular enlargement. The blood examination, however, was distinctive.
Why should it not be a simple gastro-enteritis, especially in view of the time of year at which the symptoms occurred? Severe abdominal cramps, a general muscular rigidity in the abdomen, transitory fever and leukocytosis are all quite consistent with that diagnosis; there seems to l)e nothing of importance against it.
Outcome. — X-ray showed no evidence of renal calculus, after rest in bed and regulated diet, ten half-grain doses of calomel, and an ounce of magnesium sulphate, the patient was discharged well on the twentysecond.
For many years he has been in the habit of taking from twelve to twenty glasses of beer and three to five glasses of whisky daily. He chews a live-cent plug of tobacco a day, and smokes three or four pipefuls besides. He has always been very well and strong until five months ago, when he began to have dull pain in the al^domen, not definitely localized, but more marked in the lower half. This ^vas accompanied by distress and flatulence after meals, and frequent vomiting immediately after the taking of food. The vomitus is bitter, yellow-green, never bloody. His appetite is poor, his bowels consti{)ated, and he has been short of breath for the past four weeks. For the past two weeks he has had to pass his urine twice each night. Two years ago he weighed 155 pounds; to-day he weighs 121.
On physical examination the skin is dry and satiny. There is a marked alcoholic odor on the breath. The arteries are all palpable, and there is a lateral pulsation in the brachials. The chest and abdomen showed nothing abnormal.
Examination of the blood showed red cells, 2,030,000; white cells, 7200; hemoglobin, 25 per cent. The stained specimen showed achromia, slight poikilocytosis, many off-colored cells, no nucleated red cells.
The urine was negative. After a test-meal the stomach-contents showed no free hydrochloric acid. The gastric capacity was 23 ounces. His stools were brownish-black, with a well-marked reaction to guaiac. Rectal examination was negative. The prostate was not enlarged.
Discussion. — -The excesses in alcohol and tobacco above described would naturally lead one to suspect cirrhosis of the liver. The longcontinued gastric symptoms, as well as all the minor complaints, could be thus explained. The guaiac reaction in the feces might be the result of blood poured out from dilated veins in the esoj)hagus or stomach. Against this supposition, however, is the extreme degree of anemia, without any history of severe hemorrhage. Even if the blood were discharged by rectum, the patient would ])robably be made aware ])y faintness, weakness, and thirst, of the loss of an amount of blood sufficient to ex])lain the ])resent anemia. It is unusual, furthermore, that a cirrhosis disables the |)atient and produces such marked symptoms as are here present, without manifesting itself by any change in the size of the liver or by the accumulation of ascites.
Whenever a patient past forty years of age, and pre\i(nisly iwc from stomach trouble, begins to haxe any sort of gastric {Jiscomfcii. se\ere or mild, gastric carcinoma should be considered. Tliis diagnosis would explain all the symj)tonis in this case, including the anemia. It is remarkable, liowever, that there should be no more de'inite e\i(K'nce
So extreme a degree of anemia, associated with gastric symptoms and achylia gastrica, brings the thought of pernicious anemia to mind. The blood, however, is very uncharacteristic, and is, indeed, tyi:)ical of secondary anemia.
On the whole, gastric cancer is the most probable diagnosis.
Outcome. — On the morning of the twenty-seventh of August the right middle finger was blanched and cold up to the knuckle-joint. Examination of the patient in the warm bath showed a sharp edge in the region of the liver, descending with respiration. (See Fig. 27.)
On the third of September the abdomen was opened, and an inoperable cancer of the anterior stomach-wall found. The mass thought to be liver before operation proved to be part of the gastric tumor.
An Italian shoemaker of thirty-two has complained for a year of general bellyache with diarrhea, at times bloody. Much intestinal noise. Has lost 28 pounds in two months. For the past week he has been costive.
Examination was negative, excepting for a palpable spleen and a hemoglobin of 65 per cent. During his fortnight under observation (September 1-14, 1904) he had no fever, no diarrhea, and gained eight pounds. He had slight abdominal pain, especially at night. There was slight tenderness in both iliac fossae. Colitis, possibly tuberculous, was the diagnosis in the out-patient department and in the wards.
Next spring (May 22, 1905) he was again at the hospital. His pain, he said, had never ceased. Constipation has been obstinate and is getting worse. The rumbling noises are still loud. He has lost 14 pounds since his previous entry.
Slightly above the region of the cecum is a firm, regular mass, about the size and shape of the kidney, freely movable in all directions, distinctly tender on pressure. No reaction to tuberculin (two large doses). Stools foul, watery, no blood, no tubercle bacilli, some mucus.
Discussion. — In \icw of the information which came to light when this patient entered the hos])ital for the second time, there are only two diseases to be considered as at all likely to ])roduce tliese symptoms, viz., cancer of the cecum and ])ericecal tul^erculosis. The latter is made unlikely l)y tlie negative reaction to tul)erculin.
shows itself at the cecum have been suspected in 1904? Certainly no positive diagnosis of this disease could have been made, but it seems to me that whenever we have the history of very loud and marked intestinal noise, accompanied by pain experienced at short intervals throughout a year's time, we ought to suspect that some sort of disease has caused intestinal stricture with muscular hypertrophy of the gut behind it. It is true that in many cases of diarrhea from colitis intestinal noise is heard, but it is especially in the acute varieties that we meet with this symptom. In cases lasting a year it is much more uncommon. Again, a good many women are troubled by intestinal noise at the time of the menstrual period, or whenever they are especially nervous, but the process is never so continuous as in the present case.
Except for this symj^tom, the diagnosis of chronic colitis was certainly justifiable in 1904. The case, however, reenforces in a striking way the well-known rule that in all long-standing diarrheas intestinal obstruction should be suspected, especially, but not exclusively, in elderly yieoj)le. It is, of course, a very familiar fact that many cases of cancer of the sigmoid begin with diarrhea.
Despite such warnings as are given us by a case like this, the diagnosis of intestinal cancer is often entirely impossible with our ])resent methods of investigation. There is good reason to believe that it is often present and c[uite latent for years. The symptoms we see are merely terminal. For example, a patient whom I saw in 1906 for pain high up in the rectum, accompanied by discharges of blood and mucus, had been troubled by severe periodic ])ains with considcral^le consti])ation, referred to appendicitis, for at least fifteen years. At the autopsy in June, 1907, cancer of the sigmoid was found, but no a])])endicitis. In another grou]) of cases the patient is aware of the ])resencc of tumor in the abdomen for three or four years, without any ])ain or disturbance of the bowels, yet the tumor turns out on exploration to be cancerous. Not infrequently ])ain may be referred to the ])it of the stomach, and so closely associated with ordinary gastric symptoms that all our attention is drawn in that direction.
A year later (June 5, kjoO) he returned. The o])erati()n liiu! '/iwu relief for months, and he had gained 20 ])ounds. but of late i>ain and bloodv stools ha\e returned, this time in the left Iowit ouadrant. ^'diere
there is a mass i by 2] inches, and tenderness. Operation showed inoperable cancer of the sigmoid. Cecal region normal. Inguinal colostomy. Discharged July 7, 1906, to out-patient department. Diagnosis. — Recurrent intestinal cancer.
A boy of eleven was seen September 28, 1903. Since his third year, when he had malaria, he has had fleeting pains in his arms and legs, especially at night. The feet often show toe-drop.
Discussion. — When a child has a stomachache in summer, it would be folly to conclude that malaria is the cause; but it is equal folly not to suspect that malaria may be the cause. For some unknown reason the malarial attacks of children and of young adults are much more likely to Ijc atypical than those of older persons.
at all, and is demonstrated only by blood examination.
(b) In many cases it produces only a recurrent headache and listlessness, due, in fact, to a rise in temperature every twenty-four or fortyeight hours, without any chill ("dumb ague").
quinin.
(e) Abdominal pain of the type exemplified in this case is perhaps the most common of the atypical manifestations of malaria. In some cases it is localized in the right iliac fossa. In one week's ser\'ice at the Massachusetts General Hospital three patients were sent in to be operated upon for supposed ap])endicitis. All of them had malaria, and were promptly cured by quinin. These have been referred to by Dr. James M. Jackson, in his article published in tlie Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, June 26, 1902. I have already referred, in the discussion of a previous case (see p. 121), to a case of malaria beginning like pneumonia with violent thoracic pain.
Now if malaria can assume such a bewildering variety of clinical aspects, what is to guide us toward correct diagnosis. I should answer that in practically all these atypical forms a thorough blood examination should be suggested by the presence of an irregular fe\er and the low leukocyte count. Enlargement of the spleen and the firm, painless edge which the organ presents to the palpating finger are generally to be recognized in these cases, and should also ])ut us upon our guard against malaria. The therapeutic test is valuable, but should not be abused by continuing to pour quinin into the patient at the rate of 20 to 40 grains a day for a week or more. This is not a therapeutic test: it is a stuj)id blunder. Two or three days is enough to settle the matter in 999 cases out of loco, and in the remaining case no further information is obtained by prolonging the administration of quinin.
A woman of fifty, a lawyer's clerk, entered the hosj^tal January 2, 1906, stating that she had had many attacks similar to the present one, but had al\\ays been able to work. Two days ago she felt some abdominal discomfort in the afternoon. Early yesterday morning she awoke with a sharp, steady pain, especially in the right side of the abdomen, but not definitely localized. This was accompanied l)y distention and obstinate constipation. Last night the pain was felt in the left side. She has vomited several times, and has slept poorly on account of pain. (For temperature, see chart.)
The abdomen is distended, tympanitic, and generally tender; white cells, 4600; urine, 1029; a very slight trace of albumin; many fine, granular casts. Pliysical examination was otlierwise negative. A glycerin enema and liot-water l)()ttle to the al)domcn ga\'e her some relief, but on the morning of the fourth, the temperature continuing to rise, though the white cells were still only 4000, she was o])erated u])on.
Discussion. — A definite diagnosis was iiupossibkhere, luit the general a])])earanre of the ])ati(.!U made it clear that she was very ill, whik- tin- course of tiu' s\m]itoms wriit on progressi\ely from bad to worse, it was for these reasons tliat the
be found.
Outcome. — Chronic ulcerative enteritis and colitis, with numerous strictures and di\erticula, were found. One of these diverticula, which contained an orange-seed, had perforated and gave rise to general peritonitis, from which she died. At autopsy the enteritis seemed to be due to tuberculosis or syphilis.
This case is introduced chiefly to show how short and how slight may be the symptoms associated with a fatal general peritonitis. The pain was never sharp during the time when she was under observation, and there was no muscular spasm. The subnormal leukocyte count was doubtless due to the virulence of the process, but previous to the operation it was impossible to be sure of this.
It is probable that this patient had previously had many slow and partial perforations of the gut, which were protected by adhesions so that no general peritonitis resulted. In a normal intestine an orange-seed does no harm; only in the presence of seN'ere ulceration and thinning of the intestinal wall, such as was present here, could such a foreign body be dangerous.
A woman of fifty-four has had for a year cramps after meals in various parts of the abdomen. The pain has not been severe, but has led her to cut out from her diet one food after another in search of relief, until now she eats very little, and has lost 45 pounds during the year.
and now act eight to ten times a day, with blood and pain on defecation.
On examination the internal viscera, the urine, the temperature, pulse, and resjjiration are normal. Digital examination of the rectum shows a relaxed external sphincter, with ballooning above it. The red cells are 1,792,000; hemoglol)in, 25 per cent.; leukocytes, 12,400, 86 per cent, of which are polynuclear.
Discussion. — Chronic colitis is so common in elderly persons that it is naturally our first thought in this case. It is especially frequent when there is a slight degree of interstitial change in the kidneys, as evidenced by high blood-pressure, with or without characteristic urinary changes. This possibility certainly cannot l)e excluded by any of the facts so far given.
secondary anemia.
Any case presenting these symptoms demands a very careful examination of the rectum and lower sigmoid by means of a speculum, since cancer of this part of the gut is a frequent cause of all the symptoms here presented.
Outcome. — Through a rectal speculum with an adequate light a large cauliflower mass could be seen nearly occluding the upper part of the rectum. From it there was a foul serosanguineous discharge. An excised bit proved to be cancer.
An active, muscular young man of twenty-six, a machinist by trade, had always been perfectly well until three years ago, when he had an attack of acute appendicitis for which an operation was performed. A fn^e-inch incision was necessary; the wound was drained for a long time, and later a large ventral hernia developed. Thereafter he seemed perfectly well until five days ago, when he had an attack of acute generalized abdominal pain lasting for about eighteen hours, and accompanied l)y constipation. He was then perfectly well for the two succeeding days, wlien a second attack of pain came on, accom])anied by nausea and vomiting. This had persisted nearly twenty-four hours when he was seen in consultation.
When examined, the head, chest, and extremities showed nothing remarkable. The abdomen was slightly tender throughout, and there \vas a moderate amount of s])asm not localized. Attacks of colicky ])ain, now here, now there, but for the most part in the uml^ilical region, recurred e\'ery few minutes. There was no 1)ulging at the seat of the scar, and no ])alpal3le mass anywhere. There was slight dulness in the flanks, which shifted with change of position. The tcm])eraturc was normal; the ])ulse no and of low tension. The face was drawn and showed e\"i(lcnces of se\erepain; indeed, the ])atient looked exceedingly ill. The Ijlood and urine showed nothing a])n()rmal. There was no lead-line on the gums.
Discussion. — Intestinal obstruction and general ])eritonitis are ilie nifwi likeh- h\-])otheses. Tliere is notliing in liis occu])atioiM nor in ilie examination of tlie blood and the gums to make lea(k]ioisoninLr ;!i ; H l»robal)le. If perforative ])eritonitis were pri'sent. there would be ai'it to be more tenderness and some fe\"er. ^'et 1 lia\'e se\erat tinie- seen
acute virulent peritonitis demonstrated without any fever or tenderness. We have no evidence pointing to any source for peritonitis, and nothing to connect the symptoms with the stomach or the gall-bladder, while the appendix has already been excluded surgically. What can we argue from the presence of shifting dulness in the flanks? In the absence of diarrhea there is every reason to believe that this sign indicates fluid free in the peritoneal cavity, but this is fully as common in cases of intestinal obstruction as in general perforative peritonitis.
Many of the symptoms here present could be explained by simple constipation. Indeed, on paper this seems quite a reasonable diagnosis. In the living patient, however, this could be quite readily excluded by the obvious severity of the patient's sufferings and of the prostration accompanying them. By the same tokens it was easily possible to rule out those multiform neuroses which are, on the whole, the commonest cause of general abdominal pain.
Outcome. — The abdomen was opened at once, and the mesentery of the lower ilium was found to be tightly twisted on itself, the twist leading to a group of intestinal coils which were distended and dark purple in color. There were many adhesions near the site of the appendix, but apparently these were not responsible in any direct way for the strangulation.
the wound sewed up, and the patient made an uneventful recovery,
This case illustrates the truth of the rule that in young people most cases of intestinal obstruction are connected in some way with the results of a previous peritonitis or operation, while in old people the great majority of cases are due to cancer. For some unknown reason twists occur much more frequently in those whose peritoneums have ])ecn damaged by a previous operation or inflammation, even when no constricting band of adhesions can be found.
An Italian laborer of forty entered the hospital November 22, 1906. For sixteen days he had been having pain at the "pit of the stomach." The pain came on rather suddenly, and had since been dull and steady, at times interfering with sleep. He has not been able to work since the onset of the pain. It has no relation to food or posture. There are no gastric or urinary symptoms, no jaundice, no constipation, and no loss of weight. The patient denies venereal disease, and has never, to his knowledge, been sick before.
Physical examination, except in so far as relates to the abdomen, was negati\"e. There a hard, apparently nodular mass was felt just below the ensiform cartilage and a little to the left of the median line. It was not tender, and descended readily with inspiration. The liver dulness extended as high as the fourth interspace, but the edge was not felt. The blood and urine showed nothing abnormal. The capacity of the stomach was enlarged to 72 ounces, and the lower 1)ordcr reached 4 J inches below the navel; the upper border, i inch above it. Free HCl was absent. The total acidity was 0.12 per cent. There v^ere no organic acids, no blood, no fasting contents. There was no reaction to guaiac in the stools. The patient's temperature ranged, for the most part, about 99° F., often reaching 100° F. and occasionally 101° F. His pulse and res})iration were within normal limits. At times there \vas considerable tenderness over the epigastric mass.
Discussion. — Tuberculous peritonitis is rcmarkaljly common in the newly arrived Italian immigrant. The presence of fe\er and of abdominal pain without fulminating or alarming sym])toms is quite suggesti\"e of tuberculous peritonitis, but wc have no evidence either of free fluid in the aljdomen or of the tenderness, spasticity, and localized masses which are necessary for the diagnosis of tliis disease when fluid is absent.
EPIGASTRIC PAIN
The induration about a partially perforated gastric ulcer sometimes produces a mass in the left hypochondrium similar to that here described. But as the symptoms seem to have no relation to food, and as there is no tenderness or spasm about the indurated point, there seems to be no good reason to consider this possibility seriously.
direction.
Malignant disease of the liver might cause such a fever as is here described, and occasionally arises without any previous or coincident growth in the stomach. This possibility cannot be excluded, especially as the liver seems to be enlarged upward; but the left hypochondi ium is a very unusual place for a hepatic neoplasm.
On the other hand, the position of the mass here described corresponds with the point at which hepatic syphilis most often shows itself. This diagnosis would explain the fever, and is more consistent with the history and with the good nutrition of the patient. In the absence of any further evidence, however, one could not do more than suspect syphilis. Treatment by mercury and potassium iodid and the use of the Wasscrmann test are indicated as a means to a more certain diagnosis.
Outcome. — On December 6th the abdomen was opened, and the liver was found to be adherent to the abdominal wall by fine, soft adhesions. The mass felt through the abdominal wall was found to consist of an irregular, boggy, yellowish-white elevation, from which a considerable amount of pus-like material was removed by cautery.
Sometimes he takes as much as eight beers and four whiskies daily. At other times he goes without alcohol for at least a week. lM)r two weeks he had been hax'ing severe epigastric ])ain, with loss of ap])elile and obstinate consti{)ation.
The patient was very nervous, trembling, and pale. The red ci'lls were 2,750,000; hemogk)bin, 65 per cent.; white cells. 7200. The stained smear showed 7(S per cent, of ])()lvnuclear cells and \ery marked stip])Hng of the reds. The abdomen was tlat, mcxleratel}' stitl. and slightly tender. The retlexes were \erv li\ely, and there was hyper-
esthesia of the feet. The aortic second sound was accentuated. The urine showed a very slight trace of albumin; otherwise it was negative, as was the rest of the physical examination.
Three days after entrance the patient became maniacal in the night and had to be restrained. This continued for six days, after which he became sane. His temperature was frequently above 99° F., and once reached 101.4° F- This was at the height of his maniacal attack.
thus to be explained.
Tuberculous peritonitis and meningitis are suggested by the combination of a spastic, tender abdominal wall, and the maniacal attack accompanied by fever. This form of tuberculosis, however, rarely produces anemia, and mania is \'ery unlikely in it, unless other cerebral symptoms (lethargy, coma, squints, headache, or vomiting) are also ].)resent.
Work in a rubber factory often ])roduces a stubborn type of general debility, but it does not lead, so far as I know, to fever, to mania, or to anything like this grave anemia.
Nephritis must be considered. It would explain the albuminuria, the accentuated aortic second sound, and the mania; but a nephritis which had lasted long enough to produce such an anemia would almost certainly produce a demonstrable enlargement of the heart and some other uremic manifestations, such as headache, vomiting, or hemorrhages.
Lead-poisoning should always be considered in a case presenting the combination of anemia and cerebral symptoms, especially if the red cells contain a basophilic granulation, as in this case. Looked at from this point of view, all the symptoms seem to fall very naturally into line — lead colic, lead anemia, lead nephritis, lead encephalopathy.
Outcome. — The treatment consisted at the beginning of glycerin enemata and magnesium sulphate, with morphin for the pain. lodid of potash, 10 grains, was given three times a day, while hot a])i)lications and turpentine stupes were also used for the pain. Chloroform anesthesia was once needed during his attack of mania. Fifteen grains of trional were given several times for sleep.
By the twenty-third of Aj)ril he had nearly recovered and was ready to go home. It \\as subse(|uently found that he drank water which came through a lead ])i])e, and that he seldom let the water run before drinking in the morninir.
In connection with this case I will mention briefly a patient to whom I was called because of anemia and convulsive attacks. She was a }'oung married woman with a baby three months old. She lived in a rural district, and did no work outside her own house. Epilepsy and uremia were the diagnoses previously considered, but examination showed that she and every other member of the household except the bab}- had a well-marked lead-line on the gum and all the other evidences of leadpoisoning. After gi^■ing up a water-supply hea\ily impregnated with lead, this patient rapidly recovered.
A Vjlacksmith of twenty-three entered the hospital November 24, 1906, with a negative family history and past history and good habits. He had been complaining for three weeks of c])igastric jjain, usually coming on about eleven o'clock in the morning, seeming to bear no relation to food — descri])ed as "pulling" in character, and relieved by lying down. There had l)ccn slight 'tenderness in the ejjigastrium, especially under the right ribs. The bowels had been very constipated, moving only once in three days. Three days ago he began to vomit, and had done so once or twice a day since. The vomitus contained no blood or food, but was yellow in color. His ])ain was never ])resent when he waked in the morning; it was sometimes brought on ]\v drinking water. He ai)peared to be 15 ])ounds lighter than in the j^revious June.
felt in the sigmoid region.
Discussion. — It does not seem likely that a Ijlacksmith of t\\entythree is suffering from a ])ure neurosis, and he is at an age when cancer of the stomach is very rare, llie ])ain comes at a time when the stomach is likely to l)c em})ty, and, therefore, suggests hyperchlorlivdria or duddenal ulcer. The fact that his vomitus contains no food goes to strengthen this hy})othesis, and the negative ])hysical examination is entirely consistent with it.
Is it ])Ossible that the lum])S felt in the sigmoid region may be due to a fecal accumulation ])ehind a stricture, cancerous or of othci- origin? 1 have known cancer of the intestine in a l)o\' of tv.ent}' one, so that the youth of this ])atient does not exclude that ])ossibility, and the NomitinL^ and consti])ation are (|uite consistent with it. In the al>sence of more definite symptoms, however (such as visible ])eristalsis. Mood m llie stools, and abdominal distention), there seems to \)v. notliing further to verifv this idea.
On the whole, the youth of the patient and the short duration of the symptoms make cancer and constipation less likely than the other alternative above mentioned, l^ut no certainty can be attained on the basis of the facts here presented. Only by the therapeutic test — the results of treating the patient for duodenal ulcer (a treatment identical, in its early stages, with that of hyperchlorhydria) — can greater certainty be obtained.
Outcome. — After castor oil by mouth and enemata of oil, large movements followed. Guaiac test negative. Olive oil by mouth also relieved him very much, likewise a gastric ulcer diet. In five days he seemed to be entirely well.
A chambermaid of twenty-two, with a negative previous history and family history, entered the hospital March 2, 1907. In February, 1906, she had what was called "grip," followed by abdominal pain, weakness, and the loss of 10 pounds in weight. The pain was sudden and nagging, coming sometimes immediately after meals, sometimes later, never lasting long, and never severe. She has had recurrences of this pain at intervals ever since. Four weeks ago the pain became more troublesome, and was accompanied by belching and constipation. It did not always remain in the epigastrium, but might shift to the lower abdomen, to the left chest, and to the back. It seemed to be produced especially by toast, potatoes, and meat; it was sometimes relieved by drinking hot water, but not by cooking-soda. It had kept her awake during the past two nights. She also complained of "palpitation in her stomach." She had very rarely vomited. At the present time her bowels are regular, and she feels fairly well except for weakness.
On physical examination it was noted that her cheeks were red, but her lips pale. The chest, abdomen, and urine showed nothing remarkable. Blood examination showed: Red cells, 4,976,000; white cells, 5600; hemoglobin, 60 ])er cent. The stained specimen was normal except for moderate achromia. The patient was treated l)y a careful diet.
Discussion. — Lead-{)oisoning is always one of the possibilities when a patient demonstrably anemic complains of abdominal pain. Lead may be excluded, however, in my opinion, by the absence of basophilic stippling in the red cells. I have never known a clear case of
If the patient were somewhat older, the history would be quite consistent with gastric cancer, which would also explain the anemia ; but as these symptoms have lasted a year, we should almost certainly find more evidence of cancer if that were the cause of the patient's sufferings.
Chlorosis is generally accompanied by constipation and hyperchlorhydria, which appear to be present in this case. The age and the occupation favor this diagnosis, which may be provisionally accepted, subject to confirmation by the results of treatment. The pain in this case is very typical of that most often associated with constipation, whether or not the latter is its cause.
A married woman of thirty-five entered the hospital December 5, 1906. She has always been well, but subject to what she calls bilious attacks. She was operated on four years ago for strangulated hernia. Since then she has had a great deal of severe, cramp-like epigastric pain, sometimes relieved by a movement of the bowels. On December 10, 1905, the catamenia failed to appear, and she had vomiting and headache. In January, 1906, she v/as operated on for extra-uterine pregnancy. In convalescence she was troubled 1^}^ diarrhea and gaseous distention of the bowels. Later on she was obstinately consti])atcd. She felt as if her intestines would fall out, but found relief by holding them up with her hands. The next morning the hand was swollen up so that she could not close it. This trouljle soon ])assed away, l)ut ever since that time, she says, she ne\'er kne\v when a shar]), shooting pain would strike her. The pains were felt in all parts of the l)ody, and lasted from a minute to foin hours. She has had to take mor])hin for them at times. She says that she had never been nervous or h^■sleric ])efore. She now enters the hos])ital expecting an operation for intestinal obstrr.ction, having l)een sent in Ijv one of llie \-isiling surgeons \\ ilh a diaLrnosis of intestinal o1)struction of mechanical origin.
Physical examiiiation showed tliat tlie ])U[)ils were irregular and did not react to light. Knee-ierks were i)rcsent, but diiriinislu'd. 'J'lie ankle-jerk wasal)sent; otherwise examination of the re'lk-xes was iu-gati\'e.
negative.
Discussion. — Certainly a very complicated case. No doubt constipation accounts for a part of the symptoms, but the pains are very wide-spread and unusually intense for constipation. Moreover, there are certain facts in the physical examination which cannot possibly be thus explained.
Intestinal obstruction by bands or adhesions is always a menace in those who have had a strangulated hernia and an operation for extrauterine pregnancy; but for the same reason as mentioned in the last paragraph, intestinal obstruction cannot account for all the facts in this case.
Much in the patient's behavior and appearance, and something in her symptoms, point toward a neurosis, but this would not account for the absence of ankle-jerks and pupillary reactions.
The signs just mentioned practically assure us that this patient has tabes dorsalis. The only important question remaining is whether the tabes explains all the symptoms. Certainly the pains are very characteristic of tfibes, and the gastro-intestinal symptoms may well be interpreted as "crises." The mass in the loin is certainly not due to tabes, but in all probability does not represent evidence of any disease whatever, but is merely a sagging kidney.
On the whole, it seems reasonable to believe that all the symptoms are now due to tabes. At any rate, the patient should be treated on that basis for the present. The chief lesson of the case is the necessity for self-restraint on the part of earnest surgeons when the patient's pupils and Achilles tendons fail to react.
Outcome. — The patient remained only two days in the hospital, whither she had come reluctantly and under the impression that a second operation would be necessary. When it was decided that no operation was ad\'isable, she declared that she felt well and went home at once.
A married woman of forty-two, of negative family history and past history, entered the hospital December i, igo6. On January 28, 1906, she broke her leg and was confmcd to bed for eight weeks, during which time she lost her appetite, had palpitation of the heart, a grinding pain
in the epigastrium, and a feeling as if there were strings inside her hitched to the navel and to the backbone. She had occasional vomiting of whitish material. She was given various medicaments without relief. In July she began to walk on crutches, but her symptoms were unrelieved. Her appetite was poor, and she lost 30 pounds in weight between January and December.
Her physical examination was entirely negative, except for a leukocytosis of 20,000. The gastric capacity was 27 ounces; the stomach considerably prolapsed. There were no fasting contents, and after a test-meal free hydrochloric acid was found to the amount of 0.23 per cent. There was no blood. Three days later the white cells had fallen to 10,000, and ranged between that and 16,000 during the three weeks of her stay in the hospital. At no time was there anything abnormal about her temperature, pulse, or respiration.
Discussion. — It is natural to fear cancer in this case, for gastric sjTnptoms of recent origin always threaten cancer when the patient is over forty. The presence of abundant free hydrochloric acid in the stomach-contents by no means excludes cancer. The most hopeful feature in this regard is the absence of tumor or stasis, one of which would, in all probability, be manifest after a year of suffering.
To those who are always on the look-out for psychic causes in gastrointestinal disease, the fact that this patient had no stomach trouble until she broke her leg and was confined to bed, offers an im])ortant clue. It should lead us to investigate very carefully the patient's mental condition.
Outcome. — It turned out on careful questioning that she feared she was suffering from cancer. She was greatly encouraged by the negative results of the gastric tests, and in eighteen days gained y] pounds, mostly as a result of forced feeding, with laxatives and myrrh pill, one or two at night, aromatic chalk mixture, sodium bicarbonate when in distress, and a quassia cup l)efore meals. She was also relieved by 10 grains of sodium bromid after meals, and on two or three occasions had trional at night. The main point, however, in her recovery, was forced feeding.
The leukoc}tosis is not cx])lained, ])ut must be listed as one of th(;se wild and untamed facts which I have grown to ex])ect as a normal element in every well-studied case.
Cas3 72
A factory hand of thirty-eight entered tlie hospital DfccmlxT jo. 1007. Sc\-en years ago he began to suffer from ta]>c--w('rni. nt \\hich large segments were passed until three years ago, w hen the \\ liole worm
was removed. During this time he had attacks of epigastric pain and vomiting, often associated with jaundice. His family history and habits are good. Eight days ago he was again seized with pain in the epigastrium, rehevcd by vomiting. An hour later the pain returned and he vomited again. This happened five times that day. The next day he kept quiet and had no pain or vomiting. On the third day he went to work, and the pain and vomiting recurred. On the fourth day he was quiet and felt well. On the fifth day he again worked, and again had pain and vomiting. For the past three days he has not worked and has felt well. This association of pain with work has been present in all his past attacks. He has never had pain at night, on Sundays, or on holidays; and during the time that he has had these attacks he has changed his work three times. His pain bears no special relation to the time or kind of food. The vomitus consists of small amounts of greenish material and saliva. He has never seen food or blood either in the vomitus or in his stools. During the attacks his appetite is poor and his bowels constipated. He states that he has been considerably jaundiced during this last attack. He has lost five pounds in the course of the last year.
On physical examination no jaundice is found. Many teeth are missing; the rest are in fair condition. There is a systolic murmur at the apex, not transmitted. The heart-apex is in the fifth interspace, inside the nii)ple-line. The aortic second sound is louder than the pulmonic second sound. The tension of the pulse is apparently high, the lungs normal. The abdomen is level, slightly rigid, tympanitic throughout, and very slightly tender on pressure in the epigastrium. There are slight dulness and resistance in the region of the gall-bladder, but no jaundice. The liver is not felt. Physical examination, including the blood and urine, is otherwise normal.
Discussion. — The tape- worm is o])viously "a blind." It is very unlikely that the epigastric pain and vomiting from ^^•hich the patient suffered from igoo to 1904 had any real connection with the tape-worm. It is perhaps worth mentioning here tliat practically all the sym]:)toms traditionally associated with tape- worm arc nn'thical. In the vast majority of cases tape-worm produces no svir,j)toms ^\•hatc^■er.
Since the death and burial of "gastralgia," that ancient foe of clear diagnosis and helpful treatment, such pain as this patient suffered has been shown to ])e generally due to one of two causes — duodenal ulcer or gall-stones. Since the attacks l-.a\'e apj>arently l)ecn iissociated A\itli jaundice, our first thought is gall-stones, l)ut on a closer study of tlie case we find that he has now no jaundice, although he now considers himself as yellow as in the ])re\'ious attacks. This makes us doubt
whether he really was ever jaundiced. I have many times found reason to discount patient's own statements in this matter. Patients and their friends often use the word "jaundice" to denote nothing more defmite than a sallow complexion. To the consideration of duodenal ulcer I shall return later.
Aneurysm or angina abdominalis is suggested by the fact that the pain is increased by exertion and the pulse tension high. On the other hand, a pain which produces and is relieved by vomiting is rarely due to either of the causes just mentioned. The physical examination shows no evidence of aneurysm.
Is it likely that the lack of a good set of teeth explains some or all of this patient's symptoms? It does not seem to me so. Despite the many positive statements regarding the close association of digesti^•e troubles and poor or deficient teeth, I have never seen any clinical evidence which would enable us to say more than "perhaps," so extraordinarily common is it to examine people who have li\ed their lives quite free from digestive troubles, though only one or two blackened fangs remain in each jaw. I by no means deny the possiljility that malnutrition or poor digestion may in certain cases be due to defective teeth, but I think we need a great deal more definite study and evidence before we shall have justification for the positive statements and the expensive municipal crusades that are no^v so rife.
A definite diagnosis in this case would be easier if we knew — (a) \\'hcthcr there is blood in the stools and (b) whether hyperchlorhydria is present. Even in the al)sence, however, of these data I think the diagnosis of duodenal ulcer is justifia])lc. Between this disease and the hy])erchlorhydria which leads to it diagnosis is not always possible, as will be excm])lificd in a sul)sequent case. The absence of any temperamental or occupational cause for the worry and irritability so often associated with hyperchlorhydria makes me incline, on the whole, toward ulcer.
Outcome. — On January t, too8. tlie abdomen was opened. The galM)ladder and ducts were found to 1)e normal, but a small duodenal ulcer was present. No aneurysm. Hie patient made a good reco\ery.
A married woman of forty se\'en, \\\\h negati\c family hist(M-\' v.ud good liabits, entered the liospital December 2t. 1007. She s1;i1t'(l tlal for eiuhteen years she lias had abdfMiiinal erauii)s e\erv three or tour UKHitlis, but lliat for tin; last two weeks tliese lKi\e eonie nuich ir.ore
often — seven times in two weeks. The pain starts in the epigastrium very suddenly and without known cause, without relation to food, to menstruation, or to the time of day. It radiates to the right flank, lasts about three hours, and often wakes her from sleep. It is usually accompanied by vomiting of food or brownish liquid. There is no history of jaundice, and between attacks she feels perfectly well, although the pain is so severe as to require morphin. Her bowels are regular, her urination normal, although for the last three days she has passed less urine than usual. She thinks she has lost a great deal of weight.
Physical examination is negative, except for considerable epigastric tenderness. The white cells number 15,800; the stained smear negative. The urine contains a slight trace of albumin; gravity, 1030; a few hyaline and granular casts.
Discussion. — Such symptoms might be due to constipation, but her negative statement upon this point was confirmed by our observation in the hospital. The history is also suggestive of lead-poisoning, except for its extreme duration, but the condition of the blood and of the gums enables us to rule this out.
The negative physical examination, which included tests of the pupillary and other important reflexes, makes tabes with gastric crisis out of the question. The regularity of the bowels and the long duration of symptoms render chronic intestinal obstruction (cancer) very unlikely.
Gastric cancer is always to be feared at the age of forty-seven when the patient has vomited a brownish liquid at frequent intervals, has had a great deal of epigastric pain, and is believed to have lost a great deal of weight. By the use of the stomach-tube we were able to establish the fact that there were no gastric stasis and no blood in the stomach-contents or in the vomitus. The size of the stomach was normal, and no tumor palpable.
Duodenal ulcer often gives a history of very prolonged suffering, similar to that in this case, and there is nothing in the history to exclude it. Even the fact that blood was absent from the vomitus, the artificially abstracted gastric contents, and the feces by no means excludes ulcer. The radiation of the pain, however, its sudden onset and its sudden relief by morphin, are less characteristic of duodenal ulcer than of the disease next to be considered. We note also the al^sence of any relation between the pain and the digestive activities.
Gall-stones might explain all the symptoms in the case, although the diagnosis is not forced upon our notice, as it would be were jaundice present. We are no longer surprised, however, to find gall-stones in the
absence of jaundice, and, on the whole, no other diagnosis seems as likely. The negative physical examination does not militate at all against this idea, nor does the condition of the urine incline us to change our minds, though it is not at all obvious why the albumin and casts are present.
A tailor of forty-nine with a good family history and good habits entered the hospital on June 15, 1907. For the last eighteen years he has had occasional spells of dull epigastric pain coming on in the afternoon for a month or so. These attacks had never troubled him much, and were often absent for a month at a time; but for the last ten years they have become more frequent, and the pain has appeared in the morning, as well as in the afternoon, accompanied by a feeling of weight in the abdomen, but rarely by vomiting. About a year ago the pain began to come regularly between 10 and 12 in the morning, and between 4 and 6 in the afternoon, except during the periods when he was under treatment. The pain is now sharp, and radiates sometimes from the epigastrium to the back, rarely to the left hypochondrium. It is partly relieved by eating, and wholly by cooking-soda, but never by pressure. He frequently l^elches gas.
Two months ago, after a day during which he had been constantly regurgitating sour fluid, he vomited at one time almost three quarts of sour, foaming yellow fluid, with great relief. Two weeks ago he vomited a similar quantity, and at the end of it was a little chocolate-colored stuff. He thinks he has lost 20 pounds in the last six months, yet he worked until May 29th and until very recently felt as strong as cNcr, and has eaten and sle])t well.
showing visible peristalsis.
Discussion. — Here is a historv nearlv tvpical of duodenal ulcer. I ha\e gisen it here to prove that in some such cases no ulcer is demonstrable at operation. One of the wisest clinicians of my acciuainlance recently said in a personal letter: "In my ex])erience ' hyperchlorh\(h-!a ' generally spells duodenal ulcer." T agree with this statement if it is taken literallv— that is, if we distinguish "generallv" from "always."
My object at the present time is to exemplify one of the weak points in clinical diagnosis — our inability, namely, clearly to distinguish the two diseases above referred to. Had we known at the outset that this patient was an alcoholic, the balance might have inclined a little more toward hyperchlorhydria, as this trouble is not infrequently associated with alcoholism. But still we should have been wandering in the region of probabilities.
Outcome. — Operation on the ninth of July show^ed no dilatation, ulceration, or scar formation anywhere in the stomach or duodenum. The pyloric ring was of good size. The patient made a good recovery, and on July 28, 1908, reports that he had had similar attacks of pain, but less severe. He now admits that at times he drinks liquor freely, but thinks that these sprees have no relation to his gastric attacks.
A farmer of forty-six, with a negative family history and good habits, entered the hospital February 19, 1907. For the past two years he has had many severe attacks of epigastric pain, coming without apparent cause, and relieved about once a month by vomiting. For the past two weeks the pain has increased in severity. He localizes it accurately just below the ensiform cartilage, and describes it as sharp, increased by coughing, by exertion, or by a meal containing pork, eggs, or veal. It is usually worse at night, especially just after he goes to bed. It is somewhat relieved by hot- water bottles, but it generally keeps him awake most of the night.
Physical examination shows the heart's impulse two inches outside the nipple-line in the fifth space. There is a presystolic thrill and murmur at the apex, ending in a sharp first sound. A short systolic murmur is also heard at the apex. Both murmurs are transmitted to the axilla. The pulmonic second sound is very difficult to hear. At the base of the heart a soft systolic thrill can be felt in the aortic area, and a high-pitched diastolic murmur heard under the sternum at the level of the third rib and above this point, together with a soft systolic murmur, which is audible throughout tlie precordia. No second sound can be heard in the aortic region. The pulse is of the plateau type; the arteries arc tortuous and thickened. There is a lateral excursion of the brachials. Blood-pressure, 195. The edge of the liver is felt on inspiration, and there is moderate tenderness, sharply localized below the ensiform cartilage, and accompanied l\v muscular spasm.
ing it, the pain is worse at night. This symptom has often been referred to as characteristic of gall-stone pain or duodenal ulcer, and there are other features in the case consistent with one of those two diagnoses, but it is of crucial importance in the study of this case to note that the pain is increased by exertion and by coughing. This is not usually the case with duodenal ulcer or gall-stones, although inflammatory adhesions may be so situated that muscular action stretches them painfully.
The presence of the well-marked heart lesions (aortic stenosis and regurgitation), and especially of the high blood-pressure, makes us suspect any pain of being connected with the circulatory system. The relation to exertion is very characteristic of angina pectoris. Does pain of this type ever occur as low as the epigastrium? It certainlv does, although the term "angina abdominalis" is perhaps more appropriate. I have seen a great many cases of this type treated quite unsuccessfully by stomach specialists without regard to the circulatory condition. To get further clearness on the diagnosis, one would need to obse^^•e carefully the effect of rest and of nitroglycerin. Certainly no t^'pe of stomach or gall-bladder trouble is relieved by nitroglycerin.
Outcome. — A few days' observation in the hospital ward demonstrated the truth of our suspicions: rest rendered the attacks less frequent, and those which occurred were promptly relieved by nitroglycerin.
A salesman of forty-nine came to the hospital on December 10, 1907, complaining of pain, constipation, and vomiting. He is in the haljit of taking several drinks of whisky a day, but has never been sick until the present illness, and his family history is good. For five weeks he has suffered from abdominal i)ain. The pain began at a time when he \\as "not feeling well," and had stopj^ed work for a few days. It is in the epigastrium, worse at night, relieved by eating, and accompanied by much wind and belching. It usually l^egins al)out 4 P. m., and reaches its maximum severity l)et\veen 11 P. m. and 4 A. m., after which it sul)sides. Of late it has come every night. He often vomits with tlic ])ain, and last night did so three times. lie lias small mo\ements of the bowels every second or third day. Two montlis ago he weiglxd 160 pounds. Now he weiglis i,:;6 ])ounds.
Physical examination, including the urine, is negatixe. X<> leadline is to be seen. Tlie leukocytes nunil)er 10,400; hemouloMn. ()0 per cent. In the differential count the polynucK'ar cells are So ])er ci'ut.;
cells adherent.
Discussion. — Our first impression is naturally that "rum done it," but on second thought there seems no special reason why he should suddenly begin to suffer at this time as the result of so long continued a habit.
The fact that his bowels are so constipated raises the question whether this trouble may not account for all his symptoms, whether it be of the ordinary functional type or dependent upon a stricture (malignant?). But, as before, the question arises, why should he suddenly begin to suffer from constipation at the age of forty-nine? The functional types of the affection usually make their appearance long before that age. Only some special aberration in diet or some great nervous strain would account for the sudden appearance of functional constipation in a man of this age.
It is possible, of course, as I have previously stated, that cancer of the bowel may exist for months or even years without manifesting its presence by any symptoms, but when we look over the history and examine the patient with this possibility in mind, there seems to be nothing to support it, although the loss of weight is suggestive.
A pain relieved by eating often occurs in connection with hyperchlorhydria or peptic ulcer, and there is nothing in the case absolutely to exclude these affections, which, like cholelithiasis, must always remain in the background of our minds when paroxysmal epigastric pain is the presenting symptom.
Before making any further investigation or following up any other clue, we should test the possibilities suggested by the presence of marked stippling in the stained red corpuscles despite the absence of anemia. Although no lead line is seen and nothing in the patient's occupation suggests plumbism, this blood lesion is so characteristic that every effort should be made to follow it as a clue.
Outcome. — During the first three days the diagnosis was not made; and later it was discovered that he has for three years used drinkingwater coming through 30 feet of lead pipe. His blood-pressure was found to be 185 mm.
On December 17th his attacks of colic were less marked, but sudden muscular weakness in both arms appeared for the first time. On December 24th he was free from colic and the urine had cleared up, but the arms
and back showed very marked muscular weakness. On this day (the 24th) a well-marked lead line was found on the gums, visible only on the inner side of the teeth of tJie lower jaw. Diagnosis. — Plumbism.
A negro of sixty-four entered the hospital August 7, 1907. He stated that his mother died at eighty-five "of worry." His family history is otherwise not remarkable. He now complains of se\-ere epigastric pain which had been present for three months. During the Civil War he drank a quart of whisky daily. Fifteen years ago he had a venereal sore which was treated at the Boston Dispensary with calomel locally and iodid of potassium internally. He was treated for six months and noticed no secondary symptoms. He says it was his habit to take three or four glasses of whisky a day and three or four beers, but for the past four months he has abstained. He smokes and chews five cents' worth of tobacco a day.
At the onset of the pain, three months before, he fell in the street, although he was not unconscious. Since that time the pain is apt to radiate from the epigastrium across his chest or up his left side and through his back. Occasionally it shoots from the lower part of his back up to his left shoulder, or from his right hip down his leg, but it is worst in the epigastrium.
Four weeks ago he was examined at the Boston Dispensary and thinks that he was ruptured at that time. He has had no vomiting, headache, or palpitation. In January, 1907, he weighed 180 pounds; in June, 145 pounds; now, 140. His digestion is good.
Physical examination shows a pallor of the mucous membranes. The heart is negative except for accentuation of the aortic second sound. The carotid arteries are i)rominent and easily palpable. The bloodpressure is 130 mm. of mercury. The right lung shows a considerable number of coarse rales below the sca|)ula, with modera e dulness extending to the base of the lung. One and a half inches below the right costal margin is a rounded nodule an inch and a half in diameter, considerably elevated, apparently not connected with the skin. It is somewhat movable, not tender, and does not descend with respiration. There is dulness in l)oth flanks, shifting with change of position. The ].eiiis is six inches in circumference, markedly edematous, as is tlie pcriiuiim. The motions of the back are limited and ]Kunful. A rectal oxaniinatiiMi shows that the prostate is the size of a small grape-fruit, wry P.rm, im-
hemoglobin, 45 per cent.
Discussion. — Abdominal aneurysm must certainly be considered as a cause of pain like that described in this case, especially when there is so well authenticated a history of syphilitic infection. The enlarged testicle would then naturally be explained as syphilitic orchitis. The sudden onset of the pain and its prostrating effects might be accounted for by a partial rupture of the aneurysmal sac.
Against this diagnosis, howe\'er, is the evidence furnished by rectal examination. I know of no syphilitic lesion which will produce such changes in the prostate. Another fact of importance, which came to light later, was the inefHiciency of a prolonged course of antisyphilitic treatment which he had recently undergone. Malignant disease is certainly the commonest cause for an extensive, hard, immovable tumor connected with the prostate gland. This would easily account for the anemia and for the nodule in the abdominal wall, though both of these might possibly be accounted for also by syphilis.
If malignant disease is the correct diagnosis, why was the patient so suddenly stricken that he fell in the street three months before? I can give no confident answer to this question. Possibly his habits have something to do with explaining it.
Outcome. — The patient died on the tenth of August. Autopsy showed sarcoma of the right testis, with metastasis in the prostate, adrenal glands, small intestine, bronchial lymphatic glands, pleura, pericardium, and abdominal wall.
A colored woman of twenty-four entered the hospital August r, igoy. Seven months ago she began to complain of a severe steady pain about the center of the abdomen, a little more on the left than on the right. At this time a large, hard tumor was discovered near the navel. For three months following this she had many attacks of pain in the same region, and her temperature ranged from 100° to 105° F. The lump in the mean time decreased in size. For the last four months slie has had occasional spells of pain lasting two or three days. She docs not feel feverish. For the past four months she has had severe epigastric ]:>ains, coming on every fifteen minutes, lasting two or three minutes, and often leading to vomiting, but for the ])ast twenty-four hours she has been free
from pain. She has lost twelve pounds in the past seven months, but until the last four days has not felt very much weakness. Nose-bleed has been frequent all her life, and has been more apt to come at the menstrual period. Her bowels have been constipated for years, but with medicine have usually moved once a day. Temperature, never above 99° F. Hemoglobin, 80 per cent.; leukocytes, 8800; urine, normal.
Physical examination shows nothing abnormal in the chest. The abdomen is held very stiffly, especially in the lower portion, where there is slight dulness. Much tenderness is complained of throughout. Nothing else could be made out on account of this tenderness. By vagina a band could be felt to the right of the uterus, but the fundus could not be palpated on account of abdominal spasm. Immersion in a warm bath failed to relax the abdominal muscles, and even under ether the spasm did not entirely relax.
Discussion. — Chnical experience teaches that whenever a negress is sick and the symptoms are below the waist, fibroid tumor of the uterus usually turns out to be the diagnosis. The abdominal examination was so unsatisfactory in this case that nothing definite could be said regarding the uterus. The lump which was so readily felt some months before would play in very well with the idea of a fibroid tumor, but its apparent decrease in size, the prolonged fe^'er (three months' duration) , and the generalized abdominal si)asm do not fit well with this diagnosis.
Pelvic peritonitis originating in a pus-tube would explain the band felt by the vagina and the tenderness of the lower abdomen, but would not account for the long fever, the wide extent of the abdominal spasm, and the tumor near the uml^ilicus. Tuberculous peritonitis, however, will explain all these facts, and is, moreover, exceedingly common in young colored folks.
A married woman of thirty-eight, a French Canadian, entered tb.e hospital December 10, IQ07, for chronic abdominal ])ain \\luch has lasted for sex'cral weeks and apparently lias inca|)acitatc(i licr for any work. This ])ain has troubled her on and off for three }ears and a halt. At times it is \'er}' sewrc and interferes much with lier slii-p. Now it is ])resent every day; fornierl}- she wcnild lia\e resjiile from il for many weeks at a time. It is not affected 1)V eating nor hy t!ie time (»f day. Her appetite is fair, and she has ne\'er been jaiiiKheed. She
vomits occasionally, the vomitus not being in any way characteristic. Her bowels move about once in three days. She has no cough and no headache, but thinks she has lost 20 pounds in the past eight months, and has been unable to work during that time on account of pain.
Physical examination showed considerable loss of weight and pallor of the mucous membranes. Temperature, pulse, and respiration normal. The chest was normal, the abdomen somewhat retracted, rigid, tympanitic throughout, and tender in the epigastrium; no masses felt. The blood and urine showed nothing abnormal.
Discussion. — The symptoms are strikingly like those of the last case (tuberculous peritonitis), but in the present case there are weeks of freedom from SAinptoms and no fever has been recorded. All the ordinary clues suggested by the cases last studied were followed up quite fruitlessly. We could obtain no positive evidence of an intestinal stricture, of lead-poisoning, of peptic ulcer, cholelithiasis, or of any form of peritonitis. There seemed no reason to suspect the kidney or any part of the urinary tract.
Under these conditions it is proper to ask ourselves whether the symptoms may not be due to pure constipation? It seems extraordinary that a loss of 20 pounds in weight should be brought about by this cause. Only the therapeutic test, however, can decide the question. If the symptoms all disappear when the bowels are properly regulated, and if so long as they continue regular there is no recurrence of pain, the diagnosis will be justified.
Outcome. — Under careful diet, with sodium bicarbonate h dram after meals and mild laxatives, the patient ceased to have pain and left the hospital in six days. Her subsequent history has been uneventful (1910).
A Russian Jew of thirty-two entered the hospital February 11, 1908. He has complained for five months of epigastric cramps beginning about 4 P. M., lasting all night and until noon the next day. In previous years he has had similar attacks occasionally. The pain has no relation to eating, but on the days in which his stomach has been washed out in the out-patient department he has l)cen relieved. He has a good appetite and eats well, but vomits daily, sometimes spontaneously, sometimes purposely for relief of distress. The amount of vomitus is large — often as much or more than he has eaten since he last vomited. His bowels often go five and six days without moving. About a week ago
he woke at 2 o'clock in the morning feeling very faint. He soon began to be ''choked up," and for twenty-four hours had great difficulty in breathing. About a year ago he weighed 145 pounds. His present weight is 1 14 pounds. He was formerly a painter, but has had nothing to do with lead for thirteen years.
Physical examination is negative, except that there are tenderness and some spasm under the right costal border. The blood and urine are normal. His stomach holds 108 ounces of fluid. The contents, obtained by washing, smell strongly of organic acids, and it is difficult to get the wash-water clear. On inflation, the lower border of the stomach reaches to a point midway between the navel and the pubic bone. Sahli's test was administered, with the following result: 300 c.c. of the test fluid were given. After one hour the total residue was 315 c.c, of which 109 c.c. are test fluid and 206 c.c. secretion; therefore the percentage of test fluid passed from the intestine in one hour is 63 per cent, as compared with the normal of 75 to 90 per cent.; the hydrochloric acid of the pure gastric juice, 3.4 per cent.; average normal, 3.5 per cent. Diagnosis: deficient motility with hypersecretion. His chief complaints during his stay in the hospital were a burning epigastric pain, flatulence, and constij)ation. He received no relief from diet, medication, or gastric lavage.
Discussion. — We repeated in this case the therapeutic test used so successfully in the last, but even when the bowels were in a perfectly satisfactory condition, the suffering continued without respite. Constipation, therefore, was not the trouble; it was the result, not the cause.
Tenderness and s[)asm under the right costal border occurring in a patient who suffers from paroxysmal epigastric pain compel us to consider gall-stones. This possibility cannot be ruled out, and was one of the alternatives in the mind of the surgeon who later opened the al^domcn.
Obviously, however, there must be something wrong outside the gall-ljladder, for the patient's stomach is markedly dilated and does not em])ty itself properly. Gastric stasis, however, may be one of the disasters following in the train of re})eated gall-stone attack and as a resu.lt oi the adhesions thus ])roduced.
For gastric cancer — that commonest of all causes of ])yIoric stenosis-the history seems to be too long in this case. Yet can we explain the loss of weight on any other hypothesis? In answering this last (|uesti()n it is worth while to state emphatically that ])atients ma}' lose a tilth or a (juarter of their weight within a few months as a result either of gallstones or of i)ei)tic ulcer.
In the present case all that was certain before operation was the existence of an obstruction to the outflow of gastric contents. As a cause for this, the scar of a duodenal ulcer and the adhesions resulting from repeated gall-stone attacks were the alternatives most seriously considered.
Outcome. — Accordingly, on February 19th the abdomen was opened. No disease was found in the stomach, duodenum, or gall-bladder, but the pylorus was considerably obstructed by adhesions. Gastro-enterotomy was done. After the operation the patient improved, and by March 13th seemed to be in excellent condition except for weakness. On May 20th he was discharged, wholly free from gastric symptoms.
A married woman of thirty-two has been complaining for some months of acute epigastric pain coming immediately after meals, lasting about fifteen minutes, and relieved by the belching of gas. She entered the hospital on July 29, 1907. She had sufi"ered from typhoid fever at the age of fifteen, from diphtheria at twenty, scarlet fever at twentytwo, "peritonitis" five years ago. She has been married fifteen years, but has had no children and no miscarriages. Five years ago she weighed 250 pounds, and she thinks she has gained in weight lately. She is in the habit of taking two or three drinks of whisky a week for the " blues." Four days ago she ate very heartily at supper-time. At i o'clock the following morning she was taken with severe epigastric pain, which has persisted ever since.
After palpation of the epigastrium the pain becomes spasmodic and seems to go straight through to the back. It is worse with every deep breath, and is increased by emotion.
The bowels were moved last night for the first time during this illness, as a result of laxati\'e pills. The pain has pre^■ented sleep, and last night she thinks she was delirious. The patient's temperature is 102° F.; |)ulsc, 100; respiration, 30. There is tenderness on percussion over the lower part of both lungs l^ehind, but nothing else abnormal is made out. The abdomen is somewhat hollow a])o\'e the umbilicus, rather full below; the abdominal wall very thick and flaljliy. There is slight rigidity in the lower part, less in the epigastrium, \vlicre the pain is worst. Dee]) ])ressurc elicits expressions of i)ain in ])()tli the lower quadrants and in tlie right hypochondrium. The edge of the li\er cannot l^e made out.
Next morning the pain was more definitely localized in the epigastrium, and the temperature and pulse remained elevated, while the white corpuscles had risen from 13,400 to 17,000.
Discussion. — Out of this very checkered past history, with its suggestions of dyspepsia, peritonitis, and alcoholism, no clear indications for diagnosis emerge. The constipation and the very wide-spread character of the pains, both in the back and the front of the body, are common features of some types of neurosis, but the presence of fever and leukocytosis make neurosis very unlikely. In the foreground of the clinical picture are the epigastric pain and tenderness of acute onset. Many possibilities may emerge, but at present no clear diagnosis is possible.
The problem here presented is a very familiar one. We have good reason to believe that in the course of twenty-four or forty-eight hours the diagnosis will be much clearer, but is it not dangerous to wait so long? Should not an operation be done at once before more dangerous symptoms appear? No definite rules can be given by following which we can soh-e this difllicully in e\'ery case. The decision rests mainly upon two points of observation:
An answer to the first question depends on long and mature clinical experience. A general impression is gained, of which no very clear account can be given. The look of the patient's face and the quality of the pulse are perhaps the most important items in the judgment.
More important is the demonstrable change under ol^servation of some of the measurable data, such as temperature, pulse, res])iration, leukocytosis, the degree and area of spasm, tenderness, and pain. \\'hile we are watching the course of these varial^Ies. it is quite likely that the ])ain and tenderness will ha\e time to "settle." Careful observation of most cases of this kind brings out three stages:
but often dangerous to wait for.
Tlie symptoms do not seem to l)e \'iolent enougli for pcrforati'd ])e])tic ulcer or for acute ]>ancreatitis, tliough neitiu^r of thtsc caii be ruled out. Gall-stones is the next most fre(]uent cause for i>ain of this type, ])ro\'ided lead, tabes, constipation, ])i'ricarditis, and ani:ina pectoris are excluded, as is easily j)ossil)le in the ])resenl case. Since
A woman of forty-eight entered the hospital February 14., 1908. She has had four children, all of whom are now dead. The first was a congenital idiot; the second had water on the brain; the third was still-born, and the fourth died at three years of pneumonia. She had repeated convulsions during the latter months of her third pregnancy. During the others she had no such trouble. She has had no miscarriage. Her habits are good, but she has usually passed her water eight or ten times each night during the past ten years.
For the past seventeen years she has had many attacks of epigastric pain, with distention and belching. The pain has never been colicky or accompanied by jaundice, but has radiated to the back, and has sometimes been severe enough to require morphin. The attacks of pain have no relation to mental conditions nor to the character or time of meals. Her weight is unchanged.
Two and a half weeks ago she had a sudden attack of pain, worse than at any previous time, and vomited several times in the first twentyfour hours. She had fever for five days, and has been in bed ever since. She has had daily chills, lasting from fifteen to twenty minutes each, and recurring about the same hour. Her bowels have been constipated, and she has taken only liquid food for two weeks.
Temperature, pulse, and respiration are normal. The patient is very obese. The sclera shows a very slight yellowish tinge. Tlie chest is negative, and the abdomen shows nothing but general tenderness. At a point 2} inches below the costal margin a rounded edge ('])resumably the liver) is felt to descend on inspiration, and there is considerable tenderness at this point and just abo^•e it. The surface of the liver seems irregular. The right sacro-iliac joint is tender to pressure, and she feels better with a pillow under the ]nml)ar sninc. Her pain and vomitmg continued after the patient entered the hosy)ital. and des])ite laxatives, counterirritants, and starvation. The leukocyte count at entrance was 8000, but rose on the tliird day to 17,000, with 90 per
Discussion. — When a woman's pregnancies have resulted as in this case, syphilis must always be thought of as a possible cause for any subsequent symptoms. The presence of chills and the suggestion of an irregular liver point toward that organ as possibly the seat of a syphilitic process. On account of such chills I have twice known patients to be drenched with quinin for weeks at a time, when syphilis of the liver was the true diagnosis.
In this case, however, the normal temperature makes us wonder whether the chills may not be of nervous origin. Trembling and shivering are very common nervous symptoms, with or without the sensation of cold, and under these conditions often get mistaken for a chill, which usually carries with it the presence of fever. We are by no means certain, however, that the temperature has always been normal previous to February 14th; indeed, the patient's statement directly contradicts such an idea. At any rate, we cannot be content with the diagnosis of psychoneurosis in view of the quite definite physical signs described above.
Can her troubles all be due to sacro-iliac arthritis? Attention is drawn to this point by the tenderness over the sacro-iliac joint and the relief following support of the lumbar s])inc, but the jaundice, enlarged liver, and the persistent vomiting cannot be thus exy)laincd. Pain and tenderness in various parts of the abdomen may be produced through the nerve radiations originating in sacro-iliac disease. Both gall-stones and appendicitis may thus be simulated. But in this case we have other objective signs.
By far the commonest lesion associated with a picture like that here gi\en is cholelithiasis, and although the case is atypical in various respects, this seems to l)e the most reasonal^lc diagnosis.
A school l)oy of thirteen entered the hos|)ital February 14. tqoS. Tn November and D(Teml)er, U)o6. hv had an acute urethritis, and gfmorocci were demonstrated in tlie disrharge. He has had "rheumatism" for about oni' vear in tlie jiast three vears. in jjenods lasnng from six w(>eks to three months. His familv history is not remarkal)le, and he has been well for the i)ast two ^•ears.
Seven days ago he began to have epigastric pain. Five days ago his knees became swollen and painful on motion, and he took to his bed, where he has since remained. In the past two days his knees have improved and no other joints have been involved. Yesterday morning he began to breathe very rapidly, but has had no cough and no vomiting.
Physical examination shows slightly labored breathing, with pallor of the mucous membranes. Temperature, 100.2° F.; pulse, 112; respiration, 28. The heart's dulness extends into the sixth interspace, two inches to the left of the nipple-line. The right border extends if inches to the right of midsternum. The cardiohepatic angle is obtuse. All over the precordia, but loudest at the apex, a systolic murmur and a rough diastolic murmur are heard. The latter is also heard over the lower end of the sternum. In the left back there is dulness extending up to a point one inch above the lower angle of the scapula, thence sloping down through the axilla to meet the cardiac dulness. Over most of the dull area bronchial breathing, increased voice-sounds, with increased tactile fremitus, and fme moist rales, are heard. At the extreme base, where dulness is most marked, the intensity of voicesounds and breath-sounds is very slight. Later a capillary pulse was demonstrated, and the diastolic murmur was shown to be loudest along the left edge of the sternum, but also fairly loud in the second right interspace.
At no time was there any cough. The leukocytes ranged between 12,000 and 13,000; the urine was between 30 and 40 ounces in twentyfour hours, and free from albumin.
Discussion. — Ob\'iously, this boy has an arthritis, and gonorrhea is its probable cause. The problem of present importance is to determine what complications have occurred. Evidently some infectious disease is still going on, and the physical signs call our attention especially to the heart and the lungs.
Pneumonia, with or without empyema, would explain the signs in the right Ijack, and it is a very familiar fact that pneumonia and pleurisy often begin in children with abdominal pain. The absence of cough l3y no means excludes pneumonia.
But the cardiac signs have also to be explained. The increased area of dulness and the double apical murmur are the ordinary evidences of endocarditis with disease of the aortic and mitral valve. But the percussion lines on the right side of the heart (see diagram) are more indicati\'e of pericarditis, though no ty]:)ical friction is described. If a pericardial effusion were present, it might account not only for the percussion outlines and the auscultatorv abnormalities, Ijut also for the
signs in the back of the left lung, since this is just the area of lung on which a pericardial effusion exerts pressure in bed-ridden patients. By such pressure sufficient condensation of the lung is produced to simulate the signs of pneumonia. It is impossible to exclude a patch of pneumonia complicating the other troubles present, but experience shows that we are more apt to be right when we explain a clinical picture by one diagnosis rather than by two. Pericarditis, therefore, seems the most reasonable working hypothesis.
A sexton of sixty-five was first seen December 16, 1907, complaining of paroxysmal abdominal pain relieved only by morjjhin. Aljout three years ago he began to suffer from dyspnea and swelling of the legs. This trouble has been present, off and on, ever since, Ijut he notices that it is better if he is working hard than if he sits around the house.
In July, 1907, he had an attack of sudden, cramp-like pain in the upper abdomen, accompanied by dyspnea and persistent vomiting of foul green ffuid. After twenty-four hours the pain was relie\-ed by a subcutaneous injection of morphin. Since that time he has had similar attacks, gradually increasing in frequency and diminishing in severity. He now has them e\'ery second or third day, but docs not vomit with them. In the last three months he has noted that during the day and night before an attack he passes large amounts of pale urine, and on the day following an attack small amounts of dark urine. His aljdomen is often bloated, but this sul^sidcs without treatment.
Physical examination shows that the ])U])ils are equal and react well. The tongue is large and smooth, especially in the j)osterior portion. The apex of the heart extends one inch outside the nij)])le-line in the fifth space. The first sound at the apex is weak, the second sound e\erywhere accentuated; no murmurs are heard. Bk)()d-])ressin-e ranges between 140 and 160 mm. The artery walls are stiff' and tcjrtuous. The alxlomen shows general Noluntary spasm, and the edge of the li\"er is felt one inch below tlie costal margin. The knee-jerks cannot be obtained even on rcenforcemcnt. The urine awrages a])out 40 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a gravity of a])out 1020. There is no albumin, but a few hyaline granular casts are seen in the sediment. The while corpuscles are 6100.
During his month in the hospital the patient had many attacks of abdominal pain, always coming on at night, relieved by morphin so completely that next morning he felt well and wanted to get up. Nitroglycerin and amyl nitrite were repeatedly tried without any relief. Most of the attacks of pain -were preceded by slight shortness of breath. The patient sometimes vomited during an attack.
Dr. James J. Putnam examined the patient and said that the loss of knee-jerk might be due either to spinal arteriosclerosis or, more probably, to the diphtheria of his youth.
Discussion. — In a patient who has no knee-jerks and complains of paroxysmal abdominal pain, the thought of tabes should automatically rise in our minds. In this case tabes must remain a possibility unexcluded to the last, though it is very unusual to find the pupils norm.al and the other signs of tabes (lightning pains, sphincteric disturbances, sensory abnormalities, ataxia, syphilitic history) all absent.
Angina pectoris (or angina abdominalis) is the natural inference when we come to take account of the evidences of failing heart power and of arterial degeneration. But angina is almost never accompanied by ^'omiting, and it is rare to find a case absolutely unrelieved by the nitrites.
Though the pain is not in the typical place and has not the typical radiations of cholelithiasis, there are a number of points suggesting that diagnosis. It would 1:>e \ery unusual, however, to find no fe\'er or chill in the history of a patient who has had gall-stone pains for six months. Further, the association of the pain with dyspnea and with changes in the amount of urine would be \'ery unexpected in cholelithiasis.
Peptic ulcer might produce such a pain, but the brief paroxysms completely relieved by morphin are not at all characteristic of that disease. Further, it is very rare to find an active peptic ulcer coincident with evidences of failing heart.
can easily be ruled out.
It seems to me of importance to notice the background of this case. For nearly three years pre\"ious to the onset of the sym])toms now com])lained of the patient had suffered from dyspnea and edema of the legs. Physical examination at the ])resent time seems to indicate that this is not due to primary valvular trouble, but rather to vascular degeneration. It is j)0ssil)le that all the symptoms may l)e due to this same cause acting upon different organs.
years were attributed solely to the obliteration, embolic closure, or rupture of one or another blood-vessel. In the light of more careful postmortem study we have come to speak of these paroxysmal attacks as vascular crises} The idea of vascular spasm takes the place of the older idea of gross vascular lesion, in view of the fact that postmortem there is often no gross vascular lesion to be found. Under this general heading of vascular crises belong in all probability many of the transient hemiplegias, monoi)legias, aphasias, comas, local or general spasms formerly explained as due to permanent anatomic lesions. Cardiac vascular crises may be supposed to account for the cases of fatal angina pectoris without marked narrowing of the coronary arteries. The gastric and other crises occurring in tabes are very possibly to be accounted for in the same way.
In the present case there are three sets of data supporting the hypothesis of vascular crisis: (a) The curious urinary changes which strongly suggest the "urina spastica" seen in vasomotor affections and hysteric states; {h) the swelling of the abdomen during attacks; and (c) the association with dyspnea.
I ha\e already stated that it is impossible to exclude tabes in this case, ^^'ere that the correct diagnosis, tlie mechanism by which the attack was produced would be the same as under the hypothesis of vascular crisis without the other lesions of tabes.
Outcome. — He died of pneumonia at the end of a month; the autopsy showed arteriosclerosis with hypcrtroj)hy and dilatation of the heart. The celiac axis and the coronary arteries were only slightly involved in the arteriosclerotic process. No tabes.
A school-boy of ten entered the hospital January 28, 1908, on account of e])igastric i)ain \vhich came on niglit before last after a supper of pork and beans with cheese. It has ])revented him from sleeping since then.
lie says tliat it feels as if some one had ])unclH'(l him in the stomach. l)realhing or ga])ing ga\e paiii at this point and in tb.c left axilla. He has almost constant nausea, and has been fcwrish since yesterda}' UK^rning. He has a Itrother who has been treated at tiie C'hildrenV II()S])ital for tuberculosis of the knee.
At entrance his temperature was 102.4° F.; i)ulse. 08: rcspiiation, 30, and accompanied by a grunt. He now complains of oain both in the e])igastrium and at tlie top of the slernum. The ear-
diohepatic angle is obtuse, and over the area shown in the diagram (Fig. 31) there is a to-and-fro friction sound, loudest in the second right interspace. Physical examination is otherwise normal. The white cells number 9600; the urine is negative. The day after entry the friction-rub disappeared and the temperature fell to normal on the second day. On February 5th he was playing about the ward, and a fairly loud systolic murmur was heard at the apex and in the axillas. The cardiohepatic angle was now acute.
Discussion. — Some digestive disturbance is naturally the first explanation which occurs to us, since the symptoms followed so immediately upon the taking of a heavy meal; but a simple digestive upset of this kind would not account for a temperature of 102.4° F. forty-eight hours after. In all probability the digestive upset was a result, not a cause, of the present trouble.
Tuberculosis of the spine is said to be associated with epigastric pain, such as is here present, and the presence of tuberculosis in the patient's brother makes it proper for us to consider this disease seriously. There is nothing, however, in the physical exan)ination to support any such idea — no spasm of the erector spinas group and no prominence or tenderness of any vertebra; nor are there any indications of tuberculosis elsewhere.
With these two alternatives excluded and with due regard for the results of the physical examination the only reasonable diagnosis is pericarditis. Indeed, the diagnosis could hardly have been missed except by reason of the all too common error — ^the failure to look for it.
Outcome. — It was learned subsequently that when the patient was three years old he had considerable pain and weakness in his legs, accompanied by fever. Recovery was uneventful.
A brass-finisher of fifty-six entered the hospital on January 30, 1908, with a negative history up to eight weeks ago, although he had been in the habit of taking about five drinks of whisky a day for a good many years. Eight weeks ago he began to have abdominal pain, worst in the pit of the stomach. This pain is sharp and piercing, almost constant of late, keeping him awake at night. For the past week or two it has run up under the left costal margin at times. There have been no vomiting and no belching, but he has gradually lost his appetite entirely. Food does not affect the pain in any way. His weight lias fallen 42 pounds in three months. His bowels are regular.
On physical examination temperature, pulse, and respiration are normal, likewise the lungs. The heart shows no evidence of enlargement, and its sounds are regular and of good quality. At the apex there is a faint systolic murmur transmitted to the axilla, heard also in the pulmonary area and more faintly in the aortic area. All over the precordia and over the left pectoral is heard, during inspiration alone, a faint, grating, systolic sound, loudest in the third space and anterior axillary line. In the fourth space, near the left edge of the sternum, is heard a crackling systolic sound not affected by respiration. The aortic second sound is considerably accentuated; the artery walls are somewhat thickened. Examination of stools shows nothing remarkable, the guaiac test being negative. The stomach was found to hold 76 ounces of water. The lower border descended if inches below the na^^el. After a test-meal the gastric contents showed no free hydrochloric acid and no lactic acid; the guaiac test was negative.
Discussion. — Whisky is so old a friend of this patient that it is not likely to begin to disagree with him in his fifty-sixth year. Probably it has nothing to do with the symptoms in this case.
Peptic ulcer might produce such pain, and is perfectly consistent with the loss of 42 pounds' weight in two months. But the lack of appetite, the entire absence of vomiting and belching, and the short duration of the symptoms make this unlikely.
What are we to make of the curious signs in the chest? Have they anything to do with the symptoms complained of? Inspiratory systolic sounds, absent during expiration, and best heard along the maro;ins of cardiac dulness, constitute the commonest type of so-called cardiorespiratory murmur. The phenomenon has no clinical significance except that in a considerable proportion of cases it is found to be associated with pleural or pleuropericardial adhesions, v.hich may be due to tuberculosis. The same may be said of systolic crackling sounds, which occasionally mystify the practitioner.
It is well to make it a rule always to hunt for evidence of gastric cancer when a patient past forty comes to us \\ilh a rccnii and unexplained liislory of gastric sym])toms, mild or severe. Errors in diet, worries, and such causes are not apt to take effect for the frst time after a person has li\'ed fifty-six years. If gastric s}'m])toms arc due to any cause other than cancer, careful questioning of the ])aLient will usually ])rove that they ha\'e existed at inter\"als for years. In the i)resent case tlie e\'iclence of enlargement of the stomach and the abst-nce of hydrochloric acid from the gastric contents are chiell}' of conlirniatory \-alue as ex'idence. the histor}" being tlie inijiortant thing.
Very characteristic of gastric cancer is the gradual but complete loss of appetite in this case. On the other hand, the absence of vomiting and of any relation between the pain and the taking of food is rather unusual.
Outcome. — His symptoms were somewhat relieved by lo grains of orthoform, given four times a day, and 15 minims of dilute hydrochloric acid, given twenty minutes after each meal.
A bricklayer of fifty-two entered the hospital April 7, 1908, with a diagnosis of gall-stones. His family history and past history were negative; his habits good. For three months he has complained of pain in the epigastrium, not severe, but worse after eating, and usually radiating to the right back. For six weeks he has noticed white stools, dark urine, and jaundice. Throughout this time, however, his appetite has been good, and he has had no vomiting.
On physical examination he was found to be deeply jaundiced, his lungs hyperresonant in front, with slightly prolonged expiration. Over the sacrum was a soft, flattened, subcutaneous prominence the size of a dollar. Nothing else was detected on physical examination, abdominal palpation being unsatisfactory, owing to constant rigidity. On April nth the abdomen became less resistant, and an indclinite mass was felt in the region of the gall-bladder. A stomach-tube was passed, and the capacity of the organ was found to be 42 ounces of water, the lower border extending to a point one inch below the na\'el. No contents were found in the fasting stomach. After a test-meal, however, hydrochloric acid was found to be o.og. Lactic acid test and guaiac test were negative.
3. Cirrhosis.
Hepatic syphilis is considerably less frequent as the cause of longstanding jaundice, and the duration is here assumed to be sufficient to exclude the acute infectious and the catarrhal type of jaundice.
Against gall-stones in the present case is the intensity of the jaundice without variation in six weeks, the absence of colic, and the ])resencc of a mass in the region of the gall-bladder. Long-standing jaundice due to gall-stones is usually associated with a normal sized or contracted gall-bladder (Courvoisier's law). It is quite possible, however, that the mass in the region of the gall-bladder is not due to distention of that viscus.
Cirrhosis almost never produces an intense degree of jaundice. The coloration is slight or moderate. It is rarely associated with pain, and usually produces either enlargement of the liver or some eN'idence of portal stasis.
Cancer then seems the more likely diagnosis; whether it is of the pancreas or the bile-ducts we have no means of determining. That it is probably not in the liver itself is to be argued from the absence of gastric symptoms and of ol^jective manifestations of gastric disease.
Outcome. — Operation, April 23d, showed moderate enlargement of the liver, distention of the gall-bladder, and a mass of hard, apparently cancerous, tissue in the region of the pancreas. The patient made a good recovery from the operation.
A chef of thirty-two entered the hos])ital on April 8th with the statement that his mother had died of a "complication of diseases''; his father had had a persistent cough for four years; one l:)rother had died of consumption at the age of twenty-four, and a sister died of ''rectal abscess" at the same age. The patient had Ijcen exposed to tuberculosis.
EN'cr since he was nineteen years of age he has had attacks called e])ilepsy. Hiese have always come during slcej), and do not awaken him. In the morning he wakes with a headache and general ])ains, usually finding that he has l)itten his tongue. At lirst these attacks came a])out once a month; now they come onlv about once in six months. Xc\ertheles?. he was well and strong until four years ago, wlu-n he Aoinited about four quarts of tluid. Following this he was sent to a liospital for tu])erculosis and remained there six months, altliough, so far as he knows, lie lias ne\er had a cough and notliing al)normal has ])een found in his lungs. Two and a half years ago he weighed t6o ])oun(ls: now lie wfi^'hs 1,^7 ]u)U!uls. His habits are good.
ing has persisted and rather increased since then. In the last two days he has vomited up about two quarts of dark-brown material, together with some food which he thinks was eaten at least twenty-four hours before. His ])ain is now nwst severe in the epigastrium and under both costal margins. It is sometimes relieved by vomiting, and is never worse after eating. Yesterday he noticed palpitation for the first time. He has a good appetite, but has had some constipation for three weeks.
Physical examination was negative except for slight tenderness in the left epigastrium and under both costal margins. His vomitus was found to contain free hydrochloric acid, and the guaiac test was positive, both in the stomach-contents and in the stool. Despite careful diet, he continued to vomit and have pain.
Discussion. — Abdominal symptoms of any kind, when occurring in a patient with so strong a tuberculous history, compel us to make a most searching examination for evidences of tuberculous peritonitis. This is true e\'en when the onset is much more acute than in this case.^ But in the absence of fever and of all the local manifestations of tuberculous peritonitis (free fluid, generalized tenderness, spasm, and tumorlike masses) this disease may be excluded.
Is it possible to connect in any way the history of epileptiform attacks with the present symptoms? Such attacks might be due to cerebral syphilis, and the same disease attacking the \\\er and spleen might now produce acute abdominal pain. But in the absence of any enlargement of the liver or spleen, and without fever, anemia, or other lesions pointing to syphilis, we have no good reason for considering this disease seriously.
In the treatment of cases characterized by pain and vomiting I have often been misled so as to forget the possibility of chronic intestinal obstruction— misled, I mean, by the prominence of symptoms apparently referable to the stomach. Especially when there is constipation, as in the present case, this possibility should never be lost sight of; but it must remain a mere possibility unless there is other evidence to support it. In the present case the positive guaiac test in the stool is all that we have in the way of physical signs favoring obstruction. In the absence of tumor, visible peristalsis or intestinal noise, chronic obstruction deserves no further consideration.
If, then, tlie symptoms are of gastric origin, as seems, on the whole, most probable, there are but two diseases deserving serious consideration— cancer and ulcer. In the absence of alcoholism and of any other cause for chronic congestion of the stomach (heart disease, cirrhosis),
cancer and ulcer are the only diseases likely to produce hemorrhage both from the stomach and the bowel, associated with persistent vomiting and epigastric pain. This likelihood is increased when the patient fails to improve after careful dieting.
Against cancer is the fact that the patient is relatively young, has no steady gastric stasis, and especially the persistence of a good appetite. The presence of free hydrochloric acid is also somewhat against the diagnosis of cancer. On the whole, peptic ulcer, gastric or duodenal, is the best working diagnosis.
Outcome. — On the fifteenth of May his stomach was opened and a puckered scar found on the posterior wall of the stomach. Posterior gastro-enterotomy was done. The patient did well.
A waitress of twenty-eight entered the hospital on May 5, 1898. She said that she had "malaria of the stomach" seven years ago, and was sick for three days with fever and chills. At that time she had no vomiting and no pain, and has otherwise been well except for occasional "chills," until three years ago, when she began to have a gnawing in the stomach, coming immediately after eating and followed ])y gastric distention and belching, which continues until about two hours after eating. This belching has been worse for the past year. At times enormous quantities of gas are expelled with much noise. For relief from the gnawing sensation she sometimes makes herself vomit, the vomitus usually consisting of about half a pint of white phlegm in which she has several times seen specks of blood. Her appetite has been good and her bowels regular.
Physical examination shows a very marked pulsation near the navel; over it a thrill is felt and a systolic murmur heard. There is slight tenderness in the center of the epigastrium. The examination revealed nothing abnormal.
The guaiac test in the stool was negative. She was put on a diet of carbohydrate and fats, with a diagnosis of gastric neurosis, and was at once rclie\"ed of her sym])toms.
Discussion. — Any one who had the opportunity to hear the thunderous noise with wliich this ])atient expelled gas from the stomach would be strongly biased, T think, toward a diagnosis of gastric neurosis, tor these ex|)losions arc almost always preceded and l)rouglit about 1>\- tlie hal)il of ''cribbing," or swallowing air, which in turn is usually thf result of gastric neurosis. The most important (|uestion is, can we (.xclude ju-p-
tic ulcer? Many of the symptoms suggest this disease, and the patient's neurotic constitution by no means excludes it. On the other hand, it is unusual for the patient to be relieved of pain and other gastric symptoms at a time when the stomach is empty. Though many gastric ulcers exist without producing hemorrhages, it would be impossible, I think, to make a diagnosis of ulcer in this case unless hemorrhage occurred. The specks of blood in the ^'omitus are, of course, of no special importance, and the epigastric tenderness has no diagnostic value.
The thought of aneurysm is apt to disturb both doctor and patient, when, as in the present case, abdominal pain is associated with a marked pulsation, palpable thrill, and systolic murmur near the navel. The evidences by means of which aneurysm may be excluded in this and similar cases have already been fully discussed on p. 142. ]\Ialaria was considered in the diagnosis of this case, but a careful temperature record enabled us to exclude it. The diagnosis remained in doubt, gastric ulcer and gastric neurosis being the main alternatives.
Outcome. — On June 6th she was once more on house diet, up and about the ward, and seemingly quite well. With care about diet and an improved environment, the patient has continued well up to the present time (1910).
A Jewess of thirty had been operated on, July 30, 1900, for cholecystitis. The gall-bladder was drained. After this operation she remained well, and has had three children. She entered the hospital March 13, 1907, complaining of epigastric pain of two years' duration, coming at irregular intervals, and worse after eating. For the past month the pain has increased in severity and has radiated to the back, but not to either side; it often awakens her at night. Her bowels are constipated, and she has eaten litde for the past four weeks, though her appetite was previously good. She has lost much strength, and for the past four days has remained in bed.
At entrance and thereafter her pulse ranged most of the time above 90, and not infrequently reached 120. Her evening temperature was usually above 99° F., but below 100° F.
was marked diffuse tenderness. The white cells were 27,000 at entrance, and 88 per cent, of these cells were polynuclear. Three days later the tenderness was gone, and the leukocytes were found to be normal; they remained so thereafter. The urine was at all times negative.
Examination of vomitus showed free hydrochloric acid in abundance, and a positive guaiac test for blood was obtained. Tube examination was negative. In the stool the guaiac test was twice negative. The patient complained of marked abdominal pain, but obtained great relief from the subcutaneous injection of sterile water.
The patient was treated by careful feeding, the administration of l^-grain doses of cocain, and dram-doses of Hoffmann's anodyne for gastric distress. On one or two occasions I grain of morphin was administered. Nutrient enemata were tried, but were always expelled within a short time. The patient took liquids well after the first few days and was, for the most part, free from pain and vomiting.
Discussion. — The symptoms seem to be very much the same as those previously proved to be due to cholecystitis. Since the gallbladder was drained, and probably, for the most part, obliterated, it is unlikely that there is any return of inflammation at that point, especially as she seems to have had five years of freedom from symptoms. The same considerations, however, lead us to wonder whether adhesions may not have formed in the vicinity of the gall-bladder, resulting in gastric stasis and ])recipitating the attacks of pain. The absence of any gastric stasis, however, as evidenced by the stomach-tube examination, makes this supposition less likely.
The local signs at the time of entrance and the leukocytosis point rather toward a local peritonitis, possibly from a gastric ulcer. Were this the case, however, we should not expect the disappearance of all these signs within three days. One cannot help being influenced by the fact that this ])atient's j)ain was greatly impro^"cd by the " lie cure '' (injections of sterile water, mistaken by the patient for mor])hin).
Chronic ap])endicitis has not been yet extensively discussed in this book, for the reason that I fmd it hard to arri\e at any Acry definite conclusion upon the su])ject, l)ut certainly this case is very similar to those which surgeons are accustomed to operate on with that diagnosis. The childhood attacks often seen in chronic appendicitis are not here mentioned. Inhere was at no time any local tenderness or spasm in the right iliac region, nor any radiation of ])ain to that region. Xcxcrthclrss. it is certainly true that cases no more typical than this ha\e l)c'en rtlirxcd of all symptoms after the remo\al of an adlu-rcnt, kinkrd appendix. In this connection 1 wish to call attention to the followinLi; tal)le, w hich
the study of a large series of cases from the Mayos clinic:
DIFFERENTIAL DIAGNOSIS OF THE MILDER TYPES OF CHRONIC APPENDICITIS, PEPTIC ULCER, AND GALL-STONES.— (.4 /^r Graham and Guthrie, Jour. Amer. Med. Assoc, March 19, 1910.)
upon the subject.
After very careful study of the case we were unable to arrive at any definite diagnosis. We could not definitely incriminate the stomach, the gall-bladder, or any other viscus, yet we were by no means certain of the absence of severe disease calling for surgical interference. Accordingly, on March 24th the abdomen was opened, but careful search revealed no disease of any kind. The patient made an une\'entful recovery.
A dressmaker of twenty-three, whose mother died of cancer of the stomach, was seen January 28, 1907. She admitted that for a year she had taken a great deal of beer, ^^•ine, and whisky, and for the past two weeks she had taken from a pint to five pints of whisky a day. During this last period she had eaten practically nothing, and has been in bed most of the time. A few days ago, whenever she closed her eyes, she saw big animals and other apparitions. For the past three days she has vomited almost constantly, and had some epigastric pain, which has become more se^•ere during the past two days, especially
vomitus.
Temperature, pulse, and respiration were normal, the left pupil considerably larger than the right, but both reacted normally; a hea\y brownish coat was found on the tongue, and a marked tremor in the fingers. The chest showed nothing abnormal. The abdomen was rigid and tender throughout; exquisitely so in the epigastrium. Liver dulness was not increased, and there was no shifting dulness in the flanks.
Discussion. — The chief problem in this case is to decide whether the alcoholism from which she is suffering will account for all the symptoms. We are not accustomed to associate extreme abdominal tenderness and rigidity with delirium tremens or with simple alcoholism. On the other hand, if perforative peritonitis (stomach, gall-bladder, appendix) were present, there should be some rise of temperature, pulse, respiration, or leukocyte count, none of which occurred. There is nothing in the case to justify the suspicion of lead-poisoning, tabes, chronic intestinal obstruction, passive congestion of the liver, pericarditis, pneumonia, or any of the other causes of epigastric pain which have been discussed on ])rcvious pages.
Is it possible that the symptoms may be due merel}' to the excessive vomiting, with the wrenching strain thereby brought upon the abdominal muscles? ^\'e decided to take our chance of this diagnosis, and planned our treatment accordingly.
Outcome. — The next day the pain was much less, likewise the tenderness and tremor, and there has been no vomiting. B}- February 3d she was entirely free from complaints, and on the sixteenth she left the hospital well.
Her treatment consisted of milk diluted one-third witli lime-water, 4 ounces every two hours when awake; orthoform, 10 grains, every four hours; hot stupes to tlie abdomen every hour when awake; whisky, \ oimce every four hours; triple bromids, 30 grains, and tincture of capsicum, 15 minims before meals. After the first two days the whisky was omitted. The other medicines were not needed after the thirteenth.
A teamster of forty-eigiit entered tlie hosjntal August i2tli. Gastric ulcer and alxlominal aneurysm were the diagnoses siiL^uc^kd !iy the out-]xitic'nt physician. The family history was not reniarkal)le,
except that one sister has been in the Worcester Insane Asylum. The patient's habits and past history are good. Ten weeks ago he began to have steady ejiigastric pain, usually dull, sometimes sharp. After two or three days he had to give up \\-ork on account of pain and weakness, but he has not been in bed for the whole of any day. Previous to this illness he has never had pain of this sort. It is v.'orst about one hour after eating, but it is not relieved by food, and does not radiate to any other point. During the same period he has also had aches and darting pains in his neck, legs, and the right side of his chest. For the past two or three \\ eeks he has felt sleepy and ner\"ous in the daytime, while at night pain and nervousness have often kept him awake. He has headache during most of every morning. The last four or five weeks he has been short of breath, but has noticed no s^^■elling of his feet. His bowels move only once in four days. His appetite is poor, but he has not vomited.
On examination he seems to be emaciated. The chest shows nothing abnormal. The abdomen is decidedly concave and somewhat tender in the epigastrium, where there is marked pulsation visible and palpable from a point two inches below the sternum to a point one inch below the na\'el. Otherwise physical examination is negatiA'e, and the blood, urine, and temj^erature-chart indicate nothing abnormal. Tlie patient was depressed, seemed very apathetic, and at times refused nourishment. The stomach-tube proved that the stomach held 30 ounces of water and showed no e\'idence of enlargement. After a test-meal the extracted contents showed free HCl, 0.12 per cent., no lactic acid, no blood.
Discussion. — Although abdominal aneurysm was considered in this case, the ]jhysical signs are clearly those of dynamic aorta, the differential diagnosis of which has been already discussed. (See p. 142.)
Gastric cancer is always a threatening possibility when a man of forty-eight begins to have digestive sym])toms for the first time in his life. The emaciation present in this case lends support to this hypothesis, and the negative results of examination by the stomach-tube do not enable us positi\"ely to exclude cancer. We will return to the discussion of it ])elov\'.
Peptic ulcer does not cause pains so wide-spread as those here described. If this were the diagnosis, we should exj^ect also some reh'ef after food, and \-ery possiljly some Ijlood in the stomacli-contents. Yet while ulcer \vould not account for all the facts here ])resent, we must hold judgment in reserve regarding it, as we have already done regarding cancer.
tion combined with starvation which his emaciation suggests?-" Very possibly they may, but we still require some reason for the sudden appearance of constipation in a healthy teamster of forty-eight.
We cannot afford to leave out of consideration the ps}-chic symptoms in this case. A middle-aged laboring-man does not Ijcgin to Ix; sleepless and nervous without obvious cause. The ordinary cause for such symptoms is alcoholism, which could be defmitcly excluded here. In view of the patient's depression, his ])ersistent headaches, his nervousness, insomnia, and apath}-, a mild t}])e of insanity (depressive maniac psychosis) seems probable, especially since no cause for his depression can be found in any of the recent events of his life. Assuming this to be true, the (picstion remains: Can the abdominal symptoms, the anorexia, and emaciation be thus explained? To this it is to be ans\\'ered that in sanatoria and asylums for the insane it is a very common experience to find the foreground of the clinical ])icture occupied mainly by gastro-intestinal symptoms almost as severe as those seen in organic disease. The further course of these cases, however, demonstrates the absence of any such disease, and leads us to the conclusion that tlie gastro-intestinal symi)toms are simply one item in the s}-mptom-com]>lex called insanity.
Assuming then that this patient is mildly insane, we are justified in supposing that his stomach symptoms are dependent upon this ])s\chosis, e\en though, were he normal mentally, we sliould be strongly inclined to bclie\e that he had gastric ulcer or cancer.
An Italian laborer fortv years old had "rheumatism" fwc years ago and one year ago. Many joints were swollen, painful, and tcn(Lr tor a few weeks in each attack, but he has regained ]K'rfect function in all the joints.
For six weeks he has had gna\Ning i)ain in tlu> ei)igastrium nv.d ri'.'l.i hvpochondrium, gradually getting worse, soun'times (listurliinu' >le(;'. but never inilueneed l)\- food. Xoeturia, t to :; times.
Cardiac action regular — 80 per minute; the apex first sound is replaced by a long, blowing murmur, which is also audible in the left axilla. At the third left costal cartilage is the maximum intensity of a diastolic murmur, which is also faintly heard in the second right interspace. The pulmonic second sound is accentuated.
Nails slightly incurved. Lungs negative.
In the uj^per right abdominal quadrant is a mass easily felt bimanually, descending over an inch on full inspiration, with a rounded edge and a semifluctuant consistence. The liver dulness extends 8.5 cm. below the ribs (nipple-line) and 12.5 cm. below the ensiform. Whether or not the liver is continuous with the mass described above cannot be certainly determined. The liver edge is sharp on the left of the median line, but cannot be felt distinctly on the right.
The spleen is palpable 2 cm. below the ribs. Abdomen otherwise negative; likewise the rest of the body. Urine, 40 ounces; specific gravity, 1021. No albumin, pus, blood, or casts. Blood normal.
Cystoscopy showed evidence of normal functioning in each kidney.
Discussion. — Clearly enough this patient has incompetence of the aortic and mitral valves, presumably of rheumatic origin. The interesting problem remaining concerns the mass in the right hypochondrium. Is it liver, kidney, or retroperitoneal tumor?
The alcoholic history may have produced a cirrhosis, but cirrhosis rarely causes pain, and the cirrhotic liver is hard, not semifluctuant. Moreover, we do not expect to feel the liver bimanually, though that is by no means impossible. There seems reason to belie^'e that the li\'er is enlarged in this case, but apparently there is something else wrong.
A mass ])alpable bimanually in the right flank usually turns out to be connected with the kidney, and it was with this in mind that cystoscopy was done. The results of tliis examination go far toward excluding renal disease, and were interpreted in this sense.
Tumors of the retroperitoneal glands produce not infrequently a mass like that here descril^ed. Diagnosis of such tumors, however, is impossible imless there are more definite pressure symptoms (pain in the back and legs), or unless there has been malignant disease elsewhere in the body, with possible metastasis in the region now under consideration.
S}'philis of the li\'er and cancer of the liver or colon would not account for so soft a mass as is here described. Is it possible that sim])lc ])assive congestion due to the cardiac lesion might produce so soft an enlarge-
ment of the liver? Against this is the absence of much stasis in the lungs, legs, or abdominal cavities, and the fact that the questionable mass cannot with certainty be connected with the liver edge palpable to the left of the median line. A surgical consultant considered the symptoms due to a tumor of the gall-bladder or of the kidney. On the whole, there seems to be enough doubt upon this point to justify exploratory laparotomy.
normal. A large, dark, congested liver was tJie only finding.
This case seems to me to be of unusual interest, since it shows that passive congestion of the liver is one of the items which must be seriously considered in a diagnosis of diseases involving the right upper quadrant. So far as I am aware, this is one of the few cases on record in which laparotomy has been done for passive congestion of the liver.
A private secretary, sixty years old, entered the hospital March 2, 1907. Her father died of consumption. She had diphtheria at twelve. Twenty-five years ago she had inflammatory rheumatism and ophthalmia, was in bed a week, and has had a slight similar attack since. In the past thirty years she has had about twelve attacks of colic, characterized by sudden painful cramps in the abdomen. The last attack was in July, 1906. Ten years ago an appendix aljsccss was opened and drained. She has ne\'er been jaundiced, but always has had a strong tendency to constipation. Her best weight \\ as 182 pounds six months ago. Six weeks ago she had several attacks of indigestion within a week; after this she was well until four weeks ago, when she had a sudden severe attack of e])igastric pain lasting an hour. She has had five or six similar attacks since, most of tlieni coming after l)reakfast and lasting se\eral liours until relieved l)y mor])hin.
she lias been jaundiced.
Physical examination sliowed an ol)esity and a marked jauiidicc. but was otherwise negati\-e. Bv the sixlh of Marcli the jaundice had cleared up and the ])atient was comfortabk' except for shght sore tliroat.
Discussion. — Since tuljerculous ])crit()nitis may manifest itsclt toitlie first time witli svm])toms as acute as those hcxv ])r('sc'nt, it docrws a moment's consideratioii, es])cciall\' in \"iew of tlic tul)erculous lainily history. ?)iit there are no ])h\-sical signs corrcsiiondini: t(^ lliis (h^case, and in the a])sence of fe\er it need not be fiirtlicr disc-iis-^id.
Attacks of abdominal pain in a patient who has no knee-jerks should always remind us of tabes, yet there are no other confirmatory facts, and it is quite possible that the diphtheria which the patient passed through at the age of twelve may have produced a neuritis which accounts for the loss of knee-jerks.
In elderly persons with a strong tendency to constipation we need no further explanation for many uncomfortable abdominal symptoms; but constipation practically never produces pain so sharp as to require morphin imless, indeed, it be due to organic obstruction. Her age and the character of the pain are quite consistent with this diagnosis, and experience has shown that intestinal obstruction is always a serious danger for those who have been operated upon for appendicitis, especially if the formation of adhesions has been favored by drainage of the wound. But if the intestine were obstructed, we should expect distention and \'omiting, while the attacks of pain would probably not occur so frequently and at such short intervals.
Peptic ulcer is, as in so many cases, a possibility impossible to exclude, but the presence of jaundice, the sudden relief by morphin, and the absence of any definite relation between the pain and the taking of food turn our attention rather to gall-stones. Since the appearance of the jaundice this diagnosis has l^een tolerably ob^■ious. It is favored by the age and sex, the obesity, and the character of the pain.
Mrs. H., a widow of seventy, was seen in consultation No^•ember 8, 1901. Her mother died of old age at eighty-one; her father of diabetes at sixty. Three sisters died of pulmonary tuberculosis; one from an accident; one of unknown cause; one is still living.
Mrs. H. has had ten children: By first husband, eight; two of these died of pulmonary tuberculosis, one of "dropsy"; one daughter died from "effects of a surgical operation"; three died in infancy, cause unknown; one li\ing. The two children In* her second hus1)and are living and well.
She had the usual children's diseases, but otherwise was always well until 1890, when she had strangulated hernia and was operated upon. During the following year she did not feel well, had fe\"er, chills, \omiting, and pain, and in 1891 was oj)erated for right empyema. This discharged for six months, but finally healed. Since that time
20 pounds in all.
In May, 1901, she had an attack of severe pain in the epigastrium, midway between umbilicus and ensiform; the pain was relie\ed by hot drinks. A month later had a similar attack; a physician was called, who said it was acute neuralgia of the stomach. He gave her something to make her vomit, and she vomited for twenty-four hours almost continuously, the vomitus consisting mostly of "green, bitter stuff." She had a similar attack September i, 1901, relieved by hot drinks. There was some vomiting in this attack. Next attack, September 8th; then, Se])tember 14th; the last two relieved by morphin, \ grain. The final attiick about October 19th. This last attack was the most severe. Between attacks patient \vas fed on liquids and semisolids, and complained of no pain or indigestion. The pain seemed to start at a spot in the right back on the level of the sixth or seventh rib, radiating straight forward to "pit of stomach," thence down the left side of the belly. There was nothing to be seen at this dorsal spot, but it was painful to touch. After receiving a subcutaneous injection of morphin, she began to vomit and continued to vomit about e^■cry half-hour for thirty-six hours. She became very weak, but had a normal temperature and a pulse of 60. She j)asscd bui; little urine during this thirty-six hours, but at the end of it she voided nearly two quarts. Examination of this urine showed specific gravity 1022, color high, about o.i per cent, of albumin. Sediment contained few h}aline and fine granular casts, with fatdrops adherent. A specimen of urine sixteen hours later was smoky, contained 0.1 albumin, and in addition to sediment in previous urine was full of blood and calcium oxalate crystals. The patient now complained of pain in both flanks and soreness all over abdomen, especially on right side. The temperature now is ioc° F. and pulse 88. There is headache. Blood-pressure, 145. No jaundice now or in any of these attacks, ])ut the patient says she always looked a little yellow.
She is a well-preserved lady, rather fat. Liver normal in size. A point of extreme tenderness is situated half"\\'ay between ensiform and umbilicus. Heart and lungs ncgatiN'e. Colon distended with gas. 'Yhv sclera near the iris is clear blue. On drawing back the eyelid a sliijhl tinge of yellow is \isible at tlie pcri{)hery.
Discussion. — Intestinal ol)structi()n is naturally our ln>t tlioiiL'hl when a ])atii'nt c()m])lains of acute abdominal symptoms \\\\\\ jicTsistcnt vomiting, and has previouslv had an operation for strangulated lu'rnia. But in this case there is no abdominal distention, no ronstiimtion or
attacks.
When a patient is relieved as markedly as in this case by the taking of hot drinks, gastric flatulence with pyloric spasm seems a natural explanation. But this symptom in practically all cases is dependent upon some deeper cause, such as peptic ulcer or gall-stones. The long history of dyspepsia leading up to sharp attacks of pain is consistent with either of the above diagnoses, which will be further discussed below. One of the confusing elements here is the condition of the urine. Can the symptoms be due to uremia, which is traditionally supposed to lead to attacks of abdominal pain in certain cases? The urine does not suggest acute nephritis, and if any type of chronic nephritis were present, there should be hypertrophy of the heart and a higher blood-pressure. In all probability, therefore, the urinary findings are to be explained as the result of some toxic irritation of the kidney, and are not of any serious significance. In one of the later examinations the presence of macroscopic blood in the urine is noteworthy as suggesting a possible stone or tumor of the kidney, but one remarks that this specimen of urine was passed not long after the bladder had been emptied of two quarts of urine following an acute retention. This chain of events is notoriously prone to produce hematuria. On the whole, then, in the absence of any palpable mass in the kidney region, there seems no good reason to suspect that organ.
We are left with the two diseases so often suspected and discussed heretofore — gall-stones and peptic ulcer. The tender spot in the back corresponds rather to the pain of gall-stones than to tliat of ulcer, and it is especially significant that in one of the attacks the pain started at this point and radiated thence forward. The immediate relief of pain by morphin and the absence of indigestion between attacks incline us to the diagnosis of gall-stones, especially since the less accessible portions of the sclera have begun to show a yellowish tinge. ^
This gradually deepened until her skin was almost a coffee color.
^ It is ]jerha])S worth noting here that when we arc expecting or susjiectintc a slight degree of jaunflice, we should examine especially the j:)eripheral portions of the sclera, which show a yellowish Un<re long ix-fore there is anv coloration aronnrl the iris. It is only in the more pronounced grades of jaundice that the \-ellow color actually meets the iris. Attention to this pf)int sometimes renders the niore delicate tests of the serum unnecessary.
The stools were carefully sifted, but no stone found. Liver tender. In two days the gall-bladder could be felt. Urine hea\y with bile; stool clay colored. Temperature, ioo° to ioi° F.; pulse, 80 to icxd. Pain in both flanks. The spot on her back has developed into a mark that looks as if some local application had been made. It is shaped like this: 0? has sharply defined edges, is not tender, not swollen, and not hot.
A boy of twelve entered the hospital April 6, 1908, complaining of tenderness and pain in the right hypochondrium. He had a temperature of 100° F. Gall-bladder inflammation was the diagnosis suggested by his physician. His previous and family history suggested nothing, but he had been suffering almost constantly for two months with the pain above described. This pain has been gradually growing worse, and is now aggravated by deep inspiration. Occasionally he has a sharp pain in the right shoulder; otherwise than this he has had no symptoms, and has been able to go to school until five days before his entrance to the hospital. He lias been decidedly constipated.
Physical examination showed that the heart's impulse was best seen and felt in the fourth interspace, just outside the nipple-line. The soimds were regular and of good quality. A soft systolic murmur was heard at the apex, not transmitted widely; the pulmonic second sound was slightly accentuated; the pulse not remarkable. The lungs were normal, likewise the abdomen, with the exception of tenderness and considerahle voluntary spasm in the rii^/it hypochondrium and ri'^ht iliac fossa. Tlie tem]ierature record is shown in the accompanying chart. The
Ai)ril 8th, two days after entrance, the tem])erature rose to ic-\40 F. and tlv pain increased. A surirical consultant saw tlie bo}'. and Siiid that the case was one for exj)loration of the l>ile ducts, but it was
decided to wait until the boy's parents could be communicated with. In the meantime, dulness and diminished breathing were found in the lo\\er right back, and on April loth the abdominal rigidity had almost disappeared. On this day a hypodermic needle was introduced in the back over the dull area, but no fluid obtained. An .v-ray taken April 13th showed no lesion of the lung or pleura and no enlargement of the cardiac area to the right. So far the diagnosis was wholly in doubt.
iVpril 15th, nine days after entrance, a double pericardial friction sound was heard for the first time, and the right border of cardiac dulness on the le\el of the fifth rib was found to be two inches from the midsternal line.
Discussion. — Gall-stones are so rare in boys of twelve that one should be very slow to make the diagnosis, no matter how much the symptoms resemble that disease. Pain and spasm constitute the whole of our positive e\"idence pointing toward gall-stones, though the fever shown on the accomjjanying chart would be quite consistent with gall-bladder inflammation. Without more characteristic colic, without jaundice or palpable gall-bladder, we should not make the diagnosis of gall-stones until every otlier possibility has been disproved.
Abdominal pain in children always points toward disease of the chest (^pneumonia or ])leurisy) as well as of the abdomen. In the wellmeant desire to solve the prol)lem through some diagnosis of this kind an area of dulness and diminished breathing was worked out in the lower right l)ack, a most dubious region, owing to the varying height of the liver dulness. Such signs as were found were not substantiated in any ^^•ay by the results of exploratory ])uncture and v-ray examination. In view of this they mayl)e set down as hallucinations of hearing, due to what the psychologists call "exj^ectant attention.''
From the lips of the majority of |)hysicians we should surely hear of "rheumatism"' or "neuralgia'' as explanations of an obscure pain like this, but in the present case these anticjuated blanket-diagnoses may be excluded without qualification. Boys of twelve do not have neuralgia or rheumatism at the sites where ])ain is comj)lained of here. We must demand tliat the ])ain shall Ije localized at or near a joint before the word "rheumatism'' can find any place, while all |)ain called "neuralgic" should follow the known anatomic course of some nerve.
Inflammation of an undescended (subhejjatic) appendix is suggested by the position of the pain and S])asm. The onset has not been as sudden nor the leukocyte count as high as in most cases of a])])cndicitis associated with so much fe\"er and ]:)ain. Nevertheless, until the spasm
We may ask ourselves whether the position of the cardiac impulse (fourth interspace, just outside the nipple) indicates any pathologic condition or has any bearing upon the diagnosis. The answer should be in both cases, no. At this boy's age the heart's apex is not infrequently thus situated.
Until the appearance of the pericardial friction-rub I do not believe that a diagnosis could have been made in this case, nor do I believe that the pericarditis, which ran its course in so typical a wa}' after that date, was itself the cause of all the previous symptoms. Inhere seems to me good reason to believe that many infections, especially in young people, are in their early stages as wide-spread and unlocalized as their symptoms. It is probably by a further ste|) in the progress of the infectious process that inflammation appears in a well-marked circumscribed area with an exudate and the resulting pathologic changes. It was with the idea of producing such a localization of a pre\'iously general ])roccss that French T)hysicians have employed subcutaneous injections of turpentine to bring about what tliey call a "fixation aljscess."
Possibly blood cultures would have helped us in this case. They must be, for the present, our only means of recognizing man}' infections in their early, unlocalized stage.
Outcome. — On the nineteenth the area of cardiac dulness had consideraljl}- increased in size, and now extended well out into the left axilla. I'he leukocyte count had meantime risen from Q2Co at entrance to i9,Qco on the eighteenth. The friction sound had meantime disappeared, while dulness and diminished breath-sounds were detected in the left lower back.
On the twentieth dulness in the left axilla was found to extend nearly to tlic ])osterior axillary line. The leukocytes numl)ered 22.000, witli 80 ])er cent, of polynuclear cells. The diagnosis of pericardial elfusion was then made, and a trocar was inserted in the fifth space, one inch outside the left nip])]e. and just bevond the ])al])able cardiac impulse. Seven ounces of turbid, blood-tinged lluid were ()l)tained, with a s]»ecilic gra\'it\' of 1022; 2.T per cent. all)umin. The sediment of tliis ll'.u'd showcfl S7.5 per cent, of |)oh-nuclear ci-lls. Xo tuljcrcle bacilli ■'.ere found. Immediatel}' after the ta])ping a doul)le friction-sor.nd co'iid again Ix; heard all o\-er t!ie precordia, and LTcat pain was roiniilaincd of in this region. P;.in and audible friction continued, with sonu- iutiTvals of relief, durim' the nt'xt three davs.
April 23d the case was again seen by a surgical consultant, and on the twenty-fourth the pericardium was opened and drained by resecting a costal cartilage. The boy afterward developed a left pleural effusion, which finally became purulent, but after rather a tedious illness he completely recovered.
N^otes of Treatment. — The bowels were moved by calomel, \ grain every fifteen minutes until ten doses were given; afterward by cascara and by an enema. For the pain, hot fomentations and turpentine stupes were given. A mustard poultice to the abdomen also gave some relief, and later an ice-bag was placed over the heart and about | grain of morphin was given daily by subcutaneous injection.
A highly neurotic Jewish boy of eighteen was seen June 19, 1907. His illness began in No\'ember, 1906, when for two weeks he \N'as troubled by pain in the right loin and right back, together with "dizzy headaches" and weakness in his legs. He believes that he strained himself in lifting a heavy packing-case in October, 1906. In the latter part of December he had a similar but milder attack. He states that since January 20th he has suft'ered from constant pain in the right loin, frequently catching him with a severe stitch on inspiration. Occasionally the pain has shot down from his side toward the groin or up toward the epigastrium. His urine is usually clear, but sometimes stained red, and full of floating particles. He has gained in weight, but lost in strength since February.
In January he was carefully examined, but no disease found. On June 12th his urine showed a slight trace of albumin, with many leukocytes and blood-cells in the sediment. On June 19th a physical examination was negative except that the right rectus abdominalis was spastic, and there was tenderness over the right side, most marked at the edge of the ribs, in the right nipple-line, and in the right iliac fossa.
At the time of this examination the lower edge of the right kidnc}' was palpable on deep inspiration, and there was a slight tenderness along the lower dorsal and lumbar spine. The movements of the spine were free. He had no fever and no increase in the leukoc}"tes. The urine varied greatly in gravity, being twice below 1008 and three times above 1020 within twenty-four hours. It always contained a very slight trace of albumin, and in the sediment a very small number of bloodcells and leukocytes. One ST)ecimen showed a blood-clot the size of a bean.
RIGHT HYPOCHONDRIAC PAIN 209
Cystoscopy was done on the twenty-sixth, and showed on the floor of the bladder "a brownish, cyhndric, putty-hke plug." The orifice of the right ureter was greatly dilated, and a little pus was seen to issue from it. A strong, clear stream of urine issued from the left ureter.
Discussion. — In the actual presence of this patient it was far more difficult than in reading the printed case to avoid being unduly impressed by his neurotic temperament. Any one so manifestly and annoyingly self-centered, especially if he be of the Jewish race, runs a considerable risk of being falsely accused or falsely suspected of being "merely a neurotic." Our better judgment, however, should make it clear that there is something else in the background.
The patient himself was inclined to attribute all his symptoms to the strain suffered in the previous October, but on careful questioning it was clear that the symptoms did not make their appearance until some weeks after the date of the supposed strain.
We may note that in the physical examination there are no data regarding the condition of the sacro-iliac joints. Many of the symptoms here described could be accounted for by some of the acute lesions of those joints. In fact, however, the joints were normal, although this is not stated in the text.
The chief moral of this case is the impossibility of a satisfactory diagnosis through the ordinary methods of ])hysical examination in many cases involving the right upper abdominal quadrant. Without cystoscopy a " high appendix " (sec case 96) could not have been excluded, and the diagnosis must have remained long in doubt; indeed, the case is introduced largely to illustrate the importance of cystoscopy in cases involving neither bladder symptoms nor ordinary "renal colic."
It remains merely to discuss what lesion we should e.xpcct to find in the kidney on the basis of the facts here given. Malignant disease of the kidney is rare at eighteen, and cannot be recognized in the al)sence of tumor and hematuria. Tuberculosis of the kidney should ]:)roduce fever, pyuria, and \"esical discomfort. In the majority of cases also a tumor would be ])alj)able after eight months of sutTering. Renal stone seems the most reasonable diagnosis.
Outcome. — An .v-ray ])hite taken on the twenty-eighth sliowcd a shadow apparentlv in the ])el\is of the riglit kidney. ( )n the same da}' operation confirmed the findings of the .v-ray, though the stone crumbled uj) into fine sand wlien touched. The patient made a good rec(nei\'.
A factory-hand of twenty-six, whose family history was unimportant, had typhoid fever when he was eight years of age, and has suffered from constipation for the past ten years.
For the past four months he has been more constipated than usual, his bowels moving only once in four or five days. For the past two weeks he has been troubled by headache, which, however, has disappeared to-day. During this time his appetite has been poor.
Eight days ago he began to have a steady, moderately severe pain at the right costal margin. Five days ago he noticed that his eyes were yellow, and that his urine w^as of a deep-red color.
On physical examination his sclera was found to be moderately yellow, and his skin considerably discolored. Both tonsils were slightly enlarged, and there were a few white spots upon the right tonsil. The heart's impulse was not seen or felt. The sounds were best heard in the fourth interspace, three inches from the median line. There were no murmurs nor other modifications of the sounds. There was rigidity in the right upper quadrant, with tenderness and dulness extending an inch and a half below the ribs. A sharp edge could be felt to descend on full inspiration at this point. The upper border of liver dulness was at the sixth rib. The abdomen was otherwise negative, as were the other organs. The urine contained bile and a very slight trace of albumin, but was otherwise normal. There was no anemia and no leukocytosis.
The patient was first seen on the twenty-second of February. Under sodium phosphate, 20 grains after meals, and a hot-water bag to the hypochondrium, he 1)ecame comfortable, and by [March 4th his yellow color had considerably faded. His constipation was later treated by cascara and by enemata.
Discussion. — Any case involving jaundice and a past history of typhoid fever suggests a typhoid cholecystitis with the resulting gallstones, and this possibility cannot be excluded here. Without colic, fever, chills, or vomiting, and without a palpable gall-bladder, we cannot get l^eyond suspicions in this direction.
Cases of relatively short jaundice, with or without slight enlargement of the li\er, such as is here present, are traditionally labeled as "catarrhal jaundice'' if nothing more definite appears in sight; but it is always quite possible that we may be dealing in these cases either with a transient obstruction due to stone or to an infectious cholangitis travelinfr down
the ducts rather than up. There is Httle if any proof that so-called catarrhal jaundice spreads upward from an inflamed duodenum. For the present, however, and until our knowledge of the subject is considerably increased, we must be content with the old term.
Outcome. — On the fifteenth of March his color was practically normal and the bile was gone from his urine. He felt perfectly well and was discharged. There has been no recurrence in three years.
A widower of seventy-seven entered the hospital February 25, 1908. He has always followed the trade of carpenter and has been strong and well except for two attacks of malaria, one during the Civil War (when he served for three years), and the other eight years ago.
Seventeen years ago he \\as kept out of work for fourteen months on account of symptoms supposed by one doctor to be due to cancer of the stomach, by other doctors to be caused by liver trouble. At that time he suffered pain under the right costal margin; this pain shot through into his back and was associated with vomiting and frequent black stools. He never ^■omitcd blood, was never jaundiced, and had no chills, fever, or colic. The pain was always worse at night, but had no relation to the character of food nor to the time of taking it.
He completely recovered from this attack, and has been at \\ork ever since except for a period of two montlis, seven years ago, when he was in the Massachusetts General Hos[)ital for an attack diagnosed as duodenal ulcer. At that time he frc({ucntly ])as?cd blood in his stools and his weight fell to 200 ])ounds, where it has since remained.
One year later he had an attack of vomiting with tarry stools, similar to those ])asscd the year before, 1)ut was well again in a few days. TJnre years ago he had an attack of vomiting lasting nine hours; there was no blood in his stools at that time, but he had to remain in the house for two weeks. Between the attacks, /. r., fc^r most of the last fifteen years. he has called liimsclf i^cll. Ticenly monlJis ago lie had a se\"ere attack of pain under the riglit costal margin, accompanied this time In- tlxappearance of a red S])ot on the skin just l)elow the ribs. He was told by his doctor that he ])rol)al>ly IkuI an abscess of llie li\'er. After a (lay or two of tliis ])ain liis lu'ine suddenly became ]iink and rtiTi;.ine(i so for \vn (la}'s; tlie jiain and the red spot then gradua.IIy M;iisi(k(i, and the urine l)ecame normal in a])pearance.
doctor was talking to him. His habits have always been excellent.
For tlie past six months he has had a continuous, dull pain under the right rib-margin. This pain gets worse on moving about, is not affected by food, and occasionally becomes severe, radiating to other points of the abdomen and to the back. He had such an attack three nights ago, but was relieved by drinking three glasses of cold water.
Six weeks ago he noticed under the right costal margin a swelling, which has steadily increased in size and become exceedingly tender to the touch. He has had no fever, no jaundice, no vomiting, and no change in the amount or color of his urine. He has noticed nothing remarkable about his stools.
Physical examination reveals no emaciation and nothing abnormal in the chest. The right costal margin is markedly prominent, and in the center of this prominence is a rounded protrusion which is very tender. (See Fig. 33.) The tender mass is firm and somewhat movable, sometimes reaching the median line in the epigastrium. The edge of the liver is felt just below the mass, and is apparently somewhat irregular.
Physical examination is otherwise negative, likewise the blood and urine. His stools contain no occult blood. After further observation it was found that the tumor would move with a change in the patient's position until it reached the left costal margin; with this motion the upper border of liver dulness also moved downward. Examined by means of a stomach-tube, the stomach was found to reach one inch below the navel when inflated. The upper border was at the tip of the ensiform cartilage. The stomach-contents after a test-meal showed hydrochloric acid, o.ii per cent., and total acidity, 0.17; no occult blood.
Discussion. — The early history of this case points straight to the diagnosis of duodenal ulcer. Between these initial symptoms, however, and the sufferings of the last six months, there are two curious episodes which may be first briefly discussed.
How are we to explain the appearance of the red spot in the right hypochondrium and the close sequence of pink-colored urine? Since these symptoms began together and ceased together, it is reasonable to look for a common cause. We may conjecture that the spot on the h}-pochondrium was due to a "purpuric" extravasation of blood, and that the urinary oloration was due to a similar ecchymosis in the kidney. Such occurrences would be easily explicable were jaundice present, for we are ^^■eIl accustomed to see all sorts of oozing and hemorrhages in jaundiced patients. It has been pointed out, however, by Dr.
Maurice H. Richardson and others, that the hemorrhagic tendency in diseases of the Uver is not confined to those which produce jaundice. If, therefore, we assume, as seems warranted by the outcome of the case, that this patient may have had Hver disease at the time of the phenomena we are now attempting to explain, the idea of multiple hemorrhage would be plausible.
What shall we say of the fainting attack which occurred a year ago? Since this patient has had repeated and profuse intestinal hemorrhages, presumably from duodenal ulcer, it seems not unlikely that the faintness was due to the repetition of such a hemorrhage.
Coming now to the events of the last six months, we find them characterized by continuous pain in the region of the liver, apparently unconnected with the taking of food, but complicated later by enlargement and irregularity of the liver.
In patients who have never lived under conditions favorable to hydatid infection (association with sheep and sheep-dogs, especially in Greece, Australia, and Iceland), we need consider only two diseases to explain a nodular enlargement of the liver, viz., cancer and syphilis. The nodules due to cirrhosis are rarely if ever palpable through the aljdominal walls. The hepatic enlargements due to passive congestion, fatty infiltration, leukemia, pseudoleukemia, amyloid disease, obstructive jaundice, and abscess do not produce a nodular surface. Our problem, then, is reduced to narrow limits — cancer or syphilis. I have never known syphilis to produce so much pain as was suffered in this case. The absence of fever is also against this diagnosis. The same is true in a lesser degree of the absence of syphilitic history and syj)hilitic lesions in other parts of the body.
Cancer of the liver — which seems the most prolxible ex]')lanati(m of this man's present sulTerings — is rarely primary. We may suppose it to be secondary to a growth implanted in tlie site of the peptic ulcer whicli we have good reason to l^clicve existed some years ago. Yet we have no definite evidence of any sucli growth in the stomacli or duodenum, and the Suirting-])oint of tlie disease must be left in uncertainty.
Outcome. — On the seventh of Afarcli tlic abdonu-n was opened and sliowed a firm, nodular mass of malignant disease in the Hver about the size of a cocoanut. The abdomen was closed and the ]xilient Kll tlic lios])ital on the nineteenth of March. He died three months later.
The patient is a stable-man of thirty-six who was first seen March 7, 1908. He had a good deal of trouble with his stomach three years ago, but since then has been well until four weeks ago, when he began to vomit and to have severe pain in the right upper quadrant. His vomitus sometimes contains large quantities of food. The pain is very severe, and for the last two weeks has forced him to walk the floor every night and to take morphin tablets.
At present his pain is at its worst about two hours after meals; it is also very troublesome at night; sometimes it shoots across to the left costal margin and up to the right nipple. For three weeks he has eaten only bread, milk, and tea.
On physical examination his right pupil was found to be slighdy larger than his left. Both react normally. The skin was everywhere notably smooth and satin-like to the touch. His radial arteries were considerably thickened, and his aortic second sound was greater than his pulmonic; otherwise nothing wrong was found in the chest. There was moderate tenderness in the right upper quadrant. Physical examination, including the blood and urine, was otherwise normal. A stomach-tube passed before breakfast showed no fasting contents. The capacity of the stomach was 24 ounces, and the percussion outlines after distention with air indicated no dilatation of the organ. Microscopic and chemical tests of the gastric contents after a test-meal revealed nothing abnormal.
Before that he had taken no liquor for years.
Discussion. — By force of ancient tradition we are accustomed to think of syphilis as a cause for all pains which are worse at night. We have seen, however, from the cases already studied in this book, that pain due to hyperchlorhydria, to peptic ulcer, gall-stones, and lead-i)oisoning, is also aggravated at night in many cases. In the present case the suspicion of syphilis is somewhat increased by the finding of thickened radial arteries, accentuated aortic second sound, and unequal pupils; yet there is nothing sufficiently definite in the physical examination to justify a diagnosis of visceral sy})hilis.
Of the other causes of pain above mentioned there is not sufficient evidence, though only lead can be positively excluded. The most significant point of the |)hysical examination is the satin-like surface of the skin. This quality, when well marked in workingmen, is strong evidence of recent alcoholism, and when, as in this case, the history
does not at once suggest any such habit, the evidence obtained through a routine physical examination, which includes a note on the condition of the skin, may be most important. This is especially true when no other cause can be found for the sudden appearance of marked gastric disturbances in an adult.
A young Jewish house painter eighteen years old, who was first seen March i6, 1908, has had several attacks of rheumatism, but nevertheless has considered himself well until five weeks ago, when he began to suffer from pain in the right upper quadrant, together with dyspnea on exertion, weakness, and cough, with frothy white sputa. For the past ten days he has been in lK^d, and found it impossible to lie down at night on account of cardiac distress.
On physical examination he was found to be pale and slightly cyanotic. The veins of his neck were markedly distended and showed a systolic pulsation. The carotids also pulsated vigorously. The heart showed a diffuse pulsation in the second, third, fourth, and fifth left interspaces, but the maximum impulse was seen and felt in the sixth spac3 i^ inches outside of the nipple-line. The area of cardiac dulness extended 2\ inches to the right of midsternum, and the cardiac impulse could be felt for nearly an inch Ijcyond the right of midsternum. The heart was regular; rate, no. At the apex a systolic and a ])resyslolic murmur were heard. In the left axilla and along the left sternal border the systolic murmur was much more intense, and a musical diastolic murmur was heard. The juilmonic second sound was mucii accentuated; the aortic second sound was a1)sent. The ])ulse was of low tension and of the Corrigan ty])e, but no capillary pulse was demonstrated. The lungs were normal except for the presence of a few moist rales at the base of the left axilla. There was dulness in the flanks, shifting whh change of {)osilion. The edge of the li\'er was felt three inches below the ribs. Tile organ was tender, anrl moved with each systole. The urine a\eraged 30 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a specific gnnily ot icj;. There was a sHght trace of all)un"iin and a few granular casts. The blood showed nothing abnormal. There was nc^ fe\XT.
Discussion. — In relation to tlie prognosis and Irealment ot this case it is important to form some estimatt,' of its (huMtion. f.wn a cursorv studv of the cardiac lesion luust con\ince us that the heart
was diseased for some time previous to the last five weeks, during which he has called himself sick. In view of the size of the heart and the character of the murmurs (which suggest stenoses and therefore chronicity) we may assume that the disease has existed for months, if not for years.
Renal disease may be ruled out by the low tension of the pulse and
by the characteristics of the urine. Adherent pericardium by itself cannot produce so marked a diastolic murmur and would not account for the arterial changes (Corrigan pulse). We cannot exclude the possibility of adherent pericardium complicating other lesions, but alone it would not account for the facts.
The signs certainly point to the existence of disease at the aortic valve, and probably to a similar condition at the mitral. Is the aortic lesion single or double? The physical signs give us assurance only of aortic incompetence, but postmortem experience has led me to believe that whenever aortic regurgitation is recognized in a cardiac case of considerable duration occurring in a young person, aortic stenosis is almost always present as well, whether the physical signs indicate it or not. In other words, aortic disease due to endocarditis almost always produces stenosis as well as regurgitation if it has lasted longer than a few weeks.
As this case occurred previous to the discovery of the Wassermann reaction, we had no means of ascertaining whether the aortic lesions were possible or probably due to syphilis.
As regards the mitral ^■alve, we have no way of being sure whether or not an endocarditis has been at work there. The systolic murmur might be due to relative insufficiency without lesion of the valve itself, while the presystolic murmur might be of the type described ])y Austin Flint. But the strong accentuation of the pulmonic second sound gives us reason slightly to favor a definite mitral lesion.
Obviously, there is ])assive congestion of the liver, explaining the pain and tenderness in the right liypochondrium, and these facts, together with tlie gathering ascites (shifting dulncss in the flank), make it clear that the tricuspid A-alve is leaking badly. This still further inclines us to assume an organic mitral disease. The urine is typical of passive renal congestion.
apt to explain such events through a so-called break of compensation supposedly of mechanical origin. The individual is supposed to have reached and overpassed the limits of his cardiac reserve power. It has been pointed out, however, especially by Dr. Charles Hunter Dunn,* that many of the so-called breaks of compensation, occurring as they usually do without any known strain or overexertion, are, in fact, due to a fresh outbreak of the endocarditis which has previously been smouldering upon the diseased valve. This possibility is especially to be thought of when the supposed break of compensation comes, as it were, out of a clear sky, and is accompanied by a polynuclear leukocytosis, with or without a slight elevation of temperature.
Outcome. — The boy lived in the hospital from March 6th to April 8th. At no time did he show any improvement; and despite digitalis, strychnin, morphin, magnesium sulphate, diuretin, calomel, squills, and other drugs, he died on April 8th.
Autopsy showed fibrous endocarditis of the mitral and aortic valves, with stenosis and insufficiency of both. There was also a fresher verrucose process on both valves, and some acute degeneration of the myocardium.
An Irish lal^orer fifty-eight years old entered the hospital February 18, 1908. His family history was unimportant, but he stated tliat for the past two years he had had ''bronchitis," and that he had used each week 70 cents' worth of tobacco all his life, until eighteen months ago; very little since. Since the middle of October his "bronchitis" has been very se\"ere, and he has felt weak and tired, but as the rest of tlic family were out on a strike, he had to keci) at work. Three days ago he got wet through, and since then he has been in ])cd. He com])lains of j)ain in the right hypochondrium, with dys])nea and cough, es])ecial]}' \\hen he is ^vorkin^. He niiscs yellow s])Utum in cor.sidcrablc airoiints, but has ne\"er raised blood. Tast Xo\ember he was troubled for some weeks with ])ain in the left side of his chest. Two years ago he weighed 185 pounds; now he wc-ighs 1^5. W'henewr he coughs he Ikis an aggraxation of the pain in the rii^'ht side of the alxlomen lieneath th.e ribs.
T'ln'sical examination showed small, irregular pupils, wl.ieh reacted normalh'. The throat was reddened and sli^litl}' s'vollen; {\:v ]u'art".s action irregular in force an.d rlnllim, but shoninu: no oilier abnormality.
His pulses were apparently of increased tension, and his arteries easily palpable, but on measurement his blood-pressure showed only 120 mm. Hg. There was no dyspnea in the recumbent position and no edema anywhere. The lower two-thirds of the right lung behind showed dulness. At the base there was intense bronchial breathing, with marked increase of voice-sounds and fremitus and many fine, moist rales. These sounds became less marked in the upper portion of the dull area.
During a ten days' stay in the hospital there was no notable change in the physical signs. The patient had an irregular pyrexia, reaching as high as 102° F. at frequent intervals, but always falling below normal at some time in the twenty-four hours.
Discussion. — Chronic bronchitis (usually with disseminated bronchiectatic ca^•ities) is the commonest cause of a long-standing winter cough in elderly people. The fact that this patient's cough appears to last all the year round does not exclude this type of bronchiectasis, but the fact that it is accompanied by loss of weight, by pain in the right hypochondrium, and by intense bronchial respiration at the base does not fit in well with bronchitis and bronchiectasis. The sputum examination is very important in solving this problem.
The irregularit}^ of the heart and the evidence of degeneration in the peripheral arteries make us wonder whether the signs at the base of the right lung may not represent a hydrothorax due to cardiac weakness. The signs, to be sure, are by no means typical of hydrothorax, but might possibly be consistent with that condition, were it not that the absence of dyspnea and edema points strongly against the existence of any cardiac weakness sufficient to account for hydrothorax.
If we fix our attention upon the physical signs alone, there is much to suggest a pulmonary abscess, dependent either upon a postpneumonic empyema rupturing into a bronchus or upon some unknown cause (" primary pulmonary abscess ") . But the long duration of the sym]:)toms and the lack of any suggestion of acute onset make this rather unlikely.
But for the unusual position of the signs, it would be natural to consider pulmonary tuberculosis first of all in this case. Even as it is this disease is by no means to be excluded. Repeated and thorough examinations of the sjxita are called for.
Outcome. — The sputum showed many tubercle bacilH and also many pneumococci, Ijoth within and outside of the leukocytes. The patient remained in the hospital until the second of March without showing any considerable change in any res|)ect, cxccjit that he gained 4 pounds in weight. He is troubled greatly with insomnia, for which
he was given chloral hydrate, 15 grains, on two occasions, and veronal, 10 grains, once. His coughing was relieved by j grain of codein, and his bowels were kept regular by A, S. and B. pills. After the first few days he was able to be up and out-of-doors, and gained considerably in strength.
An English tailor thirty-eight years of age, who entered the hospital ISIarch 11, 1908, had been complaining of pains throughout his body, especially in his lower legs, for the past seven weeks. The pains were so severe as to compel him to give up work, but were relieved by treatment. Three days ago he began to have pain in the right upper quadrant, radiating to other parts of the abdomen and downward. His appetite has Ijcen poor, but he has not vomited. His bowels have been moved by cathartics. Tliree days ago he had two severe chills, and since then he has sweat a good deal at times. Nothing aljnormal was noticed al:)out his water.
Physical examination revealed nothing wrong in the chest. The abdomen was full, tympanitic throughout, and held rather rigidly. The patient appeared to sulTcr a good deal of pain, but when his attention was distracted, one could palpate deeply without discovering any tenderness. Attempts to mo\-e the bowels were not satisfactory. The leukocyte count at entrance was 14,000; next day it had risen to 21,000. and on the third day to 25,200. His temperature ranged l)etween 101° and 102° F. ; his pulse, between 90 and 100. His urine showed nothing aljnormal.
Discussion. — The patient's account of himself leaves us still in the dark as to the nature of his trouble. Disco\ering that his abdominal tenderness ap])arcntly disa])pears when his attention is distracted, we are in danger of discounting his other and more serious symj^toms. But with pain, chills, and an increasing leukocytosis there is almost certainly a focus of infection somewhere. Our l)est guide in all probal)ility is the initial ])ain, since he has not yet arri\ed at that third stage in tlie development of an infection at which, after scattering itseh" in confusing radiations, the ])ain and tenderness llnally "settle" ()\"er the site of the disease. (See further discussion of this poiiit'on ]). 207.)
There is notliing in the data liere presented to incriminate the kidney or the stomach. On the wliole, therefore, tiie most likely place for investigation is the gall-bladder. Xe\ertheless. there are many other possibilities. 1 ha\'e seen a case much like this in which tiirom-
bosis of a mesenteric artery was found at operation, but I have never known that diagnosis correctly made before operation. Appendicitis and portal phlebitis are also possible.
A Hungarian woman of sixty entered the hospital August 22, 1907, complaining of two months' pain in the right upper quadrant of the abdomen, but asserting that her sickness was wholly due to the behavior of her step-daughter. As a result of this the patient has lost her appetite, become constipated and rather sleepless, but has not given up work. She has had five children and no miscarriages, and has always considered herself well. She passed the menopause twenty years ago; her past history and family history have been w^holly good.
On examination she was found to be decidedly pale. There was no glandular enlargement. There was ptosis of the left upper eyelid, but the eyes were otherwise normal except for marked irregularity of the pupils and a failure to react to light. The chest revealed nothing abnormal. The abdomen was large and flabby. The whole of the right half of it was occupied by a hard, smooth, irregular mass, immovable, not tender, and very sharp at the edge. The dulness over this area was continuous with the liver dulness, which began at the sixth rib. The lower border of the tumor was six inches below the costal margin (Fig. 34). There were slight edema along the shins and marked varicosity of the veins in both legs.
The hemoglobin was 20 per cent.; leukocytes, 2000; the urine normal. Vaginal and rectal examinations were negati^■e. The gastric contents extracted after a test-meal showed no free hydrochloric acid and no occult blood. The capacity of the stomach was 50 ounces. There was no residue before breakfast.
Discussion.^The problem here is of a tumor in the right hypochondrium with anemia — a tumor which gives every evidence of being coarsely irregular in shape. Under these conditions the possibilities for diagnosis are as follows:
Tumors of the stomach or intestine are practically out of the question. Masses of exudate and matted intestines, such as occur with tuberculous peritonitis, are smaller and have no sharp edge.
Returning, then, to the three main groups listed above, we may exclude displacements of the liver and enlargements of the gall-bladder, since the shape of the tumor here present does not correspond at all with any of these.
Hydatid cysts of the liver do not produce so grave an anemia and are usually large enough to be perceptible by the individual and complained of by him before the physician discovers them. This patient was wholly unaware of her tumor.
cussion of which we shall return presently.
Of the tumors connected with the kidney, those due to tuberculosis are perhaps the commonest. They almost invariably produce pyuria and bladder symptoms, which are not present here. Further, the shape of this mass and its position in the abdomen are not at all characteristic of tumors originating in the kidney. Fever and pain would also be expected in a patient suffering from renal tuberculosis, though these symptoms arc less constant than those above mentioned.
Hydronephrosis and j)yonephrosis produce smooth, rounded tumors, usually elastic in feel, and more deeply situated in the loin than the mass here in question. They often appear intermittently, their disappearance being accompanied by an increased flow of urine.
Cystic kidneys are practically always congenital and bilateral. They are not associated with anemia ; indeed, none of the renal lesions hitherto mentioned produces any considerable anemia in the great majority of cases.
which has been absent here.
Retrojieritoneal tumors originating in tlie T)re\"ertebral glands occasionally ])resent a picture much like that here seen. The fact that the tumor is immo\able tends to idcnlif}' it with a retroperitoneal structure, rather than with the ]i\er. Not infrefjuently these rctro])eritoneal tumors displace the li\er do\\'n\var(i and forward, so that what our hands feel is, in fact, not the new-growth itseh", but ihv normal H\rr. I ha\'e taken ])art in h)ng and fruitless discussions as to wliat (li>t'a>c of the Vwvv is ])rcscnt in a case of tlii^ kind, only to (iisco\er al oiuration or autopsy that we have been suspecting the wrong organ. The nodular
With these possibilities in mind we return to the general study of the case, and are struck by the fact that the patient has a ptosis and pupils unresponsive to light, both of which symptoms are characteristic results of old syphilis. This naturally makes us inclined to follow up the clue and try the therapeutic test. A course of iodid and mercury will do no harm to any malignant new-growth, and will probably produce marked improvement, local and general, if the liver be syphilitic.
Outcome. — Under mercurial inunctions and potassium iodid, 5 to 50 grains, the patient improved very markedly in ten days, and the size of the tumor rapidly decreased. Except for occasional doses of veronal, 5 grains, and the painting of a 25 per cent, alcoholic solution of menthol over the epigastrium for the relief of pain, no other medication was given.
A Russian Jewess of forty-two has been complaining for eighteen months of a burning pain in the right upper quadrant, almost constant, often keeping her awake, sometimes shifting into the back, but never colicky or paroxysmal. She has vomited occasionally, but has ne^'er been jaundiced. For the same period she has had distress across the upper half of the abdomen after meals, with belching and constipation, her bowels moving only every four or five days. For three months all these symptoms have been aggravated, and she has vomited green materia] nearly every day. She has never vomited any blood or any food. She thinks she has lost much Vv'eight. She has no appetite and has been in bed much of the time of late.
The patient was obese, the chest negative, the abdominal wall loose, flabby, and soft. The right kidney could be felt at three fingers' breadth below the ribs, and the edge of tlie liver was also palpable. Physical examination, including the blood, pulse, temperature, respiration, and blood-pressure, was normal. The urine ranged between 25 and 35 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a specific gravity from 1012 to 1019; there were very slight traces of albumin and a few hyaline, granular, and brown granular casts. Examination of the stomach-contents and of the stools revealed nothing abnormal.
not a pain. The word "burning" (brennend) is used by the Jews far more often in describing their symptoms than by any other race, and, as a rule, patients who use this term turn out to be free from organic disease. Whether it is a cutaneous paresthesia connected with nervous dcbihty, or whether it is connected with gastric stasis and fermentation, is often very difficult to determine.
Gastric symptoms appearing for the first time in a person over forty always make us think of cancer of the stomach, but if that disease had existed for eighteen months, we should be almost certain to find stasis, emaciation, or anemia. Peptic ulcer cannot be ])Ositively excluded, but the symptoms are not definite enough to warrant our beginning treatment for that affection until more probable alternatives have been tried out.
The palpable kidney and the presence of albumin and casts in the urine make it our duty to consider whether the symptoms may be due to some form of renal disease. These symj)toms could ])e ])roduced by the kidney if the latter exerted direct pressure upon the pylorus or intestine, so as to retard their movements in the course of digestion. But this seems very unlikely in view of the moderate size and free mobility of the organ. The kidney might also ])c res])onsible for suffering like that here described if it were the seat of a chronic nephritis with uremia, but the normal condition of the heart and blood-pressure makes this unlikely, and the urine is not at all typical of acute nephritis.
Evidently the ])aticnt has a general visceroptosis, and this, with her obesity, her incom])etent abdominal muscles, and her constipation, might well be sufiicient to account for her com])laints.
It may be well to say a word here aljout the psychic significance of green vomiting. Of course, e\ery i)hysician is aware tliat, from the ])h}'sical point of \-iew, any long-continued or \iolent xoniiting ])roduces green-colored \"omitus througli the comj^ression exerted upon tile gall-bladder b}' the abdominal walls. l)Ut in the patient's mind green \T)miting has often a dark and terrif}ing significance, so that it is well explicitly to reassure an}' patient who complains of this s}"mptoni, remembering that he does not share our understandinir of its harmlessness.
Outcome. — A snugly fitting abdominal liandage ga\e the j-atieiit \'erv marked relief, and when her bowels had been regulated by the use of c;domel, '• grain ex'e'-v fifteen minuti'S until ten doses, lolhn-.ed in ha.lf an hour b\- a seidlit/ po\\"(ler and thereafter b\' easeara, she ^'.as able to leave the hospital, nuieh relie\ed, at the end ot two wiiks.
A carpenter of fifty-four entered the hospital June 19, 1908, with the statement that six weeks ago, while at work, he had a sudden attack of pain in the right upper quadrant, radiating to the right shoulder. This pain was relieved by a hot drink, and disappeared in about three hours. He vomited once that night. He went to work the next morning. A week later the pain returned, and it has since been nearly continuous, though for the past two days it has been less severe. At the onset it was accompanied by a swelling of the abdomen and by jaundice. He has had dark urine, light stools, and much itching for the past five weeks. Fever and vomiting ha\'e been absent. His appetite has been poor, and he has had moderate constipation.
On examination, moderate Jaundice and marks of scratching were everywhere evident. The chest was normal. The abdomen showed tenderness in the epigastrium and for se\'eral inches to the right of this point. The upper right rectus was more resistant than the left. The edge of the liver could be felt an inch and a half below the rib margin. The patient has lost 42 pounds in the past eight weeks.
Discussion. — The diagnostic problem confronting us concerns the cause of emaciation, jaundice, steady pain, and enlargement of the liver in a man of fifty-four. Cancer of the pancreas or of some portion of the bile-ducts would produce all these symptoms, and is their commonest cause in men of this age, but it is hard to understand why any of these lesions should produce so sudden an attack of pain and of jaundice. The supposed cause — cancer — being an affair of gradual growth, one would expect the symptoms to develop gradually, not suddenly. Ne\'ertheless, clinical experience has shown that cancer may manifest itself suddenly, and with the symptoms here described. We must face the fact, whether we understand it or not. Against cancer is the absence of an enlarged gall-bladder, which is the rule when cancer obstructs the bile-ducts. But this objection is not sufficient to make us certain that cancer is not present. The possibility must still be entertained.
Stone in the common duct might produce all the symptoms under discussion, and would account, better than cancer does, for the sudden onset and the biliary colic. The loss of 42 pounds in eight weeks as a result of cholelithiasis alone is at first sight astounding, but experience shows that it is not at all unusual. More unexpected is the absence of fever, chills, vomiting, and of variations in the intensity of the jaundice, all of which are the rule when a stone blocks the common duct. The
cancer.
ObUteration of the bile-ducts by the scar of an inflammator}' process, due to syphiHs or some other cause, is a very rare lesion. It is usually gradual in onset and does not produce sharp pain.
Nothing is said in the history about the patient's habits. If we choose to assume that he was a confirmed alcoholic, his jaundice might be due to cirrhosis of the liver, especially as the edge of that organ is easily palpable. The sudden pain, however, could hardly be due to cirrhosis, and, as the case stands, we have nothing to support such a hypothesis. The habits should be further investigated.
and cancer, the odds slightly favoring stone.
Outcome. — On the twenty-second of June the abdomen was opened and two large stones were removed from the common bile-duct. The patient made an uneventful recovery.
An unmarried w'oman of twenty-nine entered the hospital March II, 1908. Since the age of sixteen she has had at times "stoppage of the bowels," worse when she is on her feet. When questioned as to the nature of this stoppage, she stated that it consisted of pain in the right upper quadrant, so se\'cre that she cannot stand the pressure of her clothes, accompanied In' the i)resence of a lump which is more prominent when she exercises. This trouble has been especially bad for the past fi\e months. Her bowels rarely move without medicine, and her stools are small, hard, and often black. She has a poor appetite, but never vomits. She had considerable cough and sputa off and on for years, l)ut has never raised blood. For four months she has had much dyspnea and pal])itation. Her urine is at times scanty, never bloody, and never passed in large amounts. She has lost li\e pounds in the last two years.
The patient is pale (hemoglol)in, 75 per cent.). Scattered on tlie right half of tiie trunk and the inner as])cct of th.e right upjx-r arm are numerous light-brown, irregularly siiaped spots. The glands ;ire pal{)a1)le in the axilkc and groins. The tongue is ])at sha]H'(l — \\i<Kst at the tip. It is protruded very far, and during tliis act the anttrior 1",
pillars of the fauces are drawn forward. A low-pitched systolic murmur is heard over all the precordia, but not transmitted beyond that area. The heart shows no enlargement. The pulmonic second sound is greater than the aortic second. In the epigastrium a violent pulsation, vertical and lateral, is felt, raising the hand three-quarters of an inch at each beat of the heart. Beneath the margin of the right ribs a smooth, rounded mass, about four inches long and two inches wide, can be grasped between the hands and moved about in all directions. It is very tender.
Discussion. — The points deserving discussion in this case are the nature of the "stoppage of the bowels," the interpretation of the heart murmur in connection with the patient's dyspnea and palpitation, the significance of the way in w^hich the tongue is protruded, the nature of the rash upon the chest, and the importance of the mass in the right hypochondrium.
It is clear that she has no stoppage of the bowels. We have to explain, however, why the lump complained of in the upper right quadrant and the pain which accompanies it are more prominent on exertion. This is the case not infrequently with a tender, passively congested liver, the result of cardiac insufficiency. But have we any such insufficiency in this case?
Since the heart is not enlarged and the pulmonic second sound no louder than we should expect it to be in a woman of twenty-nine, we have only the murmur to suggest heart disease. But from a systolic murmur alone it is never wise to infer the presence of any disease of the heart, especially when the patient is anemic. It seems reasonable to consider this murmur as hemic or functional. We have no reason, then, to believe that the heart is failing or that the lump in the right upper quadrant has any relation to it.
A patient who protrudes his tongue in the way described above, so that the whole of it can be seen, has usually been in the ha1)it of looking at his tongue in a mirror. The pillars of the fauces are then drawn forward by the effort to get the tongue completely into the outer world. These facts give us a certain inkling of the jmtient's mental condition and of its possible bearing on the interpretation of his symptoms.
The eruption here described seems to correspond with that produced by tinea versicolor. Though other possibiHties are open, this seems the most reasonable one, provided the lesions are of long standing. This is the most common position for an eruption of that origin.
the description of a floating kidney, though not all such kidneys are tender. It is probably the lump which the patient felt at the times when she supposed herself to have stoppage of the bowels. This would account for its greater prominence when she is on her feet.
The association of floating kidney with a great variety of so-called neurasthenic symptoms is a very familiar fact clinically. That this patient is of a neurotic temperament is suggested by the violent beating of the abdominal aorta (dynamic aorta), by the way she puts out her tongue, and by her chronic constipation. In the absence of any other lesions discoverable on physical examination the diagnosis of floating kidney associated with slight anemia in a neurotic person seems the best explanation of the symptoms. The dyspnea may well be due to the anemia.
Outcome. — The patient was given a close-fitting abdominal binder, which apparently gave much relief. Reassurance and general tonic treatment (Blaud's pill, 10 grains thrice daily, tincture of nux vomica, 10 to 50 drops before each meal) played a large part in her recovery.
An American woman of forty-six has been doctoring for stomach trouble for five months. A month ago she was taken suddenly with a profuse black, watery diarrhea. This was followed by vomiting, chills, and pain in the epigastrium and back. For a week she was kept more or less under opium, after which the gastric and intestinal symptoms abated, but she has remained in l:)cd most of the time since then, in a very exhausted condition, and suffering most of the time from pain in the right upper quadrant and in the small of the ];ack. This jKiin is constant, with occasional exacerbations. Oj)ium has frequently been given. For several wecl;s she has taken only licjuids. Altliough the y)ain appears only in relation to eating, slie vomits nearly every day at irrregular intervals. She has never vomited blood, and has ne\"er l^een jaundiced. She has had a slight cou<i;h for ii\e years, and dxspnea on exertion for one year. She has lost t :; pounds in tlie past two years. The |)a!n is often severe enough to keej) her awake at night.
On ])]iysical examination the mucous membranes arc found jvale. The chest is negative, excei)t for slightlv diminished res])iration in the right back, below midscapula. The abdomen is entirely negaliw. iwctpi that the edtre of the liver is palT)al)le on deep inspiration.
The stained smear shows some achromia and poikilocytosis. The differential count and the other features of the blood are normal. Careful examination in a warm bath, with complete and satisfactory relaxation of the abdominal muscles, shows absolutely nothing abnormal. Examination of the stomach shows no fasting contents. The gastric capacity is 36 ounces — the lower border of the organ one inch below the navel after inflation. After a test-meal no free hydrochloric acid and no organic acids are found. The guaiac test is negative in the gastric and intestinal contents.
but continued to complain of pain and seemed very miserable.
Discussion. — The black color of the stools, associated with a longcontinued gastric disturbance, forms an important portion of the picture of peptic ulcer. We must remember, however, that as she has been doctoring for stomach trouble for five months and has taken a great deal of opium, it is quite possible that her symptoms may be due wholly or in part to the treatment. Black stools may well be due in this case to that commonest of gastric medicaments, subnitrate of bismuth. In patients who have been through five months of this kind of treatment it is not at all surprising to find hydrochloric acid absent from the gastric contents. Her stomach empties itself normally, shows no enlargement and no blood. One more point serves to increase our confidence that no visceral disease is present, namely, the complaint of a year's dyspnea by a patient whose heart and lungs are normal. This dyspnea antedates the occurrence of stomach symptoms by at least se^"en months. This would be quite natural if we supposed that the dyspnea and the stomach symptoms were alike due to the anemia shown by the present blood examination. If, on the other hand, the anemia resulted through hemorrhage from an ulcer, the dyspnea should not have antedated the stomach symptoms.
Yet, after the use of treatment based upon the idea that anemia was the cause of her symptoms, there was no clear proof that we were right and it seemed best to explore the abdomen.
Outcome. — Operation by Dr. F. B. Harrington revealed absolutely nothing, but the patient seemed greatly improved ajter it, and when last heard Jrom had continued in good health. Cases of this type should be borne in mind when discussion arises regarding those operations for "chronic appendicitis" in which the appendix shows signs of appendicitis only to the eye of the surgeon, while the pathologist remains unconvinced.
surgeon. True, but so they did in the case just described, though nothing was removed. There is abundant experience to prove that operations and postoperative hygiene (mental and physical) are in themselves enough to produce a marked improvement in the symptoms of many a patient.
March i8, 1907, I examined a Russian tailor thirty-nine years old, with the history of pain in the right upper quadrant lasting fifteen weeks, accompanied by frequent dry cough, shortness of breath, and increasing weakness, but no fever, so far as he knows. For the past two weeks he has had night-sweats, tenderness in the left shoulder, and inability to sleep on the left side. He has lost weight and strength, but has worked irregularly until two weeks before entrance. His previous history, family history, and habits are otherwise excellent.
Examination showed a sallow, emaciated, worn-looking man. Nothing abnormal was detected in the examination of the heart. In the right back there was dulness below the angle of the scapula, with diminished breath and voice-sounds. The condition of the abdomen is best explained by Fig. 35.
The patient's temperature ranged for eight days between 99° and 101° F. His red cells were 4,000,000; white cells, 11,000; hemoglobin, 60 per cent. The stained smear showed nothing abnormal. The urine was equally blameless. In the stools numerous eggs of the Trichuris trichiuria were found. Rather large, palpable glands were found above both clavicles; the chest, head, and extremities negative, excc])t as above noted. Free purgation produced no change in the physical signs.
Discussion. — There is a good deal to suggest phthisis in the first impression of this case — cough, dysfmca, weakness, night sweats. But though there are some abnormal signs in the right back, they arc not sufiicient to account for the symptoms. Fmpyema is, perha]:)s, more likely, but I have never heard of an emj)ycma which worked to the surface so near the ensiform cartilage. It is inifortunate that an .v-ray was not taken, owing to the ])atient's great iirostraliou. By this means one might have o])taine(l some e\i(lence as to whether the troubkwas above or below the diaphnigm. Our attention naturally renters on the region of the ])roniinence shown in Fig. :;5; at hrst sight tlumass certainly appears to be belo.v the diaphragm.
invariably a general enlargement of the liver downward, and multiple nodular masses below the ribs. I have never known a hepatic cancer to produce a localized bulging of the chest-wall such as was present in this case. This latter observation applies also to tumors of the colon, gall-bladder, retroperitoneal glands, and kidney. The hypothesis of cancer somewhere receives some support from the presence of enlarged glands over the clavicle, which might represent metastases; but it is very hard to see where the cancer could be situated.
Hydatid cyst of the liver was much discussed in the numerous bedside consultations over this case, but it was pointed out that hydatid does not produce so much prostration and pain, not, at any rate, until it has produced a tumor much larger than that in this present case. The striking thing about most hydatid cysts of the liver is the slight impression that they seem to make either upon the patient's consciousness or upon his general health and nutrition. The feel of the tumor in this case is not at all characteristic of hydatids.
Can local disease of the chest-wall explain these symptoms? Tuberculosis, syphilis, actinomycosis, or neoplasm might appear at this point, but they should involve the ribs or intercostal tissues themselves, whereas in this case the ribs seem to be quite unaffected — merely pushed forward by something behind them.
Hepatic abscess or subdiaphragmatic abscess often causes a prominence at exactly this point, and some of the symptoms of the case — the pain, cough, dyspnea, weakness, and night-sweats — could be thus explained. On the other hand, we have no history of the ordinary causes for either of these varieties of abscess — no dysentery, no appendicitis, no peptic ulcer or gall-stones. It seems remarkable, moreover, that the leukocytes should not be more increased if there is an abscess large enough to produce such a tumor. Despite these objections, however, the picture corresponds more nearly wdth that of subdiaphragmatic abscess than with any other disease.
A fireman of fifty-eight worked on the Panama canal in 1904 and 1905, but had to return in December, 1905, on account of a long attack of dysentery. Though always a heavy drinker, he was otherwise well until May, 1906, and then weighed 212 pounds. In May irregular colicky pains began in the right upper quadrant, which were
much worse at night and which did not, as a rule, bother him in the day-time. At times he suffered enough to require morphin. There was no radiation and no vomiting, but there was nausea, and considerable relief was obtained by belching gas. The bowels were rather loose, and a movement caused relief of pain. At times the mo\cments were clay colored; at other times they were brown. About June ist the stools became persistently clay colored, the skin was noticed to be yellow and the urine dark colored.
From June ist until the present time (August 8th) he has had no pain, but to-day about noon he suddenly began to have a series of very severe cramps, vomited for the first time, and had a chill. His present weight is 161, a loss of 50 pounds, but he had been able to work until six weeks previously.
Inspection of the patient's body revealed nothing abnormal except intense jaundice, with brownish mucous membranes and an increase of liver dulness, such that the organ extended from the fifth rib in the nipple-line to a point one inch below the costal margin. Below this edge a soft, rounded mass could be made out, about the size of a lemon. The spleen was not palpable. The white cells were 16,600; hemoglobin, 90 per cent. The Cammidge test was positive. In the afternoon after entrance the ])atient suddenly sat up in bed and yelled with pain; it was referred to the epigastrium, and was, he said, unlike any that he had had before. The abdomen was now rigid throughout, with marked tenderness, especially in the epigastrium. The patient vomited several times this afternoon.
Discussion. — A history of dysentery and a residence in the tropics, when followed by sym])toms which a])pear to involve the liver, should always remind us that hepatic abscess is a common complication of tropical dysentery. This idea seems all the more plausible in the y^resent case, because there have been chills, fever, leukocytosis, and an increase of liver dulness. Yet the pain of hejmlic abscess could rarely be described as "cramps." The disease is often painless; if there is any pain at all it is usually a steady, dull, but increasing type. The soft tumor Ijelow the ribs, moreover, cannot be due to hepatic ai)srcss. and we do not expect such intense and ])ersistent jaundice as the result of that disease.
Stone in the common duct. Had this stone been near the entrance of the cystic duct, infection might well have extended to the gall-bladder. Suppurative cholecystitis and final perforation of the gall-bladder would then account for the chill and intense pain on the day of entrance.
Against this we have the fact that a gall-bladder which has previously nourished stones is not often so distensible as to form a tumor, such as projected below this patient's liver. The intensity and steady persistence of the jaundice are also somewhat unusual for choledochus stone.
Cirrhosis does not seem probable, though the usual cause of that disease appears to have been operative. A pain like that here described is rarely if ever due to cirrhosis, and the jaundice which occurs in a certain proportion of cirrhotic cases is almost never intense. Cancer of the pancreas or of the bile-ducts is the commonest cause of intense and persistent jaundice in a man of this age. The tumor below the ribs might be the enlarged gall-bladder which generally results from this disease. On the other hand, the pain is severer and more sudden in its onset than is to be expected in cancerous obstruction of the bileducts. The colic and the variation in the color of the stools seem more like cholelithiasis. No one of these facts, however, excludes cancer, which seems, on the whole, the most reasonable diagnosis.
How are we to explain the chill and attack of pain described in the last few lines, which are intended to convey an idea of the greatest possible severity of suffering? In my experience an abdominal pain of this description, such that the patient suddenly yells out in agony, is almost always due to one cause — perforative peritonitis. This might be accounted for under either of the diagnoses last discussed; either stone or cancer may have caused ulceration of the ducts and set up at first a localized peritonitis, which later perforated and set free a virulent fluid into an unguarded peritoneum.
Outcome. — He died three days later. The variations of his temperature are shown in the accompanying chart. He was able to take very little food, and during the last twenty-four hours v/as delirious. Autopsy showed cancer of the head of the pancreas, almost occluding the common bile-duct. The pancreas was practically destroyed. The gall-bladder was enlarged, much distended, not inflamed, and contained a single gall-stone. There was an extensive cancerous infiltration of the posterior wall of the stomach. There was also an acute general peritonitis, /lOr which no cause could hejoundl
A negro of thirty-five has complained of steady pain in the right hypochondrium for two months. This pain came immediately after eating and lasted about two hours. His appetite is good. His bowels are constipated, moving only once in from two to seven days with medicine. He has also suffered from numbness and tingling in his legs, with weakness, and has had a cough for the past two weeks, with slight white sputum.
Physical examination shows an irregular fever (see chart), the skin very dry and scaling, the heart not remarkable, the lungs negative. There is a nodular mass indistinctly felt in the right iliac fossa, tender, but at times difficult to outline. The abdomen is retracted, and peristalsis can be seen near the navel. On the left hand and the dorsum of the right foot are elevated areas of reddened skin, with a pink, smooth center, about one inch in diameter. The chest is negative; likewise the blood and urine.
Examination of the stomach by means of a stomach-tu])e showed that the organ would hold about only 23 ounces of water without distress. Its lower border after inflation reached just below the navel. The contents extracted after a test-meal showed free HCl, o.i per cent.; no occult blood; no lactic acid. No contents could be obtained from the stomach
before breakfast.
Discussion. — There is no need of extended discussion here. A nodular mass in the right iliac fossa, accompanied by visible peristalsis, marked constipation, and fever, means chronic intestinal obstruction in the region of the cecum, 01)struction at this point is practically never due to fecal impaction alone; there is almost always some stricture of the gut behind which feces accumulate. Such a stricture might bo sypliilitic, cancerous, or tu])ercular. Occasionally a chronic apjK'ndicitis with adhesions ]iro(luccs ol)struction.
distinctly more suggestive, however, of tuberculosis.
If the stricture is tuberculous, the tumor mass is probably made up of caseating glands adherent to the cecum, itself infiltrated by tuberculosis. The fact that the patient is a negro and the presence of fever — especially fever of the type shown in this chart — make tuberculosis more probable than cancer. Syphilis rarely produces so large a mass in this region. Extensive syphilitic infiltrations are generally found near the rectum. The diagnosis of pericecal tuberculosis is further supported by the character of the cutaneous lesions, which are distinctly suggestive of tuberculosis.
the rule in such cases.
Outcome. — The patient rem^ained ten days in the ward, complaining continually that he did not receive enough medicine, but showing no improvement in any respect. At the end of that time the abdomen was opened and showed a nodular mass of tuberculosis in the cecal region, with general adhesions but without fluid. At death, a month later, tuberculosis was found also in the lungs, adrenal glands, lymphglands, skin, and in almost every other organ.
A young farmer of twenty-five, whose father had died of tuberculosis but whose family history was otherwise good, came to the hospital January 25, 1906, with the following story: For the past fifteen years he has had from time to time pain in the right upper quadrant, in attacks lasting from three to five days, then gradually subsiding but leaving him much used up. For the past three years the pain has been so sharply localized that it could be covered with one finger.
Up to one year ago he averaged about two attacks a year, but within the past year the attacks have been from one to four weeks apart, apparently depending upon the performance of hea\T work or the eating of hearty food. During these attacks the pain is not constant, but comes in spasms and is relieved by taking a "pain-killer" and using a hotwater bag, or by leaning over the back of a chair so as to bring strong pressure to bear upon the painful spot. In the last attack the pain radiated to the back, but never to any other point. Three years ago he thought he noticed in the region of the pain a bunch, which was tender, but gradually disappeared. The painful spasms last from
fifteen to twenty minutes each. He was very sallow three years ago, and thinks he has been so since then. His severest attacks are accompanied by chills and fever. During the past year he has been able to do only very light work. He occasionally vomits during an attack, the material being usually greenish. During an attack he has nightly emissions. Walking on hard pavements or hard floors, especially during the time of an attack, causes pain in the right upper quadrant, and sometimes shortness of breath. His appetite between attacks is always good and his bowels are usually constipated. In the fall of 1905 he weighed 185 pounds. Now he weighs 165 pounds. Work that requires stooping or hea\y lifting will often bring on an attack within two or . three hours.
Physical examination showed no jaundice. There was nothing abnormal in the chest or abdomen, and nothing wrong with the blood or urine. After staying four days in the hospital entirely free from symptoms he was discharged.
May 24, 1907, he entered the hospital for the second time, and stated that, since leaving the wards fifteen months pre\'iously, he had had many attacks of ])ain similar to those previously described. His worst attack was ten months ago, when the pain failed to yield to morphin or chloroform, and lasted four hours. For a week after this he was unable to leave his,bed. This spring he had nearly steady pain for ijye or six weeks following the ingestion of a large quantity of maple syrup. After an attack his urine is always high colored, almost black; the color of his stools is not a]:)normal.
As on a previous occasion, physical examination was entirely negative, but this time the use of a stomach-tube revealed that the ])ercentage of free hydrochloric acid after a test-meal was 0.29, and that in the fasting contents the percentage of hydrochloric acid was 0.23. There was no reaction to guaiac in stools or gastric contents.
Discussion. — There is much to make us think of gall-stones in this case, though the age and sex are against this diagnosis. The association of such a pain as is here described with chills and fever, with deep discoloration of the urine, which may well ha^•e been due to bile, and with a bunch wliich may have been the gall-bladder, gcK'S far to com|)lete the clinical jMcture of cholelithiasis. This ])icture becomes still clearer as we note the freedom from digestive s}'m])toms between the attacks of ])ain. Moreover, it mav be that on stooping he shifts the ])ositi()n of a stone in the gall-l)la(lder in such a way that it ])ec(>mes impacted and jjroduces coHc.
are practically unknown in a boy of ten, which was the age of our patient at the beginning of his attacks. Again, it is difficult to see why a gallstone colic should not be relieved by morphin or by chloroform, and why it should not produce tenderness in the region of the gall-bladder. Patients who have had many attacks of gall-stones almost always experience some of the typical radiations of the pain, which, with one exception, have been wholly lacking here. The absence of jaundice and enlarged gall-bladder adds a certain weight to the arguments already adduced against gall-stones.
Next to gall-stones, by far the commonest cause of symptoms like these is peptic ulcer, gastric or duodenal. The long history of his attacks and the gradually shortening intervals between them, the excess of hydrochloric acid in the gastric contents, and the relief of pain by pressure are facts tending to convince us that peptic ulcer is present. On the other hand, it is curious that we were unable to obtain any reaction to guaiac in the gastric contents or in the stools. Why the pain should be increased by walking on hard pavements or hard floors, and why the attacks should be associated with nocturnal emissions, are problems not explained by any knowledge that I possess.
A "high" (undescended) appendix comes to our minds as a possibility, but who ever saw a case of appendicitis — high or low — in which the pain was relieved by strong pressure, as in this case?
Outcome. — On May 29th the abdomen was opened; a duodenal ulcer was found. It had perforated and become adherent to the gallbladder. In connection with the relief of pain by pressure in this case I recall a case of duodenal ulcer which I saw with Professor Osier at Oxford in the summer of 1908. The man told us, without a ghost of a smile, that the pain was so bad that his wife often had to kneel on his stomach for half the night.
A single woman of thirty-seven entered the hospital on July 20, 1906. Up to the age of five years she was subject to convulsions with loss of consciousness, but these have not recurred since. She had diphtheria with paralysis of the palate at the age of twelve. In 1892 she fell in a gymnasium and hurt her back, since which time she has done no work, and has suffered from severe pain in the middle of the back and on the top of her head. At times she has a sense of constriction in her throat. She consulted an orthopedic specialist in 1902, and has since then worn a brace for her back off and on, with verv little relief. A
spur was removed from her nose one year ago. Three weeks ago she began to have very severe pain over the right side of the face, and was operated on for disease of the antrum, but none was found. Her pain was immediately reheved, and sleep induced by the subcutaneous injection of sterile water.
Since that time she has suffered especially from pain in the right hypochondrium — worse in the early morning, somewhat relie\ed after the morning urination or by vomiting.
Physical examination shows rigidity of the abdomen with marked sensitiveness of the right half of the head and of the back, especially in the dorsal region. The internal viscera, the blood and urine are normal, likewise the temperature and pulse. Respiration ranges between 30 and 45. She is often awakened by spasmodic pain in the neck, much increased by attempts to walk. She looks well, but still complains "of soreness in the bowels, which prevents her from eating and causes her to vomit and her head to ache."
Discussion. — We get a strong impression, on reading this case, that we are dealing with nervous invalidism reinforced and made more obstinate by a variety of meddlesome treatments. But in any case which gives us this first impression we should do our best to combat it by endeavoring to establish the existence of some form of organic disease. Only in this way can we avoid doing serious injustice to many patients who have both organic disease and a rwrvous make-up, with the latter in the foreground. One of the problems which first engaged our attention was this: Why should her pain be relieved after the morninci; urination? This combination of symptoms is not at all unusual, and in my experience it signifies that the pain has resulted from gaseous distention of the colon, which is relieved when the emptying of the bladder shifts the pelvic tensions enough to allow the escape of intestinal gas.
The unilateral distribution of sensitiveness over the head and trunk, the relief of pain by the subcutaneous injection of sterile water, the rapid resj)iration, and the history of her medical fortunes justify us, I think, in believing that our negative physical examination represents the truth, and that we are justified in making that dangerous diagnosis; hysteria. But it is only by experimental therapeutics, that is, by trying out the results of treatment ))ased on the hyj)othesis that we are dealing with habit-pain and nervous invalidism, tliat we can get aiiy further certainty u|)on the diagnosis. To such experiments, accordingly, we addressed ourselves.
without support. Two weeks later she could walk an eighth of a mile, and the pain in her head was much relieved. She still complained, however, of soreness in the bowels, and this she has had at intervals ever since that time, especially when she gets run down.
This case seems to me to illustrate well that fallacy about the importance of " reflex causes " for general nervous disturbances which had so strong a hold on the last generation of medical men. The wonder is that this patient escaped without appendectomy and hysterectomy. In many clinics she would also have undergone a gastro-enterostomy. I think the opinion is coming to prevail that when the history and the physical signs point strongly toward a general neurosis, attention to socalled reflex or local sources of irritation not only does no good, but makes the patient distinctly worse by concentrating his attention upon the part, by increasing the period of invalidism, and by withdrawing him from the normal supports and stimuli of the working life.
A Portuguese tailoress, forty years old, entered the hospital December 21, 1908. When a little girl in Portugal she had typhoid fever. In the preceding June she was in bed for a week with "malaria," and has not been well since. She has now had fever for five weeks. She has been at work for the first two weeks of this time, but has had headache, anorexia, vomiting, diarrhea, and cough for most of the time in the last five weeks. She has been in bed for ten days.
Physical examination shows no emaciation. Many fine rales are scattered over both chests, and a few squeaks distributed among them. Whichever side she lies on appears to contain the greatest number of rales. There is a slight cyanosis, with mo^'ements of the nostrils as she breathes. Voice-sounds are slightly increased at the right base. The white cells are 6800, 56 per cent, of them being polynuclear. Widal reaction positive. The spleen was palpable on full inspiration.
On the fourth of January she was suddenly seized in the night with sharp pain in the right upper abdominal quadrant, accompanied by vomiting, sweating, and a weak, rapid pulse. Despite ^ grain of morphin and -^^ grain of strychnin, the pain and \-omiting persisted. Xext morning there was distinct tenderness over the seat of pain, and a tender, rounded mass was vaguely felt in the region of the gall-bladder.
Discussion. — This patient has a fever of long duration. In temperate climates, as I have elsewhere shown/ there are but three common fevers which last more than two weeks, viz., typhoid, tuberculosis, and sepsis. This woman has cough, cyanosis, rales in both lungs, and, since the nostrils move visibly, she probably has dyspnea. May it not be that she has miliary tuberculosis with tuberculous peritonitis, the latter showing itself in one of those acute paroxysms which are so often mistaken for appendicitis, cholecystitis, intestinal obstruction, and other abdominal emergencies ? But if this is so, why is the patient not more emaciated after five weeks of illness? Unless we can get evidence of tuberculosis either in the family history, in the sputa, or in some other part of the body, there is no way of verifying this hypothesis any further.
As we read that the Widal reaction was positive, it seems at first unnecessary to discuss the diagnosis further. There is nothing in the case to exclude typhoid, since lung signs like those here described may represent simply the ordinary bronchitis of typhoid. But as she has previously passed through an attack of typhoid fever, it may be that her Widal reaction is one of the residual results of that illness. We know that the Widal reaction may persist for thirty }'ears or more after an attack of typhoid. The splenic enlargement is quite consistent either with typhoid or with tuberculosis. As there seems no good e\idence of a generalized septic infection, and as the leukocyte count is at the outset so low, there seems no good reason to consider any disease other than typhoid and tuberculosis. The rarer causes of prolonged pyrexia (meningitis, rheumatism, syphilis, leukemia, malignant disease) do not deserve serious consideration.
But there seem to be two acts to this drama, and the second — which began January 4th — throws consideraljle light uj)on the first, for the new pain gives e\'ery evidence of l^eing due to cholecystitis, and cholecystitis is a common com|)lication of typhoid, not of tuberculosis.
PAIN IN THE LEFT HYPCXHONDRIUM
The left hypochondrium is not a common place for puzzling pains. I have known very few diagnostic problems which centered there. Many discomforts arising from the stomach are felt in the left hypochondrium, but, as a rule, their origin and nature are tolerably clear.
1. Flatulence, the commonest of all causes of pain in the lower left axilla, is also responsible for many complaints below the left ribs. The relief by escape of gas distinguishes many such pains, but we miist remember that in many cases the flatulence itself requires explanation. Gas-formation may be the result, and its discharge the relief, of pain due to:
2. Surgical disease oj the kidney (stone, tuberculosis, neoplasm, local infection, hydronephrosis) occasionally causes pains in the left hypochondrium. More often, however, the pain is in the loin, in the lumbar region, or along the course of the ureter. The presence of a tumor and of urinary disturbances usually makes it clear that the kidney is the source of the pain.
3. Adhesions about a spleen enlarged by leukemia, splenic anemia, malaria, syphilis, or {K)lycythemia often produce pain in the left hypochondrium and above that point, l)ut the o])vious enlargement of the organ ])uts us on the right track unless we neglect {)liysical examination altogether.
over the whole belly.
Some of the other diseases mentioned in Ta1)le \ may cause pain in tlie k'ft hypochondrium as well as in the riglit (c. ,1;.. itneumc^iiia an<l pleurisy, es])ecially in children), Ijut no separate discussio!! of tluMii is needed here.
On the whole, then, it appears to me that most pains in the left hypochondrium have either an obvious origin from one of the easily recognized sources mentioned above under i, 2, 3, and 4, or are to be explained by reasoning identical with that already applied to the right hypochondrium. Some of the possible occasions for doubt are exemplified in the following cases:
A white-lead worker of twenty-one entered the hospital July 16, 1906, with negative family history, past history, and habits, except that he had syphilis four years ago. Five years ago he passed some bloody urine, with clots, and at times nearly pure blood; this lasted for about ten days. He was well after that until two years ago, when he began to have dull, dragging pain wider the left ribs, fairly constant day and night for two weeks, preventing work, but not preventing sleep. At this time he passed some "white stuff" looking like pus in his urine, mostly at the end of micturition. At times the urine is entirely clear, but for the past five months he says it has been clear for only five consecutive days. There has been no blood since four or five years ago. Eight months ago and a year ago he had similar attacks of pain, relieved, as formerly, by the passage of pus.
The present attack came on five months ago; he began to have dragging pain under the left ribs, severe enough to prevent work, but not sleep. At times it doubles him up. At the beginning of this period he thinks he had high fever. He now passes urine every hour. He has lost nearly 20 pounds.
Physical examination of the chest is not remarkable. In the left hypochondrium is an irregular mass, palpable bimanually, hard, and slightly tender. Its position is fixed.
The urine shows pus, at times in large amounts, at times in very small amounts. It is not otherwise remarkable. Five milligrams of tuberculin were injected subcutaneously and caused fever, constitutional symptoms, and increased pain in the tumor.
Discussion. — If we fixed our attention chiefly upon the history of this case, our first impression as to diagnosis would naturally be lead-poisoning. Any abdominal pain in a lead-worker may be lead colic. We knowalso that lead affects the kidney. On the other hand, the physical ex-
animation includes data not thus to be explained, and assures us that lead cannot play more than a subordinate part in the case. The mass, palpable bimanually, and the pus in the urine have nothing to do with lead.
Abdominal pain in patients who give a history of syphilis should lead us to consider tabes with gastric crises. As we look over the case with this idea in mind, we note that there is no record concerning the pupillary reactions, the knee-jerks, or the ankle-jerks. We know that tabes often leads to bladder troubles, and sometimes to a retention of urine. In this way a cystitis and pyuria might have been produced, and thence, by ascending infection, a pyelonephritis. In this way all the facts might be accounted for. Actually, howe\;er, the pupillary and other reactions were normal, and there was nothing to support the hypothesis of tabes.
Local renal disease giving rise to pyuria and tumor, with slight leukocytosis and fever, turns out most often to be due to renal tuberculosis. The positive reaction to tuberculin is not especially significant in an adult, since many adults react to tuberculin whether they are sick or well. ]More significant, however, is the increase of pain and sensitiveness over the tumor immediately following the injection. There seems to be no way of obtaining further insight into the nature of the trouble here present until we have further information in regard to the following points: (a) Can tubercle bacilli be demonstrated in the sediment of the centrifugalized urine? (b) If not, what is the result of injecting this sediment into a rabbit or a guinea-pig? (c) What does rc-ray show in the region of the kidney? Even without these data, however, renal tuberculosis seems the most probable diagnosis.
Outcome. — On July 21st the kidney was opened and a considerable amount of pus evacuated from a trabeculatcd ca\-ity in which were fragments of stone. There was no positive evidence of tuberculosis.
A car])enter of thirty-seven, whose mother died of consumption, had an attack of "brain fever" eighteen years ago, and was in bed ten days. Ten years ago he fell while carrying some hea\'y lumber and l)r()ke four ribs, lie was laid up for twelve weeks, and his left side "has never l>een strong since." He has had l)lee(ling piles for seven years. I lis habits are good.
casionally the pains have been decidedly severe, radiating to the region of the heart and into the back. During these attacks he usually sweats, and at times, but not during the attacks of pain, his heart seems to pound. He has worked irregularly, and although at times he felt faint, he has never actually fainted.
Twelve days ago he awoke in the night with great difficulty in breathing, severe knife-like pain about the heart, radiating to the left arm, cold sweat upon the forehead, and great w^eakness. The attack lasted five minutes. After that he staid in bed for a week with slight, needle-like pains as before, and an annoying general soreness about the heart, in the left arm and in the back. Four days ago he awoke with a severe grasping pain in the region of the left nipple, extending through to the back, but not increased by deep breathing. He staid in bed for the next three days. To-day he got up and felt much better, but still feels heaviness and soreness in the left side.
On physical examination the heart's apex is seen and felt in the fourth interspace, four inches to the left of midsternum. There is no enlargement at the right. The sounds are regular and of good quality. A soft systolic murmur is heard at the apex, transmitted a short distance into the axilla. The artery wall is somewhat thickened above the elbow, but not beaded.
130. Blood and urine normal.
In the left lower back, below and around the lower angle of the scapula, over an area the size of the palm, breath- and voice-sounds are diminished and fremitus is lessened. An area about two inches in diameter in the left midaxillary line, over the sixth and seventh ribs, is tender on pressure. There are scattered areas of tenderness over the ribs below this point.
Discussion. — Flatulence is the commonest cause of pain like that here described, but the pain of flatulence is rarely so severe, and since there are no gastric symptoms to speak of, we cannot account for the patient's complaints in this way.
The signs in the back of the left chest are consistent with a chronic pleural thickening, such as might result from tuberculosis, and the family history of that disease strengthens this possibility. But although it is quite possible that the patient has had tuberculous pleurisy, we cannot account for the paroxysmal painful attacks in this way, especially as they seem to be independent of respiration.
limb. Presumably, we should interpret in some such way the patient's statement that his left side "has never been strong" since he broke his ribs twelve years ago. But it seems very unlikely that the recent paroxysmal attacks are due to his broken ribs. How large a part his old pleurisy may have played in his consciousness of weakness in the left side and in the heaviness and soreness which he still complains of it is difficult to say. The tenderness still complained of certainly cannot be due to pleurisy.
Functional angina pectoris is the natural explanation for severe precordial pain extending to the left arm in a patient whose age and relatively low blood-pressure do not suggest organic disease of the cardiovascular apparatus. This idea is favored by the long duration of his sufferings and by the fact that there is no demonstrable relation to exertion.
In connection with paroxysmal attacks of tliis character, and more especially with precordial and left axillary pain of moderate severity and long duration, the physician must never forget the mental aspect of the case. Pain supposed by the patient to be in the region of the heart is always made up of two elements — (a) The pain itself; and (/;) what he thinks of it. The latter element is all the more imi)ortant when it is largely unconscious. Dr. H. F. Vickery tauglit me years ago that, in dealing with patients who complain of pain in the precordial or left axillary region it is always well, after excluding organic disease by physical examination, to ask the following question:
This cle\er little psychologic device of Dr. Vickery's enables the patient to separate the pain itself Jrom ivhat he thinks of it, and to decide whether or not his fcir of heart disease and its consequences has added to his sufferings. To think of the ])ain in his shin is to think of it freed from the additions and vague dreads sure to be associated w ith j)ain "around the heart." The very vagueness of tliese fears magnifies their organic effects, their tendency to aggra\"ate pain. It is really astounding how ra])idly such a pain will abate wlicn the ])ati(,'nt understands that his heart is entirely sound.
Outcome. — On furtlier (pieslioning it a]>peared th;;t the ])atitnt smokes and chews tol)acco constantly \\luk> at w()rl<. \\Wr ten d^iys in tile hospital, during most of whicli time the ]uttient fi'lt ]ierlretly ^\(,•ll, he said that he wanted to go gunnin;:; aecordinul}" lie \\as achi^-ed to stop the use of tol)acco and discharged.
A laundress of forty-five, with negative family history and past history, entered the hospital March 2, 1904. She passed the menopause six years ago. She has been markedly alcoholic for years. One month ago she began to ha^•e pain in the left hypochondrium, relieved by painting with tincture of iodin. Three weeks ago she had a similar attack, relieved in the same way. Nine days ago she had some pain in the lower abdomen, relieved by a vaginal suppository. Since then she has been in bed for about half the time, owing to nausea and pain in the left hypochondrium. She says she has vomited blood, but her daughter has seen only greenish and dark-brown material. For a week the urine has been reddish. The patient has been pale for about five months.
At entrance the patient was apparently in a uremic condition. The chest showed nothing abnormal. All the superficial lymph-glands were considerably enlarged. Only a few ounces of urine could be drawn from the bladder, and this nearly clear blood, some pus, no casts. Blood-pressure, 215. The patient was semicomatose, with coarse tremor of the hands. She died on the fourth of ]\larch.
Discussion. — Peptic ulcer is naturally our first thought, but on further study of the case there seems to be little to support it. The condition of the abdomen and the high blood-pressure cannot possibly be thus explained.
Cirrhosis of the liver, with associated splenic enlargement, might explain the abdominal symptoms. The vomiting of blood would then be the result of passive congestion of the stomach. The alcoholic history makes this explanation plausible, but on careful palpation we do not get the impression that the abdominal masses shown in the diagram represent enlargement of the liver and spleen. There is no sharp edge on either side, and the respiratory mobility is slight.
The general enlargement of the superficial lymph-glands might be due to syphilis. Enlargement of the spleen and liver is also frequently the result of this disease, and the pain of which the patient complains might be due to local peritonitis (perihepatitis and perisplenitis). The gastric hemorrhage might be explained under this hypothesis as a result of splenic fibrosis, the circulatory mechanism being the same as in splenic anemia. Against this, howe^'er, may be urged the same considerations which incline us to rule out cirrhosis: the abdominal masses do not suggest spleen and liver.
tion we may exclude leukemia, although this disease would account for the glandular enlargement, and (through a cerebral hemorrhage) might explain the high blood-pressure and the semicomatose condition.
Tuberculous peritonitis as part of a general tuberculosis might j)roduce nearly all the symptoms of the case. This disease produces masses more or less vaguely felt in the abdomen, is often associated with abdominal pain, and, if we suppose an accompanying tuberculous meningitis with internal hydrocephalus, would explain the high blood-pressure and the psychic strte. We should expect, however, some cranial nerve paralysis. some fever, and some signs in the lungs, even if only those of diffuse bronchitis; also some indication of a focus whence the disease, previously local, may have spread. Free fluid would probably be demonstrable in the abdomen.
It is not definitely stated in the text that the abdominal masses were palpable bimanually, or that a connection with the kidney was thus suggested. Whenever we have reason to believe that some renal lesion exists, and whenever this lesion — although apparently of a gross, "surgical" nature— is associated with high blood-pressure, we should remember the possibility of cystic kidney. It is rare to find any other nonnephritic lesion of the kidney associated with hypertension. Cystic kidney is generally a bilateral, congenital condition. Why, then, should these symptoms have appeared only within a month? Why should the disease have remained so strikingly latent? In answer, I can only say that this is the usual course of the disease, which encroaches upon the renal substance so slowly and so gradually that the system becomes accustomed to il, as to any other form of chronic interstitial nephritis, which is practically equivalent to the condition here described. Just what determines the final breakdown we usually cannot discover.
Outcome. — Autopsy showed congenital cystic kidneys; there was almost no kidney substance remaining. There was hemorrhage into several of the cysts and pus in the peh'is of the left kidney.
A housewife of thirty-nine lost one sister of ])hthisis thirteen years ago. Family history otherwise good. In her seventeenth and in her twentyfifth year she was in poor condition and was told that sl^c had anemia. Five years ago she had her first attack of fever, with ])ain in the left low er abdomen. Since then she has had more or less jX'ivic trouble. es])ecially after standing or after working hard. About Christmas-time. 1006. she had frequent attacks of ])ain in the h'ft upper ahdomiii; the pain doubled
her up, and was ascribed to gas in the stomach. During the winter the pain grew less, but the abdomen seemed to be enlarged. In March, 1907, she noticed in the left upper abdomen a visible prominence, which has steadily increased up to the present time. By May she had to let out her clothes three inches, and thought she could feel a lump in the left side.
Now (June, 1907) there is a dragging pain after standing, and a feeling of pressure when she lies on her left side. Since early spring she has had frequent attacks of palpitation, associated with pulsation in the neck, roaring in the ears, and slight dyspnea. Once during the summer she saw red spots in front of her eyes, but she has noticed no bleeding from any point. Her gums have several times been swollen. Three weeks ago, while urinating, she heard a sound in the chamber-pot, and looking in saw that the urine was very red and contained several hard, darkbrown masses about the size of a large pin's head. She felt no pain and noticed no stoppage of water.
Physical examination was negative except as regards the left hypochondriac region, where she felt an enlargement (as figured in the diagram, Fig. 39). The mass is only slightly tender, and moves freely with respiration; it is very firm.
Discussion. — -When a patient tells us that his stomach is so sore that he can't bear the weight of his clothes on it and that it is "all puffed up," examination generally shows nothing in particular, no actual distention or prominence. Such symptoms usually occur in the neurotic, and represent the referred pain described so admirably by Henry Head. In the present case, however, physical examination shows that the patient is perfectly correct in supposing that the abdomen has enlarged. Indeed, the results of abdominal palpation make it unnecessary to consider any organs except the spleen and the kidney.
following reasons:
(a) It has a sharp, hard edge, superficial and easily felt. Tumors of the kidney usually have no distinct edge, but shelve off into the depths of the abdomen. They are rarely as hard and superficial as those connected with the spleen.
pability is especially common in renal tumors.
{d) We are not told whether or not the air-distended colon overlies the tumor, but in view of its superficiality this seems very unlikely. Tumors overlain by the air-distended colon usually originate in the kidney or retroperitoneal glands.
All the signs, therefore, in this case lead us to believe that the tumor is due to the spleen. Assuming, then, that this is the case, we have to consider the following possibilities:
The spleen may remain enlarged long after the malaria has died out, a fact very frequently illustrated in Armenian patients. In such cases, however, the patient presents no symptoms.
(c) Syphilis (anemia, hepatic enlargement, and ascites often accompany the splenic enlargement) ; the history, the evidence of syphilis elsewhere, the result of treatment and of W^assermann's test, must decide.
{(I) Splenic anemia (diagnosis based upon the presence of a chronic anemia, secondary in type, often associated with gastric hemorrhages. All other causes for splenic enlargement must be excluded).
(c) Cirrhosis oj the liver and Banli '5 disease. In cirrhosis we have a hepatogenous splenic enlargement; in Banti's disease, a splcnogenous hepatic cirrhosis. The end-result is the same. Without evidence of cirrhosis, which is absent here, neither diagnosis can be made.
(/) S[)lenic enlargement of unknown cause is a rare but ^^•cll-recogni/x'd clinical entity. It produces no symptoms other than those dependent upon the weight and dragging of the enlarged organ. The diagnosis rests, of course, upon the exclusion of all known causes, such as have ])een listed above. Abscess, neoplasm, and echinococcus of the spleen are so rare that, for practical purposes, they may l)e disretiardcd. The s]>lcnic enlargements accompanying acute infectious disease never reach any degree comparable to that shown in the accc^nipanying diagram (Fig. 39).
Blood examination sho\\ed 277,000 white cells; 4,800,000 red cells; 75 per cent. hemoglol)in. Among the white cells were 35 per cent, of myelocytes; 4 per cent, of eosino])hiles; 2 per cent, of mast cells; 52 per cent, of polynuclear cells.
A girl of six years, whose mother" died of quick consumption, entered the hospital September 2, 1907. She drinks three cups of tea a day and eats considerable candy. She was recently operated on for congenital cataract at the Eye and Ear Infirmary. For nine days she has been suffering from weakness, with tenderness and pain in the left upper quadrant of the abdomen. September ist the white cells were 19,000. The temperature was 103° F. The Widal reaction was negative. There were no parasites in the blood. The urine showed a moderate amount of pus, but nothing else remarkable.
photophobia and seems apathetic.
Examination of the abdomen is negative except that in the left upper quadrant there are considerable tenderness and slight spasm extending through the left flank into the back. There is also dulness from the seventh rib (anterior axillary line) to the costal margin. The patient is tender in the costovertebral angle. Culture from the urine shows a strain of colon bacillus, and a hea\y pus sediment which lasted throughout her stay in the hospital. A^-ray of both kidneys was normal. The temperature was as shown in the accompanying chart (Fig. 40).
Discussion. — Surgical disease of the kidney is rare at this age. Renal tuberculosis and renal stone, which might account for such pain, are especially rare in small children.
The dulness in the axilla, the pain, fever, and tenderness, might be accounted for by pleurisy. The text does not state whether or not these signs were supported by auscultatory evidences of disease. We should seek for diminution in the respiratory murmur, with decreased transmission of voice-sounds and of tactile fremitus. Friction-sounds might also be heard. As a matter of fact, however, neither of these confirmatory signs was present, nor was there any evidence of pneumonia. I mention pneumonia and pleurisy especially l^ecause in children they are frequently ushered in by abdominal pain without any reference to the chest.
The most notable feature in the physical examination is the presence of pus in the urine. Not many years ago this might have been passed over with very little attention, but since so much has been Siiid and written of acute infection of the kidney, either hematogenous or ascending, the urinary sediments are more carefully scrutinized. We are especially on the alert in young girls who, from babyhood up, are particularly apt to acquire renal infection, presumably of the ascending type. The presence of the colon bacillus in pure culture in urine obtained under aseptic precautions, such as were obscr^•ed in this case, lends support to the hypothesis of renal infection. In \\cw of the negative results of .v-ray, renal infection may ])c accepted as a working diagnosis. (For a discussion of clinical ty])es of renal infection see Lumbar Pain, p. 99.)
Outcome.- — By the thirteenth of Octol^er the patient was well. The treatment consisted of counterirritants, laxati\es, urotropin, 3 grains, three times a day, and abundant water.
A wool-spinner of fortv entered the hos])ital March 3, 1908. He had been in the hospital four years before for ''gastric indigestion." One sister died of cancer of the stomach at thirty-fne. He takes four to six cu])s of tea a day. His habits are otlicrwise good.
Since the fall of 1900 he has had intermittent pain iu the left In'fochondrium, worse on deep breathing, associated with beicliing, considerable nausea and vomiting, loss of a])]H'tite, and consti]xition. '1 he vomitus consisted at first of sour li(|uid. later of yellow or greenisli, bitter liquid containing no pus, blood, or mucus. Taking food sonu'tiiues
makes the pain better, sometimes worse. He has often taken morphin to relieve the pain. For the past two weeks he has had the pain almost constantly. He has done no work. His best weight is 125 pounds. Now he weighs 117.
The patient is pale and sallow, with pigmentation about the eyes. His pupils are small, equal, and react very slowly, either to light or distance. The tonsils are somewhat enlarged. The chest shows nothing abnormal, nor docs the abdomen. The knee-jerks are very lively. Water-distention of the stomach with a tube showed that the organ held 28 ounces. On inflation, the lower border reached about one inch below the navel. After a test-meal free hydrochloric acid was 0.32 per cent. Lactic-acid and the guaiac tests were negative. No fasting contents were obtained.
Discussion. — -We have here a long period of suffering from chronic dyspepsia, which has led, as it so frequently does, to the taking of morphin. It is well to remember this fact, since abdominal pain that leads to a call for morphin is often associated in our minds with the diagnosis of gall-stones.
Further analysis shows us that the motor power of the stomach is good and its outlet free. There has been no vomiting of food, but only of liquid which may be interpreted as gastric secretion. Tube examination shows no stasis. Since most gastric cancer produces pyloric stenosis and stasis, the absence of stasis in this case, especially in \iew of the long duration of the symptoms (1900-1908), makes cancer unlikely.
Of leukemia, pleurisy, and the other extragastric causes for left hypochondriac pain, physical examination shows no evidence. Cancer of the splenic flexure might produce most of the symptoms here present, but there is no palpable tumor nor visible peristalsis, no diarrhea, and no blood in the feces. The constipation here described might be due to many causes.
The high percentage of hydrochloric acid in the gastric contents is in itself a partial diagnosis, and might account for many of the symptoms. Our chief remaining proljlem is to determine whether anything more serious than liyperclilorh}'dria is present. ]\Iany — probably most — cases in which hyperchlorhydria is associated with symptoms so long continued and so se\'ere turn out sooner or later to he peptic ulcer. Xo further exactness of diagnosis is possible without operation. Tlie absence of the reaction to guaiac, both in the stomach-contents and in the feces, by no means excludes ulcer.
diet, and drugs; if these fail to make the patient reasonably comfortable, advise operation. It does not seem evident, from the data here presented, that any persistent attempt has been made to control the symptoms by non-operative measures. Such measures should, therefore, be tried first. I have had excellent success with a modification of Lenhartz's diet, suggested by Dr. H. F. Hewes, which consists essentially of the following regimen:
hours.
If the patient is uncomfortable despite this diet, he should take cooking-soda in doses sufficient to relieve him. What this dose is can be ascertained only by experiment. It may be anywhere between 10 grains and 2 drams.
Outcome. — On a subsequent examination free hydrochloric acid after a test-meal was o.ii per cent. The patient complained of "cold sweats" at night, but under careful diet, small doses of calomel and seidlitz, olive oil, two teasi)oonfuls after meals, and an occasional lavage, he seemed practically well by the eleventh of March. Rest and freedom from worry seemed to ha\e much to do with his reco\"ery, which b}- the nineteenth was complete.
A teamster of forty-four entered the hos])ital A])ril 4, 1908. He has always ])een well until four years ago, wlien he was working on tlie great Clinton dam; a l)low in the left side l)y a heavy ])ile laid him up for six weeks, during wliich he suffered from ])ain in tlie left side and had bloody urine. Since that time !ie has never l)een entirely free from pain in this region, and after an^• unusual exertion he has jiasscd Mood}- urine. Last fall he ha.d to giw up work 1)ccause of tlie se\tTity of tlic piiin. Three weeks ago he had a S[>eciiilly sliari) pa'ni in the l<f/ hv/xh lioin.'nun'. just below the ribs, the p;',in tra\'elin;: down the left leu. oc(;i>i<'n;illy to the left testis, and up t(n\ard the heart. Since then he has had three
or four attacks, lasting from five to twenty-four hours, all of the same character. When the pain is severe he vomits, and is relieved to a certain extent thereby. There is tenderness under the ribs in the left hypochondrium during and after his attacks. He has been in bed most of the last three weeks, but has passed no bloody urine. His weight, eighteen months ago, was 197 pounds; now it is 167.
Physical examination shows nothing wrong in the chest. The arteries are easily palpable. The aortic second sound is louder than the pulmonic. Blood-pressure, 140. In the left lumbar region there is slight voluntary spasm and tenderness, increased by ins[)iration.
cells. No casts.
Discussion. — Can we connect the symptoms with the injury sustained four years previously? The patient had hematuria immediately after this, and he has had it more or less ever since. Can we conceive any type of trauma which would produce an effect so lasting? I do not see that we can. The trauma, I think, must be regarded as having no important connection with his present disease.
In the absence of all bladder symptoms, causes of hematuria arising there deserve no further consideration. The clinical picture is one of renal colic associated with hematuria and a loss of 30 pounds in weight. Malignant disease of the kidney would produce these three symptoms, but would hardly have lasted so long. Either it would have killed the patient or it would have produced a palpable tumor. The hemorrhages from renal tumor are apt to be longer continued and of larger amount, leading to decided anemia.
produced tumor and pyuria. It may be easily excluded.
Chronic nephritis, either of the glomerular or the interstitial type, may be complicated by sudden attacks of hemorrhage unassociated with any special increase in the other urinary manifestations of disease (casts, cells, deficient solids). Such hemorrhages may be painless, or may lead to colic, owing to the formation of clots and the difficulty of their expulsion into the bladder. The ])resent case, however, shows no signs of nephritis.
We have left the two commonest and most puzzling occasions for hematuria: (a) stone and (b) unknown cause. The latter is, I believe, one of the most frequent of all the ty])es of hematuria. Between this and stone our chief means of distinction is the .v-rav examination.
Outcome. — X-ray taken April 8th showed a small round shadow in the region of the left kidney. Cystoscopy helped to confirm the diagnosis of stone. The stone was subsequently found at operation.
A clerk of thirty-five entered the hospital October 21, 1907. He was operated on for appendicitis four years ago. He had left-sided pleurisy at the same time. He says he has always been pale. Eight weeks ago he began to have a sore, uneasy feeling, first in the left lower quadrant, later in the left hypochondrium, left hip, and over the left kidney in the back. He has also had numbness in the leg, extending from groin to knee. Three and a half weeks ago he first noticed a lump in the left upper quadrant, and began at the same time to have a very obstinate constipation — the bowels moving scantily by enema only. No blood seen in the stools.
Examination showed pallor of the mucous membranes and negative chest, while in the left upper quadrant there were marked resistance and tenderness. There is also considerable tenderness over the anterior muscles of the left thigh. Four days later palpation of the left flank had become easier, and a mass filling the whole flank from back to front, immobile and slightly tender, was easily felt. Blood-]:)ressure normal. The inflated colon lay in front of the mass. Urine: 40 ounces in twenty-four hours; normal color; 1020; no albumin; sediment negative. (See Fig. 41.) Physical examination otherwise negative.
Discussion. — Is it possible that this patient's pleurisy of four years ago is in any way connected with his present symptoms? It is a familiar fact that after any [)leurisy most patients ha\'e a certain amount of pain in one or another part of the atTccted side of the chest, a pain that lasts on, oftentimes, for months and c^■cn years. But in such cases we expect to find some residual signs of the old pleurisy, and there seems to be nothing of the kind here. It is obvious, moreover, that pleurisy could not explain more than a small fraction of the facts in this case.
Leukemia would explain the lump and the pallor. I^\cn in ad\ance of blood examination, ho\\e\er, leukemia is ])raclically excluded by the fact that the colon passes in front of the tumor. The l)lood examination was also ncgati\'e.
Cancer of the S{)lenic flexure of the colon would ]>ro(luce a mass in Just this situation, and might account for all the juiins hert- (kscrihcd. We should ex])ect, howe\"er, if sucli a cancer existrd. to get s(niu- of the ordinarv evidences of intestinal obstruction, such as \isil)le pt-ri-
stalsis, intestinal noise, gross or occult blood in the stools, diarrhea, or constipation. None of these symptoms was present except the constipation, which may well have been due to other causes.
The tumor is in the position usually occupied by growths arising from the kidney. Tuberculosis, cyst, and neoplasm may be considered. Against tuberculosis is the fact that we have no fever and no pyuria. The amount of pain and the extent of its radiations exceed what we usually find in renal tuberculosis. The latter remark applies also to renal cysts, which often attain a much larger size than the mass here present without producing any pain at all. Most chronic renal cysts also produce an elevation of blood-pressure, which did not exist here. New-growths of the kidney might explain all the symptoms that are here present, but in most cases would also cause hematuria. The nodular surface of the growth, if the observation be correct, would identify it almost certainly with a neoplasm. In some cases, however, the irregularities of a cystic kidney or of a tuberculous kidney feel very much like the nodules of malignant disease.
A single woman, thirty-three years old, was first seen June 28, 1 901. Family history, personal history, and habits excellent. Eight years ago she weighed 122 pounds; now, 104.
For two years she has had almost daily attacks of severe general bellyache with rumblings; the pain is worse in the left hypochondrium, lasting one to twelve hours, doubling her up, making her cry aloud, and radiating to the left shoulder. The pain has no clear relation to food. When the pain occurs, she usually vomits, and is promptly relieved thereby, but in the last seven months she has vomited only twice. Vomitus consists, as a rule, of food eaten recently, but on se\'eral occasions it has contained food eaten two days before and exceeding the amount of the last meal.
She has distress and acid eructations one-half to one hour after meals. Diarrhea often comes with the attacks of pain (3 or 4 movements). ]Mucus, but no blood, has been seen in the feces.
normal.
Discussion. — The complaint of long-standing gastric pain and the evidences of gastric stasis make it reasonable to consider brieOy the possibility of hyperchlorhydria or of a constricting ulcer near the pylorus. jMost of the patient's complaints might be thus accounted for. Two facts, however, militate against this diagnosis: (a) Peristalsis is visible below the navel. In a well-nourished patient this has considerable diagnostic value, and points to the intestines rather than to the stomach as the source of trouble, (b) Very loud intestinal noise is a feature of the case. This, like the peristalsis, directs our attention away from the stomach.
The record of the physical examination is printed here as it was given me by the attending j)hysician. In it we lack the data necessary to exclude lead-poisoning and taljcs, either of which might account for part, if not for the whole, of the symptoms. ]\Iy own examination disclosed no lead dotting of the gums, no basophilic stij^pling of the red cells, no abnormalities of the ocular or tendon rellexes. The age and symptoms are consistent with gastric neurosis were it not that visiljle peristalsis is revealed Ijy examination.
V/ith the exclusion of the possibilities mentioned above, chronic intestinal obstruction is left as the most ]jlausible diagnosis. But what is its cause? In any ])atient \\ho has had no kno\\n cause for the formation of adhesions witb.in the peritoneal ca\"ity ui})pendicitis, ])yosal]>inx, or gall-bladder disease, with or without operation), cancer is the commonest cause for chronic intestinal obstruction. The age of this ])atient does not ena])le us to exclude this disease. ^lore im])ortant e\idence against cancer is the duration of tlie sym])toms. Chancer of tlie gut often lasts two years or more, l)ut in such cases it usually ])r(Kluces a ])alj)able tumor. \n tlie absence of any such tumor our best dir.iinosis is: chronic intestinal obstruction of unknown origin; the most signillcant sympton^.s being the \isible peristalsis and the loud intestinal noise.
Outcome. — Operation, July i7tli, showed sirictures i to (> inches long in the small gut. The gut was thickened and, in the contracted ])ortions of it, tubercles could be seen.
A (JiRL, fifteen years old, was first seen July 21, 1898; six months ago she began to get run down. Pallor, dyspnea, anemia, and weakness brought her to the out-patient department, where, March 26th, the hemoglobin was found to be 55 per cent. Patient had moderate general abdominal pain throughout her illness, but did not complain loudly of it until June 21st, when it began to be localized chiefly in the right iliac region. It is more soreness than pain, she says. Jolting in a wagon or rising from a chair aggravates it. She limps in walking lately. Otherwise feels well. No fever (two weeks' observation). Bowels regular. Last menstrual period ten days ago.
Examination. — Negative save for a large hard "cake" filling most of the right iliac region nearly to Poupart's ligament. On the lower side of the mass is a tender prominence diagonally placed. Leukocytes, 7400; hemoglobin, 95 per cent. Urine negative. Vaginal examination negative.
Discussion. — The essential point in this case is the presence in the right iliac region of a large mass, associated with anemia and preceded in its development by a considerable period of general constitutional symptoms, such as weakness and dyspnea. All this in a girl of fifteen can hardly be due to the cause which ordinarily produces such symptoms in the latter half of life — namely, malignant disease.
For appendicitis or pyosalpinx the onset seems rather too gradual, the preceding constitutional symptoms too marked, the fever and leukocyte count too low. What was known as to the girl's circumstances seemed to render gonorrheal infection very unlikely.
Ovarian tumors, especially those of the dermoid type, may occur in girls of this age, but rarely produce so much constitutional disturbance, and are not apt to be described as a "cake," being, as a rule, elastic and globular. The catamenia have been regular, the last period occurring so recently that extrauterine pregnancy seems impossible.
i\ny of the causes of s^eneralizetl abdominal pain (<'. ,C.- tuberculous {)eritonitis) ma}- produce ripj^ht iliac pain. Conversel}', the local causes above mentioned may in exceptional cases lead to <^'-cnerali/.ed jxiins.
RIGHT ILIAC PAIN 26 1
onset and moderate degree of abdominal soreness, the large size of the mass. Against this diagnosis is the absence of fever and of any considerable disturbance of the bowels. One expects constipation, with or without intervals of diarrhea. The diagnosis then lies between ovarian cyst and pericecal tuberculosis, inclining rather toward the latter.
The two following cases do not seem to me to admit of any accurate differential diagnosis previous to operation. They are introduced here to suggest the variety of clinical pictures which pericecal tuberculosis may present.
A little girl of six was first seen September 19, 1905. She had whooping-cough January, 1905. Since then she has made frequent complaints of pain in the right iliac fossa, worse after meals, and has vomited almost every day. For five months she has had tenderness in the painful region. No other complaint.
nosis confirmed by microscope.
A year later (November 28, 1906) was in "s])lendid general condition. Api)etitc, bowels, and sleep satisfactory. Some thickening in cecal region." "Several abscesses have broken through," and in October she entered the Children's Hos|)ital and was very sick for twelve days.
Pain occasionally wakes her at niglit (S])asmodic pain witli rumbling), but she soon drops aslee]). She sometimes \omits witli jus in — once daily on an a\'erage. \\'cts bed once or twice a week. Is listless and disinclined to exertion. No dyspnea. \\'eiglit, 31 jxuinds. Slight resistance in a])pendix region. No spasm; no tenderness.
Pulse, 90.
Operation March 21st: Some free fluid. A nodular mass in the ileocecal region. Similar smaller masses could be felt in the mesentery and along the cecum. Cecum adherent.
Consulted October 23, 1902, by a married woman of thirty-one Viho has had left tube and ovary removed at Boston City Hospital in 1897. For eighteen months she has been more or less constantly in pain, referred to the right lower quadrant. For the past six weeks it has been severe. No fever or chills. Last menses in July, and again three weeks before entrance, when she flowed for five days, using fi\'e napkins a day. Many clots came away, one the size of a hen's egg.
The diagnosis of the attending physician is extrauterine pregnancy.
Examination. — Tenderness over the uterus and in appendix region. Movable pelvic mass on the right, thought to be closely attached to the uterus, which does not seem enlarged.
Discussion. — -The essentials in this case are right iliac pain of eighteen months' duration and amenorrhea of three months. The latter fact strongly inclines us to believe that the genital tract is involved, and tends to exclude a simple appendicitis. Amenorrhea is consistent with any of the following possibilities: Normal pregnancy, extrauterine pregnancy, pyosalpinx, ovarian cyst,^ fibroid tum.or, peritubal tuberculosis. It is, however, less frequent in ovarian cysts and in pyosalpinx, and very much less frequent when fibroid tumors are present than in either form of pregnancy. The flow which is said
^ I shall make no attempt in this or in subsequent cases to distinguish between ovarian and parovarian cysts, nor Ix'tween either of these and a cyst of the broad lig-rnent or a hydrrsalpinx. I do not believe that these can often be distinguished by physical examination alone.
to have occurred three weeks before entrance, came at a time not corresponding to the menstrual period. In many ways it sounds like a miscarriage, but one must be on one's guard when patients give a history such as this, for not infrequently stories of pure fabrication are designed to induce the physician to curet the uterus and thereby to bring about a miscarriage.
Very possibly the diagnosis might have been made clearer had a uterine sound been introduced, but in view of the possibility of pregnancy this was obviously improper. On the whole, the diagnosis seems to me to be impossible, and the case is introduced merely as an example of the present limitations of our diagnostic skill.
Outcome. — Operation for ovarian cyst revealed normal pregnant uterus (three months) strongly right latero-vertcd. Subsequently tried to miscarry at six months but failed, and child v.'as born at term (Boston Lying-in Hospital).
suffered a miscarriage three years ago.
For three months has had periodic attacks of pain in the right lower abdomen which make her feel ''sick all over." These came at first every four weeks, now every two weeks. Vomiting, constipation, distention, relieved by enemata. Catamenia normal.
Last attack began ten days ago, and pain has persisted since. It shoots into right hip and flank. When she reaches out for anything she has a sense of tension in the right lower belly.
Exammation. — Hard, smooth tumor in right iliac region, fairly tender, about size of a large orange. No fluctuation. \'aginal examination cannot determine whether or not tumor is connected with uterus. No fever. Leukocytes normal.
Discussion. — We rightly consider ay)pendicitis in e\ery patient who complains of right iliac j)ain, but in the present case this possibility may be promptly dismissed. An appendix abscess rarely if exer lasts so long or attains such a size as this without {)roducing more constitutional and local disturbance.
Tubal abscess would probably ])roduce more tenderness, and rarely attains this size. The woman's age is not typical for tubal disease, though tiiis, in itself, is not a point of great importance.
ously connected with the uterus. They are rarely smooth. Unless they lead to profuse flowing, they usually cause no symptoms of any importance until a considerably greater size has been reached.
Except for its extreme hardness and the absence of mobility, the tumor is fairly typical of ovarian cyst. Cysts of this size rarely produce marked symptoms unless the pedicle becomes twisted, with resulting necrosis, hemorrhage, or local peritonitis. Any of these conditions may be here present.
Outcome. — Operation showed a cyst the size of a child's head. Its pedicle was twisted. The patient was discharged in three weeks. A year later she was heard from and had remained entirely well since her operation.
An Italian laborer of twenty-four entered the hospital August 22, 1908, complaining of right iliac pain which has been severe only for ten days, but had troubled him off and on since March. He has had no constipation, vomiting, jaundice, or headache.
Worked until four days ago. Family and previous history good.
Examination. — Scars in the neck near the angle of the jaw. Tenderness throughout the belly on deep pressure, most marked in the right iliac region. Physical examination, including the blood and urine, temperature, pulse, and respiration, showed nothing else that was abnormal.
Discussion. — This case was operated upon as one of acute appendicitis. Against this diagnosis, however, were urged the following considerations, to which, as I think, insufficient attention was paid. The patient's pain was never sharp and never well localized. The same was true of his tenderness. He ne\'er suffered from constipation, ^■omiting, or fe\'er; his blood showed no leukocytosis. In view of these facts it seems to me that all the other possibilities should have been considered.
His symptoms have been of long standing and ha^■e increased little in se\'erity. The long history of the case, the scars in the neck, and the fact that the patient is a recently arrived Italian immigrant, make abdominal tuberculosis a genuine possi])ility. Many cases of al)dominal tu]:)erculosis produce no more symptoms than arc here described, although the absence of fever is somewhat surprising.
Gall-stone pain is sometimes referred to the right iliac region, but no diagnosis of gall-stone disease is possible upon the evidence here presented. There seems no good reason to suspect any part of the gastrointestinal tract.
Young Italian laborers rarely suffer from functional neuroses. I have once known a case somewhat similar to this in which the patient turned out to be a malingerer, but he had obvious reasons for his lies, while this patient has none. On the whole, I think that, had tuberculosis been seriously considered by the surgeon who performed the operation, the diagnosis of appendicitis would never have been made.
Outcome. — Operation revealed a normal appendix. Many glands of the size of marbles were felt in the mesentery and along the spinal column. Two of them seemed a little soft on one side. The patient made a rapid and permanent recovery.
The outcome of this case seems to me to prove that the glands were tuberculous. The patient's recovery proves that they were not malignant, and there is nothing to make us suspect typhoid. What should have been the treatment had the diagnosis been known before operation? Clearly, I think, it should have been purely a hygienic and dietetic one, similar to that applied in pulmonary tuberculosis.
A young married woman complains that since her second child was bom, four months ago, she has had intermittent right iliac pain in spells of one to two weeks. It is worse on standing or (exertion.
Examination. — Slight enlargement of the thyroid. Flat, globular, smooth mass, the size of a grape-fruit, is felt in right iliac region. Jt can be mo^•ed to the other side of pelvis. Distinct fluctuation waxe o\"er it. No connection with uterus can be made out.
Next day (September 15th), at 4 p. m., sudden right iliac agony with vomiting. It lasted until 12 P. M. Then she slept (no drug). Free fluid was demonstrated in the peritoneal ca\"ity.
Discussion. — This is a ty])ical case, quite easy of diagnosis. The smooth, globular, painful mass in the right iliac region, the free mobility of the tumor, the sudden advent of agonizing ])ain. and tbc cxidcuccs of free fluid in tlic perit(>neal ca^■ity make up the ty]>ical ])icturc of (>\arian cyst with twisted ])edicle. In n:;iny, perliaps most, cases. lioweMT, we
cannot be so sure either of the cyst or of the twist because we have had no opportunity to question and examine the patient previous to the advent of any acute symptoms. Very large, centrally placed cysts are recognizable in case they project sharply forward, leaving the flanks comparatively free from bulging and still resonant on percussion. The diagnosis is much aided if the patient has been able to notice that the tumor originated at one side of the abdomen and only assumed its central position at a later date. But the majority of patients remember nothing of the kind and pay no special attention to their condition until it gradually dawns upon them that the enlargement cannot be due either to fat or to the so-called "high stomach." Under these conditions it may be difficult or im])ossible to distinguish the disease from tuberculous peritonitis. The other and commoner causes of ascites (cirrhosis, cardiac or renal disease, cancerous peritonitis) are more easily recognized.
In another group of cases the cyst is smaller and bears no great resemblance to an ascitic accumulation, but is of such a board-like hardness that we can scarcely imagine its contents to be fluid. A careful examination under ether and the introduction of a uterine sound will usually determine the point.
As a rule, it is useless to attempt any distinction of the different varieties of ovarian tumor. Occasionally the smaller and more solid tumors (ovarian fibroid, cancer, or sarcoma) may be recognized by their consistency, and especially by their association with ascites, which is much commoner with solid than with cystic tumors.
The occurrence of a twist in the pedicle of an ovarian tumor is often recognized without difficulty, pro\ided we have seen and studied the case before the twist occurred. If we know that an ovarian tumor is present, the occurrence of any kind of acute abdominal symptom is strongly suggestive of a twist. But if we see the patient for the first time after the acute symptoms have appeared, it may be quite impossible to make out anything which enables us to distinguish the condition from perforative peritonitis or intestinal obstruction. The abdomen may be so tender and its muscles so spastic that nothing definite is distinguished on physical examination, while the pain, vomiting, constipation, and general prostration are quite equivocal.
brought her to her physician.
Examination. — Temperature, 102° F.; pulse, 105; respiration, 25. Slight rigidity and considerable tenderness in right iliac region. Leukocytes, 14,000. Operation: Normal appendix. Ruptured ovarian cyst one inch in diameter, whence oozed gelatinous material.
Discussion. — ]Much that was said in the discussion of the last case applies equally to this one. With no accurate knowledge of her condition pre\ious to the present attack, appendicitis was the most natural and reasonable diagnosis. Such mistakes cannot be avoided. It is on this account that I have not discussed ruptured ovarian cyst in detail among the possibilities to be considered in difTcrential diagnosis, as I ha\e intended to deal chiefly with the recognizable and verifiable possibilities.
A married woman of forty-seven was seen January 25, 1908. Eight months ago, on getting out of bed, she felt sudden sharp right iHac pain, which ceased in one hour on lying down. Many attacks since — lately, three or more every week.
Two months ago noticed a lump in right side of belly. Thought she was getting fatter there; lump seemed larger during the attacks of pain. Thinks she has lost weight in the rest of her Ijody.
Examination. — Thin, worn face. Belly prominent, es]:)ecially to the right of the median line below the navel. Dull here, tym])any elsewhere. A large, slightly compressible mass, extending from the pelvis to a hand's breadth above the navel. Not tender; freely movable. \'aginal examination adds nothing.
Well in two weeks.
Discussion. — This case is introduced to exemplify the occurrence of attacks of pain in connection with an ovarian cyst easily recognizable as such. These attacks, howe\'er, were demonstraljly not due to a twisting of the ])edicle. Tlieir cause is not explained.
A man of forty-eight has had for two days pain in right side of belly, extending to the back, tending to shoot upward, and increased by motion. Dull ache with exacerbations. No other symptoms.
Discussion. — Although this case was diagnosed and operated upon as appendicitis, there are several points distinctly against that diagnosis. In the first place, it is important that the pain — and especially the tenderness— centered rather in the loin and over the ureter than at McBurney's point. The absence of muscular spasm is also distinctly against appendicitis. Dull aching pain w^ith exacerbations occurs in appendicular colic, but also in colic of other origin (intestinal, biliary, renal, uterine).
A factory girl of twenty-four entered the hospital June 21, 1906. She had pleurisy eighteen months ago. One month ago, without known cause, her abdomen began to be sore and tender on pressure, especially in the lower portion and on the right side. There has been no actual ]jain, but she has been too weak to work, and has been part of the time in bed. The menses have been regular and normal.
Physical examination showed normal temperature, pulse, and respiration, nothing abnormal in the chest, general rigidity of the abdomen, especially in the right lower quadrant, where there are marked tenderness and an oval mass, the size of half a lemon, raised above the surface.
Discussion.— The presence of a raised mass in the region of the appendix narrows the field of possibilities considerably. The most important differential point in the case seems to me to l)e the gradual onset of the symptoms and signs, without anything that the girl will call pain. Appendicitis and pyosalpinx may have a gradual onset, l)ut almost never does this occur without marked jjain. If these two possibilities
are for the moment put on one side, we have left ovarian cyst, cancer, and tuberculosis of the cecal region and extrauterine pregnancy. If we believe the girl's story, the latter is excluded by the regularity of menstruation and the absence of pain. Cancer is very rare at her age, and should produce symptoms more distinctly referable to the intestine. 0\'arian cyst cannot be excluded, but there are two points which incline us to the only remaining alternative, tuberculosis. These points are: (a) the occurrence of a pleurisy (/. e., of a tuberculosis) eighteen months previously; and (b) the wide distribution of tenderness and rigidity over the aljdomen. Ovarian cysts generally cause \ery little either of tenderness or of muscular spasm, except in the presence of other acute symptoms, such as are absent here.
A married woman of thirty-nine entered the hospital July 29, 1908. Her father died of consumption; one of her sisters is partially paralyzed. The patient was a seven-months' baby, and was said to ha\e weighed only a pound at birth(? ;. She has had measles four times, and many attacks of grip. A year ago she had an attack similar to the ])resent one. She formerly took alcohol in considerable (|uantities "to gi\"e her strength," and for six montlis she has not felt well and has had darting pains in various parts of the abdomen, especially in the right iliac region, also in the back, knees, and other joints. Three days ago she ])egan to have frecjuent loose, slimy mo\ements, with much j)ain in tlie riglit iliac region. The ])ains in the joints and l)ack have also been increased.
Physical examination shows a slight systolic thrill at the a])ex of the heart, with a systoHc murmur, which, liowever, is loudei in the ])i'Im()nary area, and not heard in the axilla. There is no enlargement; sHglU gciUTal abdominal tenderness, more marked in the right iH;;c region; blood, urine, pulse, tem])erature, and res])iration are normal. Tlie stools sh()\\ a few food elements and large amounts of mucus. The patient lies in bed with her eves closed most of the time, ]xiying no attention to what is going on about her, but complaining of pains in dilferen.t ]iarts of her bodv.
Discussion. — The susj)ieion of tuberculosis which is naturally excited when we learn that tlie ])atienfs father died oi i:onsuini>tion recei\'es \'er\' slight support from anv of the otlu'r fatis in the c;i>e. It is true that the patient has slight gt-neral alxloniinal teinlcrnos. but at
no time has there been any fever or any evidence of free fluid or tuberculous masses in the abdomen. Nor do we get any very distinct help in diagnosis from the knowledge that she has been alcoholic at times, and that she apparently had a very poor start in the world. Possibly her alcoholism may have something to do with her mental state or with the various pains of which she complains.
The darting character of these pains and their distribution correspond quite accurately with the "lightning pains" of tabes. The physical examination as it is here reproduced gives us no evidence wherewith to support or to attack this idea, but from my own examination of the case I know that all the reflexes were normal.
The essential symptoms in the case seem to me at the present time as follows: Right iliac pain, accompanied by frequent bowel movements containing much mucus. Occurring in a patient of the temperament and physique which may be inferred from the above description, these symptoms suggest especially the condition known as ^Uolica mucosa^'' or mucous colitis. Three types of this disease are familiar to most practitioners: {a) Those characterized mostly by pain, with a moderate amount of constipation and neurasthenia; (b) those characterized mostly by constipation, with a moderate amount of pain and neurasthenia; and (c) those characterized mostly by neurasthenia, with a moderate amount of constipation and pain.
In all these cases the stools contain varying amounts of mucus, sometimes mixed with fecal matter, sometimes making up practically the whole of the dejection. In my opinion, however, the fundamental and underlying factor in all cases is the neurasthenic state which is the cause of the constipation, and thereby of the pain and mucus. The most successful treatment must address itself to the cure of the constipation, but this cannot be permanently relieved unless the patient's mental habits and point of view can be reconstructed.
A school-girl seventeen years old was first seen December 4, igo8. Six days before she had a stomachache, which lasted about twenty-four hours and then got better. Three weeks before she had had a similar, but less severe, pain. Since then she has had similar attacks three or four times a dav.
On examination the temperature, pulse, and respiration are normal; the chest negative, the abdomen level, generally tender, with slight muscular spasm over the whole right side.
The last menses came two weeks ago. The diet has been blameless. The present attack followed immediately after some high jumping in the gymnasium. The pain was almost as great in the back as in front. The bowels moved normally during three days of observation. The temperature was steadily normal, likewise the pulse. Pain, however, persisted and kept her awake most of three nights. At times it was rhythmic, coming every fifteen minutes and lasting about two minutes. The girl and her family were all well acquainted with the symptoms of appendicitis, and much afraid of it. The leukocytes ranged close to io,cco. Pressure on the left side of the belly caused pain in the a7)pendix region. Physical examination was otherwise wholly negative.
Discussion. — The extension of pain and tenderness to the back, the absence of temperature, elevated pulse, and increased leukocyte count, and the aj^parcnt relation to a strain at the time of the onset, inclined me at first to Ijclicve that this case was due to a wrench either of the back muscles or of the sacro-iliac joint. I could not rule out the ])Ossibility of a ])ure neurosis, since the patient was an excej)tionally liigh-strung and nervous girl, who had known and feared appendicitis all her life. Indeed, this diagnosis was furnished to me, ready made, as I entered the sick-room.
But against both these possibilities there was the fact that the pain was not relieved either by a com])lete rest in bed with cross-stra])])ing of the back and elevation of the lumbar region on a ])i]low, nor by rejjcatod assurances that she was not suiTering from a])pendicitis. On the contrary, the pain continued with very little abatement. Heat gave it only \ery slight relief; asj)irin was equally inefficacious. Judgment was still more affected, however, by the ])ain's rhythmic character, which usually indicates spasm j)roduced in some hollow, tubular structure. This could not fit in with either of my previous diagnoses, and tlie xenlict had to be shifted to ap])endicular colic. At no time was tliere any indication of an in^•olvement of anv part of tlie urinary tract. The ])ain nexer followed the course of the ureter, nor showed any of tlic typical radiations of ne])hrolitluasis. The urine remained whoih- negati\e.
A Scottish housewife of thirty-fi\e was first seen February 7, 1908. Her family history is good, though her mother died of cancer. She had polyarthritis, with fe\'er and prostration, se\'en years ago (soon after marriage) .
For one year she has had nearly constant pain in the right lower quadrant of the belly. There is no colic, but the steady pain often needs morphin. Pain is relieved by lying down and always disappears at night. She sleeps well and has worked until three weeks ago. She is not in bed.
fectious symptoms.
Examination. — -No emaciation or anemia. Visceral examination was negative except tliat in the right upper quadrant there was a mass palpable bimanually, irregular of surface, descending to the navel with inspiration. Tenderness of right lower lumbar muscles. (See Fig. 42. j Cutaneous tuberculin reactian negative.
A catheter specimen of urine showed microscopic blood and pus. Cystoscopy showed a normal bladder. Turbid urine was oljtained from the right ureter; injected into a guinea-pig; five weeks later negative autopsy.
Discussion. — ^It is noticeable in this case that, although the pain is in the right iliac fossa, the tenderness is in the lumbar region, where a m^ass is felt bimanually. The fact that the pain disappears when the patient lies down tends still further to connect it with the kidnc}-, rather than with any structure in the neighborhood of the cecum.
Tumors of the kidney produce pain, enlargement of the organ, and often a urine such as that here descril)ed, but it would be unlikely that the amount of ]^us would l)e so large in ])roportion to the amount of blood. There has been, indeed, no true hematuria, and after a year's duration kidney tumors usually produce a hematuria so profuse as to result in anemia. Emaciation would proljably be present also by this time.
Renal tuberculosis would explain all the sym])toms, though it usually does not gi\-e rise to such scNcre and long-standing pain, and almost always produces bladder symptoms, which are not complained of here. Nevertheless, it is only the results of animal inoculation that enable us to exclude tuberculosis in this case.
could produce such symptoms? This idea is favored by the disappearance of pain in the recumbent position, but we do not expect a kidney, not in itself diseased, to secrete a urine turbid with blood and pus, although when the kidney gets in such a position as to twist its blood-vessels, we may have hematuria from congestion. The enlargement here present seems sufficient to exclude a simple floating kidney.
The important evidence which we still lack is that obtainable through the x-TSL}' examination of the kidneys with special reference to stone. The only point disdnctly against stone here is the absence of any colic. The good preservation of nutrition is more in harmony with the diagnosis of nephrolithiasis than with any other condidon producing enlargement of the kidney. It is not easy to see just why the kidney should be enlarged as the result of stones in the pelvis, unless there were obstruction to the flow of urine, a complication of which we have no e\idence here. Yet it is a very familiar fact that kidneys which turn out to be the seat of no disease other than nephrolithiasis uncomplicated, seem considerably enlarged when palpated before operation.
Operation : in right kidney a stone with a body the size of a plum and three branches one inch long was found; in left kidney three stones, the largest as large as a marble, the smallest the size of a marrow- fat pea. November 12th: Discharged well.
A HOUSEWIFE of forty-six was seen in consultation May lo, 1907. The attending physician's diagnosis was cancer of the intestine, probably in the sigmoid. The patient has had for three or four years a "stomach trouble" characterized by pain near the left costal margin, with vomiting of greenish fluid and "coffee-grounds," the vomitus being sometimes sour, sometimes bitter. Vomiting relieved the pain. For the past year she has had no vomiting and only moderate soreness in tlie left side. Six weeks ago she felt a sudden knife-like pain in the left laurr ojiadrant, which lasted twenty-four hours, following which she was in bed for five weeks. The bowels moved e^■ery second day. She has lost five or six pounds.
Physical examination showed fair nutrition; marked pallor. Red cells, 3,332,000; hemoglobin, 50 per cent.; j)olynuclcar cells, 52 per cent.; considcral)le achromia; urine negati^■e; chest negative. Above and to the left of the umbilicus a hard, movaljle, sausageshaped mass, extending from the median line obli(|ucly outward and downward for three inclies.
A stomach-tul)c showed no fasting contents and no enlargement of tlie organ. After a test-meal, free IlCl was 0.2S per cent.; total acidity, 0.35 ])ercent
The diagnosis of cancer of tlie sigmoid was generally agreed to.
Discussion. — At least three vears of a st(nuach trouble which lias produced anemia and liy])erchlorh\"(lria, but which has not led t(^ a.ny jiastric stasis — such is the backurouud auainst which the recent -MiT'toms
of this case stand out. A sudden acute attack of left iliac pain and in the same region a tumor, regarding the age of which we have no knowledge, are the facts which must in some way be woven into a satisfactory diagnosis.
With such a tumor and such a pain, a diagnosis of sigmoid cancer seems at first inevitable. But a cancer which has existed long enough to be palpable as a tumor of this size should also manifest itself by visible peristalsis, intestinal noise, gross or occult blood in the stools, diarrhea, or marked constipation. That none of these symptoms is present should certainly give us pause.
Were the tumor situated higher up in the abdomen, we should certainly be inclined to consider a perigastric exudate resulting from the attempt of a gastric ulcer to perforate. The long previous history, the present hyperchlorhydria, the anemia, and the recent acute attack of pain are all quite consistent with this diagnosis. It seems somewhat remarkable, however, that the symptoms should have come to so complete a standstill as has apparently occurred since the attack six weeks ago.
Though nothing is said in the text regarding the results of pelvic examination, I may add here that nothing could be found in the pelvis to connect any of its organs with the disease under consideration.
Outcome.— On the twenty-first of May the abdomen was opened. The mass proved to be composed of a perigastric exudate adherent to the abdominal wall. Behind this was the narrow neck of an hour-glass stomach, which barely admitted the little finger and was e\'idently due to the scar of an old gastric ulcer. Gastro-enterostomy was done. Six days after operation the patient was doing well.
A housewife of twent}'-six entered the hospital December 27, 1906. For two months she has been having pain in the left iliac region, at first darting in character and extending through to the back; later, dull and constant, sometimes more severe at night. Pain has been accompanied by weakness and frequent micturition. Her appetite has been good, her bowels regular, her urine dark and cloudy for a month.
The course of the temperature is seen in tlie accompanying chart. The urine was alkaline and contained always a large amount of pus. and sometimes a great deal of blood in clots. The specific gravity was always low, averaging about 1012, and the amount of albumin large; no casts were ever found. Examination of the chest and abdomen was negati\'e; likewise .v-rav examination of the renal regions. After entrance to the
hospital the urine was sometimes quite normal, at other times composed almost wholly of blood. Several small concretions were passed in the early days of January, 1907. On the sixth, one obstructed the urethra and had to be removed. It was shown to be composed of calcium jihosphate upon a nucleus of mucin. Its passage was not attended with pain. Repeated examinations of the urinary sediment showed no tubercle bacilli.
Discussion. — The essential features of this case are left iliac pain of two months' duration, associated, during the past month, with the frequent passage of an alkaline, cloudy urine containing large amounts of pus and blood. The continued fever is also of importance.
All these symj)toms may be produced by renal tuberculosis, and this diagnosis cannot be possibly excluded upon the evidence here presented. Animal inoculation is necessary. Nevertheless, the absence of any evident enlargement of the kidney, demonstrable by ]:)ali)ation or rc-ray examination, the presence of an alkaline urine, and the constant abundance of blood, are facts which tend to su{)port the negative results of the search for tubercle bacilli.
In the hands of a com})etent operator we may say that .r-ray examination, declared by him to be negative, is very strong evidence against the existence of renal stone. The })rcdominance of bladder symptoms here, the absence of anything suggesting colic, and the apparently steady discharge of l)lood and pus tend to rule out nc|)hrolithiasis.
Malignant disease of the kidney rarely produces such a ])redominancc of bladder symptoms or so large an amount of ])us in the urine. Unless we supj)Ose the neoplasm to be complicated by bladder disease, we could not account for the alkalinity of the urine.
Stone in the bladder is rare in women if we Iea\"e out of account tl-.e secondary calculi incrusted about a hair-})in or some other foreign body. There is no history of th.c introduction of any such body in this case, ar.d if we take the history on its face value, this is exidence against 1 hiddrr stone. In one sense, of course, we are quite sure that stones ha\c' been in the bladder, since several small ones haw been ])asse(l; hut troni the rarity of ijrimary bladder calculi in women ;ind the ahseute of an\" ot tb.e
exacerbations due to jolting or moving, we may suppose that the small stones which have emerged were formed as a secondary result of some other disease. The question remains as to what that disease is likely to be.
Chronic cystitis is now universally recognized to be, in practically all cases, a symptom of some deeper cause. The days of primary or idiopathic cystitis are passed. Gonorrheal cystitis is distinctly rare unless as a part of a much more obvious acute and general infection of the genito-urinary tract.
Tuberculosis of the bladder is a frequent cause of cystitis, and is practically always secondary to renal tuberculosis, reasons for excluding which have been already gi\'en.
Tumor of the bladder is the only remaining cause of cystitis frequently occurring in women, and against that diagnosis there seem to be no important data. The occurrence of small concretions in and about tumor of the bladder is a familiar fact.
Outcome. — On the twenty-third cystoscopy showed an exceedingly foul bladder and a ragged tumor mass on the left side. Operation on the twenty-sixth confirmed this diagnosis. A cutting from the mass was examined histologically and pronounced undoubtedly malignant. The walls of the bladder were much thickened and contracted.
At half-past nine this morning, while washing, she suddenly began to have steady, severe pain half-way between the navel and the left flank. Soon after she vomited her breakfast. The pain was so severe that she could not lie down until night. Her suffering has been constant, though varying in intensity, and she has continued to vomit a thin, yellowish fluid. There is some soreness in the region of the pain, but no headache at the present time. The bowels mo\'ed two days ago with medicine, not since. She has been very constipated for years, sometimes going a week without a movement.
Physical examination of the chest was negative save for accentuation of the aortic second sound. The urine and blood were normal. The right kidney descended two fingers' breadth below the costal margin on full inspiration. During the first two days in the hospital the patient vomited cA'crytlfing that was taken by mouth. Finally, the bowels were
started by calomel and enemata, and by the twenty-seventh the patient was taking milk and feeling happy. The first urinary examination showed sugar, acetone, and diacetic acid. After that there was no sugar, but acetone and diacetic acid persisted until the twenty-eighth.
Discussion. — The chronic constipation leading to acute pain and obstinate vomiting cannot but incline us very strongly toward the diagnosis of sigmoid cancer, especially since the woman is forty-four years old. But what are we to say when, after we have made such a diagnosis, we succeed in getting the patient's bowels to move naturally and all the symptoms disappear? I have introduced this case in order that I might emphasize the point that such a recovery by no means excludes cancer. In the early stages of that disease, when the growth is little bigger than a signet ring, temporary obstruction with fecal impaction behind the stricture often leads to symptoms quite like those here described, which, nevertheless, disappear under treatment and may not recur for weeks or months. It is only by a careful following of the case that we can be justified in excluding cancer.
Outcome. — On the first of January sugar was again present in the urine. On the second it was gone and did not return, although the i)atient was allowed a full mixed diet. Thereafter the patient's bowels were kept regular by the use of an A. S. and B. pill four times a day. There has been, so far as known, no return of symptoms.
A hostler of thirty- two entered the hospital June 3, 1902. His family history and past history were negative. Until the prexious fall he had always taken five or six beers and three or four whiskies a day. He denied venereal disease. Yesterday morning he awoke with a chill, chattering teeth, fever, vomiting, headache, and pain in the left groin. He slept poorly last night. The course of the temperature was as seen in the accompanying chart. On the sixth the glands were disc()\"ered to l)e tender and considerably enlarged in the left groin. There was an operation scar over the u])|)er j)art of the left tibia; the bone underneath it very rough. Below this the skin was bluish red, and sewral ulcerated areas from the size of a silver dollar to that of the p;ihn were present. An .v ray sliowed tluit the tilna was consideral)!}' tliickeni'd in its upper third, and tlie fil)ula throughout its entire length. I'h_^^ical examination, including the blood and urine, was otherwise negatiw.
probable cause of the glandular enlargement. The ulceration on the lower leg may well produce sufficient irritation to stimulate the glands into a work-hypertrophy, ordinarily known as a bubo. Leukemia being ruled out by the negative result of the blood examination, and pseudoleukemia l^y the absence of glandular enlargement elsewhere, it remains only to consider the probable nature of the ulcerations which
and fever.
Ulcerations in this situation are most frequently due to the malnutrition following varicose veins, hence the term varicose ulcer. Next to this, syphilis is the most common cause, though it is more apt to produce ulcerations in the calf or above the knee than upon the shin. In view of the x-ray evidence, which shows a bony change very commonly associated with syphilis, this seems the most reasonable diagnosis.
Regarding the cause of the acute infection, with its attendant pyrexia and chill, nothing very definite can be said. Possibly there was some secondary invasion of the tissues induced by a sudden lowering of their vitality, for which there are many occasions in the life of such an individual. Outcome. — Under iodid of potash the glands became smaller, the fever went down, the leg ulcers began to heal; on the fourteenth the patient was discharged.
A housewife of twenty-seven entered the hospital June 21, 1908, for pain in the left iliac fossa, her second se\'ere attack within three weeks. The first attack (twenty days ago) was very severe, but lasted only about one minute. Yesterday at 2 a. m. sudden severe pain began again at the same point, lasted until 10 a. m., then suddenly ceased until this morning about five, when it returned as she was getting up. At times she has seen and felt a swelling in the region of the pain.
there are circumscribed dulness and a large, hard, irregular mass, movable and very tender. It was apparently not connected with the uterus, but could be felt per vaginam. Physical examination, pulse, temperature, blood, and urine negative.
Discussion. — The association of left iliac pain with a hard, irregular mass in the same region naturally suggests malignant disease. The sigmoid flexure of the intestine is the commonest site for such a growth in this part of the body, and the age of the patient by no means excludes this possibility. I have seen a cancer of the sigmoid demonstrated at autopsy in the body of a boy who died before his twenty-first year. In the present case, however, we have no intestinal symptoms sufficient to incriminate the sigmoid, and a growth of the size above described would certainly have produced such symptoms if the gut were in\-ol\ed.
0\-arian tumor seems more probable. Wc do not expect the commoner varieties of o\-arian tumor to be as firm of surface as the description of this tumor suggests, but I ha\-e often been decei\'ed in this respect and seen at operations a cystic tumor which felt as hard cs a piece of wood when examxined through the abdominal wall, so that I am no longer willing to trust m}' tactile sensations. Solid tumors of the o\ary are considerably less common, especially in women of this age, and rarely reach so large a size without pre\-iously attracting any attention. Fibromyoma of the uterus would probably show an obvious connection with that organ and would be less likely to be situated so much at one side.
Uncomplicated ovarian tumors do not produce acute symjjtoms like those above described, but there are many accidents to which such tumors are exposed and by which severe pain may Ijc produced. As we have no way, in the great majority of cases, of distinguishing these accidents clinically, it is safest to assume that the commonest of them — twisting of the pedicle — has occurred.
Outcome. — Operation showed a gangrenous, strangulated, multilociilar ovarian cyst with a double twist in its [)edicle and a quart of bloodserum in the peritoneal cavity.
It may be well to mention here some of the A'arietics in the symijtomatology of strangulated ovarian cyst, so as to bring out features not exemj)hfied in the case just discussed.
{a) In many cases there are repeated attacks wl-.ich are clinic;. lly similar in ty])e, but lesser in intensity than that ab()\e described. Many of these attacks are due, douljtless, to ])atches of local ])eritonitis such as result in the adliesions which often confront the operator years kiler.
(c) Tumors occupying the right side of the abdomen are fully as common as left-sided growths. In a considerable proportion of cases the cyst is to be found in the median line, and the diagnosis is thereby considerably obscured.
A widow of sixty-seven called her physician in September. 1908, on account of pain in the left iliac fossa. This discharge has been supposedly due to hemorrhoids and has been treated as such, but examination now shows it to come from the vagina. For the past week this discharge has been active and the blood has been bright. Four weeks previously to this time she had a wreck's flowing, and similar periods have occurred from time to time during the last five years.
The present illness began three weeks ago with pain, tenderness, and enlargement of the left lower quadrant of the abdomen, accompanied by fever which averaged 101° F. for the first week of her illness. This gradually fell to normal, so that ten days ago the local physicain was able to discontinue his visits for three days. With the subsidence of temperature the w^eakness, tenderness, and pain of which she had previously complained gradually disappeared, but a week ago all the symptoms returned, and during the last six days fever has averaged 100° F. The pain is now referred not only to the left iliac fossa, but to the left thigh and hamstring muscles. The bowels are moved by enema.
The appetite has been very poor and there has been marked prostration, so that she has been in bed most of the time during the last four weeks. Her weight has fallen considerabley. There has been no vomiting, no cough, and no pain other than that described above. The menopause occurred thirteen years ago.
perature was 101.2; there was moderate emaciation; at the apex of the right lung the physiologic peculiarities of that space on auscultation and percussion seemed somewhat exaggerated. Otherwise the chest showed nothing abnormal. The left lower quadrant of the abdomen was filled by a smooth, resistant, apparently elastic mass, protected by a considerable amount of muscular spasm and rather tender. The same mass was felt by vagina, but seemed to be unconnected with the uterus, which was normal.
polynuclears. There was no anemia. The urine was normal.
Three weeks later the attending physician reported that the patient was about the same, the temperature still reaching about 101° F. each night, being normal or subnormal in the morning. There was then very little pain and the vaginal discharge had ceased.
Discussion. — Cancer of the uterus was first suspected on account of the ill-smelling vaginal discharge. That this was not of the ordinary type, involving the cervix uteri, was readily shown by the vaginal examination. Cancer of the body of the uterus was not excluded, as no intra-uterine examination was made. It is very unlikely, however, that so much fever and left iliac tenderness would be produced by a neoplasm of the body of the uterus.
Cancer of the sigmoid was next considered. The position of the tumor mass, the age of the patient, and the presence of a bloody discharge, which the patient believed to have come from the rectum, favored this diagnosis. On the other hand, nothing definite could be felt by rectum. There was no evidence of intestinal obstruction and no diarrhea, while the presence of continued fever for more than a month made uncom[)licated neoplasm very unlikely. The same holds true of ovarian neoplasm. P)osalpinx was considered, but seemed exceedingly unlikely in view of the patient's age and character.
Diverticulitis is strongly suggested by all the facts of the case. The age of the patient, the position and consistency of the tumor, and the continued fever with leukoc^'tosis are tyi)ical.
Outcome. On operation, November i,Uh, a large intlammatory mass was foimd txing together the bladder, the lower sigmoid, and tlu' adjoining ])arts. In the center of the mass, close to the sigmoid, a pus-ca\'itv containing about a tablesjioonful of pus was tound. Leading out of this ca\'ity was a sinus conm'cting with thi' interior ot the lower sigmoid, which was greatly thiekent'd and inliltrated tur ;i considerable distance al)o\"c and below the >inu>. Miein-eoni/
examination later showed that the sinus originated in a diverticulum. The pus was evacuated and drained, a portion of the sigmoid resected, and an end-to-end suture done. The patient made a somewhat slow, but uninterrupted recovery.
Though I have followed current practice in separating the causes of localized from those of generalized abdominal pain, it must l)e admitted that the separation is not always true to fact. On the other hand, lead-poisoning, which usually causes wide-spread "dry" bellyaches, may anchor its colic to a single spot in a most misleadim^ way.
Hence one who looks under one chapter for some familiar type of pain may wonder at its absence and be surprised to find it in another. Some causes of suffering, on the other hand, are listed under two different headings {e. g., ectopic gestation, strangulated ovarian cyst), because they are about equally common on the right and on the left.
dominal pain we are all guided, I take it, by the following obvious rules:
1. Suspect, first of all, the gastro-intcstinal tract, and if its simpler troubles (such as constipation and colitis) can be excluded, consider especially appendicitis, peptic ulcer, neoplasms cf the stomach or large gut, and the remoter consequences of these lesions (peritonitis, intestinal obstruction).
A STABLEMAN of thirtv-ninc entered the hospital January 24, 1908, with negative family history and good habits. Past history uneventful except for an attack of malaria in September, 1907. Three days ago, while at work, he had a severe chill. He went home, but did not go to bed. The next morning he went to work as usual, but had to give up
about noon and take to bed, where he has remained since, with headache, high fever, pain in the left chest, sore throat, nausea, thirst, and frequent vomiting. His
bowels were moved by laxatives
this morning. AMicn he swallows, he sometimes feels a sharp pain which shoots from his throat toward his left ear.
was internal strabismus on the
right, which he says is of long standing. There was a mild spasmodic cough, but no sputa. \'isceral examination was negative, save that in the lower left back there was a little dulness, and the voice-sounds were a trifle nasal in character. Just below the scapula the breath-sounds were somewhat diminished, whispered voice slightly increased, and an occasional clicking rale was audible. No bronchial breathing.
Deep axillary abscess.
Fractures and dislocations of the shoulder and humerus often produce axillar)' pain, but usualK' present no diagnostic difficulties so for as the source of the pain is concerned.
Final!}', there is a large group of axillarx' j)ains, apparent}}" of muscular origin, akin to lumbago and " stiff neck." The bombastic term " pleuroch-nia" is often attached to tlu'se pains, but since their actual nature is unknown antl their diagnosis never certain, I have attempted no estimate of their relatix'e freciuencx'.
AXILLARY PAIN 29 I
Discussion. — Obviously, we are dealing with an infectious disease, though gastric symptoms occupy the foreground of the clinical picture. For simple tonsillitis the patient is apparently too sick, and there was nothing in the tonsillar region sufficient to justify the diagnosis.
The deafness, the buzzing sounds, and the shooting of pain toward the ear might indicate otitis media, but unless pain is more definitely localized and continuous in or about the ear, one could not make such a diagnosis in the absence of any discharge or any knowledge of the condition of the drum membrane.
Acute meningitis may begin in this way, and there is nothing said in the text regarding the condition of the neck muscles or of the hamstrings (Kernig's sign). The strabismus would be of great diagnostic importance if we disregarded the patient's statement that it has existed for many years. As a matter of fact, however, investigation showed that there was no stiffness of the neck or of the ham-string muscles. Without lumbar puncture no further certainty can be obtained on this point, and meningitis must remain a possibility unless we can find some more plausible explanation for the sym|)toms.
It was suljsecjuently learned that the patient had been given large doses of quinin before he entered the hosijital, the chill and the previous attack of malaria having led to the exhibition of this drug.
Although the i)ulmonary signs are very slight and not distinctive, they seem to me sufiicient to warrant a diagnosis of j)neumonia when we link them with the continued fever, the leukocytosis, the chest pain, the chill, and the gastro-intestinal symptoms. Cases of pneumonia which do not show early and well-marked signs of pulmonary solidification are very a])t to begin with several days of gastro-intcslinal symptoms, the significance of which would be very obscure but for tlieir association with fever and lcukocytf)sis.
At no time were the signs in the chest any more definite than at entrance. On the twenty-sixth there were moist rales in \-arious ])arts of tlie lungs, and the ])atient was somewhat delirious. On tlie thirtyfirst, the dav after the crisis, tliere was a friction-rub in tlie sixth left s])ace, anterior axillary line.
An Italian farm-laborer, sixty-six years old, was first seen Januar\' 30, 1908. His family history and past history were negative, his habits good. Seventy-two hours ago, while standing on a chair to put a cloth over his canary's cage, he lost his balance and fell to the floor, striking his left side on the back of the chair. He was unconscious for some minutes, and later experienced a sharp pain in the left side of the chest, worse on coughing or deep breathing. This |)ain has troubled him ever since, and has been accompanied by a slight dry cough. For two days he has been feverish.
At entrance, the patient's temperature was 99.4° F.; pulse, 79; respiration, 20. There was a marked posterior convexity of the lower dorsal and upper lumbar spine. The breath was foul. There was a slight, diffuse, systolic pulsation under each clavicle, especially on the left. The heart was negative. Scattered throughout both lungs were sc[ueaks and crackles. There was marked tenderness over the eighth and ninth left rib in the midaxillary line. Pressure over the vertebral end of the ninth rib caused pain over the same rib in the midaxilla. No definite crepitus was obtained. A rough grating was heard with inspiration in the painful area. At the top of the left axilla was a suggestion of bronchial breathing. On the left forefinger and the back of the last phalanx was a raised, reddened, tender area, half an inch in diameter, crusted in the center. From this a little seropurulent fluid could be expressed. He has had this trouble for a month. The next day the fluid in this lesion was distinctly purulent.
Discussion. — Fever, cough, rales, and axillary pain in a man of sixty-six lead straight to the diagnosis of pneumonia if we are in the habit of judging by sym])toms alone, and so far as the pulmonary signs are concerned, they are perfectly consistent with the existence of a central pneumonia or of ]mcumococcus infection which has not yet become localized anywhere. More important e\'idence against ])neumonia is furnished by the temperature chart, the low respiration rate, and the absence of gastrointestinal symptoms. Up to the time when I saw tlie jmtient no leukocyte count had been made, and as this seemed to me one of the most important diagnostic data, I made the count at once. There were 6500 leukocytes per c.mm. So low a count rarely occurs in pneumonia unless the patient is more ill than this man seemed to be.
The pulsations beneath the clavicles had gi\en rise to considerable anxiety in the mind of the attending physician, who thought they might be connected with an aneurysm, which he suspected of producing ])ain
in the side. But there was really no evidence of aneurysm, and the pulsation was not greater than is often seen in thin persons whose subclavian arteries happen to lie near the surface.
Of pleurisy there were no certain physical signs, and although this diagnosis is often made on the basis of the ])atient's account of his pain, and often definitely at his suggestion, experience does not justify anv such diagnosis. Many patients and not a few physicians allow themselves to s])eak of "pleurisy pains" when they would not seriously maintain that they had evidence of any form of [)leurisy. The rough grating sound referred to was ])robably due to another cause, soon to be mentioned.
Pain of muscular origin — the so-called yjleurodynia — akin to stiff neck and lumbago — must be shown to vary directl}- with the amount of muscular motion; apparently there was no such variation. Pleurodynia j)roduces general widespread tenderness, much less local than was present in this case.
The protuberance of dorsal and lumbar \-ertebrae makes us ask whether an}' form of spondylitis may be responsible, through radiations along ner\-e-roots, for this f)atient's jniin. Pain of this type is often made worse by coughing or dee]) breathing. It does not, however, lead to tenderness in midaxilla, and would be \ery unlikely to a])pear suddenly after a fall.
The fact that pressure on the ninth rilj near the spine ])roduces ])ain localized in the axillary |)ortion of that rib is strong evidence that that rii) is cracked, and the local tenderness and the rough grating sound following such a fall ])oint strongly in the same direction. In the absence of crepitus no further CNidence can be obtained, unless a callus forms. This diagnosis would doubtless have ])een made at the start had not the patient chanced to be feverish. Presumably the fe\er was due to the slight infection on the forefinger.
A housemaid of twenty-five entered the hospital July 20. i()o6. Xine days ago she suddenly experienced sharp, shooting i)ain in the lower ribs and in the right axilla, not worse on cough nor on (K'ep breathing. This j)ain lasted one (ia\'; she then began to ha\'e pains in her lu'ad and knees, with fe\er. chill, and general weakness. T'our (la\s ago >hc had to gi\'e uj) and go to bed. Her bowels ha\'e mow-d reuularh . but she has \()mited once.
The course of the fever is shown in the accompanying chart. Discussion. — At the outset it was impossible to exclude pneumonia, although the association of so low a white count with a good general condition seemed very much unlike pneumonia. Had the leukocyte count been high, I should have suspected pneumonia, present or to come, even in the absence of definite signs in the chest.
I have known a case altogether similar to this to be counted among the successes of a physician who thought he could abort typhoid fever. It is true that typhoid fever not infrequently shows under observation no longer a period of pyrexia than was here recorded, but the presence of a diazo-reaction is by no means sufficient evidence on which to base a diagnosis of typhoid under these conditions. Only by the demonstration of typhoid bacillus or at least of a well-marked Widal reaction can the diagnosis be justified when the fever is so brief.
pain and by the absence of physical signs.
I have known tertian malaria to produce symptoms strikingly like those with which this case ])egan, but the pain and fever were then much more definitely intermittent and did not cease permanently until quinin was given. In the case here under consideration no quinin was exhibited.
It is the fashion to call such cases as this "grip" or ''influenza," but although these words are not taken very seriously by the physician who makes the diagnosis, they seem to me sufficient to mislead the patient, and incidentally the physician himself. They hide from us the fact that we are facing something which we do not understand. A well-known name easily transforms itself into the impression that we know something of the disease to which we are applying it. This tends to niiike progress impossible. It seems more sensible to recognize that the unnamed infections are proliably as numerous as those already listed and named in our text-books, and that in a case like this we are confronted with one of this unnamed and unknown multitude.
Outcome. — In six days the patient seemed perfectly well; the treatment consisted mainly of an occasional laxative and hypnotic. Diagnosis. — Unknown infection.
A master painter of sixty entered the hospital November 18, 1907. His family history was good. From the age of sixteen up to the age of thirty-two he suflfered from neuralgia in the right side of his forehead, but was finally cured in 1879. He had typhoid at eighteen, just after the Civil War. Twenty years ago he was laid up for six weeks with lumbago, and has had several less severe attacks of this pain since. He has never had lead colic, nor any pain in his joints. His habits are good.
For six years he has been troubled with pain in the left upper chest, the attacks gradually growing worse and more frequent. Now the pain is nearly constant unless he takes medicine. The pain is of three sorts: (i) A dull, burning pain, present in the chest most of the time; (2) a terriUy severe pain, with a feeling as if he were gripi)ed in a vise. This comes from once a week to once a month, and has several times waked him in the night. (3) A sharp, shooting, knife-like pain, beginning in his left chest, running up to his shoulder and neck, and sometimes felt also in his arms. This comes at irregular inter^■als — more often within the last two or three years. There are no gastric symptoms. The pain does not seem to have any relation to food. There is no dyspnea, cough, |y<dpitation, or edema. Years ago exertion seemed to make him worse, Init now, he says, it seems to make him better, and lately he has dreaded bed-time. He has been treated in the out-patient department since May, 1902. He still directs his business and works irregularly.
Physical examination shows an obese man, with normal temperature, j)ulse, and res])iration; the blood-pressure, 150 mm. The urine averages 40 ounces in twenty-four hours; specific gra\ity, 1027; no albumin and no casts. The white cor])uscles range between 12.000 and 14,000 per c.mm. No stippling of red cells. No lead-line.
The tirst sound at the heart's apex is followed by a soft murmur, l)est heard in the aortic area, not transmitted to the axilla. The aortic second sound is greatly accentuated. There is no demonstrable cardiac enlargement. The pulses are e(|ual and regular, tiie artery wall not remarkable.
change of position.
Discussion. — When a house-painter complains of a ]\\\n of ;ui\ kind, our knowledge of the pathologv of lead poisoning naturalK' leads us to do what we can to connect the pain with the ])atieiu"s oee;;] 'ation. \n this case, howe\er, there is no delniite exideiice oi lead iiojsoning
that disease.
The previous history of lumbago makes us seek to find evidence of that disease in the patient's present symptoms, but there seems to be no such close relationship between the pain and movement of the affected muscles as would be expected in lumbago.
The situation and continuity of the pain are such as we are accustomed to associate with aortic aneurysm, and only by .r-ray examination (which was not made, owing to the patient's poor condition when he first entered the hospital) can aneurysm be positively excluded.
Angina pectoris produces pains the character and location of which correspond accurately with those here described. The patient's statement that exertion now seems to make him better is practically the only consideration that seems to contradict this diagnosis, and this is not sufficient to exclude it. As to the nature and prognosis of the affection, our judgment would be much assisted if we knew whether the patient was an excessive consumer of tobacco. No further certainty can be obtained without the therapeutic test (nitroglycerin or amyl nitrite) and an x-rsix examination.
Outcome. — He has used nitroglycerin in doses of j^^ grain from the first, and for years a single tablet gave prompt relief. Gradually the necessary dose has increased, until of late he takes as much as y^ in twenty-four hours.
A'-ray showed no evidence of aneurysm. During the patient's stay in the hospital he usually had an attack each night, best relieved by amyl nitrite. Sitting up or walking about the ward seemed to bring on attacks, relieved in the same way.
A French-Canadian cabinet-maker of thirty-six entered the hos])ital November 3, 1906. His family history and past history were not remarkable, but he has used a great deal of tobacco and taken three or four drinks of hard liquor every day for fifteen years.
Five years ago he began to have pain in the left side of the chest and in the pit of the stomach, brought on by exertion or excitement, gradually increasing in frequency and in severity. Occasionally it comes on at night, and then he has to sit up in bed "holding onto himself."
Last winter he began to have palpitation and dyspnea on exertion. Four months ago he stopped work by his physician's advice and went into the country, following which he ])romptly became worse and for a time could not sleej) on less than four pillows. His abdomen also swelled, and the ujjjjer part of it was tender. These symptoms ha\e now so far subsided that he can sleep on one pillow. Two or three years ago his wife noticed that one ])upil was larger than the other. He has lost twelve pounds in the last three years.
On physical examination the above observation regarding the pupils was confirmed. Both were slightly irregular in outline, but reacted normally. The heart's impulse was in the sixth interspace, if inches outside the nipple. A systolic murmur was heard, loudest at the aj)ex, transmitted also over the whole precordia and into the axilla. In the axilla and back, a harsh diastolic murmur was also heard replacing the second sound. No second sound at all was heard in the aortic area. The ])ulse was of the Corrigan type. The systolic blood-pressure was 165 mm. I'he daily amount of urine averaged 30 ounces, with a trace of albumin and no casts. At times a presystolic rum]:)le was heard at the a])ex. During the first ten days' stay in the hos])ital he was given magnesium sulphate, an ounce every morning, tincture digitalis, 10 minims every six hours, iodid of ])otash 10 grains four times a day, yIu grain of nitroglycerin when needed. His ])rogress during this period was uneventful. On the night of the fourteenth he was rather uncomfortable. On the fifteenth he vomited several times. His ])ulse was more rapid and weaker.
Discussion. — The ])ain is strongly suggestive of angina ])ectoris, but the ])atient seems rather young for the organic ty|)e, de])endent on arteriosclerosis, and too ill for the functional ty])e. As in the j)revious case, we are unable to exclude aneurysm, as tlie ])atient is too ill to be nio\cd to the .v-ray room. The pain and the ine(|uality of the ])upils remind us distinctly of that disease.
As regards the ty])e of cardiac lesion, there seems to l)e distinct c\ idence of aortic insulTiciency witli liypcrtrophy and dilatation ol tluiieart. In a ])atient of this age the occurrt-ncc of aortic disrasf with no preceding rheumatic attacks justifies us in treating the case as one of sypliilis, especiall\- when tlie cardial- lesions are associated with irreu":lar and unequal ])U])iIs. 'I'his assumption rests upon the fact thai >y]iiiih's of the cardioN'ascuhir system usual!}" begins in the arch of thi- aoria and extends thence to the aortic \al\es.
Outcome. — x\bout 7 p. m. he remarked that he had had rather an uncomfortable day, and felt that it was his duty to stay in bed, but that he hoped to be allowed to get up the next day. About 8 o'clock be became unconscious and died within a few minutes.
At the autopsy (No. 181 6) no cause for the suddenness of death was discovered. The heart was greatly dilated and hypertrophied. There was a chronic fibrous myocarditis, and the heart-wall was much thinned near the apex of the left ventricle. There was stenosis of the coronary orifices and a fibrous deformity of the aortic valve. Just above the aortic valve, and in the arch of the aorta, were very many fibrous plaques. A chronic pleuritis and chronic perihepatitis with adhesions was also found.
A Jewish laborer of nineteen entered the hospital November 4, 1907. His family history and past history were good, also his habits. In February, 1907, he began to have a loud, ringing, brassy cough, and to raise considerable sputa. At the same time he had hoarseness and pain in the left upper chest, both front and back. He improved at first, later losing all he gained. Yet he has felt less thoracic pain of late, although he has coughed considerably. Three days ago, following a severe paroxysm of coughing, he was seized with intense pain in the left lower chest, both front and back. The pain has gradually improved since, but is still severe on coughing. During the same period he has been somewhat short of breath — a new symptom for him — and has felt feverish.
The movement of his temperature, pulse, and respiration is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 48). The iris of his left eye is bluish; of the right, brownish. The right ])upil is smaller, markedly irregular, and situated more toward the inner side of the eye. The vision of this eye is much diminished. The right border of the cardiac dulness extends 3I inches beyond the midsternal line, and reaches a point just inside of the right nii)ple. The left border of dulness extends about an inch ])ey()nd the midsternum. Tlie cardiac sounds are best heard in the second and third right interspaces. Here the rhythm is fetal; the sounds sharp and clear. To the left of che sternum they are difficult to hear. The left chest is hy])erresonant throughout, while the riglit is somewhat dull. Breath-sounds are markedlv diminished on the left, increased on the
cal examination of the abdomen and the rest of the body is normal.
By the seventeenth of November the patient was much more comfortable, though the physical signs had not changed. At the apex of the left lung a few fine moist rales were heard, with distant bronchial breathing and slight dulness (Fig. 49).
of the scapula. There were evidences of fluid below this point.
Discussion. — Although fever, chest pain, and cough are so often the precursors of pneumonia, these symptoms have lasted far too long, in the present case, to be at all typical, and as soon as we scrutinize the de-
The extension of dulness, continuous with that of the heart's area to the right of the sternum, the hoarseness and ])rassy cough, and the ])ain in the chest suggest aneurysm. Hut tlie pain is on the left, and the extension of cardiac dulness on the riglU. Tliere are no pressure siuns, p'.ilsations, or .v-rav shadows to support the suiii)iei(Mi ot ani'ur_\'sin ; onlv the ])atient's coin])laints are favorable to that diagnosis.
\\'hen the heart is (lisi)laced to tlie right, as seems to 1h' the case luri', we naturallv in\-estigate the causes of this displacement. l)euinnin'^ with the commonest -left jileural cfTusion. In fa\'or of this condition we ha\e the dimiiuition of res])iratory nuirmur and tht' al)Sence ot xocal and tactile
fremitus in the left chest. But in spite of these signs, pleural effusion, serous or purulent, may be unconditionally excluded on the evidence of a single sign, viz., the hyperresonance of the whole left chest. Hyperresonance of a portion of one chest — for example, the lower axillary region or the upper quarter — is quite consistent with pleural effusion, but total hyperresonance has never been recorded, so far as I know, with pleural effusion. 0\'er a pneumonic consolidation situated deeply in the lung substance the percussion-note is not infrequently hy]jerresonant or tympanitic, but this never occurs, I believe, throughout a chest containing a pleural effusion. Hyperresonance of one chest then, with displacement of the heart toward the opposite side, is practically distincti\"e of pneumothorax, which seems the reasonable diagnosis of this case.
lateral, never dislocates the heart, and never causes pain.
The prolonged cough, with the rales and dulness at the apex of the left lung, are presumably due to that disease which almost in\ariably underlies pneumothorax — phthisis. The .v-ray shadow and the evidences of fluid which gradually developed at the base of the left chest are doubtless due to the accumulation of an exudate, converting the jmeumothorax into hydropneumothorax according to the ordinary rule.
cussion splash was once made out.
On the nineteenth of December there was still no change in the ]mtient's condition so far as the signs in the chest were concerned; the patient was feeling much better, had gained considerably in weight, and had almost no cough. On the twenty-lirst of December he was allowed to go home.
A teamster of fifty-two entered the hos])ital April 3, igo8. His family history and habits were good. He had right-sided pleurisy in 1872, and was in bed ten weeks with fever and pain in the chest. He was not tapped. Since then he has been well. In Octol^er, igo;, he was struck on the right chest l)y a roll of cotton duck weighing 400 ])ounds. He had some pain there, which went off after a few days. He tliinks no ril:)S were broken. Three weeks ago he began to have dull, constant pain in the right cliest, worse on deep breathing. This })ain lasted a week.
March 30th he went to work, but the pain soon returned and compelled him to stop work. Now that he is in bed he has practically no pain, no cough, no fever, an excellent appetite, and feels in most res[)ects very well.
His temperature, pulse, and respiration are normal, likewise his blood and urine. He lies comfortably in bed without dyspnea. His heart is negative. The artery walls are tortuous, with visible pulsation in the radials, brachials, and axillaries. The right chest is flat below the fourth rib in front and midscapula behind. Over this area respiration js_absent, likewise voice and fremitus.
Discussion. — As this patient has previously had i^leurisy on the right side, we need to consider whether the organized results of that attack — pleural adhesions — might account for the symptoms which are now ])resent. I should say decidedly not. An inflammation which has entirely died out thirty-six years earlier does not lead to acute pain. The pain of a pleural effusion may linger on for months, or even for a year or two, but never for thirty-six years. Pleural adhesions may cause dulness and diminished breathing, but not flatness and absent breathing.
Can the trauma of October, 1907, be the cause of the ])resent trouljle? The inter\al of Ave months between the time of the ]:)low and the onset of the i^resent pain makes this rather unlikely. Hemothorax ne\er results, so far as I know, from an injury of this kind without fracture of a rib or ])uncture of the ])leura. Serous ])leurisy has also, in my opinion, no connection with such an accident.
Dro])sical effusions due to disease of the heart or kidney ha\e a predilection for the right chest, but we have no e\idcnce of any such disease in the present case, although there ap])ears to be some arteriosclerosis in the peri])heral vessels. Further, dro})sical effusions do not produce y)ain.
Htcsc altcrnati\es can be easily excluded, and the diagnosis of pleural effusion is then so automatic that it may be fjucstioned whether 1 am juslilk'd in introducing this case in a book su])])osed to deal with diagnostic difliculties. On this point 1 can only say that I have re])eatedly seen in consultation cases of serous |)leurisy which had not ])re\iously i)een recognized because the ))atient liad com])laine(l so little of the chest that no thorough physical examination had been made. I'nder the>e ton^ ditions the diagnosis is usually " ty])li()i(l.'" "slow fe\"er/' " autointoxieation.'' or " ])tomain-])()isoning."
Outcome. — A paravertebral triangle was demonstrated, its dulness 3 inches wide at the base. The right chest was tapped, and 32 ounces of fluid obtained. Specific gravity, 1017; albumin, 2.7 per cent.; lymphocytes, 87 per cent.
The fluid did not reaccumulate. On April 9th he was discharged wtII, with the caution that he must always be rather more careful than other men as regards fresh air (day and night), regular meals, and the avoidance of all excesses.
An Italian housewife of thirty-five entered the hospital April 25, 1907. Three years ago she had an operation, following which she has had no menstruation, but frequent "hot flushes" rising from the abdomen to the head, accompanied by sweating and headaches which sometimes "made her crazy." During the past five months she has had frequent attacks of pain in the epigastrium and left chest. The pain is never severe enough to make her lie down. It lasts sometimes most of the day. It sometimes runs down the inner side of the left arm to the fingertips.
sleeps poorly and her bowels are costive.
Temperature, pulse, and respiration are normal. Physical examination of the chest and abdomen is wholly negative. There is a thin, yellowish, vaginal discharge. The urine shows considerable pus.
Discussion. — Everything inclines us to explain many of the symptoms in this case as the result of an artificial menopause. We must make sure, however, tliat the familiar and typical phraseology used by such a ])atient does not sometimes mislead us into overlooking some deeper organic disease, such as pulmonary tuberculosis. If this occurs to us as a possibility, the use of a thermometer will soon make clear in the vast majority of cases that there is no fever, the sweating and sense of heat being due to vasomotor changes.
The presence of pus in the urine makes it reasonal)le to inquire whether some local infection of the genito-urinary tract may not l)e connected with the cardiac symptoms, since gonorrheal endocarditis is not nearly so rare as is often supposed. The first point, however, is to make sure that we are dealing with a genuine jnuria, not with an admixture of urine and vaginal discharge. In the present case a s])ecimen of urine
showed a variety of saprophytic organisms, but no gonococci.
Returning now to the main complaint — the thoracic and epigastric pain — we notice first that it is accompanied by paresthesia,', that it has no special relation to exertion, and is often prolonged over many hours. These facts, together with the negative results of ])hysical examination, tend to show that it is not due to the organic type of angina pectoris, but belongs in the loose group of pains to which the name of "functional" or "false" angina has been given. As in so many other cases of this group, the patient's own interpretation of the pain have led to forebodings and apprehensions, and so to a concentration of attention which greatly increases the suffering. The clinical importance of this fact is that it should lead us to a much greater vehemence, directness, and circumstantiality in our reassurances than would seem to l)e warranted by the patient's own statement. The organic effects of a fear are often in proportion to the patient's reticence upon the subject.
A Portuguese lumberman of forty entered the hospital May 30. 1908. His family history, past history, and habits ha\'e been good. Three years ago he began to have [)ain in the left side of the chest, with cough and thick yellow sputa; also a headache, backache, lack of a])})etite, occasional vomiting. For the past week he has been worse. Three days ago he took to bed. His throat is now rather sore. The course of the temperature, j)ulse, and res])iration is seen in the accom])an\ing chart (iMg. 51 ).
The patient was found to be slightly delirious, with rapid respiration and slight dry cough. The leukocytes were 5000 per c.nim. the urine, negati\e. ^\'idal reaction negati\e. l"he heart was negative. There were coarse rfdes scattered throughout both chests. In the left back, just outside the lower end of the scapula, the voire sounds were siightlv nasal. The right chixicle was somewhat more i>rominent than the left, and ex{)iration just below it was somewhat prolongefk The abdomen was lield rather rigidlw and there was slight general tenderness there. The spleen was not t\-h. and there were no rose s]m)1>.
Pulmonary tuberculosis seems more probable in view of the long duration of cough with sputa, but unless we suppose that we are dealing with a miliary tuberculosis, there is not enough in the lungs to account for so sudden and severe an illness. Miliary tuberculosis cannot be excluded. The evidence is suggestive, but not compelling. This possibility should, therefore, be held in reser\'e until other alternati^•es are exhausted.
possible to exclude, although my im|)ression as I saw the natient was that he was too sick for simple bronchitis. The grounds of this im])ression. however, are hard to convey. Bronchitis and miliary tu])erculosis, therefore, remained as possibilities to be acce})ted or rejected as the further course of the case might determine.
Influenzal infection of numerous small Ijronchiectases 1 such as occur very frequently with the clinical ])icture of chronic winter cough) is strongly suggested ])y the history and is compatible with the physical sign here described. It rarely causes so high a temperature, however, usually produces leukocvtosis with jirofuse nummular s])uta, and often has an emi)hvsema associated with it.
Meantime it is important not to forget the possibility of typhoid fever, although the time of the year is not the usual one, and although no definite evidence of typhoid has yet been presented. It seems to me essential, however, that we should consider typhoid in every febrile patient with vague and colorless symptoms which do not compel us to incriminate any one organ or group of organs. Typhoid is, beyond all other infections, tlie disease which produces fever with nothing particular to show for it in the way of local lesions. Hence in all such cases we should remember it and test for it by all the available methods.
bacilli.
The course of the disease was uneventful. The patient went home well on the thirteenth of July. There was but little cough or sputa. The treatment consisted of \ grain of calomel given every fifteen minutes for ten doses, at the time of entrance, followed by a suds enema; thereafter he had alcohol and water sponges at 80° F. every four hours when the temperature was above 102.5° F.; urotropin, 7 grains, three times a day twice a week, and turpentine stupes from time to time. In convalescence he had a good many boils, from one of which the staphylococcus was isolated. For this, staphylococcus vaccine was given.
A Turkish rug-repairer of forty-seven entered the hospital May 2, 1908, stating that when he was twenty-six he was sick for three weeks, and had shortness of breath on exertion. He has since been well until three weeks ago, when lie began to have pain in the back of his neck and the left side of his chest, with dyspnea, orthopnea, and nocturia. For ten days he has had cough and yellowish sputa.
The patient's tem|)erature during the nine weeks of his stay in the hospital was generally su!)normal; his ])ulse averaged about 100, his rcs])iration 27. The daily amount of urine was generally diminished, averaging 25 ounces; sj)ccific gravity, 1023; no albumin or casts were found.
below the fifth rib on the right, below the angle of the left scapula, while in the right back the dulness extended one inch higher. Over these dull areas breathing, vocal and tactile fremitus were diminished. There were many fine, crackling rales at the left base, and a few coarse crackles after cough at the left top, behind. The systolic blood-pressure was 145.
otherwise negative.
On the night of the fourth of May the patient's respiration became rapid and difficult — respiration, 42, with pulse, 130; tracheal rales could be heard half-way across the ward. The first heart-sound was almost inaudible, the second loudly accentuated. The pulse was very weak. The outline of the heart was normal on percussion. The patient was livid, cyanotic, and covered with perspiration.
Discussion. — But for the persistently subnormal temperature coming on, as it has, with acute axillary pain and dyspnea, one might think of pneumonia in this case, although the duration is somewhat too great. The signs in the lungs point to fluid accumulation in both chests. Is this an exudate or a transudate, due to. inflammation or to dropsy? Double pleural effusion is very rare. The absence of fever and of pain connected with respiration makes pleural effusion still more unlikely. Indeed, this possibility would scarcely have been considered but for the fact that there seems hardly enough in the condition of the heart or kidney adequately to account for so much effusion as a dropsy.
In the urine there is really no evidence of renal disease, the slight variations from normal being more characteristic of passive congestion. In the heart, accentuation of the pulmonic second sound is the chief abnormality, and this is indicative less of any cardiac lesion than of a blocked condition of the lungs, however produced. The displacement of the apex impulse is also to be regarded rather as the result of the pleural effusion than of any disease of the heart itself. On the whole, therefore, there is no direct evidence of heart disease obtainable by examination of the organ itself, and if we are to predicate any weakness of the heart's action, we must do so upon the evidence of passive congestion in the pulmonary circuit. Tliis is not satisfactory, but it is a very familiar dilemma, and one in which experience has shown that it is usually safe to assume a myocardial lesion provided that there is no evidence of nephritis, goiter, or adherent pericardium. Such diagnoses as "myocarditis" used to be much more frequent than they are at the present day, since the habit of routine blood-pressure measurements has led us to recognize so many latent cases of chronic nephritis not evident , by urinary examination. In the present case it seems inevitable that we
should blame the heart-wall for the circulatory disturbance, though it may be wiser to speak of ''myocardial weakness" (adopting the vaguer functional term), rather than of "myocarditis."
The acute attack of May 4th tends to confirm our opinion that the heart is organically weak. This attack will be easily recognized as one of acute pulmonary edema — one of the most interesting and mysterious of clinical pictures. The vast majority of such attacks occur in persons whose cardiovascular system has shown a distinct but not extreme grade of degeneration and weakness. In many cases the kidney has also shown evidence of chronic disease, but this is about the sum of our knowledge on the subject. As to the nature and determining cause of the attacks, we know almost nothing, and in a few cases we are not even warned or guided by any definite evidence of cardiac or renal disease; the edema appears, as it were, out of a clear sky. It will be understood, of course, that the types of edema here briefly referred to are distinguished from the ordinary, long-standing, gradually increasing edema of uncompensated heart disease.
Outcome. — He was bled a pint from a vein of the left arm and given strychnin, -^ grain, and digitalone, 20 minims, subcutaneously. Following this the pulse-rate fell at once to ico, and the perspiration and dyspnea diminished. The left chest was then tapped, and three pints of fluid removed. After this the pulse fell to 90. After I grain morphin subcutaneously the patient went at once to sleep and slept five hours, waking vastly improved, with good color, strong and regular heart action.
The fluid removed from the chest had a gravity of loii, with 2.7 jjcr cent, albumin. In the sediment lymphocytes made up 76 ])er cent., polynuclears, 14 per cent., endothelial cells, 10 per cent.
Two nights after this he again became uncomfortable; the other chest was as])irated and four pints of fluid withdrawn. The sj)eciric gravity was again ion; the albumin only 1.2 ])er cent.; lymphocytes, 77 per cent. The j)atient was then given magnesium sul])hate ] ounce every morning, a dram of PVench \'ermouth in a small amount of water just before dinner and supper, diuretin. 15 grains four times a day. FoHowing the ta])i)ing of tlie chest the amount of urine increased markedl}'. On the sixth of July he left the hos])ital much reHc\e(l.
was awakened by it several times in the night. She finds it uncomfortable to lie on the right side or on the back, but pressure on the left side, or lying on that side, relieves the pain. She has an extremely tender spot under the right border of the ribs in front.
Examination showed spasm in the right hypochondrium, with tenderness. The pain, however, was consistently referred across the abdomen to a point in the left axilla on a level with the lejt nipple. Physical examination, including blood and urine, was otherwise negative. The temperature ranged between 99° and 101° F. The pain did not seem to be affected by morphin, and came on two or three times a day in spasms lasting one-quarter to one-half hour. The tender point in the right upper quadrant grew steadily more rigid and more sensitive. Pressure there caused pain to shoot to the left axilla. She was seen daily by a surgical consultant, who did not advise operation. On the fourth day the white cells rose to 14,000.
Discussion. — This case is introduced to exemplify an unusual reference of pain to a point far removed from the lesion producing it. The tenderness and spasm turn out here, as in so many other cases, to guide us better than the pain, when the two diverge. A rhythmic or spasmodic character in any painful seizure usually turns out to mean frustrated peristalsis within a hollow muscular organ. But there is no such organ in the left axilla; the nearest hollow muscular organ is the heart, and there is nothing else in the clinical picture to connect the pain with that organ. The rising leukocyte count and the fever are data not ordinarily associated with angina of any type.
Outcome. — Three days later the abdomen was opened and a much distended and twisted gall-bladder found; the cystic duct was dilated, twisted, and occluded by a large stone. Three other stones were also found in the gall-bladder, which was acutely inflamed. Diagnosis. — Gall-stones.
A Swedish machinist aged twenty-five entered the ward February 8, 1907. Five weeks previously he had suffered from tonsillitis. In two weeks he was back at work, but began to have pains in his legs and feet; at one time both knees were red and swollen. Ten days ago he gave
up work and went to bed, with fever, headache, loss of appetite, and weakness. His chief complaint for the past week has been pain in both chests, worse in the right front. His legs have shown only indefinite stiffness and soreness in the past few days.
Physical examination of the chest showed in the right axilla very slight dulness, with diminished breath-sounds and a suggestion of friction. The heart was negative. There was no redness or swelling of any joint, but some pain on motion of the right knee, and a slight rigidity of the neck. Belly negative. Temperature, 101.8° F. ; pulse, 120; respiration, 30; hemoglobin, 70 per cent.; white cells, 24,000; urine normal.
On the twelfth of February there was still no evidence of any localization of the infection except that the signs in the lower right axilla had slightly increased. The patient looked decidedly sick, and the white count had risen to 25,400. On the fourteenth, pain and edema of the whole right leg appeared without tenderness; the next day swelling appeared in the left foot and the veins below the left knee were distended; there were still no tenderness and no change in the signs in the right chest. By the sixteenth the swelling of the left leg had considerably increased, and there was tenderness over the red, cord-like veins of the left calf. The white count remained the same, 88 per cent, of the cells being polynuclear.
The patient remained in the hospital until August 12th — six months. There was some sloughing of the superficial tissues of the right foot. A well-marked nephritis aj)peared on the twenty-fourth of February, and lasted until July, but finally disappeared altogether. Pleurisy appeared in the left side on the tenth of May, but disappeared in the course of a week. Thrombosis appeared in both arms in the early part of March, and in the middle of the month there was bloody expectoration for a couple of days, without any special pulmonary signs to account for it. By Ai)ril ist the arms were normal and the left leg nearly so.
A marked anemia gradually developed, so that on the thirteenth of Ajjril the red cells were 2,725.000, with 65 per cent, of hem()glot)in. Late in June there were purpuric s])ots on the dorsum of the left foot, but tliey (lisa))peared within a few days.
Discussion. — As the history of this case opens with a tonsillitis. it mav ])e well to consider some of tlie lesions which the clinical experience of the last fifteen years tends to associate with tonsillar inl1ammali(Mi. •Mthough the majority of cases of tonsillitis i^rogress beyond their (nii:in no further than the Ivmphatic glands at the angle (^f the ydw. the \ery striking prostration which accompanies and follows the acute iuteetion probal>ly indicates that the disease rarely remains local. It seems to be
shown beyond reasonable doubt that in many cases an infection first demonstrable in the tonsil appears soon after in one or another synovial membrane or joint surface, in the endocardium, in the kidney, or on some serous surfaces. This may be taken to indicate that bacteria are circulating in the blood-stream in a considerable proportion of cases, though they have not often been isolated by blood culture.
The case above described is remarkable chiefly because it narrates the fortunes of a patient who suffered, one after another, most of the common complications of tonsillitis above referred to. Beginning with multiple arthritis and right-sided pleurisy, he next suffered a series of infections of the peripheral vein'j, leading to multiple thrombi. Then came the nephritis, which I have often seen occurring in tonsillitis as the only manifestation of the body's effort to expel invaders. The pulmonary bleeding is probably to be explained as analogous to the purpuric spots which appeared for a few days in the latter part of his illness. Only histologic examination could decide whether these pulmonary and cutaneous hemorrhages were due to embolism or to some other cause. The development of a marked anemia in a six months' illness of this severity is not to be wondered at, since chronic sepsis always tends to produce anemia. But it is quite remarkable that the heart escaped, apparently without injury. Possibly the transient rigidity of the nen might be interpreted as a larval infection of the meninges ("meningi^mus"), since we know that all the serous membranes — pleura, pericardium, peritoneum, meninges—may be attacked in cases of generalized sepsis.
habits good.
Four weeks ago he began to have pain in his left chest, chiefly low down in the axilla, accompanied and aggravated by cough or deep breathing. There was slight dyspnea on exertion. For three days he has felt chilly and feverish, especially at night. He has noticed nothing remarkable about his urine, and no pain except as above described.
On physical examination the heart showed nothing abnormal. The right side of the chest moved better than the left, and there was slight dulness at the right pulmonary apex as low as the second rib, with broncho-
vesicular respiration and increased voice. At the base of the left axilla the percussion-note was flat below the sixth rib. Tactile fremitus was absent, voice- and breath-sounds diminished. Over the area of flatness were scattered a few fine rales, and some were audible as high as the second rib. In the back the area of flatness reached up to the lower angle of the scapula. Tactile fremitus was diminished over the whole left back, and absent, together with voice- and breath-sounds, below the angle of the scapula. A paravertebral triangle was percussed out on the opposite side. The abdomen showed considerable general rigidity and in the extreme flanks some dulness, which did not, however, exhibit any change with change of position. During the next ten days his temperature ranged between 99° and 101° F., his pulse between 70 and 80, his respiration between 20 and 25, his urine between 40 and 50 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a slight trace of albumin, a moderate amount of pus, many hyaline and granular casts, some of which have blood or fat adherent. The leukocytes were 6700; hemoglobin, 75 per cent.
By March 22d the dulness in the chest had somewhat diminished, and the paravertebral triangle was not evident. The dulness on the left side seemed to rise higher in the axilla than near the spinal column. A large mass was now felt in the left flank, but could not be definitely outlined on account of the rigidity of the whole abdomen, which did not relax even in a warm bath.
stone in the left kidney.
On March 27th the area of dulness in the left chest had not changed, but there were coarse, moist rales in the right lower back and axilla. The urine still showed a slight amount of pus. Cystoscopy showed this pus to issue from the left ureter, while normal urine came from the right.
Discussion. — The signs at the base of the left axilla and in the back seem to indicate a localized pleurisy, with or without a small efi"usion. In view of the later developments of the case, however, I l)clicvc that the ])aravertcbral triangle was percussed out largely as the result of "expectant attention" — /. e., of the interne's conscientious determination to find it. Even at the beginning of the case every one who saw the jxitient felt that the pleural effusion was not sufiicient to account for the marked fc\ei and constitutional symptoms. We all thought there must l)e " sonu'tliiug back of it."
(^ur first clue to that "something" in the background was the finding of ])us in the urine. This led us to search more carefully the reuion of the kidneys, whence the mass in the left flank came to lii^ht. As I read the record now it is amusing to note how promptly the chest signs
retire into the background of the cKnical picture as the kidney begins to loom up in the foreground. How far this represents the actual course of events in the patient and how far it is a matter of the historian's psychology it is now difficult to say.
Outcome. — On March 28th operation showed a large kidney filled with thick pus and adherent to the diaphragm and other structures. No stone was found, but there was a calcareous plate near the surface of the kidney; no histologic report is preserved.
A widow of forty entered the hospital February 13, 1908. She had typhoid fever three years before, and was operated on for extra-uterine pregnancy seven years before. Otherwise she has ne\'er been sick, but has had many colds this winter. Six weeks ago she began to suffer from pain in the left side of the chest. Four weeks ago she had to give up her work on account of vomiting immediately after eating. The vomitus rarely contained food. It usually was greenish. There was constant soreness in the epigastrium, and a good deal of pain in the left arm and left side of the chest. She has taken almost no solid food for several weeks. She has considerable dyspnea and palpitation, and has lost twenty-six pounds. Twice she has had shivering spells lasting several hours at night. She admitted the occasional use of alcohol, and it was apparent on her breath at the time of entrance. Some nights she passes urine at frequent intervals.
Physical examination was negative except for considerable tenderness in the epigastrium and moderate enlargement of the axillary glands on both sides. Blood-pressure, 135.
Discussion. — On p. 738 of this book I have referred to a case diagnosed and treated as neurasthenia, but d}-ing shortly afterward of cancer of the pleura. The symptoms in that case were not unlike those described above, and my remembrance of the former mistake leads me to be especially cautious in the diagnosis of supposedly neurasthenic pains in the side of the chest. The presence of enlarged glands would be quite consistent with malignant disease of the chest, and is often one of the most important clues to the discovery of that trouble. The importance of this enlargement, however, is weakened by the fact that it is bilateral. Adenitis secondary to malignant disease is usually unilateral. In the present case I did my best to find signs of malignant disease by physical examination of the chest, but could fmd nothing.
temperature record, we were able also to exclude pleurisy.
The extension of the pain to the left arm, the presence of dvspnea and palpitation, and the age of the patient are data quite consistent with the diagnosis of angina pectoris. Against this, however, is the absence of any relation to exertion as a cause of pain, the long-standing and moderate character of the suffering, and the low blood-pressure.
After the exclusion of these and all the other possibilities which we could call to mind, it seemed best to make a diagnosis of neurosis and use that as a working basis for a therapeutic test.
I interpret the left axillary pain as due to that commonest of all causes for such a complaint, viz., Jiatulence. When the stomach is overdistended, whether by atmospheric air which has been swallowed and "cribbed" or by the products of gastric fermentation, the "Magenhlase,^^ or bubble, which is usually to be seen near the cardia by fluoroscopy, swells to huge dimensions, invades the axillary region, and often causes much discomfort. The patient usually thinks she has heart disease; the thought increases her nervousness and thus her flatulence. The vicious circle is then in complete working order.
Outcome. — The patient was put to bed and given a diet of licjuids and soft solids, with ])araldehyd, half to one tea spoonful, on two successive nights. Within two days the \omiting had ceased and she felt much better. She had apparently been working hard, and was of a neurotic type, easily frightened by the slightest unexpected noise or occurrence. She was well enough to go to work again on the twentieth of February.
A Greek waiter of twenty-one, with a negative family history, entered the hos])ital November 13, 1907, with the statement that he has been feeling rather poorly for the j)ast four months, but had no definite sym])tonis until three weeks ago, when he began to have frequent severe pains in the front and left side of his chest and a distressing cough \\ith()ut cx])ectoration. I'he pain and cough were both worse at night, l)ut he lias been very comfortable lying Hat, and has complained of no shortness of ])reath. He has been chilly and fcwrisli and had mucli wrtigo and frontal headache. During the ])ast three weeks he has lost 20 ])()un(ls.
At entrance the patient was unable to lie d()\\n on acccnint of (l\s])nea. The cardiac aj)ex was neither A'isible nor ]>al])able. The area ot tardiac duhu'ss. as sliown in the diagram, had a total width of i 1 '. inthes, tiie left border of dulness l)eing ~'\ inches to the left of ih-e niidsternuni in the
fifth interspace. In the upper front of the right chest there was tubular breathing over the dull area, and in the left back, near the angle of the scapula, all the signs of solidification were present. The abdomen was everywhere dull except in the umbilical region and in the left flank. The patient's temperature was irregularly elevated for the whole of his three months' stay in the hospital. (See Fig. 53.)
on the fifteenth.
Discussion. — If we accept as accurate the record of a to-and-fro friction-sound at the point shown in the diagram, there seems no reason for doubt that pericarditis is present. It remains to discover, if we can, whether a pericardial effusion is present and by what other lesions the pericarditis is complicated.
The diagnosis between a pericardial effusion and a dilated heart is notoriously difficult, often impossible. In the present case we have no good cause for such a dilatation of the heart — no valvular or arterial lesion, no goiter or chronic nephritis, no history of beer-drinking. The area of solidification in the left back is, in all probability, due to pressure exerted upon the lung either by a pericardial effusion, a pleural dropsy, or a greatly dilated heart. The latter possibility is very rarely mentioned in text-books, but I have been conA'inced by postmortem evidence that a heavy, distended heart in a patient who lies persistently on the back may compress the left lung so as to produce an atelectasis or pseudopneumonic condensation of the lung similar to that often caused by pericardial effusion. A common mistake in these cases is to suppose that a lobar pneumonia is present. Experience has shown that when we hear the signs
of solidification near the angle of the left scapula in the course of a case showing a greatly dilated heart, with or without pericardial effusion, these signs turn out in the great majority of cases to be due to pressure exerted on the lung by the heart, or by a pericardial or pleural effusion, and not to an exudate in the lung.
The presence of a high continued fever and the absence of any cause for cardiac dilatation in the present case incline me to believe that there is a pericardial effusion. The long duration of the case without any notable improvement suggests that the pericarditis may be tuberculous.
The extensive dulness in the abdomen is in all probability due to fluid which may be the result either of tuberculous peritonitis or of stasis. Ascites is especially apt to accumulate as the result of a chronic pericarditis which has gone on to complete obliteration of the pericardial sac, but it does not seem probable that the inflammation has lasted long enough in this case to bring about that result. Further evidence as to the nature of the fluid in the peritoneum might be obtained by tapping, for a dropsical fluid would probably be of lower gravity than one due to tuberculous peritonitis.
The left lung continued to show the flatness and loss of \oice-sounds below the fourth rib in the axillary line. Sputum was examined twelve times and found negative for the tubercle bacillus. Slight dulness and bronchial breathing spread to both lungs.
A night watchman of forty-six entered the hospital August 24. 1906. He has been a hard drinker u]) to eleven months ago. He had syphilis twenty years ago. I'or over two }-cars he has bet-n troubled l)y a hacking cough without sputa, accompanied In' night-sweats and a slight ])ain in the left side of the chest. He has gradually increasing dys])nca on exertion, Inil can still lie flat and witli the greatest comfort on the right side. For the ]>ast ten months he has been having ])ain in tiic k'ti ii]'iicr chest and ])aroxysms of distressing cough. At times he losi'S his \-oice for a few honrs. but is never constantly hoarse. Xitrogiycerin lias gi\en him considerable relief, but he has rattled and whee/.ed all sununer.
weight, and has no appetite.
The heart's apex is in the fifth space, one-half inch outside the nipple, the right border of dulness two inches to the right sternal margin in the fourth space. There is marked bulging of the left chest over the area shown in the accompanying diagram, and considerable pulsation in the third and fourth left spaces. The veins of the neck and arms are distended. Loud groaning, whistling sounds are audible throughout both lungs. Physical examination of the heart, blood, and urine is otherwise negative (Fig. 55).
Discussion. — If a careful physical examination were made and duly meditated on in this case, the only hesitation in diagnosis would be on the question whether aneurysm or malignant disease of the chest is the cause of the patient's sufferings. In the absence of such an examination, however, I have known a case very similar to this to be treated as consumption for a number of months, the cough, night-sv.-eats, emaciation, and pain in the chest being accepted as sufficient evidence of phthisis.
Returning to the only diagnostic problem which ought to exist in this case (aneurysm or malignant disease cf the chest), I m.ay say in the first place that in a considerable number of cases in which I have known this discussion to arise, the outcome hcs always shown aneurysm. In this man the history of syphilis, the absence of any glandular enlargement, and the slow march of the symptoms, which apparently have lasted two years, all favor aneurysm. The loss of weight is perfectly characteristic of aneurysm, and occurs, as I have previously shown,^ in the vast majority of all cases. I emphasize this point because in the discussion of this differential diagnosis I have several times heard emaciation adduced as evidence against aneurysm and in favor of malignant disease.
Outcome. — A'-ray showed a large shadow corresponding to the area of dulness. The mass seemed to grow and then to decrease in size in the next few days, the pulsation ^•arying much from time to time in amount and in extent. There were two main projecting points — one over the precordia, and one abo\e it, under the clavicle. Sarcoma of the chest-wall was considered seriously. The patient died on the sixteenth. Autopsy showed aneurysm of the first portion of the aorta; rupture into the
In March, 1898, a housewife of thirty-three came to the hospital for hemoptysis, supposedly due to phthisis. No sign was found in the lungs. In October, 1898, she was again treated for pleurisy with effusion and fistula in ano. She had had a nervous breakdown in 1896, and had been very irritable and self-centered since that time.
wise it was negative, as were the blood, temperature, pulse, and respiration.
Physical examination, April 23d, was negative save for a patch at the right base near the scapular angle, where there were slight dulness, diminished voice, respiration, and fremitus.
Discussion. — Pulmonary hemorrhage of any amount — an ounce or more — means pulmonary tuberculosis in 999 cases out of loco, if disease of the heart and aorta be excluded, as they easily can be in most cases. The other traditional causes of hemoptysis — disease of the throat, vicarious menstruation, hemorrhagic conditions — amount practically to nothing; that is, they are usually quite obvious, like purpura ha^morrhagica, or quite mythical, like vicarious menstiuation. Pulmonary hemorrhage due to distomiasis never occurs in North America except among Japanese immigrants.
The fact that signs are absent on examination of the lungs after a hemoptysis due to tuberculosis is entirely according to rule when hemoptysis is the first evidence of disease. \Yc almost nex'er find an)' signs of disease until some months later; in many cases we never find them at all, and only the postmortem examination ]:)roves tuberculosis.
All this, however, refers to an event over a year old. Is it not possible that her suffering, at the present time, is connected with her ner\"ous condition and due to habit pain? Against this hypothesis we hii\c the fact that she has ])reviously had pleurisy with elTusion and fistula in ano. both of them tuberculous alTections in practically e\ery case. Bearing these troubles in mind, we naturally assume that her })rcsent ])ain is in some way produced by her old pleurisy, of which there seems to ]\- still some e%idcnce at the right base. There are, however, two other |)(^ssil)ilitics which must first be considered l^riefiv:
The urine contains bile. This directs our attention to the liver; but enlargement of the liver upward may produce in the right back all the signs here described — signs which, if interpreted as pleurisy, might be due either to a small effusion or to marked pleural thickening. I have known abscess of the liver to produce exactly these signs, so that it was mistaken for empyema. Against the possibility of liver disease there is not a great deal to be said, as our methods for detecting liver disease are so few and unsatisfactory. We may note, however, that there seems to be no enlargement of the liver downward, no bile staining of the skin or conjunctiva, none of the ordinary causes for cirrhosis, hepatic abscess, passive congestion, amyloid or fatty metamorphosis, no change in the spleen, glands, or blood to suggest leukemia or Hodgkin's disease. This is the best that we can do to exclude liver disease. Had these same signs appeared in the back following an appendicitis, amebic dysentery, or cholelithiasis, the situation w^ould suggest hepatic abscess.
I once made a diagnosis of purulent pleural effusion in a case bearing a good deal of resemblance to this one. I put in a needle an inch and a half below the angle of the scapula, drew pus, and promptly handed over the case to a surgeon for drainage. He opened the pleura, found it smooth and clean, and indulged in disparaging remarks on medical diagnosis. Further exploration, however, showed that the diaphragm was pushed up nearly to the angle of the scapula, and that through its domed surface fluctuation could be detected. A second ]umcture, ten days later, after the pleura had healed without infection, liberated a quart of pus from the region of the kidney. Since that time I have always remembered the possiljility of perinephritic or subdiaphragmatic abscess when dealing with what appears at first sight to be an effusion (serous or purulent) at the right base. The presence of leukocytes in the urine makes it all the more necessary to consider the kidney in this case, but we must first make sure that those leukocytes come from the urinary tract by obtaining a catheter specimen of urine. When this was done, the urinary sediment no longer showed leukocytes, and as there were no other facts pointing distinctly to the kidney, I returned to my original idea — pleurisy at the right base.
This case is one of many which exemplify the long duration of pain and of physical signs after the healing of a pleural effusion. Perhaps in the majority of cases there is more or less suffering for a year.
Outcome. — The pain remained mostly in the back, and not in the side, during the five days of her stay in the hospital, but soon disappeared with rest, full diet, and counterirritation.
A typewriter of twenty-three lost her mother and one brother of phthisis. Two and a half years ago she was in bed several weeks on account of pain in the left axilla. The whole attack lasted three months.
Lately she has noticed pain in the left side when she is nervous — sharp for a few minutes, and leaving an ache for two or three days afterward. Sometimes exertion relieves it. Coughing or sneezing does not increase it.
Five months ago the pain increased. For six weeks she slept almost none and walked the floor much. Her weight fell from 132 to 108. The pain is chiefly in the left side, but there is also a constant sense of pressure in the right breast and back, with occasional sharp pains. Suffering is worse at night. She has a good deal of indigestion and constipation.
Examination. — Cardiac apex in fifth space, nipple-line. Accompanying the first sound is a systolic murmur, loudest at the apex, but audible also over the whole precordia and in the left axilla. The pulmonic second sound is slightly louder than the aortic.
Tender spots near the left lower scapular edge, in post-axillary line, in the axillary line in fifth, sixth, seventh spaces, and along sternal border [fourth to eighth ribs] were found. Sensation normal.
Discussion. — In view of the site of the pain and the family history of tuberculosis, it would be wrong not to consider pleurisy in this case; but there was no definite evidence of it on physical examination, and without such evidence the diagnosis can never be made.
Pain due to dyspepsia and flatulence would hardly be so constant, and this same characteristic excludes both types of angina pectoris. Muscular pains (pleurodynia) would show exacerbation rather than relief by exertion. Of local diseases of the chest-wall we haxe also no evidence.
Intercostal neuralgia is characterized by pain like that here described, and especially by tender points corrcsi)onding approximately with those which physical examination has revealed. I believe intercostal neuralgia to be a rare disease, although the diagnosis of it is so common, by intercostal neuralgia one means ordinarily the so-called '' ])rimar}- " type, imrelated to any cause of ])ressiire, such as aneurysm or spondylitis. Pressure pains of this tvpe are, of course, by no means uncommon, but ])rimary intercostal neuralgia unaccompanied by herpi-s and without any known cause is, 1 believe, distinctly rare. The cha^nosis, like all diagnoses of a "primary " or obscure lesion, is one with whicli we are
never quite content, and which we can tolerate only when we have done our best, by rigid scrutiny and thorough sifting of all other recognized possibilities, to find a cause. In the present case, for example, I should not be satisfied unless disease of the spinal column had been, so far as possible, excluded.
An alcoholic Irish teamster of twenty-eight has noticed for a week a pain in his right lower axilla. The pain has several times been associated with vomiting and a slight cough. No injury is remembered.
Family and past history good.
Physical examination is negative, save for a rounded swelling about 15 cm, in diameter near the right costal margin in the axilla. The swelling is brawny, with a slightly fluctuant crater in the center.
The commonest causes are: septic osteomyelitis or tuberculous osteomyelitis of a rib. The patient might have broken one or more ribs without knowing it during one of his drinking bouts, but the resulting calluses would not produce a mass like that here described,
A fatty tumor or an empyema necessitatis would not have a brawny surface. Either of these lesions, if fluctuant, would be fluctuant throughout. Malignant disease of the chest-wall does not often show itself at this point. Actinomycosis cannot be excluded; it is, however, a rare lesion, and the commoner causes of a swelling at this point should be considered first.
Further diagnosis is impossible without incision.
Outcome. — Two ounces of pus were removed by incision and a sinus found leading to a rib. Rough bare bone was found at the bottom of the sinus. There was no evidence of actinomyces. The patient seemed greatly debilitated.
began to have pain in the left chest. Ever since it has been a constant . ache, at times becoming severe, worse after eating; it is not affected by respiration or motion. Her appetite is good, but she has complained of a great deal of " gas upon her stomach," and for some months has lived upon a diet excluding meat and eggs, sweets, salt, and fried stuff. She never vomits. Her bowels are constipated, and she has considerable dysjmea on exertion. One year ago she weighed 150 pounds; she thinks she has lost weight since.
Physical examination shows a rather obese girl weighing 149^ pounds. There is a harsh systolic murmur audible all o\er the precordia, but not transmitted elsewhere. The apex is neither visible nor palpable. The left border of dulness is in the nipple-line and fifth space. The aortic second sound is louder than the pulmonic second sound. Physical examination, including blood and urine, is otherwise normal.
Discussion. — The only objective abnormality in the physical examination is the cardiac murmur and the accentuation of the aortic second sound. ' These items are not sufficient, separately or in combination, to warrant any inference of disease. The histor}' shows that she has been starving herself, yet on physical examination she is obese. Possiljly she is trying to reduce her weight, which may ha^■e been greater six months ago.
In the absence of any local cause for the pain one naturally thinks of neuralgia, especially since the diet is so insufficient. But there are no tender ])oints corresponding to the nerve exits, while the fact that ])ain is worse after eating is very uncharacteristic of neuralgia. While this diagnosis cannot 1je positively excluded, it seems ratlicr unlikely.
ertion and less to food.
In vic\^■ of these facts and of the al)sence of any a])parent connection between the cardiac murmur and the j)ain, it seems reasonal)le tobelie\e that it is due to a digestixe disturbance favored by insulTicient food and associated witli gaseous distention. On p. 28S I have already- mentioned the great frc(|uency of axillary pain due to this cause. Such ]«ain is \ery common as an element in the clinical ])icture (>f the gastric neur()>c>, witli or without starxation.
Xc) cause of stomach trouble in women is commoiier than starxation. Tlie \icious circle is establislied in tlie following maiuuT: Some teni]io rary fatigue or depression of \italit\- results in digestixc- (ii>U;rl)ante. The food eaten last or most abundanth' is blamed b\- the i>aiieni and excluded from the subsetnient meals. l)igesti\e disturWanee eoiiiiii;:e>. Other foods are exchuk'd. The nutrition of the wh.oK' !)o>h. iiuludinL'
that of the stomach itself, begins to suffer, and digestion is still further delayed by gastric stasis or insufficient secretion. The suffering thus produced makes the patient aspirate air into the stomach ["cribbing"], which in time increases the discomfort and renders her still more timid about eating. The circle is then complete. To break it one must force the patient to eat, despite considerable pain, until some gain can be made in the general and so in the local nutrition. A weakened stomach, like a weakened muscle, cannot be strengthened without exercise, and this entails, for a time, increase of suffering.
Outcome. — The patient was given a full diet, a tight swathe, ^ dram bicarbonate of soda after meals, and half a dram of the elixir of the valerianate of ammonia before meals.
A THEATRICAL ad\'ance agent of thirty-ihe entered the hospital January lo, 1907. Ten days ago he strained his arm while swinging on a trapeze. A week ago he was suddenly taken with aching and soreness in the muscles of the right arm, with a slighter amount of pain in the other arm and in the legs. The joints were not affected, and there was no fever or chill, but the right arm was somewhat swollen above the elbow, where it was more tender than in any other part. He had severe, constant, frontal headache and a harassing, dry cough. He stayed in bed for the first day, but, feeling no better, got up again and has been up most of the time ever since. I'our days ago he began to be short of breath, especially on exertion, and for three days he has had chilly sensations. To-day he complains chiefly of dyspnea, cough, soreness all o\er his body, headache, weakness, and a sharp pain in his right wrist on motion. He gets up three or four times at night to pass his water.
On physical examination, temperature, pulse, rcs])iration, blood, and urine were found to be normal. The patient looked sick and Ijreathed with some difficulty. The lungs were slightly dull in both backs, and showed many fine and coarse rales with a few squeaks on both sides. The heart was negative, likewise the abdomen. The rales in the chest disappeared the next day. The ])rincipal complaint thereafter was of pain in the whole right arm, and in it there were slight general swelling and a])parcntly great tenderness. The arm was held rigid most of the time. Dr. Goldthwait found nothing a1)normal about the bursa> or joints.
On the eighteenth of January the patient drop])ed and broke a cu]). Immediately after this he had a con\"ulsion, in which his body became rigid and his eyes rolled up, while the lids, tlickered.
Discussion. — All tliat ])hysical examination re\eals in this case is the e\'idence of a sliglit bronchitis and a tender arm, very jjossibly due to a strain. There is no evidence of inflammation or of any lesion of ])one or ;!24
PAIN IN THE ARMS 327
joint. The pain does not follow the course of any nerve, is independent of exertion, and associated with no evidence of cardiac or vascular disease. Cervical rib, aneurysm, and tumor were excluded by careful examination.
In view of all this negative evidence, and in consideration of certain neurotic mannerisms which were obvious, but not easily described, we were strongly inclined from the outset of the case toward the diagnosis of traumatic neurosis. After the fit, which was clearly hysteric in nature, we felt much surer of our previous diagnosis, and instituted treatment based upon it.
Outcome. — From the fit above described he could not at once be aroused. He was, therefore, ignored, and after about twenty minutes he sat up and acted as if nothing had happened. Up to this time the arm had been held rigidly, and all attempts to move it had been resisted — as he said, because of severe pain. After the convulsion he was given a severe scolding, and the arm was raised and the fingers were bent and straightened again by force for about five minutes, in spite of his shrieks and protestations. Motions not antici])ated by the patient were found to ])e free. The next day the patient was up and about the ward, the use of his arm as good as ever, and there was no sign of his previous incapacity. He is now anxious to go out and get to work. The chest is clear, and he was discharged well.
It is worth noting in this case that there was no suit for damages in contemplation. Some writers on traumatic neurosis and many lawyers engaged in defending suits for damages try to })ersuade us that the ex])ectation of a money payment as the result of litigation })roduces most of the symptoms of the traumatic neuroses. Cases like that here described upset such assertions.
A Turkish jeweler forty-five years old entered the hospital December 26, 1907. His family history and ]xist history were not remarkal)lc. He denied venereal disease. Three years ago he had his first attack of "rheumatism " in the right hand and forearm, later in tlie otlier hand and other arm. There was no in\'()h"cnient of the joints and no increase of pain l)y motion. Six months later the pain cxlendcd U]) to the shoulders and to tlie neck. For this rheumatism he has been treated by man;- doc tors, but without relief. Three vears ago he gave u]^ work and has ne\er resumed it. Fifteen months ago lu-lx'gan to liaxc a dist'-es>inu cough with foamy sputum and this has continued e\-er since. Vov about the same ])eriod lie has noticed hoarseness and dyspnea on exertion. For
A loud ringing cough is the patient's most striking symptom, and no cause for this could be found on examination of the lungs. Over the base of the heart a loud, harsh systolic murmur is heard. There is an area of percussion dulness as shown in the diagram (Fig. 56). Physical examination is otherwise negative.
Discussion. — In view of the symptoms Avhich have recently developed in this case it no longer presents any diagnostic problems of special difficulty. Any patient who has a long-standing violent cough, with dyspnea, hoarseness, pain in the arm, and a dull area over the manubrium, with negative heart and lungs, has either aortic aneurysm or mediastinal tumor in all human probability. To this residual problem I will return later.
The great interest of the case centers in the three years which ha\e led up to the appearance of the present distinctive symptoms of mediastinal pressure. Until very recently this case was regarded, as most such cases are, as one of "rheumatism." I have taken occasion in A'arious parts of this book to illustrate the dangers and fallacies inherent in most diagnoses of rheumatism. Xo other word in the doctor's vocabulary stands so frequently for a dangerous mistake, one for which the physician bitterly reproaches himself when he discovers it. How are these dangers to be avoided?
1. Let us never use the word rheumatism unless there is evidence of acute infection, with distinct and predominant in^■olvement of joints. Muscular pains will then be ruled out, their distinguishing characteristic being an increase of pain, especially when the muscle is used. The recognition of nerve pains, distinguished by the close relation of the suffering to the anatomic distribution of one or more nerves, will still further to restrict the unchartered freedom with which we pronounce the word "rheumatism." Pain due to inflammation involving the subcutaneous tissues or deeper ])arts may ordinarily be recognized ])y the other familiar e\idences of exudation ^tenderness, redness, swelling, heat).
2. When muscular pains, neuralgias, and subcutaneous exudations are excluded, we have left a very large grouy) of lesions in or near the joints — bony outgrowtlis, periosteal inflammations, se})tic and tulxTculous osteomyelitis, malignant disease of the Ijone, cartilage., or ])eriosteum, joint fringes and foreign bodies, joint atro])liies. traumatic syno^'itis, gout, hemophilic arthritis, joint suppurations, and other less common affections. From all these true rheumatism (i. f., acute injections polyartJiritis of unknoivn origin) may be distinguished, in tlie \ast major-
ity of cases, by the fact that it produces no permanent changes in anv of the joint structures and gives a negative :v-ray picture. Joint fringes, traumatic synovitis, and suppurative arthritis may show nothing characteristic in the ^"-ray picture, but the history and the accompanying svmptoms usually make the diagnosis clear. The point which must be insisted ui)on, however, is that if we are to be even approximatel}- secure in a diagnosis of rheumatism we must have a satisfactory rc-ra}' picture of the joint in any case persisting over two weeks.
3. It is, I trust, worth while to mention here some of the diseases which I have known frequently diagnosed as rheumatism. The list includes many cases of tabes dorsalis, aortic aneurysm, and osteomyelitis (septic or tuberculous), a smaller num}:)er of cases of malignant disease involving the mediastinal, prevertebral, or abdominal glands and the long bones; also a good many cases of pressure neuritis (due to spondylitis, subacromial bursitis, or cer\ical rib).
Returning now to the case under discussion, we must attempt a diagnosis between aneurysm and mediastinal tumor. The strongest evidence against tumor is the long duration of the symptoms witliout any involvement of the external l}m])hatic glands and without more obvious de])ression and exhaustion of the })atient's ])hysical condition. As has been already said, diagnostic problems in^■olving the differentiation between aneurysm and mediastinal tumor are usually settled sooner or later ])y the disco\ery of aneurysm.
Outcome. — The .r-ray confirmed the diagnosis of aneurysm. On the eighth of January a diastolic murmur was noted, l^est heard at the a])ex. The pulse showed no change. At times the murmur was loudest in the anterior axillary line in the fifth s])acc, and could be heard indistinctly as far l)ack as the ])oslerior axillary line. The murmur was long and wholly re])laced the second sound at the a])ex. Gelatin injections produced great ])ain, l)ut no relief.
A washwoman of fiftv-nine entered tlic hos])ital ]'\'bruary 10. locS. Three \'ears ago slie liad what she \vas told was a Iifuigu tumor in if.r left breast, which was remowd in ScptemljiT. 1005. < )thiT\\ isc slu- iiaI)ci'n well until three months ago, wlicn she began to notice ])ain on UK'tion of the right u])per arm and shoulder. Since Christmas, TO07, slu' !ia> i)een able, to do little or no \\"ork. Tntil \"er\' recenth' there lia^ Ihtp no ])ain when the arm is kepi still. Coughing ])roduces jiain; lire;!tr.ini:
the right groin and hip.
Physical examination showed no emaciation, normal temperature, pulse, respiration, blood, and urine. The chest and abdomen were also normal, but it was found that the patient could not raise the right arm without marked pain. The greatest tenderness was in the front of the upper arm. There was no atrophy.
Counterirritation and small doses of morphin did not relieve the pain at all. On the nineteenth it was found that the right arm and the right side of the chest were almost completely anesthetic. An orthopedic consultant considered the case one of subacromial or subcoracoid bursitis. A neurologic consultant agreed. The pain in the right groin disappeared after a short stay in the hospital.
Discussion. — Against the diagnosis of subacromial bursitis the most important datum is the area of anesthesia, which involves not only the right arm, but the right side of the chest, and was apparently overlooked by the other consultants. I have never heard of a bursitis producin^^ wide-spread an anesthesia. Less important considerations antagonistic \ I to the diagnosis of bursitis are the absence of any trauma or of any e^•i- j ■ dence that abduction or rotation is especially painful, and the fact that \ the pain is not especially worse at night. In the gi^eat majority of cases -^^ of bursitis the opposite is true.
Three months' suffering with shoulder pain and disability, associated with so wide-spread an anesthesia, should always lead at once to the investigation of the mediastinum by radioscopy, especially since we have no positive evidence that the mammary tumor removed in 1905 was as benign as the patient had been led to suppose.
Outcome. — X-ray taken on the twenty-sixth showed a wide shadow in the mediastinum. On March 4th the patient began to complain of a smothering sensation in the chest, and some edema appeared in the right hand. The veins in the neck, especially on the right, now began to be engorged, though the pain was diminished. The patient left the hospital March 21st, not relieved.
A clerk of forty-nine entered the hospital June 25, 1908. He had previously been in the hospital twenty-two years before, suffering from what was considered facial neuralgia, but since that time he had been perfectly well until five months ago, when he began to have sharp pain under the rifdit shoulder and fmallv down the whole of the riszht arm.
After the first two or three days the pain never bothered him at night, but seven weeks ago it compelled him to give up work. He has had to have morphin for it once. The pain is most severe near the elbow. The joints do not seem to be involved. There is no limitation of motion. His appetite and sleep are poor. For a month he has had fi\'e or six loose movements of the bowels a da}-.
Physical examination was entirely negative. There was no tenderness along the course of the nerve -trunks. A'-ray showed nothing abnormal in the chest, the neck, or in the joints. On the second day of his stay in the hospital he had a return of the facial neuralgia, which he had not j)reviously had for twenty-two years.
Discussion. — Neuralgia, /'. e., nerve pain of unknown origin, is always an unsatisfactory diagnosis, and one that we should make with the greatest hesitation and as a consequence of a long process of exclusion, whereby all known causes for such a pain are sought for without result. In the present case we can make a diagnosis of neuralgia only by satisfying ourselves that there is:
(b) No injury of the part (unrecognized fracture, traumatic neuritis, contusion or traumatic traction of nerve-trunks, tearing of muscular, capsular, or ligamentous fibers).
In the present case it seems possible, by rigid cross-questioning and examination, to exclude all these possibilities. We had reason to believe that the ])atient was already subject to ner\e ])ain of unknown source. The diagnosis of brachial neuralgia was, therefore, linally made.
Outcome. — Under aspirin, to grains e\ery liour for eightrcn hor.rs, hot and cold douching, rest, and generous diet, the pain was \it\' nv.'Ah relieved by the second of July. On tlie seventh he left the hosi'ital practically wfU.
A colored housewife of twenty-eight entered the hospital July 23, 1907. She has ncN'er menstruated, but has otherwise been well until seven days ago, when she woke up with a sore throat and stiffness throughout the whole left side, such that she could not raise her arm or leg. Since then she has had much pain in both arms and has taken a great deal of morphin. At entrance the arms, knees, and lower legs were tender and swollen, the tenderness being as great in the muscles as at the joints. Physical examination was otherwise negative, though the temperature ranged between ico° and 101° F. for a week, gradually falling to normal in the course of another week. The blood sho\\ed a moderate polynuclear leukocytosis. The urine contained bile for the first five days, and she had severe nose-bleed several times in the first four days of her stay. The conjunctivae were distinctly bile-stained.
Discussion. — It seems obvious that we are dealing with an infection of some kind. The well-marked pyrexia, the jaundice (hemolytic presumably), the polynuclear leukocytosis, and the evidences of local inflammation all point to a bacterial origin.
Swelling of the extremities is not a common symptom when the heart and kidneys are sound, as they appear to be in this case. This is especially true of the arm. Occlusion of the vein by infectious thrombosis should produce a well-locaHzed cord-like induration along the course of one or more veins. We ha\'e nothing of the kind here.
Lymphangitis is usually the result of some infection involving a break in the skin. It generally produces a red blush, extending from the point of injury or its neighborhood up the extremity toward the nearest lymphglands. But of such an inflammation there is no evidence.
Of sei^tic myositis we know so little that it is hard to make any definite statements aljout it in a diagnostic discussion. I have never heard of so diffuse a myositis except that resulting from the disease next to be mentioned.
Trichiniasis might produce almost all the svmptoms in this case, though it is not often limited to the extremities and rarelv associated with so much edema. ^ The jjatient's color, the polynuclear leukocytosis, and the absence of the eosinophilia strengthens the case against trichiniasis.
A\'ith the exclusion of all these possibilities, there is nothing left but an inflammation of the su])cutaneous tissue and joint structure, not in\"olving the ^"eins or h'mphatics. not due to an infected wound or to any
known parasite. In the great majority of such cases the tenderness and swelling soon "settle" in the joints, leaving the other tissues free. Because of this fact and because the joints ultimately recover entirelv, such cases are usually labeled "rheumatism." For the reasons previously discussed on p. 328, I believe this term should be restricted to articular disease involving no permanent joint changes nor lesions of the subcutaneous tissues around the joints. The present case, therefore, should be labeled ])rovisionally as a cellulitis and arthritis of unknown origin.
Outcome.— The patient was given hot fomentations surrounding the extremities, and 10 grains of sodium salicylate every hour. Bv the third of August she was greatly improved. By the thirteenth she was up and walking about, all pain and swelling having gone excejjt from the left hand. This also gradually got well in the course of six weeks.
charged for several months.
For six months she has had slight pain and considerable disal)ility in right shoulder. Rotation is ])ainful and creaky. l)ut abduction is not especially limited. The deltoid is very weak and markedly atrophied.
Discussion. — Weakness, soreness, and stiffness of the shoulder lasting six months make a clinical ])icture raising many diagnostic ])ossil)ilities before our minds. Since the general physical examination reveals notb.ing abnormal in the internal \iscera or in an}" other i)art of the body, we are justified in fixing our attention u])on tlie local lesion.
Subacromial bursitis might |)roduce all the symptoms here described, but the history does not suggest an}' of the ordinar}- causes ot this disease, sucli as trauma, ])rolonged ll.xation, or sej'sis. If subse(|uent examination (.v-ray) re\eals no other disease of tlie bone or joint, bursitis will present strong claims u])on our notice.
Tuberculous oslcoiuvrlilis in\()l\ing the head of the humerus nuLiht also account for all tlie s\-m])toms of \\hich this ])atit'nt complains. L^laiidi inclines us toward tlie belief that the bone also is tul)er(",ilo;i>. .\liiioi;L;li there is no apparent iiu'ohenient of the soft parts o\erlvitv.: ihe joint.
Only by this means can we exclude an unrecognized fracture oj the upper end oj the humerus. It would be strange, however, if, in a young girl apparently free from disease of any other part of the body, we should find a fracture of the humerus without any known trauma. In the early stages of such a lesion the history should have mentioned the presence of ecchymosis and swelling, especially on the inner side of the arm. Six months after the time of fracture we should expect the symptoms either to be gone altogether or to be associated with some bony deformity.
Circumflex paralysis rarely occurs without some much more obvious cause than is stated here. In case of such a paralysis there would be no visible or palpable contraction of the deltoid fibers if the patient were to make an effort to raise the arm (abduction). In the present case there were distinct wrinkling and hardening of the deltoid under the palpating hand during the patient's effort, although no considerable motion resulted.
Atrophic or hypertrophic arthritis would be almost certain to involve some other joint to a greater or lesser extent. The age and sex are typical for atrophic arthritis, not at all so for hypertrophic lesions. Further evidence regarding such disease could only be obtained by .r-ray examination.
A deep axillary abscess, small and high up under the pectoral, sometimes produces a fixation of the shoulder-joint and pain on any motion involving it; but careful examination of the upper axilla behind the pectoral should disclose a deep tenderness and induration, and there should be some fever. In the present case such an abscess is unlikely on account of the long duration of the symptoms.
Outcome. — X-ray showed considerable necrosis of the head of the humerus, which was therefore excised. Examination of the portion resected showed tuberculosis. The girl ultimately made a good recovery, with very fair use of the arm.
An Armenian factory hand of thirty-one received a blow on the right shoulder six weeks ago. Afterward the shoulder swelled and stiffened. The patient is not able to give any more detailed history of his illness.
the right shoulder. Passive motions are also somewhat restricted in all directions; there is marked tenderness over the upper third of the humerus. No swelling, no hollowing of the deltoid, but marked atroj)hy of the whole upper arm. The axilla is full of tender glands.
Discussion. — The signs seem to point toward some type of osteomyelitis, but why does not the man get well? Why are there atrophy of the whole arm and such marked loss of power in the shoulder? Six weeks of disuse might alone cause atrophy and limitation of motion. Is there some malignant disease behind it all, some lesion of the central nervous system, or tuberculosis? The presence of temperature and tender axillary glands tends to show that there is still infection going on, although the leukocyte count is so low. The fact last mentioned inclines us slighdy toward tuberculosis as the cause of the osteomyelitis.
Obviously, however, the chief need of the case is for an .Y-ray examination, to be followed in all probability by a more thorough in\"estigation of the conditions below the deltoid.
Cases of this type ofTer an extensive field of possible alternatives for differential diagnosis. Thc_history of trauma makes it necessary to consider fracture or dislocation of the humerus and subacromial bursitis. Contusion or hematoma would presumably have been well before the end of six weeks, but there may always be an element of traumatic neurosis in the case.
On the other hand, it is essential to remember that the history of trauma is often evolved quite out of whole cloth by the patient, whose mind imperatively demands some such explanation for a painful and tender swelling, due, in fact, to neoplasm, to tuberculosis, to scy)tic osteomyelitis, or other disease in which trauma plays a very subordinate r61e.
Further, we must realize that a subacromial bursitis is sometimes brought about In' the prolonged immobilization of the shoulder resulting from a shoulder contusion which is coddled by a neurotic patient or an overanxious mother.
Taking up now these alternatives, we may eliminate fracture and dislocation by the negative results of .v-ray examination; _liiu:?^itis, by the absence of characteristic limitations of moI)ility; ne()])lasms, by the results of .v ray. Tlie tenderness is distinctly suggestive of osteonncliiis, especially if neoplasm can \)ii ruled out. The results of exploratoryincision will be important here. Tuberculosis, whrtlu'r in tlu' !onn of caries sicca or whether including subcutaneous tissurs, should be shown up by the results of .v-ray examination.
Outcome. — A'-ray showed a large ca\ity in the head of the humerus and a smaller one in the shaft; shoulder-joint obliterated. After ojjeration, the patient recovered. The excised bone showed no tuberculosis.
Edema gone.
Examination. — All motions of the left shoulder were made voluntarily. The muscles were still very weak, and there was tenderness over the scapula, which later improved with counterirritation and sodium salic}'late. A'-ray negative.
Discussion. — The earlier symptoms remind us of tuberculosis of the humerus or of subacromial bursitis. But neither of these diseases produces so much s\velling of the lower arm. Tuberculosis may be, with reasonable probability, excluded by the negative results of .v-rav examination, bursitis by the absence of spasm or characteristic limitation of motion and tli*- '^'csence of diffuse extensiw ','fle'";T.i.
causes of pressure, suffices to exclude them.
Swelling of the arm without ol)\-ious cause is occasionally due to a thrombophlebitis, but such a diagnosis cannot be made unless we find induration and tenderness along the course of some vein or veins.
Brachial neuralgia is a ])Ossible diagnosis, although the [)resence of edema and the absence of tenderness following sharply the course of any known ner\e make it rather unlikel}'.
known cause. We hear but little of such affections, because they are apt to be called muscular rheumatism, as the present case was. In view of the outcome of the case cellulitis seems to me to be the best diagnosis.
For three years the pain has been worse and has been referred especially to the region of the right clavicle and to the whole right arm. Sometimes it is localized at the lower end of the ulna.
pain often keeps her awake at night.
Examination shows a pulsating mass above the left cla\'icle, ^^•ith a sense of firm resistance below and around it. Backward motions of the arm cause sharp j)ain. The outer side of the pulsating mass is very tender. There is no considerable atrophy or limitation of abduction. Temperature range, 98° to 99.5° F. Pulse, 90 to 120. Urine ])ale, acid, 1016; albumin, slightest possible trace. Sediment. Numerous blood-globules; small round mononuclear cells, some of which are fatty. Manv calcium oxalate crystals. Internal viscera negati\e.
Discussion. — The diagnosis was not suspected in this case until the conditions were actually seen at operation. This seems to me wrong, for there are very few causes which j^roduce a pulsating mass above the clavicle. Aneurysm is naturally our lirst thought, but this is a \er\- unusual ])lace for an aneurysm, although diffuse dilatations of th.e subclavian or carotid arteries often occur as a result of aortic regurgitation and in connection with a diffuse dilatation of the arch. This condition is not aneurysm, and should not be confounded with it. since there is no breaking of the arterial coats and no tendency to end in rupture of the arterv. Further, an aneurysm of two years" standing is \ery rare in this situation, and the source of the marked resistance around the j)ulsating mass would not be explained by the diagnosis of aneurysm.
Can the pulsation be transmitted through some tumor or inland uLir VKiss l)y a normal arterv beneath? it would seem \"er\" unHkely tiiat a tvunor wliich would ])r()duce pressure j)ains in tlie'arni for three _\'ears should not ha\"e attained greater size and pulled the patient down more. and metastasis woukl probablv h,a\e occurred.
Brachial neuralgia is a diagnosis which one never has a right to make in the presence of anything which can possibly be interpreted as a mechanical cause of the pain under investigation. With a mass like that here described the diagnosis of neuralgia has no justification.
A pulsating mass abo^'e the clavicle means cen'ical rib in nine cases out of ten, the pulsation being due to the subclavian artery which overlies the rib, while brachial pain results from pressure on the brachial plexus.
Tlie firm resistance below and around the pulsating mass was the rib underlying the artery. Had an x-ray been taken, the diagnosis should easily have been clinched before operation, but even without an rv-ray one might make a reasonably certain diagnosis on the history and physical signs, provided one had ever seen a similar case.
Outcome. — The brachial plexus and subclavian artery were found at operation to be ele^■ated on the blunt head of a cervical rib which joined the first dorsal rib about two inches from the sternum.
A very alcoholic clerk of thirty-three was sent into the liospital for "osteomyelitis humeri." He has had three months' ])ain in right upper arm, at times sharp; occasionally it shifts to the elbow or forearm. Day and night make no difference.
increased. Otherwise he feels well.
Examination. — Whole ui:)per right arm 2} inches larger in circumference than the left. Hard (bony?) enlargement is felt beneath the muscles. The whole mass is Jwt and tender.
Discussion. — The fact of enlargement of the ui)per arm f)elo\v the shoulder and at the ])oint of ])ain excludes many of the conditions discussed in previous cases. Sul^a.c.rQniial bursitis, artliriti-^ of the shoulder-joint, circumtlex ])aral}"sis. brachial neuritis, tuberculous disease without abscess formation 'caries sicca), all ])roduce ^tro])hy, £ipt enlargement.
overlying tissues, but in such diseases one would expect fluctuation rather than such extreme induration. Rarely, moreover, does an osteomyelitis or periostitis result in enlargement of the superficial veins.
Syphilitic disease of the bone, or gumma involving the skin, would probably produce far less pain and little or no enlargement. After three months' duration there would almost certainly be some involvement of the skin, some discoloration or ulceration.
The enlargement of the veins associated with an increase in the size of the whole arm, with marked induration, is very characteristic of malignant disease involving the bone.
Outcome. — A'-ray examination showed only a slight increase in the area of bone-shadow — apparently a periostitis. The Wassermann reaction was negative. Operation showed osteosarcoma.
A school-ljoy of twelve was struck on tlie right arm just l^elow the shoulder eight weeks ago. The arm ])ecame at once swollen, and in the ])ast few wec^<s has been so ])ainful as to require morphin, especially at
night.
Kxauiifialion. — A swelling one-half the size of an orang^e occupies tlie deltoid region, and extends one-third of the way down tb.e arm, about half encircling it. The shoulder motions are free and painless. The \'eins over the lower ])()rti()n of it are enl;irged. The niiiss is rather soft, \ery tender, and ;ipi)arentl}' adherent to the l)one. < )ne enLirged. non-tender gland is felt in tlie riglit axilla (normal microscojiic;'.!!}- '.
Discussion. -The acute sv.elling iuid pain near the IhtuI of the humerus are rather cliaracteristic of septic osteomyt'htis. opeeiall}' ii: a boy of this age. Hut iii tlu- course of eildit weeks op.e would r:'t!ier expect that the ])us would ha\"e Inirrowed to tlie surkiee or I)rou!iht about a general septieenda.
Mx|)tTts ill legerdemaiii aeeoin]>lisli iht'ir tricks 1)\' selling a trap for our attention and altraeting our ga/.e to the wrong place al the wrong tiinc'. P)y a similar pswh.oloiric Tiieclianisni a histor\- of iniu''\' like this beeoi";ns one of the eonimonc'st and most dangero'.;^ ot Ir.ips -;'i in eateh un\'.;,r\- diagnostic k;ns. Our allenlion g;'t> I'oncenira.it'd "'">i a '.'roup ol lesions, such as dislocation. I'ra.eture, liemaloma. or \)".v^\\\-. ■>". Idch niiLdil result direclh' tVoin trauma. While \' e are pu.;di!v; 1< decide between thc'se alternatixes. or perliaps eariwnv o'.n li-ea'ineiil designed to reliexc one of ik.em, ine actual b:!l i;nr-'i>"e( !ed neoiikisin
that osteosarcoma is common in this situation and at this age.
The plexus of swollen veins over the swelling is rather suggestive of tumor, but against it, apparently, is the normal microscopic structure of the enlarged axillary glands, which one would expect to find transformed as a result of metastasis from the bone tumor. It must always be rememl)ered, however, that the examination of a gland under conditions like these sometimes proves very misleading. Twice I have known malignant disease of the mediastinum associated with a large axillary gland, which, when removed, showed nothing abnormal in its structure. Diagnostic conclusions from the examination of glands in tJie neighborhood of doubtful lesions are of value only when the results of examination are positive. Negative results are valueless, as was, indeed, exemj)lified in this case by the outcome.
Outcome. — Incision allowed the escape of some soft material resembling grains of sago. On microscopic examination these grains showed the structure of round-cell sarcoma.
humerus is tender.
Discussion. — The boy is at the age when septic osteomyelitis or malignant tumors are apt to attack the end of the long bones. The wornout appearance of the boy and the absence of tenderness rather favor tumor, but it is to be noted that tenderness is absent only in the upper part of the arm, while the lower j)art is notably sensitive.
Why is the whole arm swollen? We have no e\'idence of pressure from tumor, aneurysm, or cervical rib, no sign of phlebitis or cellulitis. Such a swelling would be very unusual were we dealing with tuberculous osteomyelitis.
bone. Three ounces of pus were e\acuated from a cavity in the medullary portion overlain by thickened bone and periosteum. Staphylococci in pure culture from the pus. Temperature, 99° to 100° F.
A hardwood finisher of forty-seven fell down stairs in 1901, striking the right shoulder and the back of the neck. For three months after this the shoulder continued sore.
any medicine.
In September, 1904, jmin in the naj)e troubled him and continued until January, 1905. In December, 1904, the pain between the shoulders and in the right shoulder became severe again, and has lasted until the present time (January 17, 1905). This pain is not affected by motion or position, but often keeps him awake at night.
Examination. — Left jjupil larger than the right. The j)atient stands with a well-marked stoop. An impulse lifts the manubrium with each heart-beat. A diastolic murmur, loudest in the second right space, is audible over the whole heart, which shows no ob\ious enlargement. The pulse collapses markedly. The larynx and trachea are normal. There are dulness, tenderness, bronchial breathing, and increased voicesounds at the right apex. The right cla^■iclc and shoulder arc tender to touch, but all motions are free. There is no muscular atrophy. Physical examination is otherwise negati\e.
Discussion. — The history of the case naturally suggests that the present symptoms are due to trauma. esj)ecially as the shoulder is -till tender. But a more careful reading shows that the inter\al between 1901 and 1903 is too long for any such explanation.
Apparently there is no lesion of the joint, muscle, or ner\e. All articular motions are free; muscular action does not inerea>e the I'ain. and the suffering is not detlnitely localized along any ner\e trunk.
The long-continued cough (two month^V the emaciation. [\)v abnormal physical signs at the right apex, and the ehe-t I'ain had led to a diagnosis of pulmonary tul)erculo-i- by the attending: I'hysician.
But there seems to be no fever, no evidence of breaking down within the lung (rales, purulent sputa), and a great deal more pain in the shoulder than one expects to see in phthisis. Especially notable in this respect is the long duration of pain before the cough began. There seem to have been nearly two years of suffering before there was any cough.
By some orthopedic specialists many pains in the back, shoulders, and arms are explained by the so-called "round-shoulder deformity" — the ordinary stooping habit. Up to date I have not been convinced of the validity of these explanations. The difficulty with all such explanations is that they fail to show why the stoop has persisted so many years longer than the pain supposed to be due to it. In any case it is not at all probable that a stoop will be advanced to explain such severe and definitely localized pain as is here complained of.
This patient's pain is in a very queer place. One very seldom hears patients complain of pain high up between the shoulder^ and whenever one hears such complaints, some cause of intrathoracic j^ressure should be suspected. Such causes are, for practical purposes, three and only three, viz., aneurysm, vertebral tuberculosis, and malignant disease. Turning now to the circulatory system with the thought of aneurysm in mind, we note that there is evidence of aortic regurgitation, such as often accompanies aneurysm. We notice also the inequality of^jjie pupils, and we are led thus to suspect that the pulmonary lesions may be the result of pressure upon the lung itself or upon one of the larger bronchi. Obviously, this possibility — -aneurysm —has much in its favor, especially when we consider the long duration of the symptoms. Intrathoracic neoplasm would probably have produced more obvious and alarming symptoms if it had existed so long. Tuberculous or other disease of the cer\ical or upper dorsal vertd^rcC should produce some stiffness or tenderness of the spine, and after so long a course some evidences of caseation, telescoping, kyphos, or fever would be expected.
Outcome. — A'-ray shows an extensive shadow to the left of the sternum. Had in the ward several attacks of severe ]^recordial pain, with great anxiety, relieved by nitroglycerin. Pain then ceased for th'c weeks.
with a scalding feeling in the arm above the elbow.
The heart a])ex was then found to be in the sixth space, six inclies to the left of the median line. The right pulse is smaller than the left, and of "Corrigan" ty])e. Tracheal tug. The patient remained in the
A cook, tifty-nine years old, colored, born in Martinique, entered the hospital March 28, 1908. He has always been well exce])t for "rheumatism" many years ago, which attacked many joints but did not keej) him in bed. He denies venereal disease.
For two years he has had attacks of pain in the left shoulder, radiating thence to the breast-bone and to the pit of the stomach. These attacks of pain have come at considerable intervals until within the past two weeks, when they have come every other day, and ha\e forced him to stop work. The pain is not severe, and is always reliex'ed by rest -or drinking hot water. He says that his left arm is weak, especially after an attack of pain. His ankles have been painful and swollen for two weeks, and he has had a hacking cough for li\e months. At one lime he noticed that he passed more urine at niglit than in the day-time, but this is not now the case.
On physical examination the i)ainful shoulder showed no objective abnormalities. The cardiac a])ex seemed to extend one inch outside the nijj|)le-line in the fifth space. A systolic murmur was heard at the base and down to the fourth left s|)ace. The aortic second sound was faint, the ])ulmonic second sound somewhat louder, but not accentuated. The ))ulses seemed to be of high tension, but the l)lood- pressure read only T :;8 mm. of mercury. The radials and Ijrachials were markedly thickened and tortuous. The edge of the li\er was felt two inches below the ensiform. In tlie fourth left interspace, near the sternum, a faint diastolic murmur was later made out. At no time was there any ca])inar\" pulse or Corrigan ]>ulse. A'~niy was negati\'e.
Discussion. —We may exchide all varieties of arthritis (rheumatic and other), because the joints are at present normal. Muscular, ])eri()steal, and nerve lesions can be ruled out by the al)sence of swelling, tenderness, and heat, the absence of anv relation of the ])ain to muscular movements or to the anatomic position of the ner\e. Then- is no important evidence pointing to aii\' source of pressure within tlu' elioi.
When these possibilities are excluded, we note that tlu- pain conies in paro.wsms which are relieN'ed bv rest, and that it lia> \er} \\i(ie radiations. An_\' i)ain of this tvpe occurring in a man ol litl}' nine
suggests aneurysm or angina pectoris, especially if the patient is a negro. Of aneurysm we have no definite evidence, though it cannot be ruled out without x-ray examination. Most cases of angina pectoris are associated with a greater elevation of the blood-pressure, but the disease cannot be ruled out on that account. Angina is, therefore, the most reasonable diagnosis. Greater certainty can be attained through the therapeutic test, but only time can exclude aneurysm.
Outcome.— The patient was given 5 grains of potassium iodid three times a day, with y^^ grain nitroglycerin and cascara as needed; later, 15 minims of tincture of digitalis three times a day were added.
By April 4th he had made marked improvement, and was sleeping soundly every night. On April 5th he was out of bed, and thereafter was almost free from symptoms until his discharge on the eleventh.
This case is introduced as an example of a somewhat unusual distribution of pain in angina pectoris. In other cases the pain may be wholly epigastric, w^hoUy or largely in the arms or in the back. We are justified in grouping all these widely separated pains under the single heading of "angina," because all of them are associated with arteriosclerosis and wdth cardiac disease which is fairly well compensated. It is important that all of them are produced and relieved in the same way. The four specially characteristic occasions for anginal pain are all of them occasions of suddenly raised blood- pressure. These are:
The vast majority of anginal attacks are produced by one of these four causes, which I have arranged in the order of their frequency. Much less common is angina that wakes the patient from sleep. The relief of pain when one of these causes has been removed usually enables the patient and his physician to be quite clear as to its cause. The relief by some one of the nitrite preparations, which tend to lower blood-pressure, is also of great diagnostic value.
A tailor of sixty entered the hospital July 21, 1906. He stated that for eight or nine weeks he had had rheumatism in his right shoulder, which is now much better and troubles him very little. A little later he noticed a lump just above and to the right of his breast-bone. This
has gradually increased in size until the last week, when it has grown very rapidly. It is hard, not tender, and seems to "beat." He now notices pain on lifting his right arm or turning on his right side. There is no history of injury. For the past two months he has been hoarse.
Physical examination shows that the pupils are equal and react normally, though they are slightly irregular. The heart shows nothing abnormal. To the right of the sternum, above the second rib, is found an expansile, pulsating tumor, the size and shape of an egg. The right clavicle is pushed forward, and the sternal end seems to be buried in the tumor. The manubrium is eroded and the first rib completely cut off from the sternum. There is no dulness beneath the manubrium, and no other abnormal pulsation. There is a faint systolic murmur over the tumor.
and urine is otherwise normal.
Discussion. — Hoarseness, shoulder pain, irregular pupils, and a pulsating lump near the breast-bone seem at first almost indisjnitable evidence of aneurysm, and so, in fact, they did seem to most of those who saw this case in the hospital wards. Certain points, howe\er, were, at any rate, atypical, to wit:
(a) The pain: why should it decrease? It rarely does decrease in cases of aneurysm unless the patient takes to bed and adopts other measures for slowing the circulation.
(b) The j)ercussion area: why should there be no substernal dulness? The aneurysm must be su|)posed to arise from the arch of the aorta, and ought, therefore, to produce dulness under the manubrium.
If not aneurysm, what else could this lump be? Giimmalous tumors a^-e common in this situation. They are not usually painful and destroy much less bone than aj)pears to have disaj)peare<l in this case. 'Jluy ])ulsate only in case they ha\e ])erforated the sternum, which is a rare cxTurrence.
Tuberculosis of the bones composing the thoracic wall usually shows more evidence of caseation, produces but little pain and that confined to the diseased focus itself, and never pushes the clavicle forward.
Malignant disease originating in the ribs, in the sternum, or in some of the mediastinal structures would produce most of the signs here described. The marked pulsation seems less inconsistent with a vascular neo])lasm than with syphilis or tuberculosis. The patient's age is suggesti\-e of neoplasm rather than of aneurysm.
Outcome. — Despite the considerations just adduced, a diagnosis of aneurysm was made. The patient left the hospital on the twentyfifth of July, and not long after consulted Dr. Maurice H. Richardson, who removed an incapsulated \'ascular tumor which suggested, on histologic examination, a metastasis from hypernephroma. There was no aneurysm. Some months later the patient entered the Cambridge Hospital for profuse renal hemorrhage, probably due to the primary tumor.
A milliner of twenty-seven entered the hospital March 9, 1907. Her family history was negative, and she remembered no illness until within the past year, when she has had dysentery with eructations of gas after eating, especially after taking fried food. She has had to get up to pass water once or twice at night for the past year. For two months she has been conscious of her heart-beat. P^ighteen months ago she weighed 112 pounds, which was about her average weight. Now she weighs 97 pounds.
Three months ago she began to have cough, which sometimes is so intense as to make her \omit. She spits almost nothing. For the same yjeriod she has noticed shortness of breath on slight exertion. January 30, 1907, she was admitted to the Rutland Sanatorium for tuberculosis, and five examinations of her sputa were made, with negati\'e results. Her temperature while there was normal the greater ])art of the time, but at irregular intervals it would rise to 100° or 100.5° F. She comes to the hospital directly from Rutland. On more careful f[uestioning she admits that for a }-ear slic has been having dull pains in the left side of her neck, and ])ain and numbness in the left arm. This pain is apt to increase gradually for t\\o or three minutes and then suddenly sto|). Kggnog or anything containing alcohol makes the pain distinctly worse. It has C{uite frequently kept her awake at night. Lying on the left side makes it worse.
Physical examination shows slight brownish pigmentation of the skin. The left chest is somewhat fuller in front than the right, and the veins over it are prominent. Over the left clavicle is a small mass the size of an English walnut, hard and movable, not tender. The heart is negative. The left lung shows dulness just above and below the clavicle. Throughout the left front, breathing is distant, and the same is true of the left back below the scapula, where there is dulness and diminished fremitus as well. The abdomen is negative. The left u])per arm measures 21 centimeters; the right, 9 centimeters.
Discussion. — ^The mistaken diagnosis of tuberculosis was quite excusable in this case. Cough, dyspnea, pain, with dulness at one pulmonary apex, loss of weight, and a slight pyrexia are certainly ver}strong evidence in favor of tuberculous infiltration. It was only after repeated negative examinations of the sputa that it seemed necessar}' to reconsider the diagnosis. The fact that no rales had a])])eared during a considerable period of oliservation, and especially the early appearance and long persistence of ])ain, began to make it seem likely that some deeper and more serious disease was at work.
The most significant fact in this case is, 1 think, the long inter\al (nine months) between the beginning of pain sufficient to keep her awake and the onset of cough. This, 1 think, should have made us susjMcious and doubtful of our diagnosis from the first.
High Pott's disease must be reckoned with. There need be no kyphos in sucR cases, and the ])ain is often referred to ])oints distant from the s]jinal lesion. The ])ain, however, is the only symptom which points toward vertebral tuberculosis. We have no muscular s]xism, no stiffness or torticollis, none of the evidences of caseation or abscess formation sucii as might well be exjjected after a year's duration of the disease.
W'licn the arm l)egan to swell and the lump a])])eared abo\e the left cla\icle, there was no longer any considerable doubt that a mediastinal tumor of some type was ])ressing upon the brachial ])lexus. Siuli tumors, whether they arise from mediastinal glands, froni the root ot the lung, or from the pleura, usually l>('ij;iu unlh symptoms of oni'nuiry pleural cfjusion, for which they are fre(|uenlly mistaken. In their earl\' stages there are often no ])ain, no external tumor, and no swelling of the arm. The pleural effusion, howexer, reaccumulatcs with astonishinLr swiftness after aspiration. It nia\" or niav not be bloodw and its cellular constituents ma\' or niav not i)e identical with those of ordinar\ itiihtr culous) pkniris\'. But it is especiallv the rai)i(l refilling of the c'he>i attrr tap})ing that finalh" awakens our sus])icions of malignanl diseasr.
Outcome. — X-ray of the chest showed a diffuse shadow, chiefly on the left side, but extending also a short distance to the right of the spinal column. The nodule at the base of the neck was removed and examined by Dr. Wright, who pronounced it malignant lymphoma. The evidences of fluid at the base of the lung steadily increased. The patient did not react to 3.5 mgm. tuberculin. On the twenty-fourth of March she was discharged not relieved.
A HACKMANof twentv-fixe entered the hospital March 6, 1907. His family history was negative. A year ago he had urethritis and was sick for a month. For a week his left ankle was swollen and red and he was unable to use it for a month. Six days ago he noticed a cutting pain in his right hip, relieved by sitting down. Four days ago he was unable to get out of bed. Yesterday his left ankle was swollen and sore.
Physical examination showed normal temperature, pulse, and respiration. The chest and abdomen were normal. There were slight tenderness, redness, sweUing, and pain across the instep of the left foot. Motions of the right hip caused marked pain in the sacro-iliac joint. There was also tenderness there.
Discussion. — We are dealing with lesions of the right hip and left ankle — in all probability some type of arthritis. The diagnosis of rheumatism must be avoided like a blasphemy unless we are forced to it by the exclusion 'of all other possibilities. To those possibilities we will accordingly turn our attention.
Hypertrophic arthritis (osteoarthritis) does not attack these joints in a man of twenty-five. It will be rememliered that in the hi|)-joint this lesion constitutes the malum coxa senilis and leaves youngsters unscathed.
Atrophic arthritis might involve these joints in a }"Oung man, but always in\"oh"es other joints as well (particularly those of the hand), and it is very ])rone to a symmetric distribution, e. g.. Ijoth wrists, both ring fingers, both hips, both feet.
Were the sacro-iliac joint alone affected, it might not be necessary to assume tlie ])resence of any infiammatory lesion. Some strain or displacement of the joint might suffice to jjroduce the ])ain. But since the opposite ankle-joint is also in\'ol\-ed, we have no reason to connect the two lesions mechanical]}-. Infection is the only r)tlier familiar link. es])ecially as we lia\e no delinite e\'idence of any metabolic defect, such as "Out.
PAIN IN THE LEGS AND FEET
If the joint troubles are of infectious origin, the first question to be answered is: Could a urethritis last so long? Can the joint trouble be due to a gonorrheal infection? To answer this question we must investigate the urethra.
considerable improvement.
On the seventeenth there was much pain in the sacro-iliac region, and this lasted until the twenty-second, after which he improved rapidly. The opsonic index was low most of the time until the twenty-eighth,
dose of vaccine.
after which it rose and stayed high. Its variations are shown in the accompanying chart. On April 7th he was walking about without any difficulty, and on the ninth he was discharged much relieved. Diagnosis. — Gonorrheal arthritis.
A colored man of si.xty-four entered the hospital July 11, i()o7. His family history is negative. He stated that he almost died of a "bad cold" at fifteen, that he had had spinal curvature since he was thrown from a horse at fourteen. In the eighties he was at the Pxiston Insane Asvlum for a time.
Since spring his right hip has pained him, and for the last three weeks the pain has been so severe as to interfere with sleep, and when he wakes there is much pain and stiffness in both legs, though it wears off considerably with exercise. Three weeks ago his feet were swollen for some time. This has now gone. He drinks much water and usually passes urine three or four times at night. His bowels move every day or two, and only with medicine.
The movements of the patient's pulse, temperature, and respiration are seen in the accompanying chart. At entrance his white cells were 7700, but a differential count showed that 90 per cent, of these were
polynuclear. There was no anemia. The spine showed scoliosis, resulting in a marked prominence of the ribs of the left back. There was an old bony deformity of the right elbow-joint, which was stiff. He was poorly nourished. There was marked arcus senilis. The heart showed nothing of interest. The radial arteries were tortuous and stiff. The front of the chest was negative except for a few fine rales over the right clavicle. Behind, the right chest was dull below the spine of the scapula, with diminished or absent breathing; the left back was full of moist rales. The abdomen showed slight tenderness in the region of the gallbladder. There were glands the size of walnuts or almonds in the groins, axillae, and neck. There was practically no motion in the spine. The urine averaged about 35 ounces during his stay in the hospital, with a specific gravity of 1015, a slight trace of albumin, and very many hyaline and fine granular casts, with cells adherent, some of which were fatty.
On the fourteenth the chest was tapped and 27 ounces of fluid removed, with a specific gravity of 1015, albumin, 2 per cent., lymphocytes, 81 per cent. The sputa showed nothing remarkable.
From the seventeenth of July until the twentieth he was delirious. Discussion. — There appear to be many widely diverging clues in this case. The history gives us hints of psychic stigmata, of tuberculosis, of renal or cardiorenal disease, of multiple arthritis and multiple adenitis. Certainly it is a difficult case to untangle. We seem to have reasonably good evidence of a chronic interstitial nephritis. P^ !L' » t ;
matter with him.
On the other hand, that "bad cold" which he had at fifteen, following immediately upon the spinal trouble, which appears to have resulted in a rigid spine, makes us very suspicious of tuberculosis, especially as the symptoms occur in a colored man. The effusion in the right chest (evidenced by dulness and absent respiration) may be due either to tuberculosis or to mechanical causes (dropsy). The low specific gravity inclines me to believe that the fluid is not a pure exudate. The multiple adenitis is not inconsistent with tuberculosis, though it might also indicate syphilis. All types of leukemia are excluded by the blood examination.
That some infection has invaded the patient's body seems indicated by the continued fever and the dehrium. We might suppose that this is a terminal sepsis due to the streptococcus or some other of the common terminal invaders, the rest of the symptoms being then explained under cardiorenal disease. But this would not account for the stiff spine, the stiff elbow-joint, the general glandular enlargement, and the early history.
A positive diagnosis seems impossible, but more facts can be accounted for by assuming a tuberculous infection than by any other hypothesis. As a matter of fact, however, this diagnosis was not made.
third he died.
Clinical diagnosis: Arteriosclerosis; chronic nephritis; pleural effusion; terminal infection. Autopsy showed old tuberculosis of the spine; tuberculosis of the kidneys; tubercular ulcer of the ileum; miliary tuberculosis of the bronchial lymph-glands, with suppuration; tuberculosis of the lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys, and cpicardium. The guinca-])ig which was inoculated with 25 minims of the sediment of the pleural effusion was killed August 23d and showed no evidence of tuberculosis.
A housekeeper of thirty-one entered the hospital November 4, TO07. Her family history was negative. She liad been operated upon at the Massachusetts (general Hospital for stone in tlic riglu kidney in i»)03, but no stone was found. All the summer of njoj she had been run down,
had sometimes been brought on by worry.
For five weeks she has been tired, restless, and overemotional. Appetite and sleep have been poor. Three weeks ago she first noticed that she limped, favoring the right leg. This limp has steadily increased, and for the past two weeks she has been constantly in bed. Two weeks ago she began to have sharp pain in her right groin, in the right hip and to some extent in the right lower back. The pain is worse at night and often keeps her awake; it comes in paroxysms, leaving her entirely for a few hours at a time. When tired, she passes urine ev^ery two hours or so, but she has noticed no change in it. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart.
Examination of the chest was negative. The abdomen was tympanitic throughout and held more rigidly on the left than on the right. On deep palpation there seemed to be some tenderness on the right. The right leg was kept continually flexed upon the body. Extension of the hip-joint or outward rotation was painful; other motions were good. The scar of the previous operation w^as seen in the right flank. On deep inspiration a rounded, tender mass could be indistinctly felt in the right flank.
Examination by an orthopedic consultant convinced me that the psoas contraction was not due to any hip lesion. The kidney and the mesenteric glands were suggested as possible causes.
On November 5th and 7th the urine showed a large amount of pus in the sediment; a very slight trace of albumin; specific gravity, 1013; the amount, about 40 ounces in twenty-four hours. Discussion. — In this and the succeeding case we are dealing with a hip pain associated with a psoas spasm. There seems no evidence that the hip-joint or spine is involved. One looks accordingly for the other and less common causes which lead to contraction of the psoas. Deep tenderness on the right side of the abdomen, associated with fever and psoas spasm, is a well-known feature of appendicitis. But appendicitis rarely begins with a limp before there is any right iliac pain. It should produce some muscular spasm of the abdominal wall, but there is none of this here, nor is there any localized tenderness or "cake" over the appendix region.
Tuberculosis of the mesenteric gland and occasionally other causes of mesenteric adenitis may lead to psoas spasm. Such a diagnosis is hard to make, harder still to deny. One inclines toward it if there is nothing to suggest any other recognized cause of psoas contraction. Probably adenitis accounts for some of the mysterious cases of "idiopathic" or "hysteric" spasm of the psoas. Psychic causes are often invoked when our diagnostic resources are exhausted.
Various kidney lesions (hematogenous infection, perinephritic abscess, tuberculosis, stone) have been known to bring about a contraction of the psoas. This patient has pus in the urine, and an investigation of the kidney is, therefore, of the first importance.
Outcome. — On November loth the flexion of the leg had become more marked. The patient ate and slept poorly. Three :x;-ray plates were taken. They showed apparently two renal stones on the right.
Operation November i6th showed two stones and a little pus in the kidney. Even under deep anesthesia the leg could not be extended, but later, in convalescence, this spasm entirely disappeared and she walked well.
An Italian hod-carrier of thirty-two entered the hospital June 26, 1906. Three weeks ago, while carrying bricks on a ladder, he felt a peculiar sensation in the left hip, described as "throbbing" (probably clonic spasm). Since then there has been pain in the hip, with marked stiffness, the pain being increased on motion.
Visceral examination (including blood and urine) was negative. The left thigh was partly flexed, and could not be straightened without pain. Flexion and rotation caused no pain. There was no other obvious spasm and no tenderness. The left groin was slightly fuller than the right. X-ray showed no sign of hip-joint disease, renal disease, or of aneurysm, which had been suggested by Dr. Goldthwait in the out-patient department; although there was greater pulsation in the vessels of the afl'ected side, the temperature in both legs was the same. There was slight dulness in both flanks, not shifting on change of position.
hip-joint; (b) the spinal column; (c) the appendix region; (d) the renal region and the urine. We consider enlargements of the mesenteric glands, always so easy to include and so hard to exclude in cases of this type. We look for evidence of abdominal tumors or aneurysm of the aorta.
In the present case we are able, apparently, to exclude all these possibilities except tabes mesenterica, and this, in view of the negative tuberculin reaction, seems very unlikely. Since there is no reason for accusing the stolid Italian laborer of the "vapors," we have to fall back upon a hypothetic strain involving the psoas. There seems no reason, a priori, why this muscle may not be subject to strain or sprain like any other, but it is obvious that, until we have followed our patient far into convalescence, we cannot place any reliance on such a diagnosis.
Outcome. — By July 9th the patient was walking well, without limp or pain. Uninterrupted recovery followed, apparently as the result of the magnificent air which he breathed in the surgical wards of the Massachusetts General Hospital.
A beef-carrier of fifty-three entered the hospital January 29, 1907. His family history is negative. He has never been sick until the present illness, but has been in the habit of getting drunk once to three times a week. Two weeks ago he woke in the night with a pain in the right hip. Since that time he has been confined to bed with pain and fever, wandering in his mind, and constant twitching of the arms. His wife says he has had no alcohol for two weeks. He has been treated for lumbago and for diabetes. Later it was learned that five years ago he had had some abscesses on his neck which discharged for a year. They were finally cured by an extensive operation.
Physical examination showed good nutrition, but the patient's mind was cloudy, though he would answer simple cjuestions. All his muscles were held rigidly, especially those in the neck and arms, but there was no paralysis. The pupils were slightly irregular, liut reacted normally. The eye motions were normal, the chest and abdomen negative. The white cells were 13,000; the Widal reaction suggestive, but not positive; the blood otherwise normal, likewise the urine. Marked subsultus was the most y)rominent feature. At entrance the case was taken for an acute abdominal emergency and immediate operation was
fuse sweating.
Discussion. — Hip pain, fever, and dehrium are the presenting symptoms. The character of the dehrium suggests alcohoHsm, but two weeks' abstinence from alcohol should have steered him past the danger of delirium tremens. The general muscular rigidity, moreover, the hip pain, and the irregularity of the pupils could not be thus accounted for.
The mental condition, the muscular twitchings, the fever, and suggestive Widal reaction furnish us with some of the material whence a diagnosis of typhoid might be built up. But the leukocyte count is remarkably high for that disease, and we should still be left without an explanation of the hip pain, the muscular rigidity, and the condition of the pupils.
Rigidity of the neck in a febrile patient always makes us fear meningitis, and all the other facts in this case go to strengthen this hypothesis. If he had been treated for diabetes, as the history states, he has probably had sugar in his urine. Transient glycosuria is not uncommon in meningitis of any type.
But if he has meningitis, can we in any way explain the hip pain ? Certainly not by the epidemic or aural t}-pe of meningitis, but meningeal tuberculosis might well originate in a tubercular hip, the probability of which is increased as we note that he has had chronic discharging abscesses of the neck, presumably tuberculous.
Outcome. — He died on the thirtieth of January. Auto])sy showed tuljcrculosis of the bodies of the fourth and fifth lumbar vertebra^ with large ])soas abscesses; tubercular meningitis; tuberculosis of the retroperitoneal glands; obsolete tuberculosis of the left apex.
An architect of thirty entered the h()S])ital May 3, 1907. His family history, past history, and hal)its arc good. Five weeks ago, wh.ile jum])ing to catcli a ])ase-ball, he felt a sharj) ])ain in tlie left Jiip. He got liome with difTiculty, and has l)een in bed e\er since, suffering almost continual ])ain in the left liij) and along the back of tlie tliii^h. 0])iates ha\e l)een necessary to ])ro(luce sleej), and e\en then on!}' a few hours' sleej) at a time lias been obtained. Tlie pain has ne\er l)een
in the back and has gradually diminished in intensity, but the patient is still unable to walk or to put the foot to the ground. The left thigh is held slightly flexed, and there is a tender point two inches outward and upward from the tuberosity of the left ischium. There is also tenderness along the course of the sciatic nerve, but none over the sacroiliac joints. It was afterward learned that five years ago he had a similar attack, following bicycling; he was then laid up for five weeks.
Discussion. — As in the previous case, the presenting symptom is sciatic pain, but here its origin is not insidious and obscure, but abrupt and apparently traumatic. In studying it we must go through the same series of investigations intended to bring to light any cause for pressure upon the nerve (pelvic tumors, bony outgrowths from the femur, spinal osteoarthritis, sacro-iliac displacement) and any metabolic disturbance, such as diabetes, whereby a toxic neuritis or neuralgia might arise. [It should be noticed in passing that no one seems adequately to have investigated the possibility that diabetic sciatica may be due not to a chemical cause, but to muscular weakness, destroying the support of the pelvic articulations. Certainly toneless, flabby muscles play an important part in many cases of sacro-iliac trouble,]
Many cases of sciatic pain seem, like the present one, to begin after an injury which is usually of the type here described, i. e., a wrench such as might bring about violent extension of the hip-joint and possibly some strain or stretching of the sciatic nerve. It has been more frequently assumed, however, in recent discussions, that the trauma has affected the sacro-iliac joint primarily, the nerve only secondarily. This seems to me to be a matter rather of fashion than of reasonable conviction.
Outcome. — X-ray showed no evidence of spinal involvement or of sacro-iliac disease, and an orthopedic consultant considered the case one of " simple sciatica." From the time of entrance until the thirteenth of May he was treated, chiefly with a \iew to relieving the pain, by means of ice-bags, hypnotics, and an occasional dose of morphin. On the thirteenth he was given hydrotherapy and Zander treatment, which within a few days produced remarkable improvement. On the seventeenth he was discharged, much relieved.
was in bed seven months, and has had half an inch of shortening in that leg ever since. After being out of bed about a month, he had an attack of what was called "sciatic rheumatism," which, so far as he remembers, was exactly like his present illness. He was then confined to bed for two months and was treated by electricity and drugs. He denies venereal disease, takes about 25 cents' worth of beer and whisky a week, and chews 10 cents' worth of tobacco a day.
Three days ago, without any known cause, he felt a sharp pain in the right hip-joint. This pain has continued ever since, is worse on motion or pressure, radiates down the back of the leg to the ankle, and is accompanied by a burning sensation, also described as like electricity. He has never any pain in his back. He worked until last night, but then the pain was so severe that he was unable to sleep, even with morphin. This morning for the first time he noticed blisters on the leg, due, he thinks, to a poultice.
Physical examination of the chest and abdomen was negative, except for a sausage-shaped mass in the left iliac fossa, which disappeared in the course of a couple of days.
The knee-jerk was very active on the left, less so on the right. On the left buttock was a series of vesicles filled with straw-colored fluid. On the right, opposite the upper part of the sacrum, and over the thigh, in the region of the great trochanter, was a line of ruptured vesicles. Pressure over the sciatic nerve, especially near its exit from the pelvis, in the popliteal space and in the calf, was painful. Sensibility was normal. There was no tenderness over the spine or pelvic bones. Rectal examination was negative. The pain was excruciating in all positions, and was ver}little afi"ected by mor})hin. Ice at times gave slight transient relief. After the twentv-sccond the pain became more bearable, following the administration of three grains of quinin every two hours until the ears rang. Static electricity seemed to increase the pain. Aspirin did not help at all.
Discussion. — The history of pain coming on for the first time soon after a severe fracture of the femur naturally directs our minds to the possibility that l)y the callus formed at the site of fracture, pressure may be exerted upon the sciatic nerve or adhesions formed inAolving it. The diflficulty with this supposition is that the ])atient has been free from pain for over two years, although nothing has been done which wor.kl remove adhesions or alleviate pressure. Possibly there may ])e some kss direct connection between the fracture and the present pain, but it is difficult to get beyond the region of conjecture, (^nlv by .v-rav ixaraination and rectal palpation can we get any further e\i(U'nc-i' in this d'.ri'c tion.
Any sciatica which involves both legs is very suggestive of pelvic new-growth. In this case we have apparently a bilateral herpetic eruption, the usual manifestation of a lesion of the ganglion with its corresponding nerve-root. The pain, however, is unilateral, and we have no definite evidence to support the idea of pelvic new-growth.
In every case characterized by sciatic pain we should remember that diabetes is one of the commonest causes for such pain. There is no statement about the urine in the above record of this case, and evidence should certainly be sought in that direction.
Largely through the influence of Dr. J. E. Goldthwait the medical profession has now learnt to search for osteoarthritis of the lumbar spine or for some lesion of the sacro-iliac joint in all cases of sciatic pain. The nature of the connection between the pain and the bone lesions has not, I think, been fully explained as yet. Most of the important evidence of such a connection consists in the results of a therapeutic test — fixation of the spinal and sacro-iliac joints by strapping, belt, or plaster-of-Paris — ■ and on the relief of symptoms following such fixation. This is of great practical importance, but does not answer all the questions regarding the mode of production of sciaticas thus relieved. In the present case we find no evidence of spinal or sacro-iliac disease.
The term "sciatic rheumatism" is now happily falling into disuse, and with it, I believe, will soon go out of existence the hoary and overworked theory that cold produces such troubles. Doubtless it was their connection with joint lesions such as those just referred to that first suggested the term "rheumatic," with the theory of cold as the cause. In \iew of the negative result of all the examinations directed toward finding a cause for the pain we shall be obliged to leave it as an unexplained symptom ("primary," "idiopathic," or "simple" sciatica). Since it is associated with herpetic eruption, and since we know that many cases of herpes are due to infectious disease, it is fair to surmise that the neuritis with which we are now dealing may be of the infectious type. All this, of course, presupposes that the results of urinalysis and x-ray examination are negative.
Outcome. — X-ray of the femur showed a large callus with a projecting spicule, but as there had been no pain for two years, this seemed probably not responsible for the pain. Dr. J. J. Putnam considered the case neuritis with herpes zoster. Dr. Goldthwait agreed.
An Italian pressman of forty-five entered the hospital March 26, 1906. Three weeks ago he gave up work on account of pain in his hands and feet, which has been severe ever since, and has recently kept him awake. His appetite is poor and he has vomited several times. He attributes his pain to the fact that he gets very wet with perspiration at his work and then rides home upon a car. He got very cold in this way, just before the present illness.
Both ankles were somewhat red, swollen, and tender. There was tenderness on pressure iii the calves of the legs and over the muscles of the forearm, a bright red macular rash over his back, with small, shiny ])apules scattered through it, and in the arm-pits numerous small, discrete, transparent vesicles. He was seen by Dr. Goldthwait on the twelfth of April. He found at this time an infectious ]~)roccss. chiefly in the cellular tissue, with very little involvement of the joints.
deal in the night. After omitting the salicylates, which had been given steadily up to that time, the delirium cleared up within twelve hours. The knee-jerks were present, but the Achilles reflex absent. The eyes reacted better to accommodation than to light. The urine averaged 60 ounces in twenty-four hours, the specific gravity varying very widely between 1009 and 1020. Hyaline and granular casts were numerous, and there was always pus in the sediment. The blood showed 12,800 leukocytes, 81 per cent, of which were polynuclear.
change in his condition accompanied the fever of April loth to 19th.
Purulent conjunctivitis was present throughout his stay in the hospital. The smear showed no gonococci; a variety of other organisms were present. May ist he was discharged, not relie^•ed.
Discussion. — Judging from the condition of the pupils and of the ankle-jerks, there seems reason to believe that this patient has tabes, but evidently that is not his most important malady at the present time, so that our interest centers in the question : What else is the matter with him? We have obvious evidence that an infectious process has invaded the subcutaneous tissues, the joints, and the conjunctivae. In all probability the pus in the kidney is to be attributed to a genito-urinary infection due to the same organism which is attacking his other tissues.
At one period in the case it seemed as if the meninges, also, were infected, but the immediate cessation of meningeal symptoms when the salicylates were stopped makes it pretty clear that we were dealing with a salicylate delirium, which should always be borne in mind when any delirium occurs during the administration of salicylate in large doses. This is a very frequent occurrence. Indeed, it is impossible to avoid it if we are in the habit of pushing this drug rapidly to its physiologic limit, as we should do in most cases of acute arthritis. No considerable harm results, as the delirium always ceases promptly when the drug is withdrawn.
We have evidence, then, of a very wide-spread infection of the body. Presumably this is due to one of the pus-forming organisms, since we have no definite evidence of tuberculosis, glanders, or syphilis. No further certainty can be arrived at without blood culture.
Milder cases of this type are often called ''inflammatory muscular rheumatism" (see above, p. 333), just as the milder septic infections of the joints pass as articular "rheumatism." But in both cases there is no reasonable doubt that we are dealing primarily with an infection of the blood-stream, following which the micro-organisms take root and multiply here or there, foflowing laws of distribution which we do not
understand. Evidently the joints present especially favorable conditions for the growth and multiplication of micro-organisms. But we see many instances where an infection which seems to start in and to be distributed by the blood-stream gets its only recognizable localization in the heart, lung, kidney, or beneath the skin. I am inclined to think that the gall-bladder, the meninges, the peritoneal cavity, and possibly also the appendix, should be added to this list. I shall return to the further discussion of the types of pyogenic infection in the section on Fevers.
A clerk of forty-nine entered the hospital January 3, 1907. He had previously been in the hospital in 1889, with a diagnosis of acute rheumatism and mitral endocarditis. Since that time he has had many similar attacks. The attacks seem to be brought on by cold, indiscretions in diet, and alcoholic drink. He had syphihs in 1884, and later on had trouble in controlling the movements of the bowels, following an operation for piles and fever.
of diarrhea.
On examination his pupils are slightly irregular, but are equal and react normally. Marked pronation of both feet, with flattening of the arches, is noted. The second joint of the right big toe is immovable, thickened, not red or tender. There is some enlargement of the joints of the fingers and toes. A^-ray shows thin, eroded areas on the fingers and toes, also some bony outgrowth. The urine shows nothing of note.
Discussion. — What type of arthritis are we dealing with here? The association of the previous attack, in 1889, with a mitral endocarditis gives us some ground for calling it a rheumatic arthritis, although we cannot be quite sure of the endocarditis, since there are no signs of it at present. It is impossible categorically to deny that a mitral endocarditis can heal, leaxing no sign of its presence, but we have no good reason for believing so at the j)resent time. Patients with true rheumatism often attribute their attacks to cold, but rarely to alcoholism or indiscretions of diet. This feature of the history, as well as some others presently to be mentioned, does not fit the ordinary j)icturc of rlicumalic arthritis.
have occurred in this patient.
Since the arches of the patient's feet are markedly flattened, we must consider whether this deformity is a cause or result of his symptoms. The periodic and paroxysmal character of the patient's sufferings is not at all characteristic of mechanical weakening of the arch. Ordinary flat-foot is apt to cause pain until it is relieved by treatment. It does not appear and disappear so suddenly. Against flat-foot also is the presence of eroded areas and bony outgrowths, as shown in the .T-ray plate.
But although flat-foot is very unlikely as a cause of this patient's troubles, it may well be viewed as a result of them, since almost any form of arthritis affecting the joints of the foot may be followed by flat-foot which remains as a cause of weakness and pain after the inflammatory trouble has passed. Thus it comes about that many cases of true arthritis of rheumatic or other origin are best treated, when they reach the doctor, by flat-foot plates and exercises designed to strengthen the adductors of the foot. The inflammation has passed, and its sequel is mechanical weakening, not an infectious process.
The A--ray evidence, the thickening and stiffening of the right big toejoint, and the apparent relation of the symptoms to indiscretions in diet suggest gout. Nothing is said in the history of acute night-attacks of pain in the great toe, nor of the presence or absence of tophi. But further inquiry showed that both these gouty symptoms were present. Still unexplained is the relation between the gouty diathesis and the bony outgrowths seen in this and other cases of gout, as well as in the hypertrophic form of arthritis.
Outcome. — On the fourth of February the patient was discharged quite free from symptoms. Tophi were still present in his ears, and crystals of sodium biurate were obtained both in this attack and four years previously.
A housewife of twenty-nine entered the hospital January 14, 1908. She was delivered of her first child on December 2d, but previous to that delivery she had much pain, owing, as she supposed, to a partially retained placenta. She was douched and cureted twice a day until she decided to get a new doctor. The second physician omitted the cureting. She has since been better.
plained bitterly of pain in the left buttock. Physical examination showed nothing but moderate jaundice and a bed-sore over the left sacroiliac joint. The white count was 15,800; two days later, 38,200. On the second day after entrance she began to be delirious, and this continued twenty-four hours, after which she was more rational, but had occasional hallucinations at night. There was marked dulness throughout the lower abdomen. The uterus was soft, flabby, and somewhat tender, but there was no vaginal discharge.
By the sixteenth the edema had practically disappeared from the right leg, and was less in the left. A blood culture was taken, which showed no growth. Nevertheless, antistreptococcus serum was injected. The urine as drawn by catheter was bright green, but showed no other striking abnormalities. There was some tenderness in the left groin, but no other evidence of thrombosis. By the eighteenth this tenderness had increased and there was considerable fulness in the same region.
Discussion. — Fever occurring after childbirth and accompanied by jaundice, by marked leukocytosis, and by pain in the left buttock and groin, points to the existence of some deep-seated septic process originating in parturition. Though there is edema in both legs, we find no good evidence of peripheral thrombosis. Pelvic thrombosis possibly, or some other cause for pehic obstruction to the circulation, is our natural conjecture, since all the other symptoms appear to originate in the pelvis.^
The green color of the urine is presumably due to biliverdin, a result — like the yellowing of the conjunctiva — of hemolysis. Nothing more definite can be said as to diagnosis. Pehic sepsis we doubtless have; its form, extent, and origin can only be revealed by surgery or by the lapse of time.
Outcome. — Incision allowed the escape of 25 ounces of ])us, tlie source of which was extraperitoneal and a])parently extended back {o the region of the left sacro-iliac joint. A culture showed streptococcus. The ])atient died a week later.
of case 188.
' Any one %vho has scon postmorlem the condition of the uterine and the iHriutcrinr tissues in the days soon after a normal lat>or tannol l)ul wonder how any woman esiapes sci^sis and eml^oiic infarctions of the lung.
Autopsy showed several fractures of the pelvic bones, deep burrowing pus without obvious point of origin, and streptococcus septicemia. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart. Diagnosis. — Fractured pelvis and sepsis.
A medical student of thirty-three entered the hospital March 2, 1907. On February 21st his left great toe-Joint swelled up, but the swelling was gone the next day. He then began to have pain and stiffness in the left hip. This has gradually increased ever since. Yesterday it took him twenty minutes to walk three blocks. No other joint has been affected. Any hip motion causes pain down the back of the leg. The greatest tenderness is over the tuberosity of the ischium.
At the onset of his symptoms, hives appeared at night all over his body, some of the lesions being as large as half a dollar. They always disappeared in the day-time. For the past two days he has not had them.
Physical examination was negative, except that all motions involving the hip-joint caused intense pain extending from the tuberosity of the ischium down the back of the leg.
Rectal examination showed marked tenderness on the right, but no mass or fluctuation. The case was considered an ischiorectal abscess by the surgeons. To an orthopedic consultant it appeared to be an infectious arthritis of the hip. The white count at entrance was 27,400, with 89 per cent, of polynuclear cells; on the fifth there were 15,000; on the twelfth, 9000. The course of the temperature is shown in the accompanying chart. By the tenth of March the pain and tenderness were much less and the motions of the thigh freer. By the thirteenth he was almost free from symptoms and was able to walk about. X-ray was negative. Hot fomentations and sodium salicylate helped him very much in the early days of his illness.
He was discharged on April 9th well.
Discussion. — Pain and tenderness in the hip following a similar pain in the toe a week earlier are the presenting SATnptoms here. The hip pain has sciatic radiations, and is accompanied by fever and leuko-
to account for the symptoms.
Our first business is to examine the hip, sacro-iHac joint and spine. As a result of this search it seems that only the hip-joint is affected, the sciatic pain being doubtless secondary to this. What, then, is the infection of the hip? Tuberculosis, the commonest of hip infections, has rarely so acute an onset, and usually occurs in younger persons. The high white count, the hives, and the acute brief p>Texia seem more like some pyogenic infection. We have no positive evidence of gonorrhea or of any other infection from without.
The marked tenderness over the tuberosity of the ischium and on rectal examination suggested a deep ischiorectal abscess, especially as the leukocyte count was so high. There is no way by which this diagnosis can be excluded, though it is rare to see such an abscess clear up without breaking or being evacuated externally. It is a well-known fact that some cases of acute arthritis at the hip produce pain in the situations complained of by this patient. In ^•iew of these facts and of the favorable course of the disease without external manifestations of abscess it seems most probable that the case was one of acute arthritis of unknown origin, such as usually receives the name of "rheumatism."
A widow of forty-five, with a negati\'e family history, passed the menopause two years ago. She is a heavy drinker. Has been strong and well, but in the past two years has lost 36 pounds. She now weighs 90 ])ounds.
She has had a cough since last fall, with a grayish sputa. Has been unable to work for a year. In bed most of the last five weeks, because of [)ain in both legs and hips. Bowels move five or six times a day for the past six months. She entered the hospital August 15, 1Q04.
Examhiation. — Left pupil larger than the right, and reacts to light i)ut not to accommodation. Ptosis of right eyelid. At left base behind and in the left axilla the breathing, vocal and tactile fremitus are diminished, with slight dulness and many fine, crackling rales. Heart negati\e. Consideral)le tenderness in the whole l)elly. Dulness in the right hy[)ochondrium and tlank, shifting slightly on change of ])osition.
Mass felt bimanually in this region. It is movable antero]>(wieriorly and with respiration, and is apparently continuous w ith the li\er. Na\el Hushed. Lower abdominal veins i)rominent. Slight edema oi tiie l)elly-
5300. Urine negative.
On the third day after entrance fluid was found in the belly. The Widal reaction was negative. On the sixth day she had three hemorrhages— ^ pint each — from the bowel.
Discussion. — The past history is of special importance in the interpretation of these symptoms. It is to be noted that a woman not previously subject to cough has now coughed steadily for nearly a yeai, and lost continually in weight, though she is at the menopause. Associated with her cough the chief symptoms have been diarrhea and leg pain.
Summing up the physical examination, we may say that there are indications of very wide-spread lesions; the ptosis and pupillary changes indicate something wrong at the base of the brain. The lung signs must be interpreted (in the absence of cardiac or renal abnormalities and in the presence of fever) as pleurisy with effusion or thickening. Finally, below the diaphragm, there are evidences of pressure exerted apparently upon the vena cava and its radicles (as well as upon the spinal nerve-roots), by the mass figured in the diagram. The liver also seems to be much enlarged. Cancer, syphilis, or tuberculosis are the three diseases most capable of producing symptoms distributed through the body as widely as those in this case. Syphilis would account for the ptosis and pupillary changes. If we interpreted the mass below the diaphragm as a syphilitic liver, the edema, ascites and fever would be explicable under the same hypothesis. The pleurisy and leg pains would remain unaccounted for, likewise the prolonged cough. The diarrhea might be due to amyloid disease of the intestine as a result of the syphilis.
Malignant disease of the liver is sometimes associated with fever, and would explain the abdominal symptoms very well, but would not help us to account for the ocular signs, the chronic cough, the pleurisy, or the diarrhea. In the great majority of cases hepatic neoplasm is preceded by marked and long-continued gastric suffering, due to a preceding neoplasm of the stomach. We have no such suffering here. Tuberculosis involving the base of the brain, the pleura, the intestine, and peritoneum would account for all the facts in this case. Under
this hypothesis the intestinal hemorrhages result from ulcerations of the gut, while the mass above the umbilicus represents a conglomeration of caseous glands and adherent intestinal coils. Enlargement of the liver might be due to fatty or amyloid metamorphosis. By strict reasoning this diagnosis seems the most probable.
Outcome. — The patient died August i8th. Autopsy showed extensive tuberculosis of the mesenteric and retroperitoneal lymphatic glands, also of the large and small intestine, with ulcerations evidently the source of hemorrhage. There were long-standing tuberculosis of both lungs and a general miliary infection.
A housewife of thirty-seven entered the hospital October i8, 1907. Her family history, past history, and habits are good. For the past four and one-half years she has had frequent attacks of severe pain in the back of the left thigh, running down the leg, preceded often bv a mild chill, and rclic\ed after five or six hours of sweating. She is also troubled by nervousness and apprehension, and has worried a good deal since last winter al)out a prunc-stone that slie swallowed. She wonders where it is now. Her sleep and api)etite are i)Oor, and she has frequent attacks of headache and nausea, with some flatulence after eating and considcral)le consti])ation.
Ph}sical examination showed great restlessness; no swelling, tenderness, or limitation of motion in any part of either leg. The arches of Ijoth feet were found to be much flattened. The rest of the examination, including the ])clvis, the l^lood, and the urine, was negative.
Discussion. — ]n view of the negative results of a searching physical examination and of general obscr\'ation under hospital conditions, we seem dri\'cn to the diagnosis of a ])sychoneiirosis with llat-foot and sciatica. Only l)y the continued study and ])r()l()nged obscrNation of such cases can we realize the harm done by semiconscious fears based on such an incident as the swallowing of a ])rune-stone. l^sj)ecially in y)crsons who have no knowledge of anatoniv ;in(l physiolog}', the imagination runs riot in speculation o\-er the ])ossil)le ]»aths which sucli a stone might travel. \'ery great l^enefit follows in such rases it the ])atient can be assured, as a result of exhausti\"e ]thysical examination, that no organic lesion exists.
An element in this benefit is the result of the ]>atii'nt"s oi>portr,nity to bring to full consciousness, as the resr.lt of the ph\>iiian's (|iirslions, the \'a<nie and unformed dreads from which he has been s'.illerinL:.
As soon as they are forced to take shape, many of these apprehensions are alleviated, as the child's terror is gone when it has recounted its nightmare to its mother. To this familiar psychologic rule the name of the "cathartic method" has been given by Breuer and Freud. The essential point is that ideas or emotions which do the most harm to the body are often the most deeply hidden beneath the superficial layers of consciousness. The patient himself may be altogether unaware of their existence or may manifest his vague cognizance of them only by a systematic refusal to face them squarely, either in his own mind or in conversation with his physician. It is for this reason that the physician must sometimes employ what Freud calls "psycho-analysis" — the effort to find, by a persistent process of drawing the patient out, submerged ideas which resist more or less unconsciously the attempts to drag them to the surface. The process is risky, but occasionally valuable.
Outcome. — After a week's rest and several long talks with her physician, counterirritation to the thigh, laxative medicines and proper shoes, she was discharged much relieved.
A cook of thirty-six entered the hospital March 14, 1907. At irregular intervals for five or six years she has had sharp pains in her arms and fingers, sometimes lasting as long as a week, usually worse in summer. During the last five years she has grown very stout, her average weight being 175 pounds. Otherwise her past history is good, likewise her family history and her habits. She was perfectly well until eight days ago, when she began to have pain in her heels, later passing around to the front of the foot, but never to the toes nor to the ankles. The pain kept her awake at night, and the foot has been swollen, red, and tender to touch. She has been in bed for the last three days, and seems to have been getting worse.
The patient is 5 feet 4 inches tall, very obese; chest and abdomen are negative; reflexes normal; no tenderness over the joints of the feet. After a few days in bed the patient's pain was gone. There w^as no fever, and physical examination, including the blood and urine, was otherwise negati\'e.
Discussion. — This seems to be a case of obesity with pain in the feet; the nature of this pain it is our problem to discover. Is it of mechanical or infectious origin? The redness, tenderness and swelling look like infection, but there is no fever or leukocytosis, no involvement of
any other joints, and experience has shown that even redness and swelling may result from the mechanical causes leading to the acuter forms of flat-foot. We are influenced especially toward the latter hypothesis when we find that there was no tenderness in the foot-joints, but only in the soft parts. The fact that she gets better as soon as she is off her fe&t is evidence pointing in the same direction.
Very similar symptoms are often seen in gout, but I see no way of coming to any closer terms with this possibility, since we have no tophi, no night attacks of pain in the great toe, and no knowledge of a heredity or habit of life predisposing to gout.
This case well illustrates one of the indirect evils resulting from obesity. There are many cases of obesity which do not call for treatment by reason of the inconvenience or unsightliness of the fat, but which entail, nevertheless, a genuine risk to the patient. At any time ;\ the heart may be slightly weakened or the feet slightly strained by some I'jtemporary cause. In the obese the results of these otherwise trivial '-injuries may be a serious and obstinate illness. During this illness it \ is rarely wise to attack the obesity. Later, when the acute suffering is past, the patient may be unwilling to submit to the privations entailed I by the attempt to reduce his fat. Thus many patients go on from bad to worse. Their good resolutions cannot be summoned at the right time. Diagnosis. — Acute foot-strain.
A bartender of twenty-nine, with negative family history and past history, entered the hospital January 29, 1908; he has been in the habit of taking 25 glasses of beer a day, and one whisky every morning. For the past six months he has been growing short of breath, and lately has needed two or three pillows at night. He has no digesti\-c symptoms, but rarely eats any breakfast. Five weeks ago he began to notice a swelling of his legs below the knee, accompanied by soreness and stiffness. The swelling disappeared after five days, but he continued to feel poorly and three weeks ago gave up work. Throughout his illness he has had slight cough and white, frothy sputum. Eight days ago he began to have considerable pain in both ankles and the left knee, without any s\NcninL:, redness, or fe\er.
As seen by the accompanying chart, the patient had a slight fever the first five days of his stay in the hospital. This was accompanied by a leukocytosis, which on January 29th reached 17,800; January 30th, 18,800. The urine was sufficient in amount, averaging 1017 in specific gravity, with a very slight trace of albumin, but no casts. His pupils reacted well to light and distance. The aortic second sound was markedly accentuated. The heart was otherwise normal, also the lungs.
The pulse tension was apparently increased. The edge of the liver was felt one finger's breadth below the edge of the ribs, likewise the spleen. There were considerable tremor of the fingers and obstinate insomnia. Within a few days he began to have pain in both arms, accompanied, as in the legs, by tenderness to pressure, although the reflexes were everywhere normal.
Discussion. — Chronic alcoholism, six months' dyspnea and cough, and five weeks of leg pain are the essential data of the history. Tabes is always to be thought of in men of these habits, but there is nothing in the physical examination to verify this conjecture. Doubtless the great majority of such cases are destined to be labeled "rheumatism," chiefly because they do not present a clear picture of any more definite malady. But there seems no good reason to fall back upon this ancient darkener of counsel when we have no fever and no special tenderness over the joints.
Alcoholic neuritis is the natural explanation of diffuse leg pains occurring in an alcoholic without fever or evidence of local inflammation. But in this as in most cases caUed alcohoHc neuritis, we cannot answer the question, Why is this man stricken at this particular time; Why does the result appear so tardily when the cause has been busy throughout so many years? Doubtless there is some other determining factor of which we are, as yet, quite ignorant.
Outcome. — The patient was given sodium bromid, 20 grains, after breakfast and dinner, and 30 grains at night. Twice he needed | grain morphin. For his cough he was given a prescription containing 3 grains of codein, 15 minims of spirits of chloroform, 3 ounces of syrup of wild cherry. Of this mixture a dram was gi\en every two hours
when the cough was troublesome. On the first of February he was given 15 grains of sodium saHcylate four times a day. By the ninth of February he was free from symptoms, but had sHght toe-drop and sHght tenderness in the calves.
A plasterer of thirty-seven entered the hospital June 12, 1907. He had his first attack of rheumatism at seventeen, when he was sick for several months. He has since then had five or six other attacks, and since his last attack, which lasted a month (five months ago), he has had a weak heart and more or less pain in various parts of his body. He has had urethral discharge off and on since he was seventeen, until five years ago; not since then. He takes from two to six glasses of beer and one or two whiskies a day. Two weeks ago he began to have pain and swelling in his feet and knees, and got transient relief from a Turkish bath. He has also had considerable severe pain in the region of his heart and right lower ribs for the past two weeks. He has had Aery little fever, but has sweated a great deal. For the past fortnight he has been troubled with many attacks of " hives," which, however, have not bothered him for the last two or three days. Throughout his illness he has had a cough, with whitish, frothy sputa. His appetite is poor. His bowels mo\e twice a day. He has slept fairly well. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart.
Examination.— The heart's apex was seen and felt in the fourth space, four inches from the midsternum in the nipple-line. There was no enlargement to the right. The sounds were regular and of good cjuality; the ])ulmonic second sound accentuated. A blowing, systolic murmur was heard best at the apex, very faintly over the rest of the prccordia and in the axilla. The pulses showed nothing remarkable.
The right lung was dull l)elow the third ril) in front and below the angle of the scapula ])ehind. Over this area distant ])ronchial l)reathin,<: with increased fremitus was detcctal. Just above the dull area, laint crackling rales were heard. The abdomen was ncgati\e. 'J'hc rJLilit knee and shoulder, left shoulder and elbow, were slightly stiff and painhil on motion.
Xo sjjutum examined. The leukocyte count was 22,000 at riitranre, 16.000 on the first of July, 12,000 on the third of July, and rauLani lower after that time. The urine was esscntiallv normal.
Discussion. — We can arrive at no clear conclusion, nor even at any helpful clue, from reading the first paragraph of this record. The patient has had many attacks of arthritis, some or all of which may have been due to gonorrhea, but it is not probable that his present joint pains are gonorrheal in origin, as he has had no local signs of that disease for five years. His other symptoms — cough, sweating, chest pain, urticaria, and anorexia — are very indefinite. Pleurisy is perhaps the possibility most indicated.
On physical examination we find the evidence of multiple arthritis, of solidified lung (right lower lobe), and possibly of mitral regurgitation. All of these might be due to a single infectious agent, such as the pneumococcus or tubercle bacillus. So far as I know there is no good evidence that the gonococcus can produce pneumonia, although it might explain the other lesions from which the patient is suffering. The temperature chart (Fig. 68) is by no means characteristic of pneumococcus infection, nor, indeed, of any other acute infection. It is more suggestive of tuberculosis.
If we are to clear up the diagnosis any further our chief need seems to be a knowledge of the sputa, which should be repeatedly and carefully examined. I have known tuberculous pneumonia to begin with just such a history and with very similar symptoms, including even the joint pains. On the other hand, many of the irregular, low-grade pneumonias, associated with a cardiac lesion and with some organism other than the pneumococcus, present a picture much like this.
Outcome. — The patient was treated by tight chest swathe; 15 grains sodium salicylate every four hours, chloroform liniment, an occasional dose of trional or morphin, and hot applications to the joints. On the seventh of July his only complaint was of weakness. At the right base there was still dulness, but the breathing and fremitus were diminished. These signs gradually disappeared, and he was discharged well on the seventh of August.
A bartender of fifty entered the hospital March 24, 1908. Four weeks ago he had an attack of rheumatism in his feet, ankles, and in his shin, just above the ankles. The ankles were swollen, red and tender. He took 5 grains of aspirin every four hours on the fourth day of his trouble, and in a day or two his pain had gone, but ever since then he has been feeling mean and cannot sleep. He still has difficulty
in walking, but can hop round fairly well. His appetite and bowels are normal. He gets up six or eight times at night to pass water, and thinks he passes more at night than during the day. (This observation was verified during his stay in the hospital.)
The pupils were found to be irregular, but reacted normally.
Along the margin in each ear there were some white, firm nodules, the size of a pin's head, resembling sebaceous cysts, but sur])risingly hard. The radials w^re tortuous; pulse of high tension; blood-pressure 175; aortic second sound slightly accentuated. No cardiac enlargement could be demonstrated, and the heart showed no other abnormality. The breathing was slightly harsh in the left back, below the angle of the scapula; otherwise the lungs showed nothing almormal. The abdomen was normal. There was flattening of the arches of both feet, especially the left; blood and urine were normal, except that the urine was persistently of low gra\'ity, — loii, — with the slightest jiossible trace of albumin, but no casts.
Discussion. — Arthritis, hypertension, nocturia, irregular pupils and flattened arches are the main points on which we may be clear from the start in this case. There seems good reason to belie\e that the patient's kidneys are somewhat atrophic, although no cardiac enlargement can be made out as a support for this hy})othesis. The remaining question is: Docs flat-foot account for all the rest of his symptoms, or is the weakening of his arches secondary to some form of arthritis? This brings us to the more careful consideration of the nodules on the patient's ears, for any case of doubtful joint lesion, es])ecially in the feet, calls for a careful scrutiny of the aural cartilages. If the nodules on the ear were sebaceous cysts, they \\ould be soft, nc\er hard. Such multii)le, firm white nodules along the ear margin may rei)resent the sodium biurate deposits of gout. They may also occur when the ear has been frozen. The crucial test is to ascertain whether we can dig out of one of these nodules a chalky, gritty ])owdcr, showing fine, needle-like crystals under the microscope. In the presciit case we o])tained such crystals and our diagnosis was made.
Outcome, — He was given wine of colchicum root, 20 minims ewry four hours; veronal, 10 grains, for the first two nights; magnesium sul])hate, \ ounce e\ery morning. I5y the twenty-nintli his digi'stiw: disturbance was gf)ne and he felt nnich belter. Tlie colchicuni sccnied U) ])r()(luce diarrhea, and was promptly omitted. Tliereaflcr lie \Nas gi\en a liberal diet, and by A])ril 2d was discharged, rcliexed.
A widow of fifty-five entered the hospital December 10, 1907. Her family history is good. Fifteen years ago she had cataract in both eyes, and was very successfully operated on, so that now she has very fair vision. As long as she can remember she has passed urine five or six times every night. She passed the menopause two years ago, without event.
A year ago she began to have transitory numbness in the right hip and along the back of the right thigh. Six months ago she began to have a burning pain extending from the right knee to the right hip whenever she remained seated for any length of time. She took osteopathic treatment during the summer, and was assured that her hip had been out of joint, but was now properly set. Nevertheless she did not improve. In July the pain was sharp, shooting, and often kept her awake. Since August it has been very bad until the first of December, since when it has been rather better. When the pain is severe, there is often involuntary twitching of the foot and leg. This was more frequent six weeks ago than it is now.
At present the leg feels fairly comfortable during the night and in the morning, but after she has been up for half an hour or so it begins to feel numb, and in a short time there is a burning and shooting pain which comes and goes through it. The back of the thigh and sometimes the lower leg are markedly tender to touch. There has been no pain in the back, no eruption, no fever. She has been in bed or on a sofa most of the time for the last four months, and has lost about 25 pounds in weight.
The aortic second sound is louder than the pulmonic, and is preceded by a faint murmur transmitted up to the cla\icle and down to the third space. Another murmur is heard with the first sound at the apex, but is not transmitted. In the lumbar and dorsal region there is considerable curvature of the spine with convexity to the left. The ribs to the left of the spine are prominent. The abdomen and all the deep reflexes normal. In the right groin there are glands somewhat larger than the average. There is tenderness along the right sciatic nerve and in the right calf. The patient is apparently more relieved by ^^ gr. of codein taken from her own bottle, of which she is very fond, than by larger doses of morphin and codein given her in the hospital.
left and jammed them together on the right. But it is hard, to see how this could produce suffering confined to the leg. Some of the intercostal nerves would probably be involved.
We next consider the different varieties of arthritis invohing the hip, spine or sacro-iliac joint. Infectious arthritis would hardly last so long. Osteo-arthritis would probably cause some pain in the back, and would be unlikely to be worse in the sitting posture. Further, the pain produced by it is hardly ever confined to the leg. A''-ray examination might help positively to exclude this disease. Sacro-iliac disease seems more probable. Against it, howe\er, is the gradual onset, the age and sex, and the absence of any tenderness, pain or palpable abnormality in that joint.
Some facts stated in the record incline us to believe that the pain may be of the functional or neurotic type. But before one settles down upon such a diagnosis or tries to content himself with calling the trouble a " primary sciatica " the pelvis should be thoroughly investigated for possible sources of pressure.' The slight enlargement of the inguinal glands makes such an investigation all the more important.
Outcome. — Vaginal examination showed in the right side of the pehis a firm mass, tender on pressure, seemingly attached to the pehic v.all (Fig. 69). The right thigh and calf were found to be V inch smaller than the left, but there was only slight weakness of the leg; no paralysis.
Later, a large mass was found in the region of the right buttock (see Fig. 70). A"-ray showed no definite abnormalities. On the second of January one of the glands was removed from the groin, and histological examination showed it to be malignant disease.
A colored scrub-woman of forty-nine, whose husband had ]:)reviously been treated at the hospital for syj)hilis, but whose own family history, past history, and habits were not in any way remarkable, entered UKwards December 26, IQ07. Since February she has been gradually nmning down, l)ut worked until four days ago. During these mojuhs she has grown very weak and thin. Her meals have been scanty and irregular for some time, and once or twice a week she has xoiiiitiim spells, apparently without relation to the nature of her food. Siiuc last winter she has l)een troubled by cold sensations in the ktt Ivj. and more or less constant aching there. For the last two or three months
upstairs.
The chest showed nothing abnormal easily felt. The left knee-jerk could hardly be obtained, although the right one was easily brought out. The left Achilles jerk could not be obtained at all. The leg was quite warm to touch, although the patient complained of its being cold. Both legs could be extended more than normal upon the flexed thigh, without pain. There was no tenderness along the course of the sciatic nerve, but slight sensitiveness on firm
pressure over the left calf. An area of anesthesia was found, as shown in the accompanying diagram. Lifting the left leg with the knee stiff caused pain throughout the leg. Lifting the right leg produced no discomfort.
dealing here with a neuritis involving the sciatic and probably other nervetrunks. But as usual in such cases the diagnostician's chief task is to search for a cause for the neuritis. It seems probable that the patient has had syphilis, but syphilitic lesions so localized as to produce a neuritis confined to one extremity ^^^- do not occur, so far as I am aware.
Tuberculosis is so common in the negro race that it is natural to suspect it whenever a negro is seriously sick. But there seems to be no limitation of motion in any joint and no other evidence of muscular spasm, burrowing abscess, telescoping of joints, fever, or any other result of tuberculosis. The area of anesthesia and the long, steady duration of the pain make it more than ordinarily probable that we are dealing with a pressure neuritis, the position of which must be investigated by radioscopy and by pelvic examination.
Outcome. — Inspection of the cer^•ix uteri shows the cervical canal to be open, f inch in diameter and lined with small, i)rojccting nodules. The patient has a slight uterine flow each day, but no foulness. The uterus extends half-way up to the na^■el. Lifting the straightened left leg causes moderate pain; lifting the right, no ])ain.
January 7th a nodule was removed from the uterus, and shown by
Fig. 71. — Shows anesthetic areas referred to on p. 382. Complaints: Aching and paresthesia (coldnessj in left
A colored housewife of thirty-two entered the hospital June 7, igo8. Her family history and past history were excellent, her habits good. Since last fall she has had some pain and stiffness, without swelling, in the left knee. On February 13th she fell and injured the knee. Her physician said that she had sprained it. Since then there has been little swelling, but considerable pain. After three days in bed she got up and hobbled around with a crutch, the knee being somewhat stiff, but not painful, until two weeks ago, when pain and swelling commenced and have confined her altogether to bed for the last six days. During the last two weeks she has had occasional night-sweats and nose-bleeds. Her appetite is poor, and her bowels constij)ated.
The chest and abdomen showed nothing al^normal. The reflexes were all present. The l^lood and urine were blameless; there was no fe\X'r. The left knee was found to be swollen and flexed to an angle of 70 degrees. Its circumference was I4 inches greater than the right knee. ■Most of the swelling was on the anterior surface, and there was a suggestion of |)osterior subluxation of the lower leg. The skin o\er the knee was brownish, shiny, and slightly warmer than the right. There was some induration and some infiltration, with moderate tenderness on pressure. All attempts at motion caused extreme i)ain.
Discussion. — Although there is much in the history j)ointing to a traumatic cause for this pain, the severity and long duration of the symptoms argue something more serious.
Septic osteomyelitis has generally a more sudden onset, produces severer pain, disability and fe\cr. This patient has had night-sweats. but, so far as we are aware, no fe\er.
Tuberculous osteomyelitis might |)roduce almost exactly this ])icture, though it would probal)ly be accompanied l)y more fe\er and less pain. .\fter so long a duration one would rather expect some sinus ftn'matinn. but this does not always occur, ^\'ithout .v-ray evidence wc cannot either affirm or exclude tuberculosis.
Were there any evidence of si)inal disease ftabes, syringoniyrlia \ one might suspect a Cliarcot joint, thougli sucli joints are usually juiinless. But in this case there is no evidence of the ])riniarv disease \'> lienet' Charcot's joint ])rocee(ls.
nosis must remain in doubt on the basis of the data here presented.
Outcome. — X-ray examination showed extensive destruction of the lower end of the femur, with a fracture just above the condyles. June 13th the leg was amputated for sarcoma of the femur.
A Russian tailoress of seventeen entered the hospital July 13, 1907. Six days ago her right knee and lower thigh became slightly swollen and very tender. Since then she has felt a little chilly, and has had a poor appetite, but no other symptoms of any kind.
Physical examination of the internal viscera showed nothing abnormal. The right knee was red, very tender, slightly swollen. The white cells ranged between 8000 and 11,400. The urine was about normal in amount and in weight. There was no albumin, but a few hyaline and finely granular casts were found. Widal's reaction was negative. On the eighteenth the knee was less tender, but larger and the thigh was also swollen.
hours on, night and day, without much relief.
Discussion. — We are dealing with a monarticular inflammation which has involved also the soft parts in the vicinity of the joint. Such a condition is never rheumatic, and the atrophic and hypertrophic varieties may also be excluded, because they are practically never confined in febrile cases to a single joint.
Gonorrhea is perhaps the commonest cause of monarticular inflammation, but such infections are very rare in the young, unmarried Russian Jewesses of Boston. The patient had no vaginal discharge, and there was nothing else about her to make us suspect gonorrhea. Nevertheless, this infection cannot be positively excluded. The course of the disease is too acute and too painful for tuberculous osteitis.
To obtain any further light on the subject the joint should be aspirated under asei)tic precautions, as may be very easily done with an ordinary hypodermic needle. In my opinion joint puncture is far too
rarely performed. If done with rigid cleanliness, it has no dangers, produces scarcely any pain, and often gives us information of the highest value. Since I have been in the habit of using this procedure frequentlv I have been astonished to see how commonly one finds turbid or purulent exudates with demonstrable micrococci in joints which have been onlv moderately painful, and would certainly have been classed under ordinary rheumatism but for the puncture. In some cases our treatment is made far more effective when the joint puncture makes it possible to prepare a ^•accine from the in\ading organism.
Outcome. — On the twentieth the right knee was aspirated and six ounces of fluid pus withdrawn. From this as well as from the circulating blood a pure culture of the yellow staphylococcus was obtained. On the twenty-third the knee was surgically drained. Recovery followed, though there was limitation of motion in the knee.
A waiter of twenty-four entered the hospital December 29, 1906. He had been in the hospital twice previously for exophthalmic goiter. The last time was in May, 1905. Since then he has worked steadily at hard jobs and has felt well. Four nights ago he came home with a })ain in his left instep. The next day the pain extended u]) the leg, and in the afternoon was in both knees. It confined him to bed and took away his appetite. In October he weighed 150 pounds — a week ago, 130.
Physical examination showed both eyes slightly prominent. The pulse ranged between 90 and 100. Examination was otherwise negative except for spasm of the leg muscles, l^oth legs lacing held flexed. I'he patient insisted at first that they could not be moved, but was finally induced to straighten them out. Tater, the right hand was held xery stiflfly, with the thumb flexed into the palm. The ])atient persisted that it too was paralyzed, but was finally ])ersuaded that it was normal.
Discussion, — The pain is probably due to muscular spasm, as in the familiar cramps most of us have ex])erienced if the foot or leg is bent in an unusual ])osition. We can hardly dou])t that these cramps are of the functional or hysteric tv]ie, in view of the results of moral suasion, but it is im])ortant to remember that a latent tuberculosis, recogni/ablf only by :v-ray, may j)ro(luce contractures of the legs fully as seviTc as those here described. If the contractures were not so wide sjiread. onv might sus[)ect flat-foot with leg pains due to com])ei"isatory effort. The onset of the case reminds us distinctly of this lesioii. but its lau-r course makes this verv unlikelv.
The case illustrates the importance of firmness and confidence in our treatment — a confidence such as can be based only on the conviction built up in us by most painstaking physical examination and interrogation of the patient. Any doubt, vacillation, or hesitation in the management of such a case may lead to disastrous results. Decisive action, on the other hand, may be of incalculable benefit to the patient by nipping hysteric tendencies in the bud. Like so many other diseases, hysteria can be checked most often and most effectually in the incipient stages.
Outcome. — -A liberal diet with 30 grains of bromid every four hours for two days, preceded by an ounce of castor oil at the time of entrance, was followed by marked improvement. By the third of January the patient seemed practically w^ell. He had still, however, a slight fine tremor of the hands, a remnant, no doubt, of his hyperthyroidism.
A housewife of forty-four, who has had two miscarriages, one child of nine years and one of five, entered the hospital December 5, 1906. She herself was born with crooked legs, which were straightened by splints at her home in Sweden. She has had pneumonia four times.
Nine years ago she had bad pains in her shoulders and arms, so that she could not raise her hands to her head. At that time lumps came out upon her arms, and ever since then she has had fleeting pains, now in one place, now in another. Thirteen days ago she was wakened out of sleep by pain in her feet. Now the pain comes suddenly and lasts from two to ten or more minutes, often shooting from the hips to the knees. It is almost as sharp as labor pain at times, and is accompanied by a dragging-down sensation. Her feet have been a little swollen. There has been some dyspnea on exertion and a little cough without sputa. She has attacks of rapid heart action almost e\cry day. Five days ago she fainted, and had to sit up in bed all that night. Her appetite is poor, her l)owels regular. There has been no nocturia.
The patient was a neurotic-looking individual, and constantly demanded attention to trivial wants. The pupils were irregular, but reacted normally. The uvula was missing, and replaced by a white scar; the throat and lungs otherwise normal. The glands were palpable, but not enlarged, in the neck, axilla^, and groins. Occasional squeaks were heard scattered through both lungs. The chest was otherwise negative; likewise the abdomen, blood, and urine. The shafts of both tibic'e were enlarged and bowed forward, their surface rough and nodular. The deep reflexes were all present.
On both forearms, especially on the extensor surfaces, there were a dozen nodules from the size of a pea to half a horse-chestnut. They were oyster-shaped, discrete, of rubber}' consistency, not tender, freely movable under the skin. Vaginal examination was negative.
Discussion. — Fleeting pains in various parts of the body are often the most distressing symptom, and the earliest, in tabes dorsalis. The history of miscarriages and the tibial deformities increase the probability of syphilis, and, therefore, of tabes. But this disease may be ruled out of consideration because of the fact that the pupils and the deep reflexes are normal.
The patient's statement that her legs were crooked from birth makes us hesitate to attribute the present condition of the shins to syphilis, and as the patient has two healthy children, the miscarriages may well have had a non-syphilitic origin. But the scar in the soft palate and the absence of the uvula are decidedly more characteristic of syphilis, and in any patient who presents such lesions we must do our best to find any connection that may exist between the old infection and the present symptoms. Very possibly tlie vascular lesion so commonly produced b}' syphilis may be connected with the pains here complained of. " \'ascular crises " are certainly more common in those who have suffered a luetic infection, and through such crises, with or without a syi)hilitic neuritis, the pains of this patient might be accounted for.
We must also consider, however, the nodules present u])on the forearms and mentioned in the history as haN'ing appeared nine years earHer. The fact that these tumors have lasted so long makes it sure that they are not of a malignant type, and their limited distribution assures us that they are not connected with the much more widely distril)uted pain of which the patient complains. Their physical characteristics are those of li])omata, which are ])ractically the only tumors which could last so long without more disastrous effects.
Outcome. — The patient was gi\cn mercury and [jotassium iodid. Her leg ])ains were greatly relie\ed by injections of sterile water, especially in the first two days after entrance. The lumps on the arms were taken to be fatty tumors.
An engineer of forty-fixe cnleTcd the hospital July 25. 1006. His family history was negative. He had urethritis twenty years ago, al><) five weeks a<jro. the latter attack followed Iw " rlioiniatisni.'' He had
"slow fever " twenty years ago, and was five weeks in bed. Ten years ago he had inflammatory rheumatism, lasting three weeks, in both feet. No other parts were affected. He takes an occasional glass of beer, but denies any other use of alcohol. Eleven days ago his left foot became red, swollen, and tender. This gradually improved, but yesterday the right foot became similarly affected. He has been unable to work since the onset of the symptoms. He has had a poor appetite, constipation, slight headache and fever.
The patient was obese, slightly cyanotic. The first sound at the apex of the heart was replaced by a short systolic murmur, not transmitted. The aortic second sound was accentuated, the heart not enlarged. The lungs were normal, likewise the abdomen, except for dulness in the right flank, which does not, however, shift with change of position. The second joint of the right toe was much swollen, hot, and tender. The same joint in the other foot was similarly affected, but the swelling also extended up the foot toward the ankle.
Discussion. — In any patient who complains of subacute pain in both feet, and is not flat-footed, suspect gout. Most of the ordinary joint infections do not long remain confined to the feet, while gout is very prone to do so.
patient is gonorrhea, as he had so recently suffered from that infection.
Next we must search the cartilages of the ears and nose, the great tendons near the elbow and ankle, and the vicinity of the great toe-joints for signs of uratic deposit. Thirdly, we must investigate the plantar arches, since precisely these symptoms might be produced by flat-foot. Other infectious and non-infectious lesions are far less probable.
Outcome. — A smear from the urethra showed a biscuit-shaped diplococcus both within and without the leukocytes. It did not stain by Gram's method. The ears showed several small, yellowish-white, soft lumps. A scraping from one of these showed crystals corresponding to those of sodium biurate. X-ray showed areas of atrophy or erosion of the second phalanx of one great toe, which were believed by an :x:-ray expert to be due to gout.
By the sixth of August the patient was practically comfortable. His treatment had consisted of sodium salicylate, 20 grains every hour for the first two days, then 10 grains every hour. Hot fomentations applied to the painful parts, an ounce of magnesium sulphate e^'ery morning, 10 grains of urotropin four times a day. He was not in bed after the twenty-ninth, and was discharged relieved on the sixth of August.
A restaurant-keeper of forty-nine entered the hospital September 18, 1907. His mother died at seventy-two, after suffering from consumption for fifteen years. The patient has had " rheumatism " in his joints in two attacks of three weeks each — three years ago and eighteen months ago. He has had four attacks of urethritis, the last twenty-five years ago, but denies syphilis.
He says that he was as strong as an ox until four years ago, when he sold his business and had difficulty in getting a new start. He then began to have almost constant pain near the right costal margin. These symptoms he has had off and on ever since. He has rather frequent attacks of vertigo and weakness, and his appetite is often poor. As long as he can remember his fingers have been clubbed, as they are at present. He usually takes two glasses of beer and two or
Yesterday he noticed that the
corners of his mouth cracked. Off and on for four years he has felt feverish, and sometimes chilly and shivery in the evenings. His knees and ankles have burned, especially after he gets to bed.
swollen, tender and painful. This time he had true cliill.
Physical examination showed that the left ])upil was larger than the right, though l)()th reacted normally. Tlie licart was normal. I'ln-re was slight dulness ])elow the right sca|)ula, with slight increase of vcxal and tactile fremitus, and a few rales. Ex])iration was e\erywherr rough and ])rolonge(l. The abdomen was negative. The right kni'f was swollen, hot and shiny; the leg was ke]it l)ent at a riglit angh', and motion was ]minful. A similar condition was fovmd in the right foot and
ankle. Both feet were pronated. There was marked dubbing, cyanosis, and curvature in both planes in the fingers and thumbs, and to a less degree in the toes. Scattered over the chest and back was a reddishbrown, macular eruption, the spots about the size of the little finger-nail.
Discussion. — There seems to be no way by which we can connect the mother's consumption or the patient's alcoholism with the present symptoms. The joints are obviously not tuberculous, and alcohol does not attack articular structures.
Though it would be natural to connect the former attacks of urethritis with the present joint pains, the gap of twenty-five years between the two renders this impossible if the history is taken on its face value. In looking over the body for any other lesion which we can connect with the joint symptoms, we notice the irregular pupils, the clubbed-fingers, and the cutaneous eruption.
If the clubbing of the fingers be assumed to be such as is described, it is not likely to have any connection with the arthritis. Bony outgrowths near the finger-ends (Heberden's nodes) bear some resemblance to clubbed-fingers, but could hardly be mistaken for them. Such outgrowths, if present, might incline us to conjecture that the right knee and ankle were the seat of a similar process.
The irregular pupils and the cutaneous eruption look like syphilis, and since there is nothing very definite known about the differential symptomatology of syphilitic arthritis, it seems reasonable to interpret the joint manifestations in this case as syphilitic until this is disproved by therapeutic test. If no improvement follows the vigorous use of mercury and iodin, the joint should be tapped in search of some other infective agent.
Outcome. — Under daily inunctions of mercury and the administration of potassium iodid — lo grains after each meal — the joints rapidly improved, and within ten days were practically ^^■ell.
The clubbing of the fingers remains in this, as in many other cases, a mystery. If clubbing were more carefully searched for as a matter of routine in cases presenting no pulmonary or cardiac lesions, it would be found, I believe, to occur in a great variety of diseased conditions and in a good many persons who have no demonstrable disease. Personally, I have obser\-ed it chiefly in chronic diseases of the liver ('cirrhosis, abscess, gall-stone disease), in tuberculous peritonitis, and in ill-nourished children.
Its occurrence in connection with long-standing cardiac disease (congenital or acquired), with chronic pleurisy or empyema, phthisis and bronchiectasis, is, of course, familiar.
A plumber of thirty-seven entered the hospital April n, 1908. He drinks and smokes to excess. Last evening he came home complaining of severe pain in both legs, especially in the left one. Aljout one o'clock this morning he awoke unable to speak or to move the right arm and leg. Soon after the patient became unconscious, with stertorous breathing.
The right forearm was in flexion, the fingers of the right hand flexed and spastic, the mouth drawn to the left; he made onlv inarticulate sounds. . The right leg was spastic. By April 13th he had regained consciousness and he could move the toes slowly; otherwise he had no muscular control. His tongue came out to the right when protruded. There was no lead line. The chest and abdomen showed nothing abnormal. The blood-pressure was 155, the blood and urine normal, the right kneejerk lively in comparison with the left knee-jerk. There were no other changes in the reflexes at this time.
By April 15th Babijiski's reflex had appeared in the right foot. Lumbar puncture was done on the seventeenth, and the cells in the fluid which was withdrawn were 50 to the cubic millimeter. Practically all of them were lym])hocytes.
Discussion. — The patient's occupation naturally leads us to attem]>t to explain the symi)toms as a result of lead-poisoning, especially as paralysis and cerebral sym|)toms are present. But we do not expect pain or hemiplegia in plumbism, and we practically always find changes in the staining properties of the red blood-corpuscles.
Against apoplexy, which, as the commonest cause of hemijjlcgia, naturally occurs to us next, is the patient's age, the very moderate blood-pressure, the absence of cardiac hy])ertrophy, and es])ccially the results of lumbar ])uncture.
The examination of the spinal fluid taken in connection with the absence of fe\er and the well-marked cerebral s} mj)toms lead us straight to the diagnosis of cerdjrospinal syphiHs. A similar lymj)hocyt()sis occurs in the chronic forms of meningitis, esi)ecially tuberculous meningitis, but the clinical ])icture is quite different from that here under consideration.
The most interesting point in this case is the occurrence ot a jiain which, though referred to the legs, seems to be cerebral or spinal in oiiirin. Such j)ains are seen not uncommonl}- in infantile ])aral\sis. in some of the types of acute myelitis and nienin^Mtis, and t'sneiiall\" in cenbrospinal svphilis. 1 reeentlv studied a case in which atiacks ot Jack-
sonian epilepsy, involving the right hand and forearm, were preceded, again and again, by severe pain referred to the parts about to be convailsed. Many of these central pains are preceded or accompanied by paresthesia.
Outcome. — Under mercury and potassium iodid the patient was able to walk by the twenty-second, though his mind was still very sluggish. The next day he was sent to a State infirmary.
years ago.
He takes two or three glasses of whisky and two or three of beer each week. Two weeks ago he had a sudden chill accompanied by pain in the lower back, in the hands and the calves of his legs. He took to bed and has been there since, with persistent fever. The next morning his right knee and the joints of the left hand were painful and stiff.
greatly improved.
He has had no urinary symptoms; his appetite has been good; his bowels regular; there has been no sore throat and no cough. The course of the temperature may be seen in the accompanying chart.
The chest and abdomen were negative, the knee-jerks normal; the plantar reflexes were not obtained. There was no glandular enlargement. The right knee was flexed at an angle of 45 degrees, any motion causing severe pain; all the evidences of fluid were found in the joint.
ultimate localization.
Since the urethritis occurred too long ago for us to connect it with the present symptoms, it seems at first likely that the joint trouble may be due to the patient's repeated attacks of tonsillitis, and as gout and traumatism can be excluded by the lack of any evidence of them, tonsillitis would perhaps be the best guess we could make, were we debarred from any further and more direct investigations. But, as I have previously insisted, all monarticular infections of any seriousness or obstinacy should be tapped, since the information thus to be derived may be of the greatest therapeutic value. (See p. 385.)
In all probability the infecting organism is one of the pyogenic cocci, but it may be of great importance to know which, as a treatment by autogenous vaccines has much to recommend it.
Outcome. — On the first of June the joint was aspirated and 35 cm. of fluid withdrawn. Specific gravity, 1008; albumin, 3.6 ])cr cent.; in the sediment, 94 per cent, of the cells were polynuclear. Among them were numerous intracellular di])lococci which did not slain by Gram's method. After this information had been obtained, the ])aticnl admitted a urethritis ten weeks ago, but insisted that there had been no discharge for the past four weeks. PVom tlie fluid witiidrawn from the joint, gonococci were isolated in pure culture. From this a Micciiuwas ])repared and injected. He improved quite ra])idly after this, and by the sixteenth was able to go to the Zander room daily.
On the twenty-fourth the knee was smaller and much more comfortable. Bier's treatment was gi\en after that date, and he was s(m>ii taught to a])])ly it for himself. On the fourth of July he was disib.argid. much relieved.
A metal worker of fifty entered the hospital March 27, 1908, stating that he had never been sick before, and giving a good account of his habits. Se\en weeks ago, while at work, he was taken with a sudden chill and went home and to bed. In the night he awoke with a sharp pain in the right shoulder and the left knee. He managed to get to sleep, however, and was much surprised to find the next morning that the pain had left the shoulder, but that the knee was hot and swollen, painful, red and tender. The knee has increased in size since, and he has been confined to bed, but has had no more fever or chills and no pain except in his knee.
On physical examination the patient was very apprehensive and emaciated; there was a moderate, coarse tremor of the hands and feet; his face was dusky and dark under the eyes, his mucous membranes pale, though his leukocyte count was 80 per cent. His heart's apex was in the fifth space, an inch outside the nipple-line. The sounds were rapid and weak, the aortic second louder than the pulmonic second. There was no enlargement to the right and no murmur. The pulses were of very low tension, and the artery wall barely palpable.
The lungs were negative; the abdomen showed considerable voluntary spasm and slight dulness in the extreme flanks, not shifting on change of position. The left knee was markedly enlarged, tender, hot, red and very painful on motion. The swelling was most marked on the front of the knee, but extended up to the middle of the thigh and two inches below the tubercle of the tibia. The front of the thigh was fluctuant, tender, and covered by a tracery of prominent veins. A fluid wave could be transmitted from the knee to the middle of the thigh.
Discussion. — This case, though very similar to the last, is given as an awful example of what may result from the neglect of early joint ]juncture in monarticular arthritis. It is a sin and a shame that this ]jatient should have gone seven weeks without any eff'ective etiologic or radical treatment. From the facts presented, no trained observer could doubt that there is pus in and around the joint. The nature of the infection is the only remaining diagnostic problem.
Outcome.— On the twenty-seventh the knee was tapped and thick I)us obtained. A culture from this pus showed streptococci. On March 28th the knee was opened and almost a quart of pus obtained, which apparently came from outside tlie knee-joint. The ])atient ran a jagged, septic temperature for a month, and (le\elopc(l a metastatic
A physician forty-six years of age entered the hospital June 5, 1906. He had a primary lesion on his thumb one year ago; a secondary eruption with adenitis and sore mouth followed. A thorough antisyphilitic treatment has been given since. Two weeks ago a swelling appeared in the left foot. Within a few days the soles of both feet became red, swollen and tender. Ten days ago he was laid up in bed for three da}'s. In every other way he is perfectly well.
Physical examination showed considerable irregularity of the pupils, but was otherwise negati\e except as relates to the left foot, which was red, tender and slightly swollen over the dorsum and on the sole opposite the head of the second metatarsal bone.
Discussion. — It is difficult to decide whether the syphilitic infection of a year ago has any connection with this patient's present suffering. It seems rather imj)robabIe, in view of the absence of s})ecif!C lesions at the present time.
As the patient has now no fever, one naturally thinks of flat-foot as a cause of such foot-])ain, e\"en though redness and tenderness \vould otherwise incline us to assume an inflammation. The mutual relations of arthritis and flat-foot have been previously discussed. (See p. 366.) In any such case the first and best thing to do is to try t\\o therapeutic tests: (a) The effect of taking the patient ofl" his feet, and ib) the ctTect of padding the arches.
Outcome. — Though no medicine was given, the pain was entirely gone after a few days' rest, and as soon as foot-plates had ])een fitted, the patient was able to walk without pain.
\\c have still on our hands, however, the ([uestion: ^\"hy did the arches l)reak down just at this lime? I'ossibly some latent and unrecognized ])hase of his old syphilis may provide the answer.
A laborer of f()rt\--se\en entered the hos])ital July 6, i()o6, con'i])laining of sciatica. He had a similar trouble nine \ears ago, which la>U(l three weeks. Otherwise he has been well until se\en months ago. w lun lie gradually began to notice ])ain in the back and left hip, running down the left thigh behind and extending into the calf. He has I'.ad tc gi\e up work, but has walked about witli a marked hnip.
For the last six weeks the pain has been much worse and has kept him awake at night. He has had some tingling and other curious sensations in his lower left leg. He has lost 15 pounds in weight, though his appetite is good.
Physical examination shows that the patient cannot stand erect, but supports himself with the spine curved to the left and forward. The motions of the back are inhibited by a pain referred to the sacro-iliac joint. Full extension or flexion of the left leg is impossible on account of pain referred to the same point. There is tenderness over the region of the left sciatic nerve and slight atrophy of the muscles of the left leg, making about one inch difference in the circumference of the thighs and calves.
Discussion. — In the out-patient records of the Massachusetts General Hospital previous to the year 1900 there are to be found notes of a large number of cases with the diagnosis "lumbago and sciatica.'^ At the time when we were dealing with these cases it always seemed remarkable to me, and I imagine also to many of my colleagues, that a disease aff"ecting a muscle (lumbago) should occur simultaneously with a neuritis (sciatica) . The case reported above is typical of a great many of those which we used to label "lumbago and sciatica."
Looking at it from the point of view of the present day, one would say, first of all, that the lumbar pain has lasted too long for lumbago, which, like other muscular pains, is a transient though perhaps recurrent affair, producing its symptoms for not more than a week or two at a time.
The other half of the old diagnosis — sciatica — we should now be unwilling to make without a far more searching investigation of the possible causes for sciatic pain, especially diabetes, disease of the lumbar spine or sacro-iliac joint, and pelvic tumors.
The present case is fairly typical of what is now called sacro-iliac strain, a diagnosis based most firmly upon the therapeutic test — the means by which it is relieved. The etiology and pathology of the affection are still very oljscure, and the theories usually advanced do not seem satisfactory to me.
The pain was entirely relieved by a pillow under the knee and a folded sheet under the lumbar spine, with rest in bed. A plaster jacket was then applied, and by August 2d he was free from pain and could walk a little. On that day he was discharged, much relieved.
A housemaid of twenty-five entered the hospital x\ugust i6, 1907, stating that for three weeks she had had swelUng, pain and tenderness in the lower legs, especially at night.
Physical examination shows yellowish pallor and only 25 per cent. of hemoglobin; the white cells varied between 28,000 and 43,000 in the course of the next four days, the polynuclears making up 82 per cent. of this increase. For temperature see the accompanying chart.
Physical examination was negative save for an indefinite resistance in the right upper quadrant of the abdomen. The front of both legs showed numerous sharply defined, punched-out ulcerations on a reddened base; the right lower leg showed soft nodules the size of a i)ea, raised one-half inch above the surrounding skin, covered with unbroken skin. They were of a doughy consistence and tender.
siderable pus liberated.
Discussion. — Obviously, we are dealing with some type of acute infection, the most probable source for which seems, at first examination, to be the gall-bladder. But on further scrutiny it is equally obvious that we need some source for the very marked and ai)parently chronic anemia which has reduced the hemoglobin to 25 per cent.' In cases accompanied by marked secondary anemia I have found that in mo\ing toward a diagnosis it is a useful strategic maneiu'cr to fix
attention, first of all, upon this anemia, and to investigate what causes of such an anemia are ])ossible in this patient. The patient may, ot course, be chlorotic, but as she certainly has something else the matter with her, we must make two diagnoses (which we are al\\a}s loth to do) in case we call it chlorosis.
* I rc^'R't that no estimation of ri-d rclls was rcconlcd in this 1 asc. It was cxidcn!, howcviT, from the a]>i)i';iran(c of the stained smear, lli.il the\ were u^ '•. ^reaI!\ redu. ed aiul that the anemia was of the seiondary type.
Aside from chlorosis, what are the possible causes of a severe secondary anemia in a woman of twenty-five who has had no hemorrhage, no malaria, and no evidences of malignant disease? The lesions on the shins, and especially those covered with unbroken skin, suggest gummata, and although there is certainly a secondary infection, the hypothesis of syphilis should be put to the therapeutic test.
Outcome. — Microscopic examination of an excised nodule showed gumma with secondary infection. The lesions quickly cleared up under antisyphilitic treatment.
plaint is of pain in his legs.
Physical examination of the chest and abdomen is negative. The right tibia is rough and nodular; the skin bluish red and containing three ulcerated areas from the size of a silver dollar to that of the palm. The course of the temperature and pulse is seen in the accompanying chart. The leukocytes are 12,500. The glands in the right groin are enlarged; urine normal. A'-ray shows evidences of a sy])hilitic periostitis. Under large doses of iodid of potash, the glands of the groin became smaller and the pain disappeared within ten days.
Discussion. — This case is introduced chielly to show the importance of ;v-rav examination of the shin bones in all cases in\ol\ing an obscure pain referred to the lower
A shoemaker of nineteen entered the hospital May 14, 1908, with a good family history, past history and habits. Three days ago he began to have pain in his legs and to a lesser extent in his left side. At night he vomited twice and has since kept his bed. The pain has been more severe in his chest, until to-day, when it has diminished. He has slept and eaten poorly and has been constipated. He has had no cough and no chill.
The leukocytes were 22,000. The urine and the rest of the physical examination were normal. The course of the temperature is shown in the accompanying chart. A tight swathe prevented all pain. On the nineteenth he was put in a chair, and by the twenty-fifth was able to go to his home. Throughout his illness he had practically no cough or expectoration.
Discussion. — This case is introduced in order briefly to exemplify a pain due to general infection, but confined to the legs. Some of these pains are very mysterious, and give not the slightest indication, during the first two or three days of the patient's sufferings, where the trouble is finally to settle. Obviously, in the present case the pain was ushering in a pneumonia. I recently saw a woman who suffered for two days from quite intense pain throughout all the tissues of the thighs and legs. We could find absolutely no cause for it, though the presence of an accompanying fever and leukocytosis made us believe that some infective agent was at work. The joints, the nerves, the muscles and subcutaneous tissues, the arteries and \eins were searched for exidencc of a cause for tlie ])ain, Init none was found. On the third day an acute dyscnterv made its ap|)earance, and the })ain in the legs quick!}- disa])peared.
Tn \ie\v of these and similar cases we must always 1)ear in mind, w lien examining the legs for a cause of pain referred to them, that a utTieral unlocalized infection bearing no special relation to tlie leg ma} liaw in\aded the bodv. Disease of the brain or s])inal cord sliould also l)c remembered as among the Io)!<^-ra>!g(' ((luscs for leg ])ains.
see a curious case of grip with pelvic neuralgia and perhaps malaria.
The patient was a young architect of twenty-seven, always previously well until he began, October ist, to have what he called "grip" — i. e., a fever of 103.6° F., accompanied by aching in his head, back, and legs. After a couple of days the temperature fell to 101° F., and the patient had what was called a right facial neuralgia. From October 5th to October 12th the temperature did not rise above 100° F., and the patient seems to be convalescent, though complaining somewhat of piles. He then went off for a week's vacation, but on his return, October 19th, said that he had been poorly while he was away, suffering a great deal from pain in the testes, which was especially severe every night about 6 p.m., and was associated either with a rectal tenesmus, a urinary frequency, or both. The pain radiated to both hips and groins.
On October 25th the temperature was again 101° F., and since that time it has risen to that point or a degree higher every day. On the twenty-seventh, quinin, the doctor said, seemed to stop the pelvic neuralgia, but for the last two days he has been eating poorly, and at 1 1 p.m. to-day his temperature was 103° F. and the pelvic pains so great as to require morphin. The urine has been high colored, but not cloudy, and shows no gross sediment. The blood has not been examined.
Physical examination of the chest was negative; the spleen was not enlarged, and the blood showed no malarial organisms. There was no evidence of an influenzal infection of the upper air-passages or elsewhere. The urine was high colored, but showed no other important abnormality. The leukocytes numbered 28,000, 83 per cent, of which were polynuclear.
a reddened, tender, and resistant area close to the rectum on the left.
Discussion. — -The points of interest in this case are the slow "settling" of the infection at the point where it was finally discovered, and the unwisdom of treating symptoms without careful physical examination. In view of the local conditions one could hardly doubt that the patient was suffering from an abscess near the rectum, the wide radiations of the pain being due, douljtless. to the burrowings of pus which should have been liberated long before.
FEVERS
The distinction between "long" and "short" fevers — i. e., those continued for two weeks or more, and those of briefer span — allows us to narrow the diagnostic possibilities of the "long" group practically to three alternatives: tuberculosis, sepsis, typhoid.
It will be noted that most of the 10 per cent. 0/ long fevers not due to typhoid, tuberculosis or sepsis are due to diseases easy of diagnosis because of their local or distinctive signs. Thus meningitis, with its evidences of cerebrospinal irritation, "rheumatism" with its joint lesions, leukemia and trichiniasis with their blood changes, cancer with the easily })alpable tumors which febrile cases i)ractically always show, gonorrhea and cirrhosis with their characteristic local manifestations—all these are, or should be, easily recognized. Obscure longcontinued fevers, then, will include only the dominant three, plus "infiucnza" and syphilis. In this group the dominant three make u[) pS per cent.
tics, for bacteriologic proof of influenza was rarely obtained in this series. I do not doubt that long as well as short fevers may be produced by true influenzal infection, but I believe that the diagnosis is rarely well founded on cultural evidence.
The proportion of typhoid in the figures above quoted is far too high, because in the Massachusetts General Hospital, whence these figures were gathered, the typhoid cases of a large area are aggregated. In fact, the number of long typhoid fevers is generally far less than the number of long tuberculosis or septic fevers; but these are treated at home and therefore missed in hospital statistics.
The manifold manifestations of tuberculosis — in the spine, the hip. sacro-iliac, and other joints, in the lymph-nodes, peritoneum, meninges, and genito-urinary tract, as well as in the lungs and pleura — may all produce long as well as short periods of fever.
Under "sepsis" I mean to include here an extensive variety of clinical pictures, such as — (a) vegetative endocarditis (also called benign, malignant, ulcerative, or septic); (b) puerperal fevers; (c) deep-seated abscesses originating in the appendix, the gall-bladder, the genito-urinary tract, the stomach, and duodenum; (d) empyema; (e) wound sepsis; (J) lymphangitis, erysipelas, and phlegmonous inflammation.
Yet only a small minority either of tuberculous or of septic fevers are obscure in origin or lead us to any diagnostic puzzles. The osseous, lymphatic, peritoneal, and meningeal forms of the disease are usually easy of recognition. It is chiefly the pulmonary and renal forms of tuberculosis that are latent and produce obscure fevers. Among the fevers due to sepsis also the great majority are plain enough. It is chiefly in the cases of vegetative endocarditis, and in some of the deepseated abscesses — especially those in or about the liver and kidney — that local symptoms are absent.
Tlie. lung, the liver, the kidney, and the blood are especially to be suspected and examined. Auscultation, :v-ray examination, l)loodcounts, cultures, biologic tests, cystoscopy and a carefully taken history will help us most in difficult cases.
SHORT FEVERS
Excluding the exanthemata and the milder types of the infections just mentioned, we may say, I think, that the majority of short fevers are of unknown origin. The habit of attributing such fevers to " common colds," to "grip," "influenza," "febricula," "auto-intoxication," "rheumatism," constipation, etc., is a pernicious way of concealing our ignorance not only from our patients, but from ourselves.
The temperature-pulse ratio has never seemed to me of much practical value in diagnosis. It may confirm a diagnosis established mainly in other ways, but in my experience it is as apt to lead us wrong as right. In typhoid the pulse may be relatively slower than in fe\'er of similar degree due to pneumonia, sepsis or tuberculosis, but there are many exceptions to this rule.
The rapidity of respiration is also a very unreliable guide. Many non -respiratory infections {e. g., typhoid, erysipelas, liver abscess) may notably quicken the respiration, while the sudden fall of respiration at the crisis in pneumonia, when the lung signs remain quite unchanged, inclines us to believe that even in pneumonia the polypnea is due to the general rather than to the local pulmonary condition.
(a) Brain injuries and diseases of any kind may produce iever of various types. Thus cerebral hemorrhage, tumor, and acute delirium due to alcohol or other causes, often raise the temperature consideral)ly.
Pyrexia not exceeding ioo° F. and of short duration certainly accompanies many sucli psychoses. Temperatures taken when a ] salient first enters a hospital often register 102°, 103°, or 104° F., but are followed by normal records within tweh"c to twentv-four hours. Exhaustion and alarm (loul)tless contril)ute to ]ir(Hluce these temporary abnormalities. Aside from the two ty])es of fcxer just mentioned, I haw no experience of pvrexias due to ])sycliic causes.
A fourteen-months-old girl baby was seen December 23, 1902. She was born in Cuba, had malaria before she left the island, and since she came to live in Cambridge, Mass., had, during the summer just past, a large number of mosquito-bites. November i6th the baby began to vomit, lost appetite and soon became weak and listless. She was fed on Eskay's food and milk. From that time on she ran a continuous fever, ranging from 100.6° to 104° F., with long excursions almost every day.
The symptoms were ascribed to teething, but the child grew steadil}' worse, and by December 2d voluntary motion of the extremities had almost altogether ceased. Repeated physical examinations elicited nothing either in the legs or elsewhere. December 3d the child seemed to be markedly "anemic," and it was difficult to obtain blood from the toe. Nevertheless, the hemoglobin was 80 per cent. The Widal reaction was negative; the white cells, 6500. lodophilia was very marked. The child was seen by Dr. C. P. Putnam daily for a week, but no diagnosis was made.
December 6th a squint was noticed. This disappeared within twenty-four hours and has not recurred since. December 23d, the fe\'er continuing unabated, while the child grew constantly thinner, I saw her in consultation, but could make no diagnosis. The blood showed at this time:
A week later Dr. T. M. Rotch saw the baby, noticed a slight "rosary," made a diagnosis of rickets, and directed the treatment accordingly. Nevertheless the child continued to go down-hill.
Discussion. — As in the case previously mentioned, there was no culture made from the urine, and the possibility of urinary infection was not, so far as I know, considered. One heard nothing of such infections in 1902. The ears were examined, with negative result.
As the child had Ijcen healthy at l^irth, had been properly fed during most of its life, and showed no more signs of rickets than a large proportion of healthy children, there seemed to me no good reason to attribute its serious and progressive symptoms to that disease.
Outcome. — January 23d the child died. Autopsy by Dr. W. T. Councilman showed in the kidneys numerous foci of hemorrhage between the tubules; also here and there infiltrations of leukocytes, so extensive as to constitute small abscesses with destruction of the tubules and epithehum. Organisms of the colon group were found in these lesions.
At the time when this baby's illness occurred the frequency and importance of the urinary infections of girl babies was not recognized. Naturally, therefore, no one thought of this diagnosis during the life of the child, though in all probability this life might have been saved had the urinary tract been investigated earlier.
A real-estate broker of thirty-nine was seen June 19, 1909. He had " typhoid " when he was six, and again when he was twenty-one. For the ten years succeeding this attack he had gall-stone colic in frequent paroxysms, which were finally cured by an osteopath in 1900, He had no fever at that time. His wife died in 1900. He married again in 1908.
February 24, 1909, he went to Alabama feeling perfectly well. About six weeks ago he lost his appetite and began to have a headache, with much pulsation in his head. Soon after he noticed that climbing a slight hill exhausted him completely. For the past thirty-three days he had been aware that he had fever, ranging between 99° and 103° F., and usually reaching the lower figure once or more in every forty-eight hours. With this fever he had repeated chills and lost fifteen pounds.
He returned from the south a month ago, and has been in bed for ten days, troubled a good deal with gas in his bowels, with occasional belly pain and much weakness. Some weeks ago a homeopathic ])athologist found a malarial parasite in his blood, and since then he has received at least 20 grains of quinin a day. Ne\'erthelcss, he has continued to lia\-e fe\er and has grown steadily paler, thinner and weaker.
On physical examination he shows a yellowish pallor, hemoglobin being 55 per cent. The conjunctivae are not discolored; the urine shows no bile-j)igment. The chest and extremities are negati\"e, the abdomen as per diagram (Fig. 78). The edge of the spleen and li\er are both very sharp and hard; the surface of the li\er seems to be somewhat irregular. There is no ascites.
Discussion. — As will be at once surmised from the treatment referred to above, malaria was the diagnosis u]i to June icjth. The (.hills, the anemia, the large, hard spleen and the report of nialarial parasites in the
blood had led xery naturally to this diagnosis. Yet in my opinion malaria could be absolutely excluded, owing to the fact that the fever, though approaching the tertian type more nearly than any other, did not yield appreciably to large doses of quinin, which were obviously absorbed, as the patient's ears had been ringing steadily for weeks. My examination of the blood revealed no trace of malarial parasites. The red cells numbered 3,120,000; the leukocytes, 4800, the different varieties being present in approximately normal percentages.
By the blood examination just reported leukemia could be excluded. I have seen a very similar clinical picture produced by myeloid leukemia, but the blood was in that case very distinctive and the chills less numerous.
As the patient has a history of gall-stone colic and has now an irregular fever with chills and enlargement of liver and spleen, it is natural to consider for a moment the possibility that he may now be suffering from gall-stone fever. The condition of the abdomen and the course of the temperature are consistent with that diagnosis, although the spleen is unusually large; but gall-stone fever is almost always accompanied either by attacks of pain or 1)y more or less transient yellowing of the conjunctiva during some part of the attack.
The irregular surface of the liver, if it be taken as an established fact, is of great diagnostic importance, as there are but two common diseases which produce hepatic enlargement with irregularities of surface palpable through the abdominal wall, viz., cancer of the liver and syphilis of the liver. Both of these diseases may be associated with fever, though this is more common in syphilis. The age of the patient, the freedom from marked gastric symptoms, and the size of the spleen point distinctly toward syphilis rather than cancer.
As soon as I asked the patient the direct question, he admitted that he had had syphilis seven years pre\iously, and been treated for it by a wellknown specialist whose diagnosis I knew to be irreproachable. The patient had concealed this portion of his history even from his attending physician, who had not happened to ask him the direct question.
Outcome. — The patient was at once put on intramuscular injections of mercury with 15 grains of potassium iodid after each meal. By June 28th his fever was abating and general improvement quite noticeable.
He had complained of a week's increasing dyspnea and great lassitude. The attending physician, who saw him at the beginning of this illness, had kept a temperature chart which show-ed that there had been fever each day, rising to 101° or 102° F. at night. The pulse range was from 100 to 112. The respiration rate showed a steady rise — 28 for four days, 30 for the succeeding two days, and 36 for the past twenty-four hours. There was much sweating with the fever, but no pain and no other symptom except a slight, dry, hacking cough, which was not complained of and produced nothing until the day previous, when a single small mucopurulent mass was expectorated. This was examined at the Board of Health laboratory and found to be negative. The urine — 1025 — contained a trace of albumin, a few fine and coarse granular casts, and a positive diazo-reaction.
The blood showed no Widal reaction. There was no wound or other known source for sepsis; no history of syphilis; no recent gonorrhea. The chest and abdomen had been examined with negative results.
Further investigation of his past history showed that he had always been well, although in the previous August he had had some s\\ollcn glands in the side of his neck, which persisted for three weeks and were accompanied by night-sweats. After that he felt very well and went to work again.
Physical examination showed the signs indicated in Figs. 79 and 80. The heart and pericardium showed nothing abnormal. The temperature chart [showing a normal or subnormal temj)erature eacli morning] was ])ractically sufficient, considering the previous course of the illness, to exclude typhoid and central ])neumonia. The leukocyte count, which was normal, added to the e\idence against pneumonia.
The boy did not cough at all during my visit, l)ut the character of the signs, when taken in connection with the fever and other sym])toms, seems to me to point strongly toward ])ulmonary tuberculosis, of which disease he died two weeks later.
The attending physician was much surprised and rather skeptical at my diagnosis, "for," as he said, "the boy has practically no cough, almost no sputa, and what he does raise has been examined and found negative." It cannot be too strongly insisted, in view of this and many other similar cases, that a negative sputum examination, unless it has been many times repeated, should never be considered as evidence against pulmonary tuberculosis. Even then it is by no means conclusive, as bacilli may not appear for many weeks or even months after the onset of the disease in the lung.
On January i8, 1897, soon after the discovery of Widal's reaction in typhoid fever, I was asked to examine the blood of a febrile case in which that diagnosis seemed fairly certain. Ik -^ i-£ i^
ever, was desired. Four weeks previously the patient had had a mastoid operation following an attack of otitis media. All had gone well, and the wound was now almost healed ; only a small area of healthy granulations remaining in the mastoid region. Nevertheless, soon after the operation the patient had begun to ha\-e fc\-er, the course of which is shown in the accompanying chart (Fig. 80).
Throughout its course he had complained of nothing except such discomforts as could be reasonably attributed to the fever itself. He had had no headaches, no tenderness at or near his wound, no symptom that would serve to localize any cause for the fever.
At the time of my examination a group of typical rose spots were scattered over the abdomen. Each spot was about 2 mm. in diameter, and disappeared wholly on pressure. The spleen was not palpable, and visceral examination was otherwise negative, with the exception of a few scattered rales at the base of each lung.
even in dilutions of 1:10.
Discussion. — I reported to the surgeon in charge of the case that it w^as not one of typhoid fever, and that I belie\ed some type of wound infection must be present. At that time I did not know of the commonness of infectious thrombosis of the lateral sinus and jugular vein, since so thoroughly studied by Libman ' in its relations to bacteriemia. Doubtless micro-organisms might have been culti\"ated from the circulating blood had I known at that time the importance of the test.
A great skepticism of my results was expressed at the time. The chart was so typically that of typhoid, the rose-spots so diagrammatic, the patient so completely free from any local symptoms or complaints, that it seemed absurd to exclude ty})hoid on the e\"idence of so academic a laboratory test as blood examination. This was before we had been shown by thousands and tens of thousands of blood-counts that uncomplicated ty])hoid never produces such a leukocytosis as that here recorded, and that the absence of a Widal reaction after four weeks of fever is strong evidence against the existence of typhoid.
A j)hysician of thirty-nine was seen Xo\'ember 30, 1905. Six years ])reviously he had had the grip, followed by weakness, emaciation and night-sweats. Pulmonary tuberculosis was suspected, but not pro\"e(l. Tie went south for two months and recovered entirely, and has sinet- tlien worked very hard, "mostly," he savs, "on his nerve."
opened and cureted on the nineteenth under cocain. He felt much exhilarated thereafter, and made his medical calls as usual throughout the rest of the day. In the evening he collapsed, and had a very severe pain in the right intercostal region, accompanied by high fever not relieved by poulticing, and only modified by | grain morphin. Next day the signs of pleurisy were found, and two days later an area the size of an orange appeared near the angle of the right scapula. Over this the breathing was bronchovesicular, with dulness and crackling rales. These signs lasted without much change for four weeks, and were not wholly gone for two weeks more. An irregular fever persisted throughout.
October 6th, though still weak, and despite the presence of highpitched respiration over the area described above, he felt well enough to be moved to the White Mountains, where he rapidly improved, ate well and slept well, took four-mile walks, and had no cough to speak of. He had several bad headaches, but otherwise felt well and returned to work October 26th. At this time his lungs were examined and found normal; his sputa contained no bacilli and no elastic fibers. The day after his return he got ov'ertired and again collapsed, i. e., could not talk, eat, or sit up, had a bad headache, and was awake all night.
Next day he felt better, and the day after felt "like a fighting cock." During the next ten days he did his medical work as usual, although he felt somew^hat poorly every second day. November 3d he did a very hard day's work, and at the end of it felt chilly and languid. His temperature was found to be 102° F. From November 3d to November 30th — the day on which I saw him — he had an irregular fever, accompanied by headaches. All his symptoms tended to be worse every second day.
Two of his colleagues saw him in consultation November loth, the diagnoses considered being grip, malaria, and simple nervousness. The spleen was felt, and accordingly quinin, 24 grains daily, and Fowler's solution, 5 minims three times a day, were administered. The quinin hammered the temperature down, but it rose again as soon as the drug was stopped. The blood was twice examined at this time, and found to be normal ; no anemia, no leukocytosis, no Widal reaction. The urine was also normal (November 13th).
By this time the doctor — always of a very high-strung nervous temperament— had gotten so worked up about himself that he was again sent to the country, but while there still had fever, ranging from 100° F. in the morning to 101.4° F. in the evening, despite the administration of quinin, 24 grains a day. During the last two weeks he has had ten days of pain over the lower left back, in the region of the diaphragmatic
Discussion. — Typhoid and malaria, it seemed to me, could be easily ruled out. I could find no evidence of any form or focus of sepsis. Accordingly, I made the diagnosis of pulmonary tuberculosis. December ist the prostatic symptoms became more marked; tenderness and fluctuation appeared in the perineum and a large prostatic abscess was evacuated.
December loth, tenderness and swelling appeared in the region of the left twelfth rib. Incision liberated a large amount of pus from the region of the kidney, which was not felt or seen. The patient made an une\entful recovery, and has been well ever since (October, 1910).
I made two chief mistakes in this case: ftrst, in forcing myself to make some diagnosis, even an improbable one, because e\ery thing else seemed more improbable. The proper course would have been to wait until something more distinctive appeared.
My second blunder was in paying so little attention to symptoms on the part of the bladder and rectum, which, though very trilling at the time when I saw the patient, were enough to suggest the presence of a septic focus which became evident within twenty-four hours.
A married woman of thirty-two consulted me in OctolxT, 190S, accompanied by her ])hysician, who was an intimate friend of the family. The diagnosis was s])lcnic anemia, and the ])r()blem ])rcscntcd to me for consideration was whether S])lenectomy should be done.
'J"he })atient's coni])laints were of general weakness, languor, and a dragging sensation in the left axillary region. A slight continued fe\er was found to be j)resent. The spleen reached almost to the na\el. and ap])eared to be unusually immoljilc, ])erha])S owing to the pri'Sfncc of adhesions. \'isceral examination was otherwise ncgati\e. Tiic l)l(>od showi'd 3,500,00x3 red cells, Sooo leukocytes. 45 per cent, of henioulobin. The differential count showed nothing worthy of note. Tiie red cells showed in the stained smear a marked achromia with slight \ a rial ions in size. Xo nucleated red cells were seen.
The patient was advised to enter the hospital for more careful study, and probably for an eventual splenectomy. She delayed, however, nearly three months before accepting this suggestion. Meantime there had been a considerable accumulation of fluid in the abdominal cavity, and tapping had already been required about two weeks before her entrance to the hospital.
A reexamination of the patient at this time showed, except for the ascites, no especial change as compared with the conditions previously found, although the anemia had slightly increased. The temperature continued slightly elevated, the pulse, respiration, and urine normal. Blood-pressure, 125. Although I was somewhat apprehensive that hepatic changes might have progressed so far as to prevent the splenectomv from relie^•ing her symptoms, it seemed as if she were going on from bad to worse in spite of all that good hygiene and the administration of iron and arsenic could do; hence it seemed best to go on with the splenectomy, perhaps preceding it by a direct transfusion of blood.
At this juncture Dr. Wilder Tileston saw the patient at my request, and, in conversation with him, the patient mentioned that she had been troubled for a long time with catarrh and cold in her head. "It had been there so long," she said, "that I am getting quite used to it; but a little while ago, as I was blowing my nose, something came away, and I noticed that there was a passage from one nostril to the other, inside."
Discussion. — Following up this hint. Dr. Tileston learned that she had had "some sort of skin disease" in her scalp, as a result of which there were still marked unevennesses over the cranial vault, though the skin was wholly normal.
No other evidences of her previous syphilis were demonstrable either in the history or in the physical examination, but the facts seemed to me to warrant an immediate abandonment of the plan for splenectomy and a thorough trial of antisy])hilitic treatment, which she had never had. As a result of this she gradually returned to perfect health, the spleen diminished to one-quarter its former size, the anemia and ascites disappeared, and the patient was enabled to take up her usual mode of life.
This was a very narrow escape from a serious mistake. There was nothing in the history, as given to me, to suggest syphilis. Doubtless I was misled ])artly by the obvious innocence of the woman, partly by the fact that her physician, who was intimate both with her and with her husband, had clearly no idea that the liusband had been infected previous to marriage. Nevertheless, I ought to have considered syphilis merely from the association of the enlarged spleen and ascites with an
know by heart I find the following, under Syphilis of the Liver:
" In a second group of cases the patient is anemic, the liver is enlarged, perhaps irregular, and the spleen also is enlarged. Dropsical symptoms may supervene." (Osier's Practice of Medicine, seventh edition, p. 276.)
A boarding-school boy of sixteen was seen December 12, 1907. He had had a "regular cold" with a little fever which seemed to be ended three days ago, but next day the temperature rose again to 102° F. Yesterday morning crackles were heard for the first time at the right base. Last night at midnight he vomited and complained of pain in the right axilla on coughing. When examined at 7 p. m. his temperature was 102° F., his pulse 90 and dicrotic. Except for slight distention of the belly, the abdomen and extremities showed nothing abnormal, likewise the left lung. Examination of the base of the right lung behind showed in some positions nothing but enfeebled vesicular respiration, but when lying on the right side there were crackles, increased whisper, and a small patch of feeble bronchial breathing near the angle of the scapula.
Although these signs were not very distinctive, their association with a typical rusty sputum and a high leukocyte count seemed to me to justify a diagnosis of lobar pneumonia. On the nineteenth, as the temperature suggested an empyema, a needle was put in near the angle of the scapula, but only an ounce of bloody serum was obtained. On the twenty-fourth he was tapped again, this time in the axillary line, and an .v-ray was taken of the chest, which showed nothing abnormal.
January 3d the temperature was normal, the boy hungry and sleeping well, but the chest signs were still far from normal. On January 6th the temperature rose again, and though the boy was still eating, sleeping, and feeling finely, the signs were as in the accompanying diagram (Fig. 83). The front of the chest and the axilla showed notliing of im]K)rtancc. The boy's temperature was 101.6° F. in the morning, 99.4° F. in the afternoon. January 7th it was 102.2° F. in the morning, 100° F. in the afternoon. Between this date and the twenty-second of January two other unsuccessful taps were made. The boy continued in excellent condition despite his daily fe\er. The sj)utum was repeatedly examined, with negative rcsuhs.
Dr. Evan Evans. A second jc-ray made at this time showed the appearances sketched in Fig. 84. January 2 2d pus was finally found under the scapula by a puncture made through the axilla. The boy made an excellent recovery.
A girl of six entered the hospital November 18, 1907. She has always been weak, and often complained of her ears. She has had measles, chicken-pox, and whooping-cough. Three days before entrance she fell and hurt her head. That night she was feverish and complained of headache. The next day, her mother said, she "never opened her eyes." She has vomited watery material several times, and continued to complain of pain in her head, also in the abdomen. She has been somewhat constipated. She has been in bed two days.
Physical examination showed a red throat, but two cultures, taken November i8th and November 22d, were negative for diphtheria. The ears were also negative; no stiffness of the neck; no glandular enlargement. The mucous membrane of the mouth was normal. The chest and abdomen normal. The edge of the spleen was felt. The urine was free from albumin and sugar. There was no edema. The blood was normal. The chart was as follows:
Discussion. — The fevers of children give rise to far more diagnostic difi&culties than those of adults. Children's temperatures undergo far wider and more numerous oscillations in perfect health than adults' temperatures. Besides these supposedly normal variations, there are a great many short periods of pyrexia occurring in children \vho are more or less out of sorts without any reason at present assignable.
In addition to the variations just alluded to, children are suljjcct to many fevers lasting several da}-s "with nothing to show for them" — i. e., without any obvious local jjhysical signs and without any complaint to direct our search to any organ or tissue. Among the commoner causes ultimately discovered for such fe\ers are:
In all such cases the best that we can do is to make repeated and comprehensive examinations of the child, who is meantime kej)t in bed. given an easily digested diet and plenty of water to drink. Sooner or later, if we are vigilant, something comes to light. The ])oints neglected in the present case will be ob^•ious from the outcome.
Outcome. — On the twenty-fourth re])eated examinations from liead to foot still showed no cause for her illness. She slept and ate fairly well, and took an interest in what went on.
November 29th: "Se\"eral nights ago she complained of |>ain in the left leg. Next morning the left knee-jerk was al)sent, the right easily obtained. It was found that the child's mother liad been l)ringing her chcxrolate candy and that the child had eaten about a (juarter of a pound of it, hiding the box at night under lier bed-clothes."
An Irish laborer of eighteen entered the hospital May 20, 1908. On the recommendation slip from the out-patient is written: "Appendicitis? Typhoid? Tuberculosis? " His father and one brother died of phthisis. The past history is good. On the fourth of December he began to have
pain in the stomach, which has kept him awake at night ofT and on ever since. There is no \-omiting; no appetite. He has also been coughing for the same period, with a good deal of sputa.
Physical examination shows slight emaciation, enlarged tonsils, especially the right, but no exudate. The heart is normal. The lungs show a few scattered crackles and squeaks. The right half of the abdomen is slightly more resistant than the left, and in the region of the cecum there are marked local tenderness and a mass about the size of an egg. The edge of the spleen is just felt on full inspiration, likewise the
edge of the liver. The knee-jerks are obtained with difficulty. There are old, irregular scars on the backs of both hands and at the lower end of the right ulna. Leukocytes, 2800.
2 2d the tenderness in the abdomen was gone.
Discussion. — Remembering the great susceptibility of the Irish to tuberculosis, the patient's family history, and the long persistent cough of which he complains, we cannot but consider the possibility of a tuberculosis, pulmonary or generalized. The signs in the lungs are consistent with miliary tuberculosis, but not in any way characteristic of that or of any other pulmonary affection. The sputa should, of course, be repeatedly examined. (This was done, but with negative results.) A tuberculin reaction might be tried, but would be significant only in case it was negative, as the vast majority of adults react positi\ely, owing to the latent obsolete foci of tuberculosis. Had the disease been of the ordinary pulmonary form, the signs in the lungs should have been more extensive, in view of the long duration of the cough.
Tuberculous peritonitis with glandular masses and adherent coils of intestine near the cecum might ex])lain many of the symptoms, though one would expect more abdominal s])asm and tenderness.
Appendicitis must, of course, be considered, though the local signs are few and slight, and the cough and splenic enlargement could not be thus explained. The leukocyte count is also surprisingly low for appendicitis.
The scars upon the ])ack of the hands and on the right forearm resemble those sometimes j)roduccd by sy]jhilis. The splenic and he])atic enlargement, the cough, and fever might thus be explained, and the absence of any history of this infection is of no im])ortance. Without further evidence, however, one would not resort to the therapeutic test, at any rate until otlier probabilities had been excluded.
The diagnosis of tyj)hoid fe\'er would ex])lain the i)resent symptoms verv well. Many cases of typhoid exhibit a certain amount of tenderness in the a])])endix region, and this ])aticnt's lung signs are those usually found in ty])hoid. We are ])U/zlecL however, to ex])lain the long duration of sym])tonis. Tliis man can hardly ha\e had t}]i]i()id from DccemhcT 4t]i to May 20th. and if we suppose the t}-phoid to ha\"e begun more recently, we have no means of coniecturing what other disease he may ha\e had ])reviously. Kxidentlv, what we most need at tlie inisent juncture is a Widal reaction aiKl blood culture.
The course of the disease thereafter was uneventful, home perfectly well on the fourteenth of July, Diagnosis.— Typhoid with relapse.
Discussion. — Estivo-autumnal malaria is naturally our first guess in the case of a febrile patient who has recently returned from Georgia, but this is at once ruled out by the negative examination of the blood ^ and the good condition of the patient. If he had had estivo-autumnal malaria in his system for four months, his S])leen would have been harder and ]jrobably larger, his general condition worse.
Endocardial fever is suggested Ijy the [presence of a cardiac murmur and long duration of sym])toms, but the leukocytes are rarely so few in this disease, and the murmur may well be explained as "functional."
two inches below the costal margin? Should we consider some of tlie hepatic diseases which are often associated with fever (hepatic syphilis, abscess, cholangitis, leukemia)? I think not, for we have no good reason to believe that the liver is enlarged. The extension of dulness below the costal margin should never, in my opinion, be taken as c\idence of hepatic enlargement unless the edge of the organ is also palpable. Dulness below the right ribs, continuous with that of the liver, is to be found in countless cases which ne\'er show any other evidence of hepatic enlargement.
The loss of thirty pounds in four months makes us suspect tuberculosis hidden somewhere in the body, but there seems to be no good e^"idence to support this suspicion, though tuberculosis cannot be positively excluded.
We must ask ourselves the question, Can this be the "fag-end" of a typhoid despite the absence of a Widal reaction? The time of year is not at all the usual one for such an infection, and at first sight we should suppose that after so long an illness the patient would either be well or dead if he had had typhoid all that time. Experience shows, however, that just such a history of long, indefinite illness is to be obtained in many cases which turn out e\"entually to be unmistakable typhoid. No one, so far as I know, has adequately accounted for this fact, but no one who has seen much typhoid will dispute it. It is commonly explained by saying that the patient has probably had most of his typhoid before he came under observation, and that what we are seeing represents the end of a relapse — perhaps the second or third relapse that he has had. This is perhaps the most plausible explanation, although we should expect the patient to be much more exhausted as we recall the appearance of patients who have had two or three relapses under treatment. We must reject the blasphemous thought that the patient mav 1)e in good condition because he has had no treatment.
The ])rcsent case, however, is hard to cx])lain, e\'en by this rather far-fetched hyj^othesis, for he had his six weeks and a half of fever four months ago, and has, since that time, been up and al)out liis business until he was suddenly seized with a chill on June i6th. It remains to me a mystery, although a very familiar one, many examples of which 1 see each autumn when patients in the ty])hoid ward relate ver}" circumstantially the course of an illness which has lasted all summer.
An Italian laborer of twenty-eight entered the hospital September 23, 1906. His family history, past history, and habits are good. Three weeks ago he went to bed with a headache and has been there ever since. His appetite is good, but he has not been allowed to eat much. His bowels have been constipated. There has been no cough. He has had three nosebleeds.
On physical examination the pupils were found to be slightly irregular, the right larger than the left. Both reacted normally. The glands in the neck, axillae and groins were palpable, but not enlarged. Physical
were normal. White cells, 7000.
Discussion. — One's lirst impression would be that there is really not much the matter with this man. His temperature is practically normal, his organs negative to j)hysical examination. But on second thought we must recognize that a young Italian laborer does not stay in bed three weeks for the fun of it. Something must be the matter with him, and his doctor sa}s that he has had a fever.
A very considerable proportion of Italian laborers appear to have had syphilis. The irregularity of the ])upils and the palpable glands seemed to su])])ort this idea; but it was not possible to get beyond the
was not then in use.
The slow pulse and the rather persistent headache might be taken as evidence pointing toward brain tumor or other cerebral lesions; but this suggestion, like the others, had to be left hanging, as there were no sufficient grounds for a more positive decision.
At this time of year and in a patient with this history it is always advisable to try a Widal reaction. The result of it was, in this case, extremely interesting, as is indicated by the outcome.
Outcome. — The Widal reaction was strongly positi\"e at entrance. The later course of the temperature is shown in Fig. 88. The patient went home, apparently well, on the twenty-second of October^
A housewife of thirty-seven was seen March 16, 1907. Her family history was good. She has never been sick before. She has been nursing her twelve-year-old girl, who has been sick for three weeks with fever,
diarrhea, thirst, and stupor. Yesterday her l)()y of fourteen was also taken sick. She has felt tired from nursing her children, but did not call herself sick until the doctor took her temperature at 6 p. \i. tcvday, and
poor appetite.
Examination showed an obese, apathetic woman, her scalp co\ered with crusts. A soft, blowing systolic murmur was heard over the precordia, loudest in the pulmonary area. The pulmonic second sound was accentuated, the heart not enlarged. The lungs and abdomen were negative. White cells, 4600; Widal reaction negative. The bowels moved daily. On the twenty-sixth she began to suffer from diarrhea with distressing tenesmus, which lasted three days, and on the same day she passed a small amount of blood, the pulse not being at all affected.
feces just inside the anus. Removal of this relieved all the symptoms.
On the third of April she complained of a burning micturition. The urine showed nothing abnormal except extreme acidity. Citrate of potassium and cream of tartar water promptly relieved this symptom. She was discharged well on the twenty-seventh.
Discussion. — When a woman has a fever and nothing to show for it; when the leukocytes are subnormal and two others in the same family have febrile illnesses, the chances are strongly in favor of the assumption that she has typhoid fever, probably acquired by contact. In the present case the W'idal reaction appeared March 20th, but the diagnosis was easily made before that.
The case is introduced here to exemplify the occurrence of diarrhea and tenderness due to fecal impaction in typhoid fever, even though the bowels had been moving daily. Such cases are not at all uncommon, and if rectal examination is neglected, the trouble is rarely recognized, and may cause much suffering. It usually occurs toward the end of the case, at or near the period of defervescence, coming on quite suddenly and without warning. The accumulation is often so great that it has to he removed mechanically. The lesson forced upon me by my failure in one such case was ne^•er to neglect rectal examination in a case of diarrhea.
A rubber worker of thirty-se\en, a Swede by birth, entered the hospital June 10, iqoS. His family history and past history were good, except that he had "typhoid" at the age of eighteen, and "malaria "" for a week a year ago.
cramps, which doubled him up. After three hours he went to work again and kept on for the next two days, when he had to give upon account of weakness and pain in his stomach. He has been in bed for a week. To-day he vomited twice; he has had no appetite, poor sleep, moderate constipation. He has passed urine only twice in each twenty-four hours during the last two weeks. What he passes is \"ery red.
Physical examination showed obvious loss of weight. Cardiac dulness extended one inch beyond the right border of the sternum. No cardiac impulse was seen or felt. There was nothing abnormal about the sounds.
to the second rib. Below that level \oice-sounds, breath-sounds, and tactile fremitus were diminished; ])crcussion was dull to flat. The alxlomen was quite negatixe. The white cells were 7400: the urine negatiw.
On the sixteenth 64 ounces more were remox-ed from the rlu>i. ' Mi tlie twentietli it was tap])ed a third time, l)ut onlv 10 ounces IhmkI. ( )n tlie twenty-eighth it was again ta])pe(l and 70 ounces wen- ri-iiM\,(l. Mis weight a month l)ef()re entering the h()S]Mtal was 155 ]K)l!^(l^. At the time of his discharge it was 124 ])<)un(is.
Discussion. — In rubber workers we meet with all sorts of obstinate and debilitating symptoms which oftentimes refuse to be grouped into any recognizable disease, although lead colic sometimes emerges from the obscurity, in case the workers deal with that part of the process of manufacture in which lead is used. But, so far as I am aware, none of the toxic effects of work in a rubber factory produces fever.
The patient's account of himself gives us no inkling of what may be the cause of the fe\er. Physical examination and the results of aspiration leave no doubt that the patient has been sulTering from a pleural etTusion. It is unusual, however, to observe so rapid a reaccumulation of the fluid. In the vast majority of cases of ordinary tuberculous pleurisy a single tapping suffices, or if recurrence takes place, it is far less rapid than in the present case, which suggests another and more ominous possibility.
Whenever rapid and frequent reaccumulation of pleural fluid occurs in a case belie^■ed to be one of ordinary (tuberculous) pleurisy, we should always suspect malignant disease of the lung, pleura, or mediastinal glands, no matter how young the patient and despite the absence of all pain. I have t^^■ice made the mistake of diagnosing as pleurisy a case which turned out to be malignant disease with secondary effusion. Malignant disease not infrequently produces a bloody effusion, but this is by no means in^•ariable.
The A'-ray gives us usually but little assistance in doubtful cases of this type, as the collapsed lung may simulate the shadow produced by malignant disease. The cellular elements of the sediment may be identical in both diseases. The first clue obtained in most doubtful cases is the appearance of a metastasis in one of the external lymph-glands or elsewhere. Later the steady decline in the patient's strength makes it ob\-ious that something more serious than pleurisy underlies the eft'usion.
Physical examination negative. Widal, negative. Whites, 7000. The case was considered by Dr. R. H. Fitz a mild septicemia. The uterus was dextroretroverted. Cervix very soft. Uterine body very hard. Culs-de-sac free. The uterus was dilated and cureted.
Discussion. — This woman complained of nothing in the world but fever. As she had rather recently emigrated from Italy, had had repeated chills and irregular fever, her blood was many times examined for malarial parasites, but none were found.
Nevertheless, typhoid could not positively be excluded.
Since the symptoms came on soon after her confinement, there seemed good reason to believe that the case might be one of mild septicemia, pelvic in origin. The dilating and curetage were done with this idea in mind, but no improvement followed, and the diagnosis remained altogether in doubt.
Mesenteric and ])eritoncal tuberculosis arc cs])ecially common in recent immigrants of the Italian race, and it is im])()ssiblc to exclude this diagnosis, though there were no signs of fluid in the peritoneal cavity, no palpa]:>le glandular masses, and only a moderate gciUTal abdominal sj)asm, rather more marked in the lower half.
Outcome. — The ])atient was examined under ether on the t\M'Utythird of I-\'l)ruar}'. and a mass was feU in the region of the cecum. The abdomen was then o])ened. and the mass found to consist of caseous
A car])enter of twenty-seven entered the hospital February 17, 1907, with an excellent family history and past history. He drinks one or two pints of beer a day, rarely a glass of whisky. His habits are otherwise good.
raised a little s])uta, which he describes as black and white. He says he feels tired all over, and for the past three days has had some pain in the right axilla and in the region of the right nipple, not increased by deep breatliing. To-day liis only complaint is of weakness. His appetite is good, his l)owels regular, but he thinks he has lost much weight. (For the temperature, see the accompanying chart.)
On physical examination the heart showed nothing abnormal. Tlie left lung was ncgati^■e, sa\e for a few scattered rales. Throughout the right lung fine crackles were heard, with slightly diminished voice-
sounds, except at the apex, where they were slightly increased, with a little dulness on percussion. The edge of the li\er was felt one finger's breadth below the ril)S. Physical examination, including two examinations of sputa, was otherwise negative. The Widal reaction was always negative. The leukocytes numbered 12,400 on February 17th; 13.000 on February i8th; 16,500 on February 22d; 11,900 on February 26th.
Discussion. — It seems natural to associate the fever and the rather indefinite pulmonary signs as cause and effect, but it is hard to see how these signs can be considered sufficient to represent a ])neumonia, an acute pulmonary tuberculosis, or an empyema, which are about the only lung diseases one would think of in this connection. Tuberculosis seems perhaps the more probable of the three, but we ha\e no }X)sitive evidence of this in the sputa or elsewhere.
Let us attack the problem from a dilTcrent point of view. As I have elsewhere shown, ^ there are but three obscure continued fevers in New England which last over two weeks — ty])hoid, tuberculosis, and |)yogenic infections (sepsis). TJie o/Jier fevers, such as those due to meningitis, to acute articular rheumatism, to leukemia, ])ernicious anemia, syj)hilis, or malignant disease, are rarely '" obscure'^ — that is, they show, as a rule, some obvious local lesions as their cause. Returning then to our case with this clue, it seems that we may exclude ty})hoid because of the continued leukocytosis, the continued absence of the Widal reaction, the excellent api)ctite, the aljscnce of splenic enlargement, and the time of year.
Sei)sis is not so easily excluded, but tlie great majority of cases show either — (a) a definite localized focus or source of infection, or (b), in the absence of such focus, a much more serious clinical ])icture. This patient does not seem much sick, especially when we com])are his condition with that of ])atients with generalized pyogenic infection without demonstrable source.
Can jnilmonary tuberculosis which siiows its ])resence l)y signs as slight and as few as in the present case be }"et resjionsible for such marked and continued pyrexia ? Experience siiows that it can. Nothing is more remarkable, as one studies a large series of cases of pulmonar}' tuberculosis, than the discrej)ancies l)etwcen the amount of lung iinohed and the amount of constitutional disturl)ances, such as fe\er, ])r()stration, emaciation, indigestion. Some patients in whose lungs two or three lobes are olniously infiltrated feel scarcely sick at all. and kt'ep about their work for many months. ()thers, in whom we can scaicely disco\er enough j^hysical signs to assure tlie diagnosis, are utterly
prostrated, drenched with sweats, constantly febrile, unable to digest, and rapidly emaciate. Presumably these differences are due in part to the variations in individual resistance, in part to the nature of the secondary infection ingrafted upon the original tuberculosis.
Outcome. — After many examinations tubercle bacilli were finally demonstrated February 25 th in a small speck of mucus which accompanied about 30 c.c. of fresh blood. No typical signs of solidification appeared until ]\Iarch 6th. March 13th he was discharged worse.
Five weeks ago he "took cold," had a slight cough and fever, occasionally a little pain in the right knee, later in various other parts of the body, never constant or definite. He kept at work until five days ago, when he took to bed on the ad\-ice of his physician. He now feels some aching all over his body; he has no appetite, much constipation.
apex, but also audible all over the chest. The pulmonic second sound is slightly accentuated. Dr. H. F. Vickery, who had previously seen him, stated that this murmur has been here for at least fourteen years. Physical examination is otherwise negative except for a leukocytosis of 19,200, and a fever ranging between 101° and 103° F. (See Fig.
On December 23d, slight dulness and slight increase of voice were made out at the left pulmonary apex. The patient says he has worked very hard for more than a year and is tired out. He now sleeps most of the time, but complains of no discomfort.
There was no change in his condition for the next month. He remained cheerful, his sleepiness gradually wore off and his appetite returned, but he continued to have fever.
Pneumovaccines were given, beginning March 17th, but produced no improvement. After the 12th of March the temperature became subnormal, and remained so for most of the following month, though the leukocyte count was ])crsistcntly high, varying between 10,000 and 34,000. On the twenty-fourth of March the red cells were 3,012,000, the hemoglobin, 50 per cent. Of the white cells, 92 per cent, were polynuclear and the rest lymphocytes.
Discussion. — Another case exhibiting at the time of entrance a jevcr and nothing else. The constant leukocytosis makes it possible to exclude typhoid, and the other features of the examination rule out j)ractically everything else except tuberculosis and some form of pyogenic infection. The patient slept so large a portion of his time during the first month of his stay in the hospital that meningitis was at times sus]3ected, but at no time were there any physical signs tending to confirm this suspicion.
The pulmonary signs described under the date of December 23d arc such as arc found in a great numIxT of sick ])eoi)le if the examination is conducted with the utmost care in a quiet room. At the right apex ihcv would ha\e no significance whatever. At the left they call for more consideration, but are not in themselves sufiicient to make us seriously fear jmeumonia or tuberculosis.
Whenever a continued fe\cr accom()anics a cardiac murmur sucli as that here descril)e(l, tliere is reason to fear that a vegetati\e endocarditis is at work. But in the present case we ha\e reason to l)elic\e that the murmur lias existed for at least fourteen years, so that its association witli tliis fe\er may not Ijc significant. On the other liand. the severe secondary anemia and the constant leukocytosis giw us reason to believe that the old ])rocess, which was recognized u])on the
hitherto quiescent volcano.
Outcome. — Beginning with March 29th, he had a great deal of vomiting, the vomitus containing considerable blood on one occasion. At this time there was little or no pulse to be felt in the right arm, although in the left it was fairly strong. Vomiting ceased within a few days, but the patient was left exceedingly emaciated and weak. Two purplish areas developed April 14th on the dorsum of the left foot; they disaj)peared during the day. Another appeared ofi the heel in the same afternoon. The patient began to be delirious about this time and he died on the twenty-first of April.
A housewife of sixty-seven entered the hospital February 10, 1909. She has seemed to be {)erfectly well until this morning, although she has noticed that her feet sv.cW from time to time, and has been aware that she passed unusually large quantities of urine. She has had no headache and no vomiting.
comatose.
Physical examination showed a red, parched tongue, the heart's apex one inch outside the nipple line, the action regular and slow; there were no murmurs and apparently no increase in pulse tension, but the blood-pressure was 175 mm. Coarse and medium rales were scattered throughout both lungs.
During the examination the patient had a general clonic con\'ulsion, with frothing at the mouth, biting of the tongue, dilatation of the pupils, incontinence of urine and feces. The urine contained sugar, and had a marked reaction for acetone and diacetic acid. Gravity, 1021; albumin, a slight trace; sediment, negative. The blood showed 25.000 white cells i)er c.mm.
vulsions followed each other in rapid succession.
Within an hour of the time of entrance the patient was bled, 14 ounces of blood being taken from the arm, and 2 pints of normal salt solution containing 5 drams of sodium bicarbonate were put into the vein. Convulsions, however, continued until the eleventh, when, under copious sweating by means of hot-air baths, and subpectoral infusions of salt solution, she began to improve steadily.
On the thirteenth she was conscious, though confused. Sugar, acetone, and diacetic acid were gone from the urine, in the sediment of which many hyaline, fine and coarse granular casts were found,
though both reacted normally.
On the fourteenth she was at times rational, at times in a muttcriuL: delirium. She could swallow and took milk well, but had no control o\er the sphincters, and was occasionall}' nois}- aiid profane. I'hv white count had dro])])cd to Sooo.
but when spoken to answered rationallw
(^n the twenty-second she was u]) in a cliair. free from an}' iKiralx.-is or anesthesia, c|uite rational in the dav-time. altliough a little irrational at niuht. She had now regained control of the rectal siiliincter.
still absent. The Widal reaction was entirely negative.
On March 9th she was able to walk about very well, and was to have gone home. At three o'clock she sank into a chair with a very poor pulse, and had a short convulsion, lasting only fifteen seconds, but followed by hallucinations of sight and hearing. She then suddenly came to, remarked that she was afraid she had made a fool of herself, asked what had struck her, and remained quiet and rational.
tinued fever with epileptiform attacks and glycosuria.
The last item may be dealt with first. A patient seen for the first time with coma or convulsion should always be catheterized and the urine examined for all^umin and sugar, yet I have known a very large number of mistakes arising from an inference made because either albumin, sugar, or both were found to be present. It should always be remembered that convulsions or coma, whatever their cause, frequently give rise to glycosuria, to albuminuria, or to both conditions. One must have other evidence before concluding that diabetes or nephritis is present. Such evidence is to be sought in the condition of the heart, in the previous history, and in the result of subsequent examinations of the urine, which, in the present case, were negative, as indeed they usually are in patients seen for the first time in convulsions or coma. The acetone and diacetic acid are not easily to be accounted for, as we have no evidence that the patient has been starving herself, and her ^'omiting is very recent.
Subsec{uent examinations of the urine showed no sufficient evidence of renal disease. A trace of albumin and a few casts were present from time to time, but the amount and gravity of the urine were normal, and in my opinion it has been amply demonstrated that albumin and casts in a woman of this age are not in themselves evidence of renal disease,^ although they are perfectly consistent with such a diagnosis, and do not in any way exclude it.
Attacks of convulsions and coma in an elderly person wliose heart shows some e\-idencc of enlargement should always lead us to scrutinize the A-eins of the neck and to listen ^■cry carefully oxer the ])recordia
^ Y. C. ShaUuck, Boston Med. and Surg. Jour., 1804, vol. cxxx, p. 613: " On the Urine of Persons over l-'ifly ^'cars of Age." William Osier, Xew ^'ork Medical Jour., T901, Ixxiv, p. 040 : " On the Advantages of a Trace of All)umin and a few Tube-casts in the I'rine of Certain Men AIkivc l-"ift\- ^'ears of Age."
case no such evidence was forthcoming.
Meningitis may begin as suddenly as this, with fever and convulsions as the chief evidence of its presence. (See Case 266, p. 508.) Although there were no positive evidences of meningitis in this case, lumbar puncture was done, and a sterile fluid almost free from cells spurted out under considerable pressure. No micro-organisms could be demonstrated in the sediment. The very transient character of the leukocytosis is also evidence against any type of meningitis except that due to tuberculosis.
Typhoid fever was difficult absolutely to exclude. The patient's age and the time of year, the initial leukocytosis and the convulsions — all were unusual and atypical, but none positively excluded the disease.
Ivooking over the case as a whole, and taking account of the high blood-pressure, the absence of any focal symptoms and the intermittence of the cerebral manifestations, it seems to me that this case may best be classed as one of the group denominated by Pal as ^■ascular crises ' of the cerebral form. Pal's monograph (which docs not seem to me to have received the attention which it deserves) describes in detail a large numljer of cases in which the diagnosis of cerebral hemorrhage, embolism or thrombosis would ordinarily be made, yet in which the auto})sy showed no gross organic lesion in the brain, no hemorrhage, softening or vascular occlusion. He shows that similar crises would reasonably be supposed to occur in cases of lead-poisoning (lead encephalopathy), in nephritis (transient uremic hemij)legia, aphasia, or amaurosis), as well as in arteriosclerotic cases with diminished elasticity of the vessels and high ])lood-pressure. Presumably, as he argues, the colic of lead-])oisoning, the gastric crises of tabes dorsalis, and many of the acute attacks of alxlominal ])ain occurring without any other exjjlanation in arteriosclerotics may be likewise ex])lained as abdominal N'ascular crises, while the various forms of angina ])ectoris and of intermittent claudication may reasonably l)e considered as ])ectoral or ]jeri])heral crises of the same type. Vascular spasm is in all cases assimied as the fundamental change.
A girl three years old entered the li()S])ital May 5, i()oS. 'ilie child was perfectly well until the da}' before, wlicu xoiniting, headache, and abdominal pain were con"i])laine<l ot. Last night the xoiniting
Physical examination showed nothing wrong in the throat or ears, a normal heart, a slight dulncss at the right apex extending down to the third rib in front and to the spine of the scapula behind. Over this area there was bronchial breathing and increased fremitus.
On the ninth of May the lower left lobe became likewise in\olvcd. On the eighteenth an aural consultant found double otitis media and opened both drums. On the twentv-second, though both cars were discharging freely, the lem])erature still remained high. Dulness and diminished breathing were then discovered at the right base.
On the twenty-fourth the dulncss and diminished respiration at the right base had increased, althougli there were no signs of an^'thing abnormal in the front of tlie chest. A needle introduced into the back drew ])us containing many extracellular ])neumococci. A ]nire culture of [jneumococci was obtained from tliis fluid.
Discussion. — Obviously, this child's illness began with a pneumonia, continued with a double otitis media, and ended with an empyema. The case is introduced mainly in order to call attention to the very typical chart, which exhibits, between the thirteenth and twenty-fourth, the variations which used to be interpreted as an unresolved pneumonia, but which of late years have been shown to Ijc ])ractically always associated with a de\'elopment of a postpneumonic emjjyema.
1905 to Oct., 1909.
I feel quite convinced that the cases which I used to designate as " unresolved pneumonia " were all, or practically all, mistakes, the actual lesion being postpneumonic empyema.
Outcome. — The chest was opened on the twenty-seventh and a large amount of pus evacuated, after which the temperature promptly fell to normal. The discharge ceased in three weeks. The week after this the wound was healed and the child went home well.
A laborer of twenty-four entered the hos])ital April 25, 1908. In June, 1907, he had had rheumatism for a week. Two weeks before the ])rescnt illness he had had a bad sore throat. Ten days ago he began to have tenderness and pain in both knees and ankles, which compelled him to go to bed. Later, his hands, li]js and shoulders became affected, the jxiin preventing slcc]). During the ]jast week he has had four nosebleeds.
Physical examination showed that the tonsils were large and soft, but not red. Cardiac impulse extended to the fifth space, but did not y)ass the nijjple. There was no enlargement to the right. The first sound was replaced l)y a murmur. The pulmonic second sound was reduplicated. The murmur was also heard in the axilla. Lungs and alxlomen showed nothing almormal.
when a loud friction-rub, roughly synchronous with the heart's action, was heard along the left edge of the sternum, on the level of the fourth and fifth rib. There was no pain and no fever. The white cells were 1 1, coo. The friction-rub persisted for two weeks, but was never accompanied by any pain.
On the eighth of May he began to have considerable dyspnea, and crackling rales appeared at the right apex, in front, and throughout the whole left lung. He became rather cyanotic. His white cells rose to 29,000,
On the eighteenth of ]\Iay the leukocytes were still 29,000. The patient was up in a chair a good deal of the time, and fairly comfortable, but slept little and did not seem to gain strength. The abdominal distention was very obstinate and difficult to overcome. His hands and feet began about this time to show considerable edema. From the twentieth of ^lay he gained steadily, although his white cells remained high, and on the twenty-ninth of ]May were still 24,000.
murmur previously described, but no pericarditis.
On the twelfth of June he had a second attack of sore throat. On the nineteenth his tonsils were removed, following which a whitish membrane formed over the stump. Xevertheless, he continued to imjjrove, and on the twentv-fourth was discharged well.
Discussion. — The sequence of events here may be summarized as follows: After a previous attack of acute arthritis the present illness begins with tonsillitis, which leads immediately to a second attack of arthritis associated with an equivocal cardiac murmur which may or may not be due to endocarditis. In ]\Iay he develops a friction-rub, due, presumably, to pericardial exudate. Later we have edema of the lungs and cyanosis, due in all probability to an invasion of the myocardium by the same infectious agent which has already attacked the pericardium, and perhaps the endocardium (pancarditis). The abdominal symptoms lead us to conjecture that the gall-bladder may have become infected, or that a mild degree of peritonitis — such as often occurs as part of a general sepsis — may also be present.
We have here an excellent example of a sei)tic infection due to some unknown but presumably attenuated type of pyogenic organism. One structure after another is attacked, yet the patient's resistance is such that he overcomes the invasion again and again, and may be left in the end nearly or quite as strong as he was in the beginning. In case he overcomes altogether this present attack, the chief danger is that the myocardium or the kidney will be permanently scarred, so that in later life a "chronic" myocarditis or nephritis will appear apparently out of a clear sk}-. In practice we often see this second chapter without the first, as the infection has been passed through without being designated as anything more important than "the grip" or "a common cold."
A stableman sixty-two years old entered the hos])ital February lo, IQ08. He has always Ijcen well. He denies venereal disease. His habits are good. For the past four or five days he has noticed fever and severe cough, with yellow sputa. This morning he began to have severe i)ain in the lower right chest, associated with shortness of breath, Init was al)le to walk to the hos])ilal. The course of his tcm})eraturc is seen in the accom])an}ing chart.
Phvsica"! examination showed sHght cyanosis; ra])id. labored breathing; the right ])U])il larger than the left, and reacting sluggishly to light. The tongue came out somewhat to the right. There was well-marked Riggs' disease. The heart's a] )ex extended r;] inches outside the nipi'lc line in the fifth space; the right l)or(ler of dulness not made out; the heart was otherwise negative. The right lung was dull below the ni])ple line in the front and axilla, and up to a corresponding ])()int in
the back. Tactile and vocal fremitus were diminished. Breathing was bronchial, especially near the upper border of dulness. Many fine crackles were heard throughout both chests.
rales. He feels quite well, has no cough, and is discharged.
Leukocytes: February nth, 17,800; February 14th, 19,400; February i6th, 27,400; February i8th, 15,700; February 20th, 13,900; February 22d, 31,100; February 25th, 14,700; February 29th, 24,200; March 4th, 16,300; March 7th, 10,900; March nth, 11,400.
rapid, labored respiration, the cyanosis, the bronchial breathing, and the high initial fever are strongly suggestive of pneumonia, but it is very unusual to find the vocal and tactile fremitus diminished <)\er pneumonic solidification.
The long duration of the fever, the absence of any rusty sputa, the moderate constitutional symptoms, and the signs at the base of the lung are very characteristic of a pleural effusion, serous or purulent; yet the A'-ray, which usually shows a shadow corresponding to such an exudate, was negati\'e at the time when the physical signs were exactly as above described. In \iew of the outcome of the case I do not see how we can make any other diagnosis than pleuris}', and in view of the negative v-ray examination it seems quite possible that we are dealing with a plastic exudate resulting finally in thickening from scar formation.
A child of fi\-e entered the hospital May 20, 1908. His father had just had typhoid fever and his mother ])neumonia. They are both at the Massachusetts Hospital. One sister is now ha\'ing measles at the City Hospital. The child
when he became feverish, lost
his ap])etile, and at nine o'clock vomited. Since then he has been drowsy, with slight cough, and has \omited several times more. He
slightly delirious.
Discussion. — In view of the other cases of fever in the family, one would naturally conjecture that this child has contracted either typhoid, measles, or pneumonia. The eruption is apparently hemorrhagic, not macular or ])a])ular, and this, with the absence of coryza, conjunctivitis, and Koplik's s])ots, is sufficient to exclude measles even at the outset, before the long course of the fever had shown us that some more serious infection must be at work.
Of pneumonia there are no signs, though the herpes, the fever and leukocytosis suggest it. In children pneumonia is almost never "central," perhaps because it is easier to reach the depths of their lungs by the ordinary methods of physical examination.
The vomiting and sluggishness, as well as the sudden onset, are rather characteristic of meningitis, but against this is the normal flexibility of the neck, the absence of any ham-string contractions and of any complaint of headache — all very constant symptoms. No further certainty can be arrived at without lumbar puncture.
In all doubtful fe\'ers occurring in young cliildren one should investigate the ear-drums, and, especially in girl babies, the urine, with reference to presence of pus and bacteria. In the present case the latter examination was made, not the former. We were thrown off our guard because the child did not complain of its ears, nor, indeed, of any pain, and because there was no discharge.
Outcome. — Not until May 2 2d was there any evidence of rigidity in the neck. In the afternoon of the twenty-second lumbar puncture was done and 20 c.c. of turbid fluid obtained. In the sediment of this fluid 92 per cent, of ])olynuclear cells were found, and many Gramnegative diplococci were seen within and without the cells. Flexner's serum was injected, and the boy seemed brighter next day; but Kemig's sign was ])rcsent on both sides, and slight internal strabismus had ap])cared.
Her])es appeared upon the li])s on the twenty-fourth. On the twenty-sixth he was taking nourishment freely, and wanted to sit u]) and go home. The neck was less rigid and strabismus gone; the })ulse was of excellent quality, though rapid.
Lumbar puncture was done seven times more in the course of the next three weeks, and Flexner's serum repeatedly injected. The amount of fluid obtained was usually large — 35 to 40 c.c.
The patient seemed to be doing well until the eighth of June, when be became rapidly worse and died. Autopsy showed meningitis, double otitis media, and a very large thymus.
A child of six entered the hospital August 2, 1907. He has always been well until nine days ago, when he woke near midnight, feverish and vomiting. Five days ago his temperature was found to be 104° F. Four days ago it was 103° F. In the middle of the day he had less fe\er than at night. The last two nights he has slept fairly well. Before that he was rather restless. All the time his appetite has been good, but he has had only liquids. His bowels have been moved by cathartics and since the first he has had no vomiting, no nosebleed, no pain. He has lost considerably in weight.
By the eighth of August his temperature was normal and the child seemed perfectly well. The treatment consisted of laxatives and alcohol sponges.
Discussion. — All general practitioners see many cases like the above. Ordinarily, they are spoken of as "grip" if they occur in winter, and as "indigestion" or "])tomain poisoning" if they occur in summer. Both these usages seem to me unfortunate, in that they tend to delay the ])rogress of medical knowledge. In the \'ast majority of cases there is not the slightest scientific warrant for either diagnosis. The bacteriologic or chemical evidence on which alone sucli diagnoses could be based is ])raclically never secured, and the terms arc used mainly to satisfy the family.
It seems to me much wiser, as well as more truthful, to state that in such a case we are dealing with an unknown infectious disease. (See ]). 405.) Ptomain poisoning is just now a \ery fashionable diagnosis,
and a phrase which the laity loves to brandish about. People are quite proud to have suffered from such an illness. But all this does not advance the progress of medicine, and tends in the long run to discredit our profession.
I have seen similar iexevs in which a A\'idal reaction was obtained, and to which, therefore, the term "abortive typhoid" was quite justifiably applied. If there is a pharyngitis, a tonsillitis, or a bronchitis, an inflammation of the frontal sinus, a jaundice, or a diarrhea, an infection of the urinary passages or a subcutaneous abscess at any point, the fever may properly be considered as a manifestation of one of these local disturbances. In the absence of such it should, I think, be made clear primarily to ourselves and also to our patients that the disease has at present no name, and cannot be identified with any trouble pre^"iously knov/n.
A school-boy of fourteen entered the hospital December 15, 1907. He has always pre\'iously been well. Four days ago he began to have pain in the right lower quadrant; it was not very severe, but has persisted to the present time. He vomited once the first day and twice the second day; he has been fe\'erish throughout. He has had no cough, no sore throat and no pain except as above described. The bowels have moved every day. He was sent into the hospital with a diagnosis of appendicitis. At entrance, there was slight tenderness in the right iliac fossa, but ^^•ithout any spasm.
Physical examination showed at the right base slight dulness, slightly diminished tactile, slightly increased vocal, fremitus, and a few moist rales. Chest and abdomen were otherwise negative. The right kneejerk could not be obtained; the left could be obtained only with difficulty.
The latter are perhaps the commonest of all.
Though the pain is referred to the right iliac fossa, the presence of a temperature of 106° F. and of an active delirium is distinctly against apj)endicitis. We are on our guard also against the mistake, so common in patients of this age, of o\erlooking a pneumonia or a pleurisy because the abdominal pain often associated with these infections in children occupies so prominent a place in the clinical ])icture.
JNIeningitis might begin in this \vay, and the delirium and the absence of knee -jerks, together with the \"ery high fever and leukocytosis, are quite consistent with that diagnosis. We are surprised, howcxcr, whenever we find meningitis without stiffness of the neck or Kcrni'^'s sign, especial!}' if the patient is fourteen or yoimger, for these nervous manifestations are much more apt to be early and well marked in tlie fevers of children than in those of adults. K\cn meningeal irritation without actual meningitis often makes a child assume the j)osture of meningitis. The al^sence of headache, herpes, and eye changes is also somewhat against meningitis. Xe\"ertheless, this disease can be ruled out only in case lumbar puncture shows no e\idence of infection.
A general septicemia, associated eitlier with a pneumococcus or one of the \-arieties of stre])tococcus, is the next most reasonable h}-i)()thesis. Without l)lood culture one cannot get any greater certainty in this direction, but the signs in the lung, though in themsehes slight, are sufTicient to incline us toward a belief tliat a imeuuKKoccous infeclinr is ])resent. It seems now to ])e quite clear that the existence or the degree of lung consolidation is quite a secondary and accidental nuitter in infections due to the pneumococcus. We are dealing in all i.ast> prol)ably with a general infection carried by the bhxxl. In the hmg it may arouse no special reaction, may jn-oduee a sliglit broncb.itis or bronclio])neum()nia, or may bring about the solidillcatinn of an entire
pneumonia are in the majority.
Outcome. — The blood showed a pure culture of pneumococci. By the nineteenth signs of solidification were obvious at the right base. Lumbar puncture showed nothing. The child died on the same day on which solidification became obvious.
A carpenter of thirty-nine entered the hospital January i8, 1907. His family history is good. For the last three or four years he has had considerable cough in the morning, with greenish sputa. He denies venereal disease. He takes a pint of whisky three times a week. Three days ago he began to be chilly, stopped work and went to bed. Two days ago he began to have pain in the region of the heart and in
the right axilla. To-day he has been spitting up reddish, frothy material. His cough has not kept him awake at night. The course of his temperature is seen in the accompanying chart.
and medium bubbles and squeaks
throughout both lungs, diminished resonance in the lower right back and axilla. The upper part of the right front was hyperresonant, the lower part somewhat dull, with much-diminished breath-sounds and \'oice-sounds over the area between the third and fifth ribs. Abdomen negative.
0\'cr both lower legs there were many patches of brownish pigment from the size of a nickel to that of the palm of the hand; over the shins there were three white scars, two inches long, Vinch wide, surrounded by brownish j)igmentati()n. The sputum showed a great variety of bacteria, but nothing of s])ecial im])ortance. Leukocytes, 25,300, with 94 per cent, of polynuclear cells.
On the twenty-third, as noted, the temperature remained high, the pulse irregular; the patient was cyanotic and \ery noisy. The physical signs remained as before. The sputum was constantly blood-stained.
Discussion. — There is no way in which we can make alcohol responsible for the present fever. Some cases of delirium tremens are febrile, but we have neither tremor nor, at the start, any delirium, and there has been no special accumulation nor increase of alcohol.
to support it in the rest of the clinical picture.
Though the signs in the lungs are by no means typical of pneumonia, there seems sufficient reason to take as a working hypothesis the disease which used to be called " central pneumonia." The postmortem evidence seems to be insufficient to justify the belief that in any considerable number of cases solidification actually begins in and remains for a time confined to the central portion of the lung. The conception of "central pneumonia" is derived, I think, mostly from "hind-sight" in cases characterized first by the symptoms, and only later by the physical signs of pneumonia.
It seems to me more reasonable to su])pose that in most of the cases usually designated as " central pneumonia " we arc dealing, in fact, with a general pneumococcous infection which produces in the lung no lesions whate\-er or only a moderately severe bronchitis. When a crisis occurs in such a case and the temperature falls suddenly to normal, we are very apt to argue that this proves the case to ha\-e been one of loljar pneumonia. I believe, however, that the familiar crisis is characteristic of the pneumococcous infection itself, whether or not it is localized, for it is a very familiar observation that the signs of solidification are often unchanged for many hours after the occurrence of the crisis. It has long been recognized that the dyspnea and cyanosis which cease so suddenly with the crisis, even though the lung signs remain the same, must be due not to the lack of lung space for aeration, but to general toxemia. I1ie same is true, I beliexe, both of the fe\cr and of tlie crisis.
A sclK)ol-l)oy six years old was seen Deceml)er 14. i()of): he had ne\er been ill prexiouslv. He has not been well for the (ia\s. i-oniplaining of pain in liis le^s and abdomen. The (loct(M- said it was aniiendi-
scratch.
Physical examination is entirely negati^•e, except that the whole bodv is covered with red, discrete patches from the size of a pea to that of a silver dollar, apparently ele\ated and surrounded by evidences of scratching.
Widal's reaction was slightly suggestive, but not positive. The coagulation time of the blood was three and three-quarters minutes with the Brodie- Russell instrument. Throughout his stay in the hospital the
He had numerous crops of spots
up to the twenty-second of December. After that they ceased, and after a few days he seemed so ^^■ell that he was discharged on the
of all physical signs of \isceral disease it seems reasonable to associate this fever with the profuse crop of urticarial lesions. The most important lesson from such cases is the recognition that the disease which underlies urticaria can, and often does, produce fever. The other and less o]J^•ious results of the urticarial group of lesions discussed so fully 1jy Osier in a series of important papers ^ must al\\-ays be borne in mind when the history of the case or the insjjection of the skin gi\es us any knowledge of what we arc dealing with.
Sym])toms rcsemljling appendicitis, gall-stones, perforating peptic ulcer, pneumonia and many milder affections of the respiratory and gastro-intestinal tract may l^e produced, when wheals or edematous ])atches appear in the internal organs as well as in the skin. Diagnosis. — Urticarial fe\er.
A butcher of twenty-one entered the hospital May 24, 1908. He has never been sick before. His habits are good. Since early yesterday morning he has had fever, headache, sore throat, slight cough with whitish sputa, and se\ere, deep-seated pains all o\er his body. He has vomited several times. His bowels mo\ed once this morning. The course of his temperature is seen in the accompanying chart. His throat was red, showed no exudate and no swelling. Physical examination was otherwise entirely negati^•e.
Discussion. — Some time in the course of his medical experience every physician, confronted with a case like that here described, has occasion to ask himself the question :
"Can a man be as sick as this and nothing wrong with him but a red throat?" In such cases we rack our brains to see what jjossible diagnosis we have forgotten. We examine the patient again and again in search for some more extensi\e organic lesion. But if all these efforts are \-ain, we are dri\en in time to the conclusion that a ''simple red throat" may be a pretty serious affair. The case here quoted is one of the milder type, but others which begin just as innocently develop into the most virulent type of generalized sepsis. The conclusion is that so frequently em])hasized in these pages, viz., that few "local" infections are really local even from the start, that they usually scr.c their wild oats very widely he/ore settling down, and that this settling may be only temporary.
Outcome. — The patient was given half an ounce of castor oil, followed by three 5-grain doses of phenacetin at hourly inter\als, with a grain of caffein to each dose. In two days he seemed to be entirely well.
.\ printer of eighteen entered the lios])ital June i, iqoS; Iiis family hi>t()r\' and ])ast history were good, lie is a hcaxy smoker of cigarcL>, and chews a good deal of to1)acco besides. Nine days ago he began to lia\e a tickhsh throat, then a cough and "cold in his head." which
soon became severe enough to make him give up work. He has been " up and down " until two days ago, when he took to bed for good. Seven days ago his right foot l^egan to be painful. Yesterday he began to complain of pain in the region of his heart, and his breathing was accompanied by a groan. His cough, at the same time, became much worse, and his fever higher. I.ast night and to-day he has been somewhat delirious. He has had no chill, no abdominal pain, no vomiting or diarrhea. The course of his temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 104). The white cells were 55,700, with 90 per cent, of poly nuclear cells. The urine showed a very slight trace of albumin, but no casts. The tonsils were enlarged and the pharynx reddened. _^ •l'''"^^*^^ ^^'
heart-sounds were regular, rapid and distant. There were no murmurs. Respiration was rapid and groaning, the nostrils moving with each breath. There was slight dulness in the left back below the angle of the scapula, a trifling increase of voice-sounds and of tactile fremitus. The respiration was normal. Over the lower axilla and in the precordia a very intense double friction sound was heard synchronous with respiration.
The abdomen and extremities were negative, except that on the top of the right foot was a swollen, reddened, painful area the size of a dollar. Movements of the toes seemed to be painful.
to be distant in the left back, and there were many coarse rales in the lower right back. Cyanosis was very marked. On the fourth the right border of cardiac dulness had moved to the right at least an inch, and a pericardial friction was heard to the right of the sternum, while pleural friction had returned in the left axilla. There was no definite evidence of fluid or solid in the lungs. Many fine purpuric spots developed on the trunk and limbs during the forenoon of July 4th.
Discussion. — In cases like this we arc prone to ask the muckraker's familiar question: "Where did he get it?" The illness is so sudden, so severe, yet there is so little to account for it.
It appears that an infection showing itself first as a sore throat was scattered thence to the joints, the pericardium, the jjleura and the subcutaneous tissues. In any one of these and in many other places a more definite localization might have occurred, as is shown by the course of other similar cases. But here apparently there was a very widespread attack, not wholly successful (/. e., not j^roducing am' very obvious or extensive disease) in any one locality. For some unknown reason infections which do not become " localized^^ ojten seem to he the worst in case they are not oj the very mildest type. Those which "localize" make u}) the great middle class of moderately sc\ere but not fatal infections.
A Russian girl ])al)y, twenty-three months old, entered the hosjjital December 13, 1Q07. She had never been sick before; three days ago she l^ecame slec])y and feverish, with considerable dysjmea, but no cough. She has had no a])petite and has vomited twice. The body has been very hot, the feet and hands cold. The 1)Owe]s ha\e been moved In- cathartics, the stools ])eing blackish. Physical examination of tlie chest, a])domen, and extremities was entirely ncgati\e.
Discussion. — Although the history and the ])hysical examination apj)ear to ha\e been conscientiously made in this case, tuo all essential points are omitted. It is because of thest- that I introduce tlie case.
otitis media will indicate in some way that its ears are painful, even
when it is too young to talk, but experience shows that the baby rarely puts its hands to its head or gives any other sign that it knows what ails it.
(2) Especially in girl babies suffering from obscure fevers we should always remember the urinary tract and the possibility of infection, hematogenous or ascending. The difficulties of collecting and examining the urine of young babies often lead to its being disregarded, to the great detriment of the child, since most of the milder urinary infections can be cured in their earlier stages by the administration of urotropin and an abundance of water.
Outcome. — On the nineteenth a purulent discharge was seen in each ear. Temperature, pulse, and respiration promptly fell to normal and remained so. The child
A school-girl of fourteen with a negative family history entered the hospital March 14, 1907. She has had measles, chicken-pox, and whooping-cough. For the last six months she has comjjlained of frontal headache each day after school. The pain goes away by bed-time. On January 24. 1906, the child had adenoids removed, without any improvement either in her hearing or in her general health. Her a])petite has been ])Oor since Iter measles seven vears previously. Two months ago she had a discliarge from one ear. For a week or two there has been tenderness in the sides of her neck and under her jaws.
On jjhysical examination the child looked sick and "toxic," the suljlingual gland large and tender, both submaxillaries also large, llie glands in the axilla,- and groin were slightly enlarged. There was a soft
systolic murmur at the apex. The heart was otherwise normal, likewise the lungs and abdomen. There was no tenderness over the mastoids; the white cells were 12,400, 65 per cent, of which were polynuclear; there was no anemia; the urine was normal, Widal reaction negati\e. Her throat and ears were carefully examined, but nothing abnormal was found there.
Discussion. — No doubt this girl has had eye-strain and presumably She has had adenoids and otitis media, but there seems no reason to believe that the otitis, the adenoids, or any of her previous infections are the cause of the present glandular enlargement.
The main question is whether we are to connect the headache, fe^•er, and other constitutional symptoms with the presence of these glands. Glandular fever is a diagnosis to be made only when no other causes can be found either for the adenitis or the fever.
Such an adenitis is common enough as part of an infection arising from the mouth or throat, or as the residual result of such. But at the present time there seems to be no source of infection m the mouth or throat, no bad teeth, no alveolar abscess, no tonsillitis or otitis.
The glands may possibly be tuberculous, but we have no e^•idence of tiiberculosis elsewhere, no softening or sinus formation, no adherence to the skin or surrounding tissues; the sublingual gland, moreover, is not often involved in tuberculosis unless as a part of a \'cry extensi\e j)rocess.
Leukemia can be ruled out by the blood examination. Hodgkin's disease rarely occurs with just this distribution. It cannot, however, l)e i)ositively excluded save l)y the outcome of the case. The absence of any history or lesions of syphilis makes it reasonal)lc to exclude that disease in a girl of this age.
As a result of this reasoning we are left with an unexi)lained fever and glandular enlargement. To this combination of symptoms, when running a rather short, self-limited, and usually favorable course, the name of glandular fever may l)e gi\en.
Outcome. — By the twentv-third she was silling u]) in her chair and ihc glands were much smaller. By tlie Iwenly fiftli she was frcr from all sym|)loms. The glands were still palpable, but now wire hard and free from tenderness.
A factory hand, twenty-six years old, entered the hospital February 22, 1908. His family history and past histor}' are negative, his habits <Tood. He has been more constipated than usual for the past four months, the bowels moving once in four or five days. Two weeks ago he began to have headache and poor appetite. Eight days ago he began to have steady, moderate pain at the costal margin, not referred elsewhere. Fi\e days ago he noticed that his eyes were yellow.
Phvsical examination is negative, except for moderate jaundice of tiie skin and conjunctivas, accompanied by rigidity of the right rectus near the ribs. There is tenderness and dulness on percussion, extending I i inches below the rib margin in the nipple line. The edge of the spleen is not felt at entrance, but on the twenty-third of Februar}- it was easily felt and considered to be sharp. The mine contains bile, but is not otherwise remarkable. The stools are not clay colored. By Februar}^ 26th the tenderness and spasm had disappeared, but the jaundice was still present at the time of his discharge, ]March 17th, although it had become ^■ery much less intense.
The treatment consisted of 20 grains of sodium phosphate three times a day, J grain of calomel every fifteen minutes for ten doses, followed by h ounce of magnesium sulphate. A diet free from fat was also given.
Discussion. — When we have a case of jaundice of short duration, not following upon or resulting in any other recognizable disease such as gall-stones, obstructive cancer, syphilis or cirrhosis of the li\er, we are apt to call it catarrhal jaundice.
Just what this means we do not know. Many cases like the present one have a considerable degree of fever, many more have jaundice for some days preceding the onset of digestive symptoms, so that it seems hardly reasonable to suppose that a gastroduodenitis has extended up the bile-duct and occluded it, according to the classic conce|)tion of the disease. It seems more reasonable to believe that the jaundice is one feature of an infectious cholangitis or some other type of hematogenous infection.
A housemaid of twenty-one entered the hospital April 30, 1907, complaining of abdominal yjain. Physical examination indicated the presence of Huid, and operation showed a diffuse tubercular peritonitis.
and was transferred to the medical wards.
At both bases there was diminished breathing, fine rales and, on the right side, dulness. The abdomen was of board-like rigidity, with shifting dulness in each flank and general tenderness. The patient when received was vomiting everything taken. She was star\ed for twenty-four hours without relief. Washing her stomach was also of no benefit, and many drugs were tried ineffectually. Soon after the first of June the patient spontaneously ceased vomiting, began to be more comfortable and to take food. The course of her temperature, meantime, is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig, io6). On the ninth of
June slight dulness and prolonged expiration were noticed at the left apex in front and behind. By the fifteenth she had developed a leftsided otitis media, which was pronounced to ])e tubercular by the aural consultant, Dr. H. L. Morse. On June 23d, a ])urulent vaginal discharuc and slight ])ericardial friction were made out.
Discussion. — Tn the discussion of previous cases T have rc])eate(lly referred to the special ])oints of election at which a general infection i> j)rone to settle or break out (joints, heart, pleura, gall-bladder, jicri toneum, sul)cutaneous tissues, kidnc}).
various other tissues.
Outcome. — The patient died on the twenty-fourth of June. Autopsy showed general miliary tuberculosis and tubercular peritonitis, tuberculosis of the tubes, retroperitoneal and mesenteric lymph-glands, tuberculous ulcers of the rectum. The infection of the middle ear was not tuberculous, but was of streptococcous origin.
but within the past year has not been further south than Georgia. Left there eighteen days ago and landed at Boston eight days ago, where he at once fell ill, with se\cre pain in the back and legs, which has lasted ever since. FexenVh and sleepless. One nosebleed. No chills. Diarrhea began two days ago, Ijut ceased yesterday.
Physical examination showed an abundant crop of rose spots on the trunk. The axillary lymph-glands were slightly enlarged. The sjjleen was not felt, but seemed distinctly enlarged on percussion.
Widal reaction positive (1-50). White cells, 10,000, among which there were 59 per cent, of polynuclears, t,^ per cent, of large lymphocytes, 7 per cent, of small lymphocytes, and i per cent, of eosinophiles. The stained smear was otherwise negative.
The urine averaged 50 ounces in twenty-four hours. At entrance it contained a large trace of albumin, and in the sediment very numerous fine and coarse granular casts with cells, blood and fat adherent. A week later the albumin and casts disappeared and did not return. The stools were negative.
showed Staphylococcus aureus.
Discussion. — Typhoid seemed obviously the diagnosis, though the patient (like many other tyj)hoid patients) was never "typhoidal," /. c, stupid, in the least; but Sc]jtember 21st, as the temperature looked uncharacteristic and showed no permanent trend either up or down, we tried another Widal test and found it negati\-e. This test was again negative on the 2 2d and the leukocytes were found to number 10.000. The absence of Widal's test and of leukopenia at this i)eriod of the disease seemed very suspicious, also the repeatedly negati\e Diazo reaction.
'' Bed fever" (a tcm])eralure which disa])pears wlien the patient get> up and moves aljout) was tested for Ijy getting this ])atienl out of bed. but after several days his fe\er was as liigh as e\er.
Outcome. — ( )ctol)er 7th the blood was again examinrd for malaria. and estixo-autumnal crescents were found in al)ui'idance. 7"//'' urii^ina! blood-smear of Auii^ust 2.^t]i i^as Ihoi hunted up a)ul Joum! lo contain
CHILLS
The rapid clonic spasm of many muscles which may be the onlv mark of a chill is not to be clearly distinguished from a tremor such as many normal persons are subject to when excited. A subjective sense of cold and an abnormal temperature may or may not accompany the tremor. The chill accompanying gall-stone colic is often seen without pyrexia. Even when the chill marks the onset of an infectious disease the temperature is not always elevated. Hence the distinction between ^^ nervous chilW^ and those due to infection is sometimes to be made only by the accompanying signs and by the later develo])ments. All chills except those of nervous origin are soon followed by fever.
"Creeping" chills, or chilly sensations without any defmite tremor or any chattering of the teeth, are much commoner and less distincti\e than the true or "shaking" chill ("Schiittelfrost").
As a rule, when chills are the evidence of infection they accompany an abrupt rather than a gradual rise of temperature. The sudden high fevers of malaria, pneumonia, tonsillitis and pyogenic sepsis are more often attended with a chill than the more gradual rise seen in typhoid or j)leurisy.
Among the causes of chills are:
(a) Pyogenic Infections.— T\\c^c are doubtless the commonest. Under this heading comes, in all |)robability, most of those occurring in tuberculosis fas a result of secondary infections) as \\ell as those due to appendicitis, septic wounds, renal and hepatic suppurations, tonsillitis vegetative endocarditis, phlebitis, empyema, and erysipelas.
subtropical regions.
(c) Severe pain (as in renal or l^iliary colic) may lead to a chili or follow it, even when no infection or fe\cr is demonstrable. In some cases chill (or vomiting) seems to replace the colic as a sort of e(|uivaknt.
id) " Urethral chills,'' such as often follow the i)assage of a catheter, •^ccur in persons who show nothing of a nervous or hysteric taint, yd there may be no fever with or after them. Probably t!ic j'ain and irritation are enough to set the nervous system "on edge," e\en if it be ordinarily stolid.
family history, past history and habits were good.
January 29th he had a sudden chill in the evening. The next morning he vomited his breakfast. Since then he has been having severe chills about twice a day and has vomited a great deal. He has been lounging about the house, but has not been in bed during the day-time; he has had no cough and no pain.
light. The heart is altogether negative. The lungs show slight dulness and many crackling rales at the left base behind, but no other signs. White cells, 17,000. The rest of the physical examination and the urine are normal.
but continued to have chills. On the fourteenth, after a ven^ severe chill lasting half an hour, the rectal temperature was 107° F. The white cells had now risen to 23,900, and the patient continued to have daily chills lasting from forty to forty-five minutes, the temperature reaching 106,5° F- ^^ch time and remaining there several hours.
On the sixteenth exploratory- puncture of the" chest was done twice, the needle entering solid lung each time. From the blood withdrawn by the second tapping a smear was made which showed many pneumococci, both within and outside the leukocytes.
Discussion. — When a patient has two chills a day and a leukocytosis ranging from 17,000 to 23,000, the administration of large doses of (juinin is altogether unjustifiable. There is no reasonable possihilitx" of malaria.
Pulmonar\' tuberculosis often ])roduces chills, which not infrc(|ut'ntl\come as close together as in this case, and sometimes recur at exact I \' the siime hour each day, so that the unwar}- are led to diagnose malaria and to wa.stc time and strength in attempting to sto]) the chilli with quinin. The signs in the lungs of this ])atient are not at all character-
istic of phthisis, and the sudden onset of the symptoms would be quite inexpHcable if the chills were due to that disease. Chills occurring in pulmonar)' tuberculosis come after the disease has made its presence evident for many weeks or months previously.
By far the most significant point in this case is the evidence obtained by A--ray examination, which appears to prove that the source of the chill lies in or near the li\er. That this is usually the source of chills for which no obvious cause can be found is, I think, the general experience. When we have searched the blood, the sputa, the subcutaneous tissues, the ears, and the heart for a sejjtic focus and found none, it usually turns out that the source of infection lies in septic thrombosis of the portal vein, in hepatic abscess, single or multiple, or in a subphrenic abscess.
We cannot be more definite than this in the present case.
Outcome. — On the twenty-seventh a needle introduced through the eighth right space below the angle of the scapula drew pus. A rib was resected ]March 2d, and a pus-cavity the size of the fist was drained.
A Swedish housewife of fifty-six, who had passed the menopause six years previously and had been otherwise well all her life, entered the hospital December 31, 1907. She says that one night last spring while in bed, but not asleep, she "began to feel queer." In a short time she was seen to shake violently all over, complaining at the same time of headache and vertigo. These chills recurred five times during that month. After them she felt weak and had abdominal pain, extending up through the chest to the throat. During the past summer she was much better, but three months ago she went to bed on account of increasing pain, weakness and chills; she has stayed there ever since.
Her most troublesome symptoms are headache, vertigo and constant ringing in her ears. She has a poor appetite and often vomits, though the vomiting seems to have no distinct relation to pain nor to the time of eating. C)f late she has a good deal of dyspnea, cough, and expectoration, though the latter is never bloody. She sleeps poorly, and her urine is scanty. She has lo-^t about ten pounds in weight.
outside the nipple line in the fifth space, five inches to the left of midstemum. A blowng, systolic murmur was heard at the apex, but was not transmitted more than an inch or two in any direction. The pulmonic second was not accented. The pulse tension appeared normal.
In the right back, below midscapula, there was dulness without any other signs. Throughout the left back there were a good many fine, crackling rales. Hemoglobin, 80 per cent. The white cells were 16,200 at entrance; three days later they were 12,300. The urine and the stained blood-smear were normal. Vaginal examination was also negative. The temperature was below 99.5° F. throughout.
Discussion. — In some respects this case reminds us of the previous one. We have chills, associated with obscure, bilateral, pulmonar\' signs. Just as we were getting ready to investigate these by means of the A;-ray they cleared up entirely; otherwise our diagnosis might ha^e remained long in doubt, although with chills lasting nearly nine months we should feel pretty sure that more definite and extensi\'e changes would by this time be demonstrable in the lungs were they the source of the trouble.
Endocardial infection should always be suspected when chills of obscure origin are found to be associated with a cardiac murmur and a slight enlargement of the organ, especially if, as in the present case, there is a leukocytosis. Against this, however, is the long duration of the symptoms and the obesity of the patient. A person who has had ulcerative endocarditis for nine months is not likely to be obese. Further, the course of the tcm]:)erature is altogether uncharacteristic of a cardiac infection, especially one which would appear to be of long duration.
In view of these facts and of the nature of the attacks it is fair to suppose that they may have been due to some form of '"nerves." But since the ])atient is well past middle life it is altogether probal)lc that there is some arteriosclerotic change undcrhing the nervous symptoms.
Outcome. — By the fifth of January the lungs were entirely clear and the patient was able to sit up. After that slie com])lainc(l only of ])ain in the small of tlie Ixick, which was greatly relieN'cd iiy crossstrap]jing with adhesi\-e plaster. January i6th she went home well.
A housewife of thirty-nine, of good family history and |)ast histon entered the hos])ital Xoveml)er S, iqo-j. Slie got a c(^ld in the liead 1\^o weeks ago and was hoar>e for a day or two; she tlien beuan to cough
up considerable yellow sputa. During the whole illness (from two weeks ago until yesterday) she had two chills every day at irregular intervals, with shivering, chattering of the teeth and profuse sweating thereafter. At ])resent she feels sore throughout the whole chest, especially beneath the lower half of the breast-bone. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart.
Physical examination was entirely negative. The sputum showed ver}- large numbers of influenza bacilli both within and outside of the cells. The blood and urine were normal.
By the thirteenth the patient was improving slowly under laxatives, heroin for cough and bitter tonics for appetite, but it was not till the nineteenth that she was able to go home practically well.
Discussion. — One investigates in a case like this the ordinar}' causes for multiple chills : concealed sepsis with or without endocardial localization, malaria, tuberculosis, otitis media, li\-er disease (including gallstones), renal infection, and nervousness. Since none of these is to be found, we must fall back upon the e\idence of an influenza infection, which is the best clue we have to the nature of the chills, although the amount and gravity of the infection seem disproportionately slight when compared with the violence of the constitutional reaction manifested in the chills. It is to be remembered that the make-up of the individual, — what is often called his "temperament," — and especially his nervous system, influence the degree and character of the reaction against any infection, such as influenza. Any shock or painful experience, such as death, flood or Are, will leave one person quite unmoved, will depri\-e a second of the power of sleep and make a third irritable and nen'ous; in a fourth it may pro\-oke that curious motor spasm known as a "nervous chill," and in a fifth may determine an actual con\-ulsion of the type ordinarily called "hysteric." All these reactions rejjresent ditTerences in the degree of sensitiveness of the motor nervous system.
But there are similar differences in the way in which different tem[)eraments react to an attack from within — namely, a bacterial invasion. Those whose motor res] )onses are excessive in the presence of the ordinary
annoyances and discomforts of life are apt to show a similar exaggeration of the normal response in their constitutional reaction against an infectious disease. In the present case it \\as learned b}- subse(|uent questioning that this woman had been in the habit of having chills whene\er any kind of slight ailment affected her. This is perhaps a less common idiosyncrasy than that by reason of which certain persons, whom every j)hysician meets in the course of his practice, show a \-ery high temperature reaction when they catch cold or have a slight digcsti\-e upset.
In the discussion of some of the jjrevious cases I have said that most diagnoses of "grip" or influenza seem unjustified, because the bacteriologic evidence is quite insufficient. I do not feci quite sure that we are right in making the diagnosis of influenza even upon such e\idence as is presented in the present case. Since the epidemic of 1S89 90 the influenza bacillus has been a regular inhabitant of the uj^per airpassages of practically the whole population in New England. The fact that we find it in the s])uta in connection with one or another t}-pe of disease is, therefore, in itself, of little significance. When the germ occurs in large numbers, both within and outside the leukocytes, and when the other varieties of organisms found arc in \er}' small numbers, it is probably justifiable to consider the infection one of influenza.
A chambermaid of thirty-eight was first seen No\"eml)er 6, 1907. Two years ago she was in the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmarv for nine days with an acute inflammation of the left middle ear, which was lanced sex'cral times. Her hearing remained good afterward.
Four days ago she had a severe chill, followed by sweating, \erti<,'o, ringing and buzzing in both ears. The next day there was sex ere pain in the left ear. Since that time she has felt feverisii, and during the last two days has had eight chills and has xomilcd several times.
During the last two days she has had a dull ache in the left ear. extending down her neck to the left side of [hv throat. This morning and vesterday morning slie went to the V.\v and Ear Inrirniar\\ but no trouble was found with the ears. Throughout her i^ne^s she has liad insomnia, anorexia, and constipation.
Physical examination showed an obese woman with normal pKj'ils. The heart's im])ulse was felt with diflicult}' in the t'ourth >pa('e, jii^l outside the midclavicular line. There were no murmur^ or aicentiuilions. The lungs were normal. There was some e]Mga>lric tendernos,
but nothing else of importance in the abdomen. The urine ranged between 40 and 60 ounces in twenty-four hours, the specific gravity var\'ing between 1005 and 1023. Albumin was sometimes absent, sometimes present in very slight traces. Casts were sometimes absent, sometimes numerous and of the hyaline and granular type, some of them having cells adherent. In the majority of the examinations it was exceedingly difficult to find any casts at all.
The blood-pressure at entrance was 230. The fundus oculi was normal on the right. On the left there was a large area of opaque nerve-fibers at the lower edge of the disk.
Discussion. — The foreground of this case consists of chills and ear pains, the background of various signs pointing toward a chronic nephritis. The high blood-pressure and the ocular changes are especially important in this latter respect. The urine is equivocal and dubious. The condition of the heart is not characteristic, though suggestive of slight enlargement.
Taking for granted that there is an underlying chronic nephritis, what is the cause of the chill? Otitis media is naturally our first and very decided suspicion, but the high character of the work done at the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary makes us confident that we may rely upon their negative report regarding the ears.
Nothing is said in the text about an examination of the blood for malaria or for leukocytosis, because these examinations had not been undertaken at the time when I first saw the case. They both turned out, however, to be negative.
Knowing the proneness of all cases of chronic nephritis to an invasion by an infectious disease, it seems natural to assume that some such infection was present in this case, although we do not find definite evidence of its whereabouts. There remains, however, one further possibility: the chills may be a direct result of nephritis without any infection. Chills and convulsions are first cousins. In fact, a chill may be described as a generalized clonic spasm of very short excursion. In \iew of this it seems more than possible that the excessively high blood-]jressure which existed for a short time in this case may have determined the onset of chills, as we well know that a similar rise of pressure often determines the onset of convulsions. In view of the outcome of the case, without further e\'idence of infection, this hypothesis deser\es consideration.
Outcome. — On the thirteenth the l^lood-pressure was still markedly elevated, — 190,— though she had been ha\'ing daily hot-air baths and was j)urged e\'er}- second day with an ounce of magnesium sul])hate.
On the twent\'-seventh the blood-pressure had fallen to 155. The patient had no symptoms except slight tenderness and weakness in her legs. She was then allowed to go home.
A school-boy of fifteen, whose father died of consumption, was first seen April 15, 1908. He w^as always well until two weeks ago, when he began to have headache, backache, and soreness all over his body. Since then he has had several chills, with chattering teeth. Yesterday he vomited; throughout he has slept well. There has been no nosebleed. (See Fig. iii.)
When examined, the face was flushed, the throat reddened and covered with a mucopurulent secretion, the glands in the axilke and the right epitrochlear enlarged, the neck not stiffened. The heart was negative except for a soft, systolic murmur in the ]uilmonary area, the lungs entirely negati\"e, likew ise the abdomen.
The ])rcscnt case seems to have been investigated sufiiciently to exclude with considerable confidence any tuberculous or endocardial infection. No search, however, appears to ha\'e been directed toward excluding otitis, a ])Ossibility whicli should never l)e forgotten in Aouth and infancy. In the otitis of the adult our attention is usually lalled at once to a source of the trouble by tiie occurrence of sexire earache.
A Russian clothes-presser of twenty-three was first seen September 28, 1907. His family history and past history were excellent. He stated that he has nc\-er been sick until sixteen days ago, when he was seized while at work with a severe chill, followed by a profuse sweating. Since then he has had a slight chill twice a week. Occasionally he has sharp
When examined, the patient was
well nourished. (See Fig. 113.) The glands in the axillae were as large as lima-beans. There was marked acne on the back and sides of the chest. The heart showed nothing abnormal. The lungs showed occasional scattered rales throughout, somewhat more numerous in the right front.
and stained smear, negative.
Urine, negative. The next morning the lungs were as in the accompanying diagram (Fig. 114). The pulse was rapid and dicrotic, the patient alert and anxious. Each day thereafter until October 15th, the signs in the lungs shifted and changed, rales coming and going, patches of bronchial breathing appearing and disa])j)earing.
Discussion. — Tlie pliysical signs suggesting possible causes for this patient's chills are those in the lym]:)hatic glands and in the lungs. These possil)ilities should first be investigated, though we must bear in mind that some of the other and more obscure causes mentioned in pre\'ious cases may be here at work.
ChilLs may be associated with glandular enlargement in lymphoid leukemia, in Hodgkin's disease (with infection of the glands), and in glandular tuberculosis; occasionally also in syphilis. Leukemia is
here excluded by the blood examination. Hodgkin's disease ne\er manifests itself in the axillary glands alone, and the siime is true of syphilis. Glandular tuberculosis cannot here be excluded, though in an adult it rarely causes such marked constitutional disturbance unless other tissues are involved. Of course, the internal glands — l)ronchial, mesenteric, etc. — would be assumed as affected in addition to those of the axilla.
The pulmonar}' signs are most like those ordinarily seen in acute bronchitis with bronchopneumonia, but the duration of the disease, ^^•hich is more than a month at least, is hardly consistent with this idea, and makes us suspect a pulmonary tuberculosis. Further eNidence can be obtained only by the sputum examination. The cutaneous tuberculin reaction seems to be of little value in patients of this age, and the fever precludes our trying tlie subcutaneous reaction.
Outcome. — When first (juestioncd, the patient stated that he had no cough whatever, so that when the |)hysical examination was undertaken we liad practically no clue from his histor}' regarding the source of the chills. Later he acknowledged that he did cough occasionally, and on the thirteenth of October a little glairy sputum, rcsemJ^hng sidiva, was o])tained. It seemed hardly \\ortb. examination, Ijut to our surprise a few tubercle bacilU were found in it. The patient ])assed out of observation October i6th, his condition ha\ing become steadily worse meantime.
A man of sixty-eight, a dealer in sponges, was seen Februan- i, 1908. Thirty years ago he had "Bright's disease" and was sick for a year. He has had "malaria" off and on for thirty-five years; otf.erwise he has been \\ell until se\en }ears ago, when he Ijcgan to ha\'e "stomach trouble," which has become worse in the last three months. This is characterized by pain and discomfort in the epigastrium, coniijig after each meal and lasting twcj or three hours. His a])pctite has been very ])Oor, and for six weeks he has li\"ed mostly on liquids. He newr vomits or is jaundiced.
lie i)asses urine eight or ten times at night. He has considerable frontal headache, no cough or chspnea. A year ago he weigf.ed 17S pounds; now he weighs 134; he thinks he has lost chiclly in the jKi-t three months. Four weeks ap^o he hegaii to have ehil/s coming e\er\ day about 4 P. M. For two weeks he has taken 20 grains of (uiinin e\er\ day.
rough, pale skin. There was no dulness or bronchial breathing anywhere in the chest. There were crackling rales at the right apex in front, scattered, dry whistling sounds below the right clavicle, and harsh respiration at both bases.
The hemoglobin was 75 per cent. No malarial organisms were found after repeated examinations. The urine was normal; Widal reaction negative. At entrance the patient's temperature was normal. (See Fig. 115.) It soon rose and remained elevated throughout his stay in the hospital. By the stomach-tube examination no fasting contents were recovered. The stomach held 44 ounces, its lower border reaching
just below the navel. After a
test-meal, free hydrochloric acid was 0.05 per cent., total acidity, 0.19 per cent. The guaiac test was negative. In the warm Ijath an
drium.
The patient was given 10 grains of quinin every four hours, but his temperature was not much affected. On the fourteenth of February there was bronchovesicular breathing in the second riglit intercostal space near the sternum, with intense whispering bronchophony and coarse consonating rales after cough. Otherwise the sounds were as at entrance. Discussion.^Since the patient has apparently had malaria for a good many years and is now moderately anemic, it is proper to assume — until proved to the contrary — that the chills of which he now complains are of malarial origin. This idea, however, was decisively dispro\-ed ]))' the blood examination, on which we can entirely rely in such cases if it is made by any one who has had the proper training.
Can there be any connection between the stomach, of which he complains so much, and these chills? Tn answer, we may say, I think, that unless the disease has extended far beyond the stomach (e. g., subI)hrenic abscess from perforated peptic ulcer) that organ is incapable of producing such a clinical |)icturc. Phlegmonous gastritis—that very rare disease— produces a far more fulminating and virulent type of
efforts to explain the chills.
Since the edge of the liver is felt, it is proper to inquire whether any infection in or near that organ may be at the bottom of this patient's troubles. Provided the patient has no leukocytosis (a point on which we are still ignorant), liver infections, whether rising from the gallbladder, from the intestine, or otherwise — are improbable. The upper border of the organ, especially in the axilla and back, is almost always raised, as percussion will demonstrate, if there is any infection in or near the liver. In doubtful cases the A'-ray examination may help us to determine the outline and position of the organ.
The pulmonary signs do not seem at first examination to be of any special significance. Many patients of sixty-eight present similar abnormalities, off and on, without complaining of anything in particular. In the present case, however, their persistence and the absence of any other important lesions disco\'erable by physical examination lead us to focus attention uj^on the lungs. Apparently the conditions, whatever their nature, are steadily getting worse.
In })atients of this age we arc rather apt to forget the frequency and importance of tuberculosis. Statistics show that, contrary to the imj)rcssion current, both among the laity and among medical men, tuberculosis is just as prone to occur in the latter decades of life as in the earlier. In this case we are tempted still further away from the track of the truth because the patient says practically nothing about cough — indeed, denies that he has had any pre^■ious to the first of February. In all proljability this is a mistake, and in view of the steady increase in the lung-signs during the three weeks' period of observation, tuberculosis seems the most reasonal:>le diagnosis.
Outcome. — On the eighteenth a small accumulation of free lluid aj)])eared in the })eritoneal ca\"ity. There was no circulatory weakness to account for it. The ])atient was very fussy and hard to ])lease, declaring that he had no saliva and no secretion from his stomach. On the twenty-first he Ix'camc much discouraged and insisted u])on going home. Tubercle bacilli were never found in his sputa during the three weeks of his stay in the hospital.
An Irish laborer fifty-four }'cars old lost his fatlier of (.■on>um]iti(»n and one sister of the same disease. His wife and one daugliter are now sick with "colds." He was first seen February i ■;, 1907.
Thirty-eight years ago he was seven weeks in bed with "rheumatism," and had stiff and painful joints for three years thereafter. Thirteen years ago he had a right-sided "pleurisy," but was well in a few days. He denies \encreal disease, but for ten years has been unable to hold his urine for any considerable length of time in the day, though he passes it only twice at night. As a rule, he does not drink liquor to excess, but a week ago he got drunk and stayed so for two days.
Two weeks ago he began to have chills, several occurring during one night, accompanied by cough and a thick white sputum. He was unable to lie down on account of the distress across the upper abdomen.
Two days later he had a sharp pain in the lower part of both chests, increased by cough or breathing. Pain ceased two days ago in the left chest, but persisted in the right. He has been in bed for the past three days, complaining of pain, ccugh, and weakness.
Physical examination showed no enlargement of the heart and no murmurs, though the heartsounds were irregular in force and rhythm. The brachials were very tortuous and showed a lateral exertion, with apparently an increased tension. There was slight dulness in the lower part of both backs and at the right base in front, o\"er which area there are a few crackles, while below the right nipple there was heard an indistinct friction-rub, \^•hich on the seventeenth had become "'"'■"■ rougher and more easily audible.
Discussion. — The common causes of oljscure chills, such as malaria, deep-seated suppurations, acute endocarditis, tuljerculosis, and nervousness, must all be can\-assed in a case of this kind, but there is very little to substantiate our belief in any one of them. A number of jjoints, however, not fully stated in the printed account must be further investigated.
ia) Nothing is said about the urine. In men of this age an old urethral stricture, with or without prostatic hypertro];hy, urinar}- retention and chronic cystitis, often leads, through an ascending infection, to j)yelonephritis, and thus to chills like tliose here described. Investigation of the urine, howe\er. showed no c\idence of any such disease. ib) Nothing is said about the size of the liver. Pain in the upper
portion of the abdomen, associated with chills, should always make us look for evidence of liver abscess, gall-stone disease, or subphrenic suppuration. We should expect a leukocytosis in connection with any of these types of infection. Nothing is said about the leukocyte count in the history printed abo\e. As a matter of fact, however, both the blood and the size of the li\er appeared to be normal.
(c) It is well known that alcoholism is often associated with nightsweats and sometimes with chills. So far as I know, however, both of these {phenomena are of nervous or vasomotor origin, and do not depend upon any variations of temperature, such as are shown in the chart.
On the whole, the chest signs seem the most significant, now that we have excluded some of the other possibilities. Evidently there lias been some pleurisy on the right side, possibly on both sides, though double pleurisy is not a common condition. As to the nature of this pleurisy, it is hard to get any definite information; perhaps only the outcome will decide. The pleurisy might be of the type closely associated with lobar pneumonia, although we ha\'e no signs of that disease. Many cases of oljscure septic infection by pyogenic organisms atlect all the serous meml)rancs and joint surfaces to a greater or less extent, passing ra])idh- from one to another. Some such infection may well have been present here. Tuberculous pleurisy is also a possiliility regarding which we can obtain decisi\-e information only by following the case for a long time.
left lower axilla, and this persisted until the twentieth.
The patient was given a tight swathe for four hours and a teaspoon ful of a mixture consisting of phosphate of codein, 8 grains, potassium citrate, 3 drams, syrup of hydriodic acid, 4 ounces. This, with a bitter tonic for his appetite, made him able to lea\"e the hospital on the twentyfourth.
A court officer seventy-six years old, of good family histor}' and past history, entered the hosjjital March 18, 1908. His liabits arc good. He has had chills occasionally c\er since the Oi\"il War.
This morning, about eight o'clock, while on the train, he was sci/id with a N-iolent chill, not followed by sweating. Since then he has fell very sick and is still chilly, but has no pain anywhere. About noon he Vomited four times.
Physical examination showed in the left back, below the angle of the scapula, slight dulness, distant bronchovesicular respiration, increased fremitus, and medium-sized crackling rales. There were a few elevated red patches the size of almonds, covered with crusts, about the left ankle and shin. The white cells were 18,900; urine was normal. The temperature was as seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 117).
I wish to insist upon in this case is that the history and the symptoms give no indication of the diagnosis.
amination it becomes tolerably
obvious that we are dealing with a lobar pneumonia (although the signs are not very marked), but the diagnosis must rest wholly on signs, as there is no cough, rusty sputa, or pain in the side. The chill was confidently attributed by the patient to the malaria which he acquired in the Civil War. Although I have referred to the disease here present as ''lobar pneumonia," it is more than probable that the infection is not so definitely localized and involves only local congestion with pleurisy and perhaps some bronchopneumonia. The main bulk of the infection works free in the blood-stream.
eczema.
Outcome. — On the twenty-first the white cells were 17,400, and on the twenty-sixth, 27.000. That night the tem])erature fell by crisis and he convalesced without incident.
A cook, forty-six years old, was seen May i, 1907. She has one child living and well ; one died in infancy. She has had two miscarriages. Her family history' is excellent.
thick.
Seven weeks ago she began to have chills and sweating every day or two, accompanied by persistent nausea and vomiting. For the past three weeks she has been troubled chiefly with cough, thoracic and epigastric pain. Throughout her illness she has had moderate irregular fever and epigastric tenderness. Her temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 118).
The patient was obese, pale, incoherent, and almost comatose. There was marked photophobia, so that the pupillary reactions could not be obtained. Through the soft palate there was a median perforation the size of a quarter of a dollar. Behind it broad white bands, probably old adhesions, could be seen. The heart-sounds were faint and valvular in quality. No murmurs were heard and no enlargement found; the lungs showed nothing abnormal. Blood-pressure, no.
In the a]:)domen there was general tenderness, es])ecially marked in the epigastrium, where vague resistance was felt behind the spastic muscles. The reflexes were normal. The white count was 16,000; i)olynuclears, 70 ])cr cent. There were no malarial ])arasites. The urine averaged 20 ounces in twenty-four hours, 1013 in syjecific gra\ity; albumin, o.i per cent., a few coarse granular and ejjithelial cast^ Widal reaction was ncgati\e.
Discussion. — This ])alient had l)ccn working ^"ery hard for a numl)er of years without vacation, and the diagnosis of her attending physician was general exhaustion. But the c(Mi(iition of the urine made it at once evident that something more serious was going on. AUhough the ])atient is febrile, the condition of the urine cannot be exj)laine(l 1 hereby, as its characteristics are not those ordinarily associated witli fe\er. On the other hand, it does not seem like nn\ of the more familiar l>l>e> <>t ne])hritis. It has not the concentration and blood\' sediment >een in
absence of any cardiac enlargement or hypertension.
Leaving for the time undecided the problem of the renal condition, we mav start from one of the most certain and reliable physical signs present in the case, viz., the perforation of the soft palate and the adhesions between it and the posterior pharyngeal wall. This condition [practicallv pathognomonic of syphilis unless there is a history of the patient's having swallowed some caustic], the long-standing hoarseness of the ^•oice, the chronic sore throat, and the miscarriages may well be accounted for in the same way.
Experience shows it a fairly safe rule to assume that any acute manifestations occurring in a patient with unmistakable lesions of a past syphilis, are part and parcel of the same infection. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule, but they are not numerous. If now we return to the attempt to explain the condition of the kidneys, we notice that the urine shows the characteristics traditionally associated with a syphilitic type of nephritis involving amyloid change. In this kind of disease cardiac hypertro])hy usually does not occur, though the urine has the main features of chronic nephritis.
We get no hint as to the cause of the chills unless it be the epigastric tenderness which might be associated with hepatic syphilis. I have known this disease to produce chills as well as fever, and in the absence of any more obvious cause we may conjecture that something of the kind is going on here. It is quite possible, however, that some acute pyogenic infection may have supervened.
Outcome. — The v/hite count steadily rose during the week of her illness, reaching 25,000 on the fourth of ]May; 30,800 on the sixth; 37,500 on the eighth. The urine became smoky or bloody, the albumin rising to 0.8 per cent, despite the sweating and purging.
An Irish housemaid of thirty-six, whose father died of cancer, was seen August 30, 1907. She has had no previous illness. Thecatamenia are usually painful in the first three davs, but not otherwise abnormal.
She has called herself perfectly well until a week ago, when she awoke with a stifi" neck, fever, and pain in her neck, back and hips. She worked that day, l)ut the next day had to go to bed, and has been growing worse since. She has been seen four times by her physician.
pneumonia.
The bowels have moved only three times in the past week. Last night she had a chill worse than any of her previous ones. She vomited a great deal and slept very little.
The patient's hair is nearly all white. The left pupil is larger than the right, both reacting normally. She has marked Riggs' disease. The throat is red, the tonsils somewhat enlarged. The chest shows
nothing abnormal. The abdomen is rather full l)elow the umbilicus and slightly tender throughout. The spleen is not pal])aljle. The most distressing symptom is headache. Her head can be bent only a sliort distance forward or sidewise, and then with e\"ident ])ain.
Luml)ar puncture was done, and 32 cm. of clear lluid withdrawn. No cells or organisms were found in tlie sediment. The white cell- at entrance were 16,200. On September 2d they were 9600; o)i thr .-i.\l!i, 13,500; on the eighth, 12.600.
spired profusely.
The next day her extremities were cold and her pulse of very poor quality, but she had no further hemorrhage, and did very well after the sixteenth. (See accompanying chart — ^Fig. 119 — of the temperature.)
Discussion. — Meningitis is very strongly suggested, and cannot be positively excluded, but the characteristics of the fluid obtained by lumbar puncture are strongly against ever)' type of meningitis except that due to tuberculosis, and not characteristic even of that.
The intestinal hemorrhage is like that occurring in typhoid fever, and the meningeal symptoms might be explained as meningismus, i. c, irritation of the meninges from congestion, toxemia, or edema, without actual inflammation. Uncomplicated typhoid practically never produces such a leukocytosis as is here present, and the Widal reaction is absent, although this fact is not so significant in a case like this seen early in the course of the disease, as it would be in the later weeks of the fever. The description of the abdomen is quite consistent with the signs usually present in tuberculous peritonitis, yet the clinical picture, seen as a whole, is very different from that of peritoneal tuberculosis. In the latter disease the symptoms and signs are confined almost wholly to the abdomen itself, while in this case there is much to call our attention elsewhere.
A rigid search was, of course, made for any local infection which might cause the chills. All the familiar situations in which deepseated suppuration conceals itself (the ears, the deeper portions of the axilla, the perirectal tissues, the hepatic region, the urinary tract, the pericardium) were examined, with negative results.
Finding no other satisfactory diagnosis, we naturally return to typhoid with some complication producing chills. What can that complication be? In the reports of the Johns Hopkins Hospital (\'ol. V, p. 445) is a study of chills occurring in typhoid fever. The following causes are discussed:
Outcome. — On the sixteenth of September the Widal reaction l^ecame positive. On the twenty-fifth of September it was noticed that for a number of days she had been passing only from one-third to onefifth as much fluid by the urethra as she took in by mouth, although there was no consideraljle amount of sweating and the bowels were normal. This remarkable retention of fluid was, doubtless, necessary in order to make up for the losses suffered both by hemorrhage and as a result of the fever itself. She continued to improve steadily and \\ ent home perfectly well on the third of Novemljer.
A glazier of twenty-four, whose father died of consumption, was seen November 13, 1906. He has been perfectly well all his life, but takes two or three glasses of whisky and three or four of beer every day.
Ten days ago he had a cliill. followed by sweating and wcaknos. These chills ha\e recurred e\er since that time, usualh' bclv.i'cn 7 iind 8 P. M. The chills arc accompanied by pain in the left >i(lc of the
Malarial parasites were repeatedly sought for, but never found. The })olynuclear cells made up 88 per cent, of the leukocyte ]jercentage. XMdal's reaction was always negative. The patient looked sick and toxic. No diagnosis was made.
On the se\'entecnth of No^•ember, in the course of a routine examination of all parts of the body, an area of reddening and brawny induration was found in the left buttock, extending along the perineum and up to the groin. The patient had made no complaint of pain in this region. The white cells were now 17,000.
Discussion. — In cases characterized by chills and fever, when malaria and neurasthenia can be excluded, the only proper course for the physician is to keep on looking, day after day, by repeated and searching physical examinations, for some local cause. Typhoid fe\cr is, of course, a possibility in a case of this kind, but the high percentage of polynuclear cells and the continued absence of a Widal reaction, after a period of at least two weeks from the ]:)eginning of the illness, makes this unlikely.
verified.
The |)oint at which the suppuration was finally found is, I think, a rather frequent one in cases of this kind. Sometimes we fail to fmd it because the ])aticnt's modesty and our own too limited physical examination gives us no hint. In other cases I believe that the su])puralion actually causes no jxiin or recognizable physical sign until it reaches the surface of the bod}-, or, at any rate, the subcutaneous tissues. Another possiljility, which the more frequent use of blood cultures of late years has brought to our attention, is that the chills were y)roduced by a non-localized bacteremia which later manifests itself as an abscess.
An old lady of seventy-one was first seen September 28, 1909. Twentv years ago, follovvmg the menopause, she had two or three chills at intervals of forty-eight hours. No other symptoms. Since that time she has had one or more similar attacks e\'er}- year without known cause or relation to seasons. Quinin has often been given her, but has no appreciable effect.
No other symj^toms occurred until live weeks ago, when she had an attack of what she called "ordinary old-fashioned stomach trouble," /. c, an ejjigastric pain which "cut its way through the right side to the back." There was vomiting with this. These attacks ha\e recurred every second day ever since. The pain is usually controlled by drugs. Her appetite has been failing for five weeks. Her stools have ne\er been light colored, and she has never been jaundiced. Now she feels well and strong. (See Figs. 121 and 122.)
Discussion. — The patient was an exceedingly intelligent and frisky old lady who said what she meant and meant what she said, so that I belicxe that she really had had chills off and on for twenty years — a remarkably interesting history.
In a woman of a different type one might sus])ect that these chills were of the nervous \ariety, but no one who con\crscd for any length of time with this patient could entertain such a suj)j)Osition.
There \\as al)solutcly notliing in the i^liysical examination to suggest any source or cause for the chills. She had ne\cr been in a tro|)ical
countn" where she could lia\'e acquired relapsing fc\er. She had no sign whate\er of Ifodgkin's disease. Tliere is l)ut one other common cause for a relapsing or recurring t\i)e of fc\er, such as we ma_\' a>-uine to have accf)mpanied this patient's chills, \iz., gall-stone<.
This latter ])ossibilit_\' — gall-<tone disease — is borne out b\- the al tack of so-called stomach trouble, for niaiu' gall-stone pains art' rrlrrrtd. as in this (■a>t', to the epigastrium. The most sur])rising featuri', liow r\rr. of the ca-^t' and the greatest diHicultv with our diagnosis of gall -tonei> thr rntirr ab-fuce of jaundice. It i- \v\k\ of cour-c. thai nian\ ])erluip- mo^t ca>es of gail-^tone run their cour-e without jaundice,
always causes jaundice.
Outcome. — As the patient refused operation and soon left the hospital with a rather low opinion of the modern medical profession, we have no absolute proof that our diagnosis of gall-stones is correct, but I feel no considerable doubt of it, for we learned later that in a previous attack one of her physicians had found yellowing of the conjunctivas and bile in the urine.
A married woman of thirty-one was seen October 7, 1909. She has been working excessively hard for six weeks, caring for four children at home and working to support them during the illness of her husband.
One week ago she had a sudden severe chill and vomiting. Three days ago began to cough, raising considerable yellow or brownish sputa. No pain, no headache, no chill, or vomiting, after the first day. Now suffers from great exhaustion, anorexia, constipation, and racking cough which disturbs sleep.
Marked herpes labialis. Chest and belly negative. Urine and sputa negative. Leukocytes October 8, 11,500; October 13th, 19,000. No localizing evidence.
Discussion. — Since we were unable to find any e\'idence of lobar pneumonia or of l^ronchopneumonia, we began to think that the case must be one of those uncharted, unnamed infectious diseases ordinarily called "gri])." There was not a ])article of e\-idence pointing to any part of the body as the scat of an abscess or inflammation. I rather think this was due, in part, to the fact that we had not in mind any list of the "likely ])laces" where cxi)erience has shown that obscure suppurations arc ])r()ne to occur. Among these we should have remembered a deep axillary abscess.
— the cough, sputa, herpes, and vomiting — I do not beHeve that the inflammation was localized from the start in the axillary region. In other words, when we were looking most fruitless!}- for a local source of infection, there was no such local source. That was a later chapter. Perha])s in the earlier stages of the disease a blood culture would ha\ e revealed the actual nature of the trouble.
Outcome. — October 14th a swollen, tender mass was found in the left axilla. On the surface of the indurated tissues a few small glands could be felt; underneath, a deep fluctuation (?) was detected. Incision released se\eral ounces of very foul pus and re\ealed a cavity extending far back under the scaj)ula. The temperature fell after the establishment of the drainage, and in ten days the patient was well.
I. CERTAIN HOARY ERRORS TO BE AVOIDED
1. Make no diagnostic inferences from squints or inequalities of the pupils, and be cautious in all conclusions drawn from pupillary contractures or dilatations. In the majority of comatose cases the state of the pupils gives us no valuable information. Lack of response to light is proportional to the depth of the coma, and in hysteric states the responses are usually normal.
2. Conjugate deviation of the head and eyes has at present no diagnostic value. I have seen it in sunstroke and in uremia when the autopsy showed no local lesions whatever.
4. Albumin or sugar in urine with or without casts have usually no significance. The}' are far more often seen in non-uremic than in uremic cases, for they may occur in deep coma from any of its numerous causes. In uremic cases we have the history, the condition of the heart and fundus oculi, and usually the evidences of dropsy to guide us.
5. Hemorrhage from the ear often accompanies a coma due to fracture of the base, but it is by no means pathognomonic of this condition, as injuries to the tympanum or external auditory meatus may also cause bleeding.
11. CAUSES OF COMA AND CONVULSIONS
These two manifestations of ccrcbros])inaI disturbance cannot well be studied sc])arately, since ])ractically all causes of coma are also causes of con\iilsions and \ice \'ersa.
1 Altlioiigh we have treated at the Massachusetts Hospital only 62 cases fm coma due to a[50plexy during the six years covered hv this report, the statistics of mortality from apoplexy convince me that this disease must be among the commonest causes for coma. The patients arc treated at home.
III. VALUABLE CLUES
I. The History. — It is always of the greatest importance to question carefully any available relatives or friends; indeed, it is usually more valuable than the physical examination. Most of the mistaken diagnoses in comatose or convulsive states are due, in my experience, to the lack of a good history.
(a) In comatose patients with head injuries it is essential, though often impossil^le. to ascertain whether the injury caused the coma or the coma the injury. A man falls from a scaffolding and strikes his head. Did he fall because he was already unconscious — perhaps from cerebral hemorrhage? His comrades may be able to tell us. Another useful datum in "head cases" is the order of symptoms, and their relation to the time of the injury. In concussion and traumatic edema the coma is immediate and any focal symptoms (paralysis, aphasia, etc.), come later. In traumatic cerebral hemorrhage there is often an interval ot hours or days between the injury (e. g., a boxer's blow) and the focal ])aralysis which next makes its appearance. Coma comes later still.
(6") The mental and motor changes of dementia paralytica should always be carefully inquired into when an ''epilepsy" or a ''fainting s])eir' ai)pears for the first time after the fortieth year. Fainting and epilepsy almost never begin after forty.
(d) Cases of poisoning by alcohol, opium, lead, or gas are usually seen under conditions wliich make the history (and, therefore, the diagnosis) clear. Jiut in ])olice stations, where the Saturday-night "drunks" are gathered in, the (juestion, "Drunk or dying?" not infre(|uently arises. Cases of alcoholic pneumonia — more or less comatose and delirious — are Iraited and die as "common drunks" because the temperature and the lung signs are not investigated. Cerebral hemorrhage may occur during a drinking bout, and the obvious odor of alcoliol may then ])re\ent our n^aking any distinction between the drunk and the (h'in<{.
COMA 491
(e) Uremia, without any pre\'ious history of the ordinan- symi)toms of nephritis, is, I beUeve, a very rare occurrence, when the physical examination leads to the diagnosis of uremia and the history does not support such a diagnosis.
2. The Physical Examination. — (a) The temperature is most a|)t to thro\\- light upon the case if a normal reading is found, for thereby Ave can usually exclude the acute infections as causes of coma or convulsions. \'ery high temperatures (107°, 110°, 115° F.) are strongly suggestive of sunstroke if the weather gives any countenance to the idea.
of the trouble.
(d) The })resence of a lead line and of basophilic stippling in the red corpuscles is occasionally of the greatest importance, and should always be sought for in doubtful cases.
(e) Evidences of hemiplegia (unilateral increase of knee-jerk, Babinski's reaction, increased or diminished muscular tonicity on one side of the body, unilateral analgesia) ])oint toward the l)rain, but not necessarily toward any gross lesion therein, since hemiplegia may occur without any such lesion in uremia and in epidemic meningitis.
(/) Lesions suggesting syphilis are sometimes disco\erable in the bones, glands, skin, or naso]jharynx. The presence of such lesions gives us ground for suspecting that similar disease of the brain may be rcs]jonsil)le for the coma or convulsions which we arc studying.
(g) Spinal puncture may gi\'e us information of life-saving value, as, for examjjle, in epidemic meningitis. More often it may help us to identify a syphilitic or metasy])hilitic lesion.
3. The Recognition of Hysteric States. — There is only one way of being comatose, and, sa\e for the ])cculiarities of indi\iduals, there are no distinguishing marks or qualities in any of the varieties of coma alK)\e referred to. Their causes are distinguished l)y the accom])anying ])hysical signs or by tlie history, not h\ the characteristics of the coma itself.
un By a])i)ro])riate stimulus the patient can be rouM'd. 'J'hi->tinnilus may be a i)ail of water or a well-chosen remark. Thf jiatii'nt ma\', liowewr, be (juite insensible to pain, and apparent!}' -o lo noi.-c or liuht.
{b) The motions or attitudes during the apparently unconscious period are usuall}' semivoluntar}' or purposive. Grasping movements and etYorts at resistance, as when, for example, the nose and mouth are covered, are especially characteristic. The clonic spasms which so often occur in coma are not seen in hysteria. Hypertonicity and opisthotonos are frequently seen.
balls are very common,
(d) In falling, the patients almost ne^•er hurt themselves, and during the convulsions there is rarely any biting of the tongue or relaxation of the sphincters. Often there is confused talk or screaming.
I will now exemplify a few of the causes of coma; many others will be found in the chapter on Convulsions, because the spasm was more striking than the coma in these cases.
A Russian housewife of forty-eight, whose father died of a "cold in his foot," ^ had typhoid iexer in childhood, but has othenvise been well all her life. She passed the menopause three years ago.
For three or four months she has complained of "rheumatic" pains in her limbs, with headache, constipation, and loss of appetite. For two or three days she has had distress about the precordia. To-day at I P, M. this distress increased until she was forced to lie down, following which she became comatose. After two or three minutes she regained consciousness and screamed violently for se^•eral minutes on account of precordial pain, which apparently did not radiate at all.
These attacks recurred e^■ery ten to fifteen minutes until seven in the evening. She \omited six or seven times during the afternoon, and when seen at ii p. m., complained of palpitation and a sense of weakness about her heart,
tacks for over thirty years, and had had a goiter for the same length of time.
Physical examination re\ealed the tumor above referred to, which was about the size of a hen's egg, situated in the median line, smooth, rounded, not tender, moving with the larynx on swallowing.
The patient presented chiefly the picture of exhaustion. She complained of \arious pains in her arms and legs. The pulse during most of her stay in the hospital was very irregular, but there was no repetition of the attacks of syncope.
On Februar}^ 7th, when the pulse was no, there was noticed a pulsation in the jugular veins, filling from below at exactly twice the rate of the arterial pulse. On the eighth there were three beats in the neck for every one at the wrist.
Discussion. — Fainting attacks often repeated usually turn out to be due to some important underlying disease. One should alwa}s look with great suspicion upon any attack so designated if it is known to have occurred frequently. Hysteria is perhaps the disease which turns out most frequently to be the cause of attacks of this nature, but I have known also cases of nephritis, of cerebral tumor, and of ejjilepsy which have been called "fainting attacks" for months or years before the real cause was recognized.
In the present case, since physical examination is so nearly negatixe, the most important diagnostic feature is the report by the physician v.ho watched her in one of these fainting attacks and noticed that she was practically pulseless. In the absence of any obvious \'alvular disease, this obser\'ation should lead us to suspect disease of the myocardium and to study very carefully the condition of the neck \eins during attack.
Outcome. — February 7th it was noticed that the jugular veins filled from below and pulsated at exactly twice the rate of the arterial pulse. After two weeks' rest in bed and the administration of iodid of potash the patient seemed much l)enefited. She was seen two years later and stated that she had had no recurrence of the "fainting fits," although from once a month to once in three months she had had severe attacks of precordial pain relieved by rest and applications of heat. She no\\' passes water two or three times each night, and has had \anous attacks of infectious arthritis and one of erysipelas. The goiter remains unchanged.
The patient herself became much run down fne years ago and was sent into the country, apparently for suspected tuberculosis, though her cough was not very persistent, and her sputa was never examined. She was first seen April 14, 1908.
Four days ago she became excited and fell unconscious. There were no convulsion and no paralysis, but she was somewhat rigid during the attack, and she has since then been in bed and has vomited everything that she has taken by mouth. Constant vertigo and palpitation, with epigastric pain, ha\e been her complaints.
On examination, the heart's apex was found one inch outside the midclavicular line in the fifth space. There was a presystolic thrill and murmur at the apex. The sounds were very irregular, and at times amounted to delirium cordis. The pulmonic second sound was sharply accentuated. At times a systolic murmur was heard, following the very sharp first sound at the apex. As is shown in the accompanying chart (Fig. 124) many heart-beats failed to reach the wrist.* There ^^•ere fine crackling rales at the base of both lungs, especially on the left side.
The abdomen was tender and rii^id in the right hypochondrium, and dulness extended two inches below the costal margin; no edge was felt. Blood and urine normal.
freedom from tuberculosis.
To what should we attrilnite tlie attack of coma? In manv respects it resembles an liystcric attack. Patients \\ho faint very seldom do so as the result of ^•al^■ular heart disease, although there is no symptom except "jjain al)out the heart," wliich so often alarms a patient aljout
his cardiac condition. Of the numerous patients who have consulted me believing that they had heart trouble because of the occurrence of "fainting fits," I have never found heart disease in a single case. The sufiferings of this patient are, therefore, all the more interesting. Careful inquiry into her pre^'ious histor\' showed that she had had similar attacks in childhood, and had always had a decided tendency toward hysteria. In view of this it is probably true to say that her heart disease was only a contributing cause of her "fainting fits."
It must not be forgotten, however, that in cases of mitnil stenosis a thrombus often forms in one of the left auricular appendages, whence a bit is detached and carried to the brain, producing embolic hemi])lcgia. Possibly a minute embolus or a group of such emboli might produce a "fainting fit" without paralysis, but this conjecture is so far wholly unsupported.
Outcome. — The patient was gi^'en I grain of morphin subcutaneously and fed on milk and lime-water in small amounts. The bowels were mo\"ed by small doses of calomel, followed by a suds enema.
A club ^^•aite^ forty years old has been at work as usual during the last five days, as is learned from the manager of the club where he was employed. He was first seen August 7, 1907. He has done no hea\ y work, and nothing is known of his |)rc\ioiis history. It has been noticed that his color is ])oor, and he has expressed a fear that he might ha\e a breakdown. Night Ijcfore last he had an attack of dys])nca, from which he recovered, howe\er, without medical attendance. The next day he did his work as usual, but seemed irritable and rude, so that he was warned by the manager. This morning at 5 o'clock he was fcnmd Iving on tlie grass outside the club. He said that he went out there to get tlie air. He seemed very short of i)reath, ])ut ^valke(l to the ])ovch and sat down. On his way thence to the hos])ital he ])ecamc uncon>cious, and at the time of his entrance was almost moribund.
His nutrition was excellent, his color dusky. The licart's apex ',vas in the anterior axillary line, in the sixth s])acc. The sounds were \lt\irregular in force and rhythm; no murmurs were licani. Tracheal rales were so loud as to make examination of the heart aiul hnig> \er\' (lifficuit. Rcsi)iration was \ery ra])i(l and irregular. Tlie li\er secnicd to be sliirlitlv enlarged.
Outcome. — The patient died within a few hours. Autopsy showed chronic endocarditis of the mitral \alve, with mitral stenosis; general arteriosclerosis; hypertrophy and dilatation of the heart; hydrothorax; hydropericardium ; cicatrices in the liver.
Discussion. — Why was this patient's death so sudden? The vast majority of cardiac cases die in their beds after prolonged periods of dropsy and dyspnea. Now and then a case either of the valvular type (chronic endocarditis), of the arteriosclerotic, or of the syphilitic types dies suddenly.
In a number of such cases no coronary disease, no pulmonary embolism, and no other sufficient cause for sudden death can be found postmortem. 1 ha\e seen so many fruitless examinations of this sort that I no longer count on the pathologist to explain by mechanical causes the sudden death in cardiac cases.
An Irish housemaid of twenty-fi\e was seen November 30, 1909. The pre\ious morning she had seemed perfectly well and in good spirits. At 9 P. M., November 29th, she suddenly became unconscious and fell to the floor, though her brother caught her, so that her head did not strike. After this she \omited several times without regaining consciousness.
Blood-pressure, 245 mm. Hg. Leukocytes, 28,000. Urine clear, acid, io2c; very large trace of albumin; no sugar. Sediment negative. Left \)w\)\\ slightly larger than right. Both react sluggishly to light. Left arm and leg mo\ed but little on sensory stimulation. Babinski's reaction on the left. Knee-jerks and Achilles jerks absent.
Lumbar puncture was done, and blood-tinged serous fluid spurted nearly a foot through the needle. The sediment of this fluid showed no excess of leukocytes and no organisms in co\-er-sli]^ or culture. \'enesection gave no relief.
in a girl with no previous history or lesion suggesting that disease.
Apoplexy, using this old term to include cerebral hemorrhage, thrombosis, or embolism, with or without softening, is practically unknown in a girl of this age so long as the heart is negative.
the normal heart points strongly toward cerebral tumor.
Outcome.— The patient died suddenly of respiratory failure December 2d. The temperature, pulse, respiration, and leukocyte count remained practicall}' as at entrance. After lumbar i)uncture she mo\'ed all parts of her body freely, complained of headache, and answered a few questions clearh' and with comprehension.
An Irish longshoreman of fifty entered the hospital November 17, 1907. He has been a steady, hard drinker for many years, but denies venereal disease, and has been otherwise well. Four years ago, he says, he had a fit, which lasted twenty minutes; nothing of the sort has occurred since. All last week he drank hard. He spent Saturday night at the Salvation Army rooms. On Sunday, November 17th, while attending a Salvation Army meeting, he became unconscious.
When examined at 5:25 p. m., November 17th, he was still unconscious and in convulsions, at times confined to the right side, later general, and succeeding each other without intermission.
There was a deep, bleeding cut on the chin, and a shifting strabismus of the eyes. Marked hyperresonancc of the lungs made it impossible accurately to estimate the size of the heart. Its sounds were also obscured by snoring rales, but the arteries showed no evidence of degeneration, and physical examination was gencrallv ncgati\-c. For temperature, see the accoml^anving chart fFig. 125). The blood showed nothing abnormal.
The urine was pale, 102 t in specific gravity, with the slightest possible trace of all)umin. One finely granular cast was found in the sediment.
Discussion. — In the absence of any ()1)\ious localizing brain symptoms or signs, e])ilepsv is naturally our first thought, especiall}' as wc know that an attack of epilepsy is apt to be precij)itated by acute alcoiiojism. But if we are to take the history on its face xahi*.' and understand that there has been ])ut one attack ])rc\i()u^-ly. it >tt.'in> unHkely that a man of this age would become e])ik'])tic -o rfccntl}-.
In the urinary examination ([uoted nothing is said about sugar, but e\'en if it were known to be present, its quantity cannot be large in view of the specific gravity of the urine, and it may be further stated that, although diabetes may ])roduce convulsions, it practically ne\er does so "out of a clear sky'' — that is, in patients who have not previously known themsehes to be ill or suffered any of the cardinal symptoms of diabetes.
Meningitis might begin in this way, and the chart is consistent therewith, but a knowledge of the results of lumbar puncture would be necessary before any such diagnosis could be made, since we have none of the ordinary manifestations of meningitis (cer\ical rigidity, Kernig's sign, squints and pupillary changes, headache, vomiting, and delirium).
Of lead-poisoning, of dementia paralytica, brain tumor, or abscess — all of which might cause similar con\'ulsions — we have no evidence either in the history or in the physical examination. Hysteria and trauma need not be considered.
With the exclusion of these alternati\'es the most reasonable hypothesis remaining is that the alcohol is the source of the trouble. From con\ersations with physicians who attend the Saturday-night drunks in city prisons my own more limited experience of *'rum fits" is fortiiied in making the following division into three groups:
patient already suffering from that disease.
(c) A true "rum fit" may be produced by alcohol in a person not epileptic or hysteric. These fits are presumably due to the cerebral changes ("wet brain," vascular crises) produced by alcohol.
The present case seems to belong to the third group.
Outcome. — The patient was bled about 20 ounces, and an equal amount of saline solution was injected. About 10 p. m. he regained consciousness and remained thereafter practically normal. Later he admitted that liis ])resent trouble began on the second night of his last spree. The bystanders say that there \\"as no cry at the time he fell and the sphincters were not relaxed. He was discharged well on the twenty-second.
CONVULSIONS
menstruation for the past six years, and has been subject, during that period, to frequent severe left-sided headaches and to attacks of unconsciousness. These attacks are apt to occur on the first day of menstruation, but they may come in the middle of the intermenstrual period. She has considerable pain in the lower abdomen during the first two days of menstruation, otherwise the function is not al^normal. During her attacks of unconsciousness she falls, but sometimes can get up and steady herself by taking hold of something. She is then apt to become violent, going out of her head, frothing at the mouth, often gripping her throat with her hands, sometimes bleeding from the mouth and nose. She has never injured herself nor passed urine during an attack. The attacks last from a few minutes to a few hours.
Her last menstruation ceased five days ago. Two days ago, while sweeping, she felt dizzy, fell down, and sa}-s she remembers no more until she was seen at the hospital. From her friends it was learned that after her fall she was put to bed, where she threw herself about and talked incoherently all day. At 7 in the evening she apparently came to, and was taken home from her ])lace of work at 11 p. m. She again became unconscious and lay still in bed with limbs rigid.
Yesterday she awoke and said she felt well. She \\ent to work at 8 o'clock in the morning, but an hour later again fell unconscious and rigid and remained so until this morning at 6, when she was partially aroused by an enema of soapsuds, but became again unconscious after twenty minutes. She has taken no food for four days, according to her own statement. She has been very constipated for years. During these attacks she says her feet are apt to swell, but at other times they arc never swollen.
Physical examination showed a well-nourished girl, herpes on her lips, dozing most of the time, aj)])arentl}' rational when aroused, but a])athctic and complaining of hcadaclic and abdominal pain.
The ui)])cr and median incisor tt'ctli arc malformed. I'he othtr teeth are in fair condition. (Sec Fig. 126.) Tlie pu])ils are dilated and react sluggishl}- to light and distance. I'he \ault of tlie palate is M'r\' liigli and narrow. She is a mouth-breather. The licart's apex is in the fourth inters])a('e. one-liaH" inch outside the nu'(lcla\"iciilar line. The soun(l> are of good (|ualit\-. At the apex there i> ;i I'nul -}>t(ilic
murmur, heard clearly in the axilla, faintly in the pulmonary area. This murmur, or a similar one, is heard in the tricuspid area, and there it seems to be of a higher pitch and different quality. In the tricuspid area the first sound is much louder and sharper than in the mitral area. The pulmonic second sound is slightly accentuated. There is a systolic venous pulse in the neck. The radial pulses are not in any way remarkable. The abdomen and reflexes are not abnormal. Sensation is apparently normal.
During the first night after her arrival the patient complained of headache and severe abdominal pain. Half an hour later she began to grow rigid and clutched the blankets firmly. She then became apparently unconscious. Her pulse was 76, respiration 44. When they were forcibly opened, the balls were found to be rolled up, and she turned her head as if to avoid the light. The rigidity of the arms could be overcome, though with difficulty. It seemed to be partially voluntary, A pin could be passed through a fold of the skin without causing any change of expression or any motion.
to pain and would reply to questions.
On the twenty-first she complained of a severe headache, which immediately disappeared under the ethyl chlorid spray. The attention then became concentrated on the abdominal pain. After that the headache did not return and she said the treatment cured her.
Discussion. — The symptoms in this case and the description of the attack remind us very strongly of hysteria. Two other possibilities, however, must first be considered.
Can the malformation of the incisor teeth be interpreted as a lesion of congenital syphilis and the convulsions be also due to that disease ? This is very improbable, for aside from these attacks there is nothing in the patient's condition or history to suggest syphilis, a disease which, in its congenital form, almost always appears earlier than in the twentieth year. The nature of the attack, moreover, is not at all characteristic of cerebral syphilis, of which more anon. The malformed teeth are not of the Hutchinsonian tvpe.
Can the tricuspid regurgitation, evidenced by systolic venous pulsation in the neck, the swollen feet, and the murmur in the tricuspid area, account for the attack? In ans\\ering this question it must first be noticed that the tricuspid regurgitation must be slight if, indeed, it exists at all in any ])athologic sense. Many ol)ser\-ers believe thac a slight degree of tricuspid regurgitation is physiologic. As a result of
various strains or accidents we may conceive that this physiologic reflux is more or less exaggerated, but one can hardly be]ie\'e that its effects would be so disproportionately concentrated upon the brain as to produce convulsions without bringing about any more ob\ious stasis in the other internal organs.
With the exclusion of these two possibilities we may conclude that the attack was due to hysteria. The present case exemplifies many of the characteristic signs by which hysteric convulsions have traditionally been differentiated from those due to the other causes discussed in this chapter. Such characteristics are:
(b) The semivoluntary and semiconscious nature of the motions (e. g., such as to pre^•ent her hurting herself in falling, grasping motions, talking, resistance of efforts to open the eyelids).
sphincters, presjmsmic cry, or aura.
These characteristics hold good in probably the large majority of hysteric cases, but it must be realized that these and all the other signs by which we have sought to difjerentiate hysteric jrom epileptic convulsions may jail us. Attacks which, on the whole, must Ije judged h}-steric may occur in the night during sleep, may be accompanied by lilting of the tongue and all the ordinary evidences of an epileptic fit. I have recently known such a case in which the cause of the spasms was found to reside in a partly subconscious knot of morbid ideas, acquired in childhood, reenforced by the abnormal conditions of a girls' boardingschool, and finally removed as a result of psycho-analysis and Freud's cathartic method. Attacks which can be thus abolished must be recognized, I sujipose, as belonging to the hysteric group.
The reasonable conclusion is that, in doubtful cases, we cannot rely upon the ])recise nature of the movements or on individual features of attacks to differentiate hysteria and e])ilepsy. Only by a study of the ])ossible causes in the patient's mental life and by the therapeutic test (/. r., the attempt to reni()\e these causes) can the nature of the malady be determined. This is in line with Babinski's c()nce])ti()n of hysteria.
A married woman forty-eight years old entered the h{)s])ital janr.anI, iQGcS. Her last menstrual period was in the preceding Sci>k'i'nl)rr, and she has ap])arently readied the menopause. She lia> had ner\(nis ])rostration three times, tlie last time two years aL:o. Fi\e da}s ago
she was taken with influenza and conlined to Ijcd. She was first seen by her physician three days ago, when she suddenly collapsed from "acute heart failure " and jjain in the back.
The doctor found her much exhausted, pale, very dyspneic, and ])artially stui)orous. At frequent intervals, three times within an hour, the pain in her back Ijecame very severe; the muscles of the trunk were rigid and all the muscles of the body twitched convulsivel}-. Xitroglvcerin afforded much relief. The next day the paroxysms of jjain continued and she lost the use of her limbs. For twenty-four hours she had retention of urine, and 40 ounces were tmally drawn by catheter. Within the last twenty-four hours the use of her limbs has in part returned, but the pain in her back continues and is sharp when she tries to move. The attacks of ]jain are still accompanied at times by muscular twitching.
Visceral examination was negative, as were reflexes, the urine, and the blood. Blood-pressure, 135 to 140. The ])harynx, larynx, and trachea were markedly iniected, and there was herpes on the lips.
By the fifth of January she was much better and able to be up, but was very unwilling, even on the thirteenth, to leave the hospital. On the thirtieth she was able to do so.
Discussion. — There are some indications of an acute infection here, especially the red throat and the herpes on the lips. It is a very familiar fact that in children the onset of acute infectious diseases often produces a typical epileptiform convulsion. It seems possible that the ])resent attack may be the equivalent of such a convulsion, modified by the age of the patient, although the precise nature of the infection is unknown ("influenza").
Some facts in the case, however, suggest a dift'erent type of conNulsion. The intense ])ain in the back, the rigidity of the trunk muscles, tlie temporary loss of ])Ower in the limbs, the retention of the urine, are all of them sym])toms consistent with some tyjje of organic disease of the si)inal cord or its membranes. The difficulty with this idea is that closer scrutin}- of the symptoms fails to find any arrangement among them corresponding to any known disease, wliile their outcome seems lo show that no ])crmanent lesion has occurred in the central Jiervous svstem.
By the results of ])hysical examination it is ])Ossible to exclude organic brain disease, sucli as meningitis, dementia paralytica, abscess or tumor, and apo])lex}'. There is no evidence of poisoning Ijy lead
nor of any organic disease of the heart and kidney. There has apparentl}- been no pre\ious attack resembling the present one, and an e]>ilepsy beginning at forty-eight is always an improbable diagnosis.
In view, therefore, of the negative result of physical examination directed to re\eal the ordinary organic causes of con\ulsions we ma\conclude that this attack is of functional type, ordinarily, though somewhat loosely, designated as "hysteria." This diagnosis, however, does not end our study of the actual nature of this attack.
Two points are of especial interest in relation to this ];articular example of the vague type of spasms known as "hysteric" or 'functional." We have, in the first place, to consider the possible influence of the psychic elements which may have l)een introduced quite unconsciously by her physician and friends. It will be noted that she is said to have suddenly "collapsed" as a result of "acute heart failure." Xow these phrases ha\e a very great effect ujjon the mind of a patient and thereby upon his symptoms. We often see what a great benefit may be produced in a jmtient when we jjcrsuade him that his headache is not in "the base of his brain," but merely in the na])e of his neck, or that the pain in the left side of his chest is not "around the heart," but merely in the stomach or in the ribs.
A corresponding aggravation of symptoms is pretty sure to follow if, by chance, such phrases as "collapse" or "acute heart failure" are let loose in the patient's vicinity, whether they are from the jjatient's own lips and merely corroljorated by the physician, or whether the j)atient overhears them in the conxersation of relati\es or ])ystanders. Particularly in their early stages, functional attacks may be greatly relieved if we call a spade a spade, rather than an agricultural instrument. To make light of symj^toms which our ])liysical examination assures us are not of serious imj)ortance may shorten by man}- da}s the j)aticnt's illness, while, on the other hand, suggestions con\eyed b}' a gra\e and serious ex])ressi()n rellecled from the doctor's face to the family, by the terminology used or pcnniltcd by the doctor, or b\- the nature of the remedies em])lo\e(l. may greatly aggra\ate and prolong the patient's sulTerings. For example, I rememl)er a case of po-toperatixe ])leurisy in which the i)atient, who was Jiigh strung and ])retl\ well tired out i>re\ious to the operation, began to breathe \cry rapid!}, so that the nur>e in charge brought in a can of oxygen and adniini^teri'd it at regular inter\als. The j)atient took for granled that thi^ \\a> done 1)\' the doctor's orders. lUit hi> ])re\ious hos])ital experience, in cc)nnection with an appendix operation, had led him to a--ociaU' the arrival of the oxvtren ca.n with the most serious and e\en urniinal -lauc-
As a result of putting two and two more or less unconsciously together in this way, my jmtient became greatly alarmed about himself, was hardly able to breathe, and totally unable to sleep. Soon after, his physician came in, was greatly surprised at the sight of the oxygen can, promptly ordered it out, and irritably asked the nurse, in the patient's hearing, what on earth she ''had brought that thing in for when there was not the slightest need for it." The patient soon afterward went to sleej), and awoke next morning much improved. He afterward confessed to the writer how the sight of the oxygen can had affected him, and how profoundly its removal had relieved him.
The other point of interest in this case is the relief by nitroglycerin. In Pal's book on \'ascular Crises, to which I have already referred, he shows that any type of vascular spasm, cerebral, cardiac, pulmonary, abdominal, or peripheral, may be relieved by the administration of nitroglycerin, and uses the fact of such relief as corroborative evidence of the nature of the attack. Now this patient is apparently at the menopause, a period in which disturbances of vasomotor balance are notoriously frequent, manifold, and annoying. Is it not possible that this attack was of the nature of a \ascular crisis induced by the onset of an acute infection at an especially sensitive period of life? In the present state of our knowledge no definite answer can be given to this question.
tion at 8 a. m., September 26, 1909.
She had suffered all her life from periodic headaches occurring e^"ery two to four weeks, more especially at the time of menstruation. Aside from these attacks, she had never been sick, and seemed to be vigorous in every respect. On the nineteenth of May she went to bed with one of her regular headaches, so it seemed. During the day she had seemed as well as usual. About i o'clock in the morning her sister, who slept in the same room with her. was aroused by some curious sound, and found the patient unconscious and in a convulsion. When seen in consultation at 8 o'clock a. m., she was conscious, but ver\' drowsy and heavy. Between i a. m. and 8 A. M. she had had six general tonic-clonic convulsions, fi\e of them accompanied by complete loss of consciousness, each lasting about a minute, and followed by ])rofound relaxation with deej) relaxed Ijreathing.
Physical examination of the chest and abdomen was negative. The reflexes were all somewhat exaggerated, especially on the left side, and at times Babinski's reaction could be elicited on the left. The pupils were moderately dilated, the left larger than the right, and responded rather sluggishly to light stimulus. When conscious, she was aware of no pain, and although she had been more or less nauseated, there had been no vomiting. The urine drawn by catheter showed sj)ecific gravity of 1014, 0.125 per cent, of albumin, a moderate number of hyaline casts, some with granules or cells adherent. There was no edema anywhere. The blood-pressure was 138 mm. Hg.
The convulsions were usually preceded by some shaking of the left hand, extending thence to the foot and leg, and then becoming general. The eye-grounds were not examined. The temperature was 101.3° F.; pulse, 100 between convulsions, becoming rapid and feeble during and after them.
tance in the intestinal evacuation.
Discussion. — When I saw this patient, a diagnosis of uremia had already been made by the attending physician. Against this I immediately rebelled in my own mind, e\'en in advance of accurate physical examination. For this prejudice I had two reasons: First, I had recently heard one of the wisest and most experienced clinicians in the world say that he had never known a diagnosis of uremia, made when the patient was seen for the first time in coma, to turn out correct. By this he meant that the correct diagnoses of uremia are those made in chronic cases, not those made in ])atients who, out of a clear sky, without any ])revious complaints, haxc suddenly fallen in coma or con\'ulsions.
My second reason was that in the study of 1500 postmortem examinations made at the Massiichusetts General Hospital within the last ten \ears I Imve l)een unable to find a single case in which the diagnosis of "acute uremia" had been confirmed at auto])sy. I found many in which this diagnosis was shown to lie erroneous.
This mistake results, no doubt, because nearly all cases in which coma or conxulsions suddenly su])er\"ene, show albuminuria and casts. sometimes in great alnmdancc. This is true whatrccr the cdusc of the seizure.
attack, nocturnal or diurnal.
The absence of any j)revious cardiovascular or renal disease, the normal condition of the heart and blood-pressure, the absence of any history or present c\idence of syphilis, made apoplexy and vascular crises somewhat improbable.
Cerebral tumor and abscess have been known to begin or rather to show themseh-es for the first time with symptoms like those here described, and there is nothing by which we can positively exclude these lesions. We should expect, however, a higher blood-pressure. Fundus examination, which was not made in this case, might be of decided assistance, since the A'ast majority of cases in which a cerebral tumor produces convulsions also show optic neuritis (choked disk).
What is the significance of the leukocytosis here present? Experience has shown me that the leukocyte count is practically valueless as a source of information in cases involving coma or convulsions. Whatever the cause of these symptoms, leukocytosis is practically always present. In cerebral hemorrhage, for example, it is almost constant. In this case, therefore, as in others, I disregarded it.
Utterly in the dark as to the diagnosis, it seemed to me possible that some light might be shed upon it, or possibly some relief given to the patient's symptoms, by lumbar puncture. As will be shown by the outcome, this puncture turned out to be of critical, indeed. I think, of life-saving, importance. Its value in this case was such that I shall in future never be content unless it is done in every doubtful case involving coma and convulsions.
The fever here recorded has as little diagnostic value as the leukocytosis. It is in nowise indicative of an infectious process, but occurs with equal frequency in all types of coma and in all diseases producing con\'ulsions.
Outcome. — A needle introduced into the spinal cord drew 37 c.c. of clear, transj)arent, colorless fluid. Of the cells contained within the sediment of this fluid seventy-eight per cent, were polynuclear. and both within and without the leukocytes a diplococcus was seen wliich corresponded with the di])lococcus of epidemic meningitis.
Flexner's antimeningitic serum was injected several times. The l)atient made a com])]ete reco^•ery. although for a few hour< on the sixth day she became suddenly and comj)letely blind. The attack, ho\ve\er. left no untoward efl'ccts Ijcliind it.
A plumber of sixty-two. one of whose children died of consumption, had been an intermittent hard drinker for many years, taking rather more of late — sometimes a quart of whisky a day. He entered the hospital January 29, 1908. Even.' night for two or three years he has filled a chamber vessel with pale urine and has teen seen to drink much more water than formerly. He has had no headache, no cough, no Nomiting, but has belched a good deal of late. His eye-sight has been good.
At 2 o'clock on January 29th he had a convulsion in a street car, and was brought at once to the hospital, where he immediately had a second convulsion, after which he was very restless, struggling and throwing himself about on the table. At first he said nothing and did not answer questions, but later he swore profusely. There was no odor of alcohol or of acetone on the breath. The right puj)il was larger than the left; both reacted well to light and accommodation. The tongue was \ery dry and red. No enlargement of the heart was made out, and there seemed to be no accentuation of either second sound. Blood-pressure was 1 70 mm. Hg. The artery walls were palpable and tortuous. The lungs were hyperresonant throughout. Breath-sounds were accompanied by many medium, crackling rales o\'er both lungs. The abdomen was held somewhat rigidly, but nothing abnormal was detected.
During this examination he had a third convulsion lasting about three minutes, cjuite e])ile])tiform in ty})e, with coma. The course of the temperature is seen in the accom])anying chart (Fig. 127).
but no casts at all.
Discussion, — In such a hard drinkiT the (juestiou of "rum lit-"' nui>t be entertained. The ])atient has, howexer. no odor of alcohol and no history of a recent increase in the amount of alcohol consutiud. This is not an acute del)auch of the Satunhniiight type, such as iTi;ikc"rum fits" so common in our ])once >tation'^. It i^ a Iopl'' -^laii'l'iiL: liahit, which would ])robabI\- not begin to produce the--e c-]iieial L-i;e\tat the aue of sixt\--two.
The condition of the urine is not characteristic, but the history of excessive nocturia and the high blood-pressure makes us suspect chronic nephritis as the ultimate cause of this attack. When the lungs are universally hyperresonant, it is very difficult to make out the size of the heart. Hence there may well have been a cardiac hypertrophy in this case, although none was discovered.
Of the organic diseases involving the brain and its membranes, we have no definite evidence. This does not by any means exclude them, but makes it impossible for us to move any nearer toward a diagnosis of any one of them until further signs appear. An examination of the fundus oculi might give great assistance, likewise lumbar puncture.
My reasons for ignoring the diagnosis ordinarily made under these conditions — ;'. e., acute uremia — have already been given (see p. 509), and may here be simply summarized by saying that I do not beheve that any such condition exists. Uremia is a chronic affair.
seems reasonable.
Crackling rales were to be heard throughout both lungs in this case. Their significance deserves some discussion. Any one who has seen many cases of sudden coma, with or without convulsions, must have noticed that we can almost always hear these scattered rales, whatever the nature of the attack. Their number and the extent of their distribution seem to depend upon the severity of the attack and the depth of the coma, rather than upon its cause. I have seen them in sunstroke, alcoholic and narcotic poisoning, apoplexy, brain tumor, plumbism, meningitis, and various other conditions, with or without a fatal issue. I am not now referring merely to the tracheal rales or snoring sounds attributable merely to the coma which prevents the patient from clearing the throat or closing his mouth, but rather to finer sounds audible with a stethoscope over the backs alone in milder cases and o\'er the entire chest in severer ones.
No adequate explanation for these rales, so far as I am aware, has ever been given, but the rapidity with which they appear and disappear seems to })oint to some vascular condition which affects the lungs directly, rather than through any change in the heart's action. Certainly they are not always associated with cardiac lesions, but may be associated with the most forcible and efficient action of that organ.
Outcome. — The patient was lightly etherized, and a subpectoral infusion of four pints of normal saline solution was given. The bowels were moved by magnesium sulf)hate, and a hot-air bath was administered.
A shoemaker of twenty-seven entered the hospital June 28, 1908. He had been in the hospital in the previous December for an attack similar to the present. Four weeks ago his knee became swollen and painful, and with this he was in bed for two weeks. Since then he has been walking with crutches. Yesterday the left elbow also became swollen and painful. This afternoon he had a convulsion, for which he was brought to the hospital. He had similar attacks in April and in February. It has been noticed that he passed an increased amount of urine, that he had to get up seven or eight times each night for this purpose, and that he had had edema of the legs for three weeks and almost constant headache. He has vomited four or five times a week since Januar)'. He has no dyspnea.
At entrance the patient held the left arm across his body in a condition of moderate spasm. He could move it but slightly. The left elbow was swollen and tender, the whole arm and axilla also slightly tender, the dorsum of the left hand swollen, the grip very weak. There was no other evidence of paralysis or weakness.
The heart's apex extended \ inch outside the nipple-line in the fifth space, the right border i]. inches to the right of midsternal line. A systolic murmur was audible at the base, faint at the apex. There was no accentuation of cither second sound. The right pulse was somewhat larger than the left. Blood-pressure was 140 mm. Hg.
During the nine days of the patient's stay in the hospital the urine varied from ico6 to 1017 in sy)eciric gravity, amounting to 50 or 60 ounces in twenty-four hours. All)umin, from 0.7 per cent, to 2.4 j)cr cent.; there were no casts. There were dc[)ressed scars on the right tibia from the knee to the ankle, also one an inch above the inner condyle of the left tibia. The blood was negative.
Discussion. — The age of the patient and the condition of the hctirt and urine a])parently make it clear that we arc dealing with, a rase of chronic glomerular nephritis. (Sec Appendix C. on The ria>sihcation of the Types of Nephritis.) If this be the case, the arthritic svmyv
ing of resistance which chronic nephritis usually entails.
In view of these conclusions it would seem reasonable to interpret the attack as uremic, since the patient has had previous symptoms indicating renal insufficiency, \iz., headache, vomiting, nocturia and edema. It seems altogether probable that some chemical retention will account for the sudden appearance of cerebral symptoms in a case like this. (For fuller discussion of this matter see p. 509.)
entered the hospital January 12, 1907. She fell down two days ago
in a convulsion and has since then appeared to be very sick, crying much of the time, and extremely thirsty. Yesterday she had the "shivers," but no convulsion. The last twenty-four hours she has not seemed to recognize her mother, and has vomited occasionally. Whene^'er she is touched anywhere, she cries as if hurt. There is no discharge from either ear.
There is convergent strabismus, and A'ision is apparently impaired. Considerable mucopurulent secretion can be seen in the pharynx. There is no mastoid tenderness, no retraction or rigidity of the neck: there is a slight fulness under the angle of the left lower jaw; moderate rickety rosary; coarse scjueaks and buljljling sounds are heard through-
Discussion. — It used to be the fashion to attribute most of children's convulsions to teething or colic, and it is still generally believed that digestive upsets may be sufl&cient to produce convulsions which in older individuals would have a much more serious significance. In the present case there is no evidence that the teeth or any part of the digestive tract are connected with the seizure.
Rickets has been made responsible for almost e\ery sym[)tom and ill to which a baby's flesh is heir. On p. 406 I have already referred to a case of fatal urinary infection in which, owing to the presence of a rickety rosary and some slight errors in diet, the clinical diagnosis was rickets. I have known similar mistakes made in various other cases in which a slight epiphyseal enlargement was present. The moral seems to me to be that one should not explain any severe illness as due to rickets unless there is other evidence of that disease beside a rosary.
The child is thirsty, suggesting fever, has a leukocytosis, and a good many rales in its lungs. Rales may sometimes be the only auscultatory evidence of broiichopncumonia. Might not this case be one of infectious bronchopneumonia with convulsions at the onset? I have ])rcviously noted, howe\'cr, that rales of this type generally distributed throughout the lungs are present in practically all cases of coma. This child is apparently semicomatose, and might easily, therefore, have many rales of this type without the existence of any pneumonia. jMoreo\cr, the rales of l)roncho])neumonia arc only distinctive when grou])ed in discrete patches and associated with a good deal more cyanosis and dys])nea than are present in this case.
In an adult, meningitis would naturally be considered, and even in a baby of this age it can be l)y no means excluded. Other and commoner causes for conxuisions should, however, l)c first in\cstigated.
The most imj)ortant of these causes is otitis media. 1 ha\e already referred in a ])rcvious case to the fact that children suffering from otitis do not usually indicate in any way what part of their bod)- is affected. It is, therefore, all the more im|)ortant tliat we should write u])()n the tal)lets of our memorv, in such a form tliat it will nc\cr br forgotten wjicn we are dealing with children, the motto: " J'^ciiuiiiht r the ears.'"
though there was still some deafness in the left ear.
On the eighteenth a swelling, apparently a gland, appeared at the angle of the left jaw. It did not extend up in front of the ear and was not tender. Ten days later it was still persistent, although the baby seemed otherwise entirely well.
He denies venereal disease. He has been well up to six months ago,
when he began to complain of shortness of breath and cough, with a "rush of blood" to the head. Two months ago his eye-sight began to fail, and glasses seemed to do him no good. Within the past year he has had to pass water twice each night.
Ten days ago he felt too sick to go to work, vertigo, dyspnea, weakness, and nausea being his chief symptoms. This continued until three days ago, when he felt better and went out for a walk, but on returning he had a convulsion lasting three minutes.
For the past week he has been forgetful and incoherent at times. At noon to-day, while sitting in his yard, he went into a convulsion, with coma and snoring breathing. This con\ail-
cells had come down to 13,000.
The patient was seen again on the eighteenth of August, 1906. He had remained in good health and had no trouble with his eyes until about two weeks ago, when he "began to feel queer " and had frequent attacks of vomiting. Three days ago he had two convulsions, and has had several of the same since. Bet\\'een them he has been drowsy and remembers nothing. His. pupils were at this time irregular, the left larger than the right, the speech thick. He was unable to repeat his alphabet or to repeat sentences said aloud to him. His bloodpressure was 125 mm. Hg.
the white cells were now 8000.
Discussion. — In all cases where a convulsion is the presenting symptom we must first determine the question of epilepsy, in case it seems possible to exclude all gross organic changes or chemical poisons as causes for the convulsion. In any man of this age, however, we should always be very skeptical of a diagnosis of epilepsy. Why should it begin at forty-seven, when it is well known that the vast majority of cases of epilepsy begin in youth or young adult life. Only if no other possible exj)lanation can be found is such a diagnosis justifiable in a patient of this age.
As there seems to be no residual paralysis or focal symptom, we have no right to conclude that hemorrhage or tumor is present. The normal condition of the fundlis and the absence of any long-standing lieadache, vomiting, or vertigo strengthen the evidence against cerebral tumor.
The study of the blood and urine reveals no evidence of plumbism, diabetes, or nephritis. The latter disease is still further debarred from consideration (in its chronic form) by the low blo(xi-])ressure. Acute inllammator}' changes (meningitis) do not deserve consideration, e\en in view of the leukocytosis present at the time he was first seen, for leukocytosis occurs in all acute cerebral seizures.
fulness, incoherence, irregular pupils, and some disturbance of speech should ahva}'s lead us to investigate, by further tests, the possibility of dementia ])aralytica. Such tests are, especially, the condition of the hand-writing as compared with IJre^•ious \cars, the presence or absence of slight changes in manner or habits, the cellular constituents of the spinal fluid, and the Wassermann reaction.
Outcome. — August 24th he was extremely cordial and polite, even efl"upi\e, but some of his words were slurred, as if he were drunk, and his talk was decidedly muddled. He says he feels excellently well — better than for ten years.
On the second of September he escaped from the hospital and went to early mass, clad only in his red wrapper and carpet slippers. He returned immediately after service and did not seem to realize that he had done anything unusual. The later course of the case confirmed the diagnosis of dementia paralytica.
A manufacturer of sixty-two, with a good family histor\', entered the hospital January 2, 1908. He says he has always been "tougher than a boiled owl," though he had diphtheria when a child, followed by a paralysis of both legs. His habits are excellent.
Three weeks ago he had the "grip," and when nearly over it eight days ago caught a fresh cold, and began to have pain in both wrists, knees and the left shoulder, the pain not severe, but catching him when he moves. He has had no other symptoms.
On the morning of entrance, at 9.15, he had a series of short general epileptiform convulsions, lasting from five to ten seconds. During these the pulse fell to 22 and was very irregular. There were periods of fifteen to t\\'enty seconds when no pulse could be felt and no heartbeat heard; following this came an epileptiform convulsion lasting from three to live seconds, then from seven to ten slow, full beats of the heart; the whole cycle would then be repeated. The convulsions were accompanied by momentary loss of consciousness, with flushing of the face; there was no cyanosis, orthopnea, drooling, or incontinence. The breathing throughout was deep and regular. The convulsions lasted all day and until after midnight, when they became less frequent, occurring at I A. M. and 5 A. M.
Physical examination sho-^ed a ])owcrful, obese man, without glandular enlargement, with pupils altogctlicr normal, and dry, brown tongue. The heart-sounds were almost inaudible. The heart's impulse
The white cells were 15,000 at entrance; 18,500 two days later. The joint symptoms rapidly improved under sodium salicylate, 10 grains every hour, and a dram of potassium citrate e\ery four hours, with mild laxatives.
Discussion. — The striking point about this convulsion is its association with a very slow pulse and periods of pulselessness. Almost any variety of convulsion may be associated or followed by slow pulse, that is, by a reduction in the number of beats to 60 or e\'en 50 a minute, but a pulse of 22, such as that here recorded, has a \ery special significance, particularly when the general condition of the patient, both before and after the convulsion, shows no evidence of heart failure. Stokes-Adams' disease is always the first working hypothesis to be considered.
Confirmation of this diagnosis can be obtained only by the study of the ^•enous pulse in the neck, which was not undertaken in this case, so that no certainty can be arrived at. Xevertheless, it is ahogelhcr ])robable that if such a study had been undertaken, evidence that the auricle beat more frcfjuently than the ventricle would have been found.
Two other points in the case are of interest: the joint symptomand the absence of deep retlcxes. The hitter is probably to be explained as a resuh of the dij)htheric neuritis of his childhood. Tlie normal condition of his pu])ils. tlie good control of tlie sphincters, tlie absence of characteristic sensory symptoms are sutTieient to exrhide tabei.
The occurrence of multiple arthritis, accompanied by fever and leukocytosis, and promptly disappearing during che administration of salicylate, is cf interest to me because I have several times observed such an attack simultaneously with a paroxysm of Stokes-Adams' disease. The fact may be a mere coincidence, though one may also conjecture that the blood changes accompanying infection may interfere with the transmission of impulses through a previously diseased bundle of His.
Outcome. — The patient slept a great deal during the first ten days of his stay in the hospital. After that he gradually regained his appetite and strength until, by the eighteenth, he seemed altogether normal and was allowed to go home.
The attacks last from a few minutes to an hour, and are usually accompanied by coma. They may come from once a week to once in three months; the last attack was two months ago. He denies venereal disease. He drinks two or three glasses of ale a day. Eight weeks ago he began to have swelling of his legs and abdomen, and this has steadily increased ever since. He has passed urine once or twice at night for twenty years. He v.-orked until yesterday.
The patient was ill-nourished, pale, with normal pupils and a heart extending I inch outside the left nipple and Fig. 1,31.— Chart of case 272. 5t inches from the median line; sounds
rib in midaxilla, and to the seventh rib on the right. Over the dull area breath sounds and crackling rales were heard; fremitus was feeble. There was dulness in the flanks, shifting with change of position, marked soft edema of the legs and lower eyelids. By tapping, four quarts of straw-colored serum with a specific gravity of 1009 were withdrawn from the abdomen. In the sediment of this fluid lymphocytes made up 82 per cent.
About 2 A. M. on the 13th of September the patient became unconscious, and had general epileptiform convulsions, lasting about ten minutes. There was no incontinence or biting of the tongue. Within the next two days he had six more such attacks. Each began with groaning respiration, which in a short time altogether ceased, so that the patient became almost black in the face, the pulses ceasing, the heart-sounds inaudible, the tongue protruded. Soon he breathed again; the heart-beat rose rapidly to 80 in a minute, then again fell to about 25. A short time after the beginning of the attack the muscles of the face moved con\'ulsively, the whole body became rigid and then shook. The urine and feces were passed involuntarily. The whole attack lasted from half a minute to two minutes, and was followed by unconsciousness lasting some hours. In one of these attacks the breathing ceased for over two minutes by actual ol)servation. The heart and pulse began again before the respiration.
Discussion. — This patient had been seen by several j^hysicians on account of the convulsions from which he had suffered so long, and it had been so far assumed that the diagnosis was epilepsy. I have already called attention to the rarity of epilepsy beginning after the attainment of middle age. This j)atient's fits, it will be noticed, began when lie was fifty. Presuma])ly, therefore, some cause for them can be found.
The evidences of arterial degeneration at the peri])heral, the moderate elevation of blood-pressure, and the age of the ])atient make it {)ro|)er to consider cereljral arteriosclerosis or general arteriosclerosis with vascular crises as possible cause for these attacks. Their Icmg duration, however, is against this sup])osition, and the fact that there is stasis, e^■idenced by the signs in the lungs, tlie abdomen, and the legs, points also against vascular crisis, since such crises usually cease wlicn stasis begins.
Dementia paralytiai rarely ])r()duces attacks extending through anything like so long a ])crio(l of years. It is true that the disease may nm a long course, but a duration of eighteen years after the ap])earance of convulsions and without any more marked mental or motor symptoms than are here recorded is contrary to all experience.
The most important fact for the differential diagnosis is the cessation of the pulse-beat observed during the attacks which occurred in the hospital. This is \ery suggestive of Stokes-Adams' disease, but needs, of course, the confirmation obtainable by the study of the venous pulse in the neck.
Outcome. — Between attacks it was noticed that the pulse in the veins of the neck was to the radial pulse as 2 is to i, or as 3 is to 2. Synchronous tracings confirmed this.
The urine averaged 20 ounces in twenty-four hours, specific gravity 1020, the slightest possible trace of albumin, many hyaline, granular, and epithelial casts; leukocytes, 8000. By fluoroscopic examination the auricular beat was counted at 62, while the pulse was 25. The fluid in the abdomen rapidly reaccumulated, and had to be tapped several times before the patient's death, December 15. Autopsy showed cirrhosis of the liver and a calcareous ridge in the region of the bundle of His.
A child of three years, of good family history, was first seen May 12, 1908. She has always been subject to colds, but was otherwise well until yesterda}' afternoon, when she had a convulsion, more or less relieved by a mustard bath. Later she vomited twice and was somewhat feverish. This morning she began to cough and to breathe rapidly. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 133).
The tonsils are large and covered with a whitish exudate. There are small tender glands on each side of the neck. The neck muscles are not at all rigid. The heart shows no enlargement in any direction. In the pulmonary area a very loud systolic murmur is heard, completely replacing the first sound, and transmitted to all parts of the chest. There is no thrill. The pulmonic second sound appears to be much accentuated and reduplicated.
Discussion. — Besides the convulsion, the essential symptoms seem to be cough and dyspnea, associated with all the evidences of an acute tonsillitis and a cardiac murmur.
V'lii. i,i-!.~ ( ah ari'ous ridia- iiU'jhin!^ tlic lumdle of I lis in a casr of Siokc>-.\ilains' disease. 'Ilu- arrow jioip.is to the rid;^e. A hit has iiet-n till out for mien isco] 'ic examination. 1 rh'iti seraph I'v Lewis A. lin'Wii. Iscd l>y kind ])ennissitin of ])r. II. 1-'. \'ic ker\- and the liiiSmn Mediial and SiiiL^ital loiirnal.!
we* must exclude the other and more serious possibilities. Meningitis IS one of these, but there seems to be nothing definite except the convulsion itself to support this idea. Children are very prone to show cervical rigidity, with a retraction of the head, strabismus, and Kcmig's sign, even when meningitis is not present; but the absence of all these symptoms is strongly against meningitis.
Can we connect the cardiac abnormalities, hinted at by the murmur, with the convulsions? Such a connection might be made out in case there were evidence of embolism of the brain or lung, of marked cerebral anemia, or of a broken compensation involving the accumulation of COj in the cerebral circulation. But we have no reason to believe that any of these conditions exist, and I can think of no other way to connect the cerebral and cardiac symptoms.
The ears were examined without showing anything abnormal. The urine showed only the ordinary results of fever. It seemed probable, therefore, that our original supposition was correct, and that the onset of the tonsillitis was in itself sufficient to explain the convulsions.
What is to he said of the heart murmur ? \'cry loud murmurs in the pulmonary area are usually the result of congenital heart disease. This is probably the best diagnosis to make in the present case, although one would feel much surer of it if any cyanosis and thrill were observable. It is usually unwise to attempt any further or liner description of the anatomic conditions in congenital heart disease. Autoj)sy seldom confirms the details of our diagnosis. Those who have seen most cases are generallv least willing to commit themselves regarding a particular lesion or coml^nation of lesions which is ])roducing the trouble.
September 8, igog.
She has liad no miscarriage. Her hus])and denies syphihV. I^i\c years ago began to have conxiilsions — typical "epileps}-.'" Con>i(leral)le headache in this time, and occasional diplopia.
Cureted for dysmenorrhea five years ago with rehef to the dysmenorrhea, but none to the fits. Had tried many doctors without rehef. For past six months no general convulsions, but attacks of twitching of the right hand and wrist, apparently provoked by excessive use.
Died September 9.
Discussion. — This patient is at the age when ordinary epilepsy is common. The most notable feature in the case, however, and the most important from the diagnostic point of view, is the change in the nature of the spasm within the past six months. The attacks from which she now suffers have been diagnosed as "writer's cramp," for she is of a ver}' nervous type, and has done a great deal of writing and sewing of late.
As soon as we had observed one of the attacks, however, it became obvious that it had nothing to do with "writer's cramp," that it was wholly involuntary, and possessed all the characteristics of Jacksonian epilepsy. Localized spasms of this type are often seen immediately preceding an attack of ordinary generalized epilepsy; in fact, pretty much all epileptic attacks begin in some single group of muscles. It is only when the convulsion fails to spread beyond the original group that we attribute localizing significance to it, and begin seriously to consider a circumscribed lesion, such as tumor, cyst, meningeal adhesions, abscess, or softening.
The presence of choked discs, with a normal urine and bloodpressure and normal cerebral spinal fluid obtained by lumbar ])uncture, points strongly toward brain tumor. Were cerebrospinal S}T3hilis, tabes, or i)aresis present, the spinal fluid would in all probability show an excess of cells. The negative Wassermann reaction is also of some significance, although in this, as in so many other fields, negative evidence is far less \aluable than positive.
evidence against it. At first sight the long duration of her illness — the five years of typical "epilepsy" — seems confusing, but there are now on record a considerable number of cases in which cerebral tumor has been demonstrated at autopsy after a number of years of headache and convulsive attacks, like those here described. Diagnosis. — Cerebral tumor.
A physician of fifty was seen Octol^er 28, 1908. He has always been well until eight years ago, when he had a good deal of pain in his lumbar region and down the back of his right leg. For this he consulted Dr. J. E. Goldthwait, who put him into a plaster jacket, with marked relief.
After this he was well until three years ago, when he had "some kind of a spasm," the nature of which cannot be more accurately learned. In July, 1907, he was seized with some sort of an attack during the night while in his bath-room. He found himself on the floor, and was unable to get to his feet, but crawled back to bed. Ever since that time it has been noticed that his gait is somewhat shuffling or shambling, especially when he is much fatigued.
In September, 1907, he had an attack of catarrhal jaundice. A consultant saw him at that time and considered it a case of "brain-fag." Muscular power, sensation, and the pupils were then examined and found to be normal. During the next six months, however, he had a number of attacks of vomiting without ob\ious cause and without relation to meals. They did not, however, pre\ent his carrying on a very active practice, in which he has been engaged up to the present time.
In September, 1908, he had a !)ad nose-bleed, and next day seemed very weak, with profuse sweating and marked j^allor. To these nosebleeds he says he has been subject all his life. Many other members of his family have a similar tendency.
October 27, 1908, the day l^efore the one on which I saw him, he was seized about 6 p. m. with a general epileptiform convulsion, and within the next twenty-four hours he had nine similar attacks. The first convulsion followed immediatelv u])on the eating (^f a \ery hea\y meal. After it he was comatose, and between the su])sequent conxulsions he did not fullv regain consciousness until about three hours before the time at which T saw him.
The pupils immobile. The heart, lungs, and abdominal viscera showed nothing worthy of note except that the aortic second sound was sharp and ringing, and the pulse of high tension. As he spoke to me in answer to questions I noticed an occasional stumbling, and now and then the elision of a syllable. He said he felt quite w^ell, and wanted to make some medical calls that afternoon.
On subsequent inquiry it was learned that his urine had been examined several times in the past eighteen months and always found to contain a trace of albumin. He had sometimes had a little trouble in urination, and once last summer involuntary defecation took place.
Discussion. — Every' physician sees many cases of this type, if one omits the history of the convulsion. In the absence of such convulsions as were here described the diagnosis of neurasthenia is very frequently made. Such a diagnosis, in my opinion, is never justified when the patient's symptoms first appear at or after middle life. Nervous weakness under these conditions means organic disease with nervous manifestations. The underlying trouble is most often cardiovascular disease, with or without a demonstrable arteriosclerosis. The peri sistent elevation of the blood-pressure, which is almost always to be ' found, should put us on our guard against the mistake of supposing the patient to be "merely nervous."
In all such cases, however, — and more especially when a con^'ulsion has occurred, — we should make such inquiries as would serve to determine whether any evidence of beginning dementia paralytica is present. In a jjhysician carrying on an active and successful practice it may seem hardly justifiable to consider so serious a disease, but in the present patient inquiry brought out the following points:
{a) His hand-writing, always indistinct, had now become so illegible that apothecaries were frequently unable to decipher his prescriptions. (I fear this happens to many not demonstrably the victims of dementia paralytica.)
arithmetic.
(c) Despite the vagueness and inaccuracy of his account books, he was very cheerful, if not optimistic, u})on money matters, though his wife declared with tears that he had little ground for such optimism.
(d) He has fallen into the habit of dropi)ing asleep while at work, or even in the midst of a conversation, and his attention at all times is -hort-lived and wandering. (This is true, also, of many other members of his family, and, indeed, of the human family.)
dementia paralytica seemed to me clear.
Outcome. — The patient went away for a few weeks on a vacation soon after I saw him. He then returned to Boston and tried to resume practice, aided by a very old friend, a physician, who, for friendship's sake, was willing to go everywhere with him and make good his mistakes.
On February 13, 1909, he had another convulsion, and March loth a general tonic clonic spasm, without loss of consciousness. After this he gradually improved in strength, gait, and ability to write, but his personal habits — previously most correct — became somewhat untidy. May 25th he went to his old home on a Maine farm, where he passed the summer in reasonable comfort. October 3, 1909, he seemed in unusually good spirits, but at midnight he had a series of convulsions and died within a few hours.
July 9, 1906, I was called to a small town in the southern part of Massachusetts, on the outskirts of which lived a farmer whose wife I was asked to sec for the relief of convulsions of unknown origin. She was a woman of twenty-eight, of excellent family history, and had always up to this time been well and strong. Nine weeks previously she had borne her first child, parturition and the convalescence from it being nonnal.
Three weeks before I saw her she consulted her physician on account of persistent headache, an entirely new sym])tom for her. A week later she was noticed to ])e distinctly pale. Iron was jjrcscril)cd, and she seemed to ])e doing well until eight days ago. when she had an attack of vomiting without any known reason. Such attacks ha\e recurred every day or two since that time.
Five days ago she had her first c])ileptiform convulsion, wliich was followed within twelve hours by a second couAuIsion in\'oh'ing only the muscles of the right half of the bodv. Yowv davs ago a similar unilateral conMilsion occurred. Yesterdav she had a gemrali/cd con\"ulsi()n \\ithout loss of consciousness. Tlie urine lias liceii sc\eral times examined. It is alwavs rather scantv, but has ncwr sli()\\n anv
rather weak. There has been no pain at any time and no paralysis.
Physical examination of the chest and abdomen was entirely negative. The reflexes and pupils were normal; the hemoglobin, 50 per cent; the urine free from albumin, and otherwise as above described.
Discussion. — Naturally, our first attempt in such a case is to relate the convulsions in some way to the recent childbirth, but this seems, on reflection, rather far fetched, as the woman was in perfect health for the six weeks following parturition.
Uremia seems to be excluded by the absence of any cardiac hypertrophy or urinary changes. Unfortunately, the blood-pressure was not measured. To the palpating finger the arterial tension seemed unusually low.
Without an examination of the fundus oculi one cannot speak with confidence against the possibility of brain tumor; but there is really little to suggest it, local symptoms being entirely absent, the headache being very moderate and unaccompanied by vertigo.
In the physical examination and in the reasoning process above reproduced one essential step has been omitted primarily, because in the first fifteen minutes of my study of this case it was altogether forgotten, also because it never occurred to the mind of the attending physician. Both of us forgot to consider lead-poisoning. After my first unsatisfactory and fruitless review of the case I began again and went over the patient systematically from head to foot. On the gums I found this time a typical lead-line, which I had previously omitted to look for, because lead-poisoning is associated in my mind chiefly with those who work in some trade involving the use of lead. A young woman living in the depths of the country and doing no work outside her own house does not necessarily suggest the possibility of leadpoisoning.
After finding the evidence of lead in her gums I began to wonder where she could have acquired the metal. Could it be from drinking water? If so, other members of the family should be affected. I turned at once to the husband, standing at the foot of his wife's bed, and examined his gums. They also showed a typical lead-line, though he had had no symjAoms. There was no one else in the house but the baby, who had taken no water and seemed to be quite healthy.
the well and the house.
The patient was ordered to drink no more of this water, to take 5 grains of potassium iodid three times a day, and a purge of magnesium sulphate every morning. The con\'ulsions ceased at once, and the patient made a rapid and lasting recover}'.
In July, 1893, a gentleman of forty-nine entered the hospital with the diagnosis of astasia abasia, made by a neurologist three weeks previously. He remained in the hospital for three months, during most of which time he had partial paralysis of the leg, relaxed sphincters, and a great number of complaints referred to difTerent parts of his body. The reflexes were never markedly abnormal, and visceral examination was always negati\e. He gradually improved until he was able to walk with a cane, left the hospital, and was not seen again until 1903.
During most of the intervening decade he lived in India or in Egypt, painted a good many pictures, and enjoyed himself thoroughly. In 1900 he had an indolent abscess on his forehead, which did not heal after it had been opened, and showed no considerable improvement for six weeks. After that he was given some medicine "with a salty taste," and the abscess promptly healed.
Since 1897 he has been troubled with attacks diagnosed as "petit mal." These occur every t\\ o to five days, and last about half a minute. A typical attack begins with slight nausea and a bad taste in the mouth ; next he begins to notice a sudden change in the behavior of the ])eo])le around him. They seem to be walking so as not to disturb him, or creeping toward him. After this, comes a tremor or thrill down the left arm and an in\oluntary closing of the left thumb and index-finger, with some shaking of the whole hand, so that he may almost dro{) his ne\vsj)aj)er if he is reading one at tlie time. All the colors of the objects around him become intensified. He does not think that any one about him notices what is going on. Between these attacks he feels pretty well, but occasionally wets liis bed at night, and ah.^ays ])asses water five or six times after he gets to l)ed. Occasional!}- he has noticed that his linen is stained, owing to relaxation of the rectal >j'hincter.
sionally his left ankle gives way under him, but, as a rule, he walks very well. November 7, 1904, he fell unconscious in a water-closet, and for half an hour afterward was drowsy and drooled saliva. January 21, 1905, after four days of excellent spirits and entire absence of the attacks of "petit mal," he woke up in the night with severe pain across his forehead, a very sore tongue, and much sensitiveness of his muscles, especially across the loins.
February' 20th he started to dine with a friend in Cambridge. The next thing that he knew he found that the electric car in which he was had come to the end of its route, in surroundings which he did not at all recognize. How he got there he had no idea. About three-quarters of an hour had elapsed since he took the car for Cambridge. Next day he noticed that his left foot dragged a little in walking.
In 1906 he began to have trouble with his rectum, and a tiimor was felt high up upon the right. Operation showed an apparently inoperable tumor mass involving a large portion of the rectum and lower sigmoid. An artificial anus was made, after which he was greatly better. Four years later there had been no increase of s^nnptoms. The artificial anus was working excellently well. Occasional attacks of unconsciousness, with or without generalized convulsions, and ver\' many of the seizures called "petit mal," still troubled him.
Discussion. — Twice this patient was given up to die — the first time in 1893, the second time in 1897; yet he is alive and healthy (1910). The most important diagnostic and therapeutic indication in his case was to my mind the so-called abscess on the forehead, which resisted all ordinary treatment and then healed so promptly after the administration of a medicine which had the taste of potassium iodid. The patient had no knowledge of any syphilitic infection, but had lived the type of life in which such infections are acquired. I see no reason to doubt that all his symptoms were due to syphilis in one form or another. First the spinal cord, later the brain, and finally the perirectal tissues were involved.
The question of operation for the relief of his attacks of "petit mal" was often and seriously considered, but in \iew of his pre\ious history it seemed probable that the disease was so widely difi"used that little could be expected from 0])erative interference.
WEAKNESS
So many patients consult a physician complaining primarily of weakness that I have thought it best to discuss it and to illustrate it by cases, although so little is known regarding the manner of its production in the great majority of })atients. We must make at the outset a distinction which is often not noticed by patients themselves, the distinction, namely, between:
Of this latter type of functional insufficiency we really have very little knowledge. It is often said that anemia is directly and in itself the cause of many weakened states, yet I had under my care for three years a patient with pernicious anemia who was in the habit of taking a daily swim of about a mile in the Charles River, when his red cells numbered less than 1,500,000 per c.mm. He also walked to and from his w^ork, — a distance of about two miles each way, — and was very actively engaged as a salesman in the basement of a department store for nearly twelve hours in every twenty-four. In view of this and similar cases it is difficult to believe that anemia is in itself the allimportant cause of weakness such as we should often be led to suppose.
It is also well known that the size of muscles and their firmness have only a rough and general relation to their strength. Some of the most remarkable athletes have small and apparently soft muscles.
In a large group of cases weakness appears as the result of cardiac insufficiency, l)ut even here it is difficult to fix the blame, since dyspnea is so intimately related to the disabilities of which the patient complains.
Fever is likewise associated in our minds, and apparently, in fact, with many cases of weakness, yet, on the other hand, we have all of us dealt w^ith })atients who feel much brighter and better when their temperature is elevated than when it is normal.
Despite all these limitations of our knowledge it is doubtless true that anemia, lack of muscular development, cardiac insufficiency, malnutrition, and fever are in some way connected with the weakness of which our patients complain. Clinically, such complaints are most often associated with the following conditions:
9. Hyperthyroidism.
In the latter two diseases we have the striking phenomenon of loss of weight and strength despite good appetite. Besides those alx)ve listed, one sees now and then a patient complaining only of weakness, yet proving, on examination, to have typhoid fever. The same is true of myxedema and not infrequently of obesity.
An expressman, thirty years old, of good family history and good habits, had pneumonia seventeen years ago, and again seven years ago. Six years ago he passed a life-insurance examination and was told that his lungs were sound. He was first seen October 29, 1906.
He has been feeling entirely well until about two years ago, when he began to get weak, lost his apj)ctite, and felt some nausea and faintness. He kept at work, however, until October, 1905, when he went to his father's home in New York State, was out-of-doors hunting, and felt much stronger and ])etter, but still was not cured.
Some time after this he had jaundice. He was treated with calomel, but did not im])rove. He went ])ack to work in Fel)ruary, 1906, but in May l^roke down again, and since then has ne\"er been able to work more than three weeks at a time on account of weakness.
His a])petite has been poor throughout this illness, but for tlie past three weeks he has eaten almost nothing because he cannot bear the sight of food. He has had no vomiting, no ])ain anywhere, and his bowels hu\e mo\cd regularly once a day.
drugs except sodium phosphate.
A year ago he weighed 125 pounds, now he weighs 103. On examination the patient is emaciated. His breath shows an odor like acetone. His skin is of a dark yellow hue.
ing chart.
Red cells are 5,040,000; white cells, 17,200; hemoglobin, 85 per cent.; 69.5 per cent, of the leukocytes polynuclear, the remainder lymphocytes, the majority of which are very large. The blood is otherwise normal, repeated search for malarial parasites being fruitless.
The stools showed nothing abnormal except a slight reaction with the guaiac test. The vomitus showed no hydrochloric acid; nothing else of interest.
symptom.
Discussion. — The marked gastric symptoms complained of by this patient direct our search first toward some cause in the gastro-intestinal tract.
(a) Anorexia nervosa often produces a condition even more serious than the one now under discussion. Indeed, it is not infrcfjuently fatal. But in a person of this age, sex, and manner of life it is. so far as I know, unknown.
(b) Cancer of the stomach may occur at this age or even earlier, though such an occurrence is \'ery rare. One of its earliest symptoms is often a complete loss of apjjetite, such as this patient suffered. The absence of hydrochloric acid in the vomitus would seem to support this hy{)othesis. On the other hand, in a patient so markedly emaciated we should certainly ex{)ect to feel a tumor, especially as the symptoms seem to have lasted two years. Other gastric symptoms — such as
the great majority of cases of gastric cancer.
(c) The enormous amount of sodium phosphate which this patient had taken might cause us to conjecture that he has poisoned himself with the drug were there any evidence that it is capable of producing toxic symptoms; but so far as I know there is no such evidence.
The patient's yellow pallor reminded me strongly of some of the cases of chronic malarial poisoning which I had seen in soldiers returning from the Cuban war, but the results of blood examination absolutely excluded malaria.
As there was no discoloration of the conjunctivas and no bile in the urine, we did not consider a chronic hemolytic jaundice. The low blood-pressure and the great emaciation were such as one often sees in the latest stages of some form of tuberculosis. There were no lesions, however, discoverable by physical examination, and no fever.
The absence of knee-jerks was not explainable by any of the diagnoses which we considered. There was no sufficient reason to consider tabes, as there were no sensory, pupillar\', or sphincteric changes and no pain. Ver}' possibly he may have passed through an attack of peripheral neuritis at some previous time, but there was no reason to connect it with the present symptoms.
Addison's disease produces the lowest blood-pressure that has been observed, so far as I know, in any disease previous to the moribund state. It is often associated with gastric symptoms like those from which this patient has suffered. The discoloration of the skin is usually more marked than that here described, but as it is well known that Addison's disease can occur without any pigmentation at all, it is well always to remember the disease in any differential diagnosis of cases characterized ])y extreme weakness of obscure origin.
In the mouth was a small jxitch of dark-ljrown color on the inside of the cheek, near the corner of the mouth, also some clusters of minute brownish points on the inside of the cheeks near the junction of the teeth, and a few on the hard palate. The patient looked like one in the last stages of malignant disease or tuberculosis. At times he would suddenly feci much l)ctter.
The patient was ])ut on forced feeding by mouth and rectumwhisky, I ounce every four hours, strychnin. -;^^ grain every four iiours and seemed better until the fourth of Xovcm])er, when he (lc\eloped fever and chill, became delirious, and soon died.
Autopsy showed tuberculosis of the adrenal glands; obsolete tuberculosis of the apices of the lungs. Diagnosis. — Addison's disease.
A freight truckman, thirty-eight years old, entered the hospital July I, 1906. He had formerly used alcohol in moderation, but had used none for over a year until it was prescribed by a doctor during the present illness. He denies venereal disease, and has been well until twelve davs ago, when he began to feel weak, mean, and seedy. Three days ago he had to give up work on account of weakness, night-sweats accompanied by constant frontal headache, pain all over him (especially in the back), anorexia, nausea, and vomiting.
Blood, urine, temperature, pulse, and respiration were normal.
Despite his weakness and prostration, there was noticeable during the examination an unusual degree of nervous alacrity. Any direction given him was executed with lightning speed and almost with nolence.
Discussion. — The symptoms of the onset seem like those of an acute infectious disease, especially pneumonia or typhoid, and although fever was absent, we made rigorous and repeated search for visceral evidences of some such infection. Nothing came to light, however, and we were obliged to look elsewhere for a cause of the symptoms. In cases of this kind it is always well to consider:
Of morphinism there was no hint, either in the history or in his present condition. He showed none of the vague longings, irritable complaints of widely distributed pain, itching about the face, scars of hypodermic punctures, pallor, emaciation, insomnia, or other evidences of the morphin habit.
On the other hand, another poison — alcohol — was distinctly suggested by the absence of knee-jerks, when considered in connection with his mental state. The peculiar alertness and alacrity, shown l^y alcohoHcs immediately previous to an attack of delirium tremens, is difficult to convey l)y description, but easily recognized by any one who has once or twice seen it. In tlie present case it was very marked, and
was associated also with a very noticeable smoothness and satiny texture of the skin, a sign often oj great value in patients who deny alcoholism, but present other evidences which make us suspect it.
Outcome. — Although the patient indignantly denied any recent alcoholic excess, he began to show the nervous symptoms of approaching delirium tremens two days after his entrance to the hsopital, and in spite of considerable doses of potassium bromid. These symptoms abated, however, within two or three days, when he was able to go home in much better condition.
A bridge-tender, fifty-eight years old, of good family histor}-, has had "chronic rheumatism," and especially "sciatic rheumatism," in the right leg at irregular intervals for ten years or more. Otherwise he has always been well and strong, and his habits have been good.
Ten months ago he began to notice a weakness so marked that at times he came near fainting. This weakness was most noticeable in the legs, but he has felt tired all over. For the last six weeks he has felt, on exertion, a rather severe pain in his chest, near the lower part of the l^reast-bone, accompanied by shortness of breath, which compels him to stop whatever he is doing. The pain ceases after a few moments' rest. Hearty food also brings on this pain, which comes on immediately after eating and lasts for an hour or more.
gets up three or four times at night to pass water.
The temperature, pulse, res])iration, urine, and blood-pressure all were normal. The heart showed no enlargement, and its sounds were of fair quality. There was a faint systolic murmur at the a])ex, transmitted a few inches to the left; no accentuation of cither sound at the base. The edge of the liver was felt two inches l)cl()\v the costal margin; the abdomen is otherwise negali\e, likewise the lungs, rellexes, and extremities.
else abnormal.
Discussion. — The history of sciatica and the complaint of especial weakness in the legs naturally lead us to consider peripheral neuritis. No such diagnosis can be made, however, when the reflexes are normal and all sensory symptoms are absent, as in this case.
Arteriosclerosis must occur to us whenever a patient of fifty-eight complains of substernal pain and general weakness. Possibly there is some arteriosclerosis in this patient, but I do not see that we can be sure of it or that we can connect it with his present symptoms, since his blood-pressure is low, his heart negative, and symptoms of stasis absent.
But for the blood-examination this patient would present almost precisely the picture of pernicious anemia; even the substernal pain, which he complains of, is sometimes seen in that disease, apart from arteriosclerosis or nephritis. The blood-picture, however, is that of secondar}' anemia, and compels us to make a most careful search for its cause.
That search should be directed so as to ascertain whether syphilis, malignant disease, hepatic cirrhosis, or any disease involving hemorrhage is present. All these except the last could easily be excluded, but in \"iew of past experience I always look with particular care for evidence of hemorrhoids when the problem is to find the cause for the anemia of a middle-aged patient. I recollect three persons suffering from anemia of unknown cause and totally unaware of any trouble from piles, which, nevertheless, turned out subsequently to be the source of frequent long-standing hemorrhages. In all these cases the anemia was cured by treating the piles and stopping the hemorrhage. The same turned out to be true in the present case, the moral of which is that careful examination of the rectum with a speculum should always be made when we are searching for the cause of an obscure anemia.
Outcome. — It was learned subsequently that the patient had had bleeding piles off and on for at least four years. For some unknown reason he omitted to mention this fact. Operation was advised, but refused.
A post-office clerk of sixty-three entered the hospital November 14, 1907. He was in the hospital first in 1901 with genito-urinary tuberculosis, and again in 1904 for stone in the bladder. He seems to have reco\-ered entirely from both his previous troubles. For the
past year he has been losing strength and weight. Twenty years ago he weighed 196 pounds; five years ago, 170; one year ago, 167; and now, 128. From July ist to November ist of this year he was unable to work. For the past two weeks he has been at work again, but had to give up to-day. He has no other symptoms of any kind, and has noticed no pallor or pigmentation of the skin.
The patient is somewhat pale and much emaciated. A systolic murmur is heard at the apex, but not transmitted. The heart is otherwise negative, as are the lungs. The arteries are rough and tortuous. The pulse appeared to be one of high tension. Hemoglobin, 25 per cent.
The abdomen and extremities show nothing abnormal. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 136). The urine averaged 30 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a specific gravity of 1012; a slight trace of albumin was found, but no casts.
Discussion. — In looking for a cause for the anemia here present we notice that the kidneys do not seem to be doing much work, and might be rash enough to assume that some type of nephritis is responsible for the symptoms. It is true that nephritis may be in itself the cause of very intense anemia, but is there any sufficient evidence that this man has a nephritis at all ? The total solids excreted are certainly very deficient, but this may be the result merely of insufficient food. Although we know very little about his diet, it is safe to assume that he does not cat enough to give him the normal outj)ut of urinary solids.
Emaciation is at least as im{)ortant a feature as the anemia in this patient. He is at the age when very considerable emaciation often occurs merely as the result of the aging ])roccss — /. <•.. of arteriosclerosis. Such, at any rate, seems to me the reasonable conclusion as we obser\e the ra])id loss of weight which takes place in a large ])roi)orlion of elderly ])crsons without any corresponding cliange in the diet. It must be confessed, however, that the c\i(lcnce of arteriosclerosis in this patient is not conckisive. Many patients whose arteries are rough and tortuous turn out. postmortem, to have \ery little arteriosclerosis, and the high ])ulse tension which would seem to \erify, to a certain extent, the hypothesis of arteriosclerosis, was based merely on digital examination —a most unreliable procedure.
Pernicious anemia is probably the commonest cause of an extreme reduction in the hemoglobin percentage at the age of sixty-three. In most cases of pernicious anemia, emaciation is comparatively slight; sometimes it is absent altogether. But this fact does not by any means suffice to exclude pernicious anemia in this case. The blood must be much more carefully investigated.
Outcome. — The red cells were found to number 863,000, so that the hemoglobin, though very low; was yet relatively high (color index, 1.4). The leukocytes numbered 4200, 58 per cent, of which were polynuclear, with 41 per cent, of lymphocytes and i per cent, of mast cells. During a differential count of 200 cells, four normoblasts and two megaloblasts were found. The red cells were of huge size, deeply stained, and much deformed. Many of them contained basophilic gra.nulations or showed diffuse abnormal staining reaction.
Her chief complaint at the present time is of weakness, affecting especially her back. She entered the hospital on April 27, 1908. Six months previously she had had a good many dizzy spells, with insomnia and much nervousness. At that time she was five weeks in a hospital, but no diagnosis was made. At the present time she has a good appetite and sleeps well.
pelvic disease, and vomits occasionally without relation to food.
Physical examination shows an obese woman, with a dry skin and numerous rose-colored papules scattered over the front of the chest and abdomen. Th'^^ course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart. The chest and abdomen showed nothing abnormal. The reflexes, blood, and urine were negative. Vaginal examination showed no pelvic disease.
Discussion.— The papules here described had all the characteristics of rose spots, and \\ould have passed perfectly well for the exanthem of typhoid fever had any pyrexia been present. In the absence of fever no obvious ex])lanation was found for them. It may be worth stating here that, even in febrile conditions, the rose spot, although most valuable
as confirmatory evidence of typhoid, is by no means pathognomonic of that disease. The typhoid bacillus is not the only germ which is prone to settle beneath the skin and produce the hyperemic area known as a rose spot. I have seen the same thing in pyogenic sepsis many times, and in tuberculosis once.
The patient is stated to be obese. Is this enough to account for her weakness? Occasionally one sees persons for whose exhaustion and incapacity no other cause can be found. But I have never known a patient to enter a general hospital on this account. Further, there has been no special increase in the amount of fat cuku.
during the period occupied by her illness.
Myxedema is sometimes mistaken for obesity, and often causes a very troublesome weakness. In the present case, however, we have no good reason to beheve that myxedema is present. There are no cutaneous or mental symptoms, no subnormal temperatures, nor special sensitiveness to cold. The facial expression is unchanged.
If physical examination, repeatedly and conscientiously performed, is wholly negative in a case of this kind, it is proper to investigate the mental condition of the patient. Subconscious fears and internal tensions may be enough to account for all the troubles of which this patient com})lains, though we should never assume anything of the kind until e\'ery other ])ossibility has been exhausted. In the search for a ])svchic cause it is never sufficient to ask a patient such a question as, "Are you worrying al)out anything?" or "Have you anything on vour mind?" The worries which do the most harm physically are those of whicli the i)aticnt is ])artially or quite unconscious. Of course, the only ])roof that our diagnosis is right, when wc believe we ha\e succeeded in drawing out of the depths of a ])aticnt's consciousness some submerged cause of internal strife, is the ])hysical results. If immediate im])ro\emcnt follows, it is reasona])le to su])pose that we have hit upon the source of the trouble.
Outcome. — It developed later that after her child was born and she had left the hosjntal, she was told that she was "in a bad way"; this idea fermented in her mind and a])])arently was the l)asi> ot her present troubles.
An Irish chambermaid of twenty-two, of good family and past history, was seen December i8, 1906. She came to the United States four months ago. Her menstruation began at the age of fifteen and has always been regular, but her last period occurred on the steamer during her passage to America,
A month ago she began to feel weak and unfit for work. This weakness was accompained by a palpitation on any exertion and sometimes by faintness. She lias been very constipated all through her sickness, but has had no vomiting or other gastric s\Tnptoms, and no cough or fever, so far as she is aware.
On examination the girl is well nourished, with bright red cheeks, but somewhat pale and slightly bluish lips. The glands are palpable in the neck, axillae and groins, but not enlarged. The heart seems to be of normal size, its action regular, but there is a rough systolic murmur heard best at the base and transmitted to the left axilla. The pulmonic second sound is distinctly louder than the aortic.
The lungs show scattered coarse rales.
Visceral examination is otherwise negative. The patient weighed 165^ pounds. Her pulse, temperature, respiration and urine were normal throughout three weeks' observation.
Discussion. — Could this girl be pregnant? The amenorrhea, weakness, palpitation, and fainting are consistent with that diagnosis, which could only be confirmed, however, in case the uterus was found to be demonstrably enlarged. We should expect also some gastric disturbances and changes in the breasts. Since none of these necessary confirmations appear to be present, we must look for some other cause for the amenorrhea.
Vegetative endocarditis produces general weakness without localizing symptoms. It had been considered by the attending physician on account of the rough murmur over the base of the heart. But such a diagnosis needs a great deal more evidence before we can be content with it. The pulmonic second sound, though louder than the aortic, did not apijcar to be abnormal, and there was no fever, chills or cardiac enlargement. Regarding the leukocytes, which should 1)e increased in number if endocarditis is present, we have as yet no information.
Cases of early tuberculosis often have a history very much like this, and one should always examine the pulmonary apices with especial care in such a case. But without fever, loss of weight, gastric disturbances or cough we should not be warranted in entertaining any further the hypothesis of tuberculosis, nor in suggesting it to the patient or her family. Diffuse rales in both lungs are not what we expect to find in early tuberculosis, except in the miliary form, and then with much more virulent sMnptoms.
If the patient were pale, we should naturally suspect chlorosis. Everything else in the case seems consistent with that idea. Can a patient with bright red cheeks have chlorosis or any other form of anemia? Most certainly, and it is for this reason that I have introduced the case. Man}' Hke it are overlooked, I believe, because we have not the habit of making routine hemoglobin estimations. The color of the face is no guide. The majority of pale people are not anemic, and many anemics are not pale.
Outcome. — The red cells are 3,364,000; white cells, 3200; hemoglobin, 35 j)er cent. The stained specimen shows marked achromia, no nucleated cells, no abnormal staining or abnormal shapes. The differential count is also normal.
It was subsequently learned that before coming to this country she had always been used to out-of-door life, though during her work here she had been closely confined.
Under Blaud's pill, 10 grains three times a day, the red cells had risen by the fifth of Januar}' to 4,400,000, the hemoglobin to 60 per cent., and the girl felt entirely well.
A Syrian thirty-sc\en years old entered the hos])ital June 27, 1906. He has had many touches of malaria, and takes three wliiskies a day. Otherwise his history was not notable until seven months ago, when he began to lose strength and got run down. For the ])ast three months he has been ra])icilv i^rowinsi; weaker. At no time has lie had any j)ain or other localizing symptoms except at the very beginning of his iUness, when he liad a rather indefinite jniin in the right shoulder and right axilla. This ])asse(l off within a few weeks, but has returned au'aii^ of late.
taken \ grain of morphin every night to make him sleep. For four or five davs he has been in bed. Two weeks ago he noticed for the first time that his feet were swollen.
On examination the man was emaciated. The right chest was flat in front below the third rib and below the spine of the scapula above. Breath-sounds and voice-sounds were absent over the same area.
The heart's impulse was in the fifth space, and reached if inches outside the nipple-line. The right border could not be determined. The pulmonic second sound was accentuated. There were no murmurs. Blood-pressure, 140.
The abdomen was held rigidly throughout. It was tympanitic, not tender. There was soft edema of the lower legs and feet, also some over the sacrum. The white cells were 15,000; hemoglobin, 85 per cent. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart.
Discussion. — The essential features of the case are: fever, weakness, displacement of the cardiac apex, edema of the feet, and apparently fluid in the right chest.
Pleurisy is naturally our first thought, but we are puzzled by the absence of pain, cough, or dyspnea, and by the presence of swelled feet. Can the latter symptoms be the result of a pleurisy, or must we suppose that both the swollen feet and the thoracic fluid are the results of some common cause, perhaps disease of the heart or kidney? If the heart is diseased, we should expect either a murmur, a change in blood-pressure, an arhythmia, or some other evidence besides dropsy. Further, it is difficult to explain the fever as the result of heart disease unless there is a vegetative endocarditis, in wMch case there should be a murmur, though this is not invariable.
Xo more positive evidence can be obtained without tapping the chesL The characteristics of the fluid thus presumably to be obtained should decide the question. Meantime it may be suggested that in children such a grou]) of symptoms would be clearh" indicative of empyema. What lia])[)ens fre(|uently in childrea may occur now and ther in adults.
Outcome. — Exploratory puncture showed foul pus on the twentyeighth. Next da}- a rilj was resected, and several pints of the same fluid remo\ed. The pus showed no growth on ordinary culture-media.
A boy of four years, with good family history, entered the hospital May 27, 1908. He had always been well until nineteen days ago, when he complained of being tired, and seemed listless and disinclined to play. Soon after this he began to be feverish, especially at night.
For the past fifteen days he has been in bed. At no time has he complained of any pain. His appetite has been good, his bowels regular, and he sleeps well. He has had a little dry cough for a week. (The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart. Fig. 139.)
His left tonsil is enlarged, his throat somewhat reddened. The heart's impulse is in the fourth interspace, just outside the nipple-line. The organ seems otherwise normal.
The right chest in front is Hat below the fourth interspace, tiie line of llatness rising in the axilla, so that it reaches to the toj) of the chest behind. Respiration is normal oxer the left chest, harsh in the front of the right chest, above the line of llatness; below that it i^ nearly absent.
Discussion. — One could hardly make a mistake regarding the diagnosis in this case if he })laced his reliance upon physical signs. What I desire specially to point out is the misleading character of the history. The child has no pain in the side, almost no cough, no dyspnea, nothing to call one's attention rather to one part of the body than to another.
Relying on the physical signs, we cannot doubt that there is fluid in the right chest. The small spot of bronchial breathing near raidscapula is not in the least in contradiction to this diagnosis. Indeed, we generally hear bronchial breathing in some part of the chest of a young child when fluid is present in large amounts. Pneumonia, the only other disease which we could consider at all, never has so insidious an onset or so prolonged a course in young children.
When we know that a child's chest contains fluid and have no reason to suspect disease of the heart or kidney, we may feel practically certain that empyema is the diagnosis. Insidious serous effuson, so common in adults as a result of tuberculosis, is distinctly rare in infancy, while the pneumococcus infections leading to empyema are common, and present, as a rule, just such a clinical picture as I have here reproduced.
Outcome. — On the twenty-eighth the chest was opened, with the escape of lo ounces of pus teeming with a growth of pneumococci. The child's convalescence was prolonged and often interrupted by the retention of pus in subsidiary caA'ities, owing to unsatisfactory drainage. Recovery was ultimately complete.
A Scottish salesman, seventy years old, of good familv historv and past history, entered the hospital November 8, 1906. He gave up work six months ago on account of progressi\-e weakness. About a month later he noticed that gas gathered in his stomach about twenty minutes after eating, causing considerable noise and some nausea. He has at no time any pain. Imt has gradually become weaker, paler, and more short of breatli. ^\'ithin the past three weeks his legs have swollen; his skin ha> turned yellow and itched. Ten months ago he weighed 195 pounds, now he weighs 155.
Examination showed ob^■ious loss of weiglit; skin pale, and of a yellowish tinge; no demonstrable jaundice, the color l^eing more like that of pernicious anemia. The heart showed a systolic murmur,
audible all over the precordia and in the left axilla. The sounds were faint and distant. There were no evidences of enlargement and no irregularity. Visceral examination was otherwise negative, exce])t for a slight puf&iess of the face and hands, and a moderate, rather brawny edema of the lower legs.
The red cells were 2,328,000; white cells, 5000; hemoglobin, 25 per cent. There was a very marked serum ring around the bloodstain as I took the hemoglobin test by the Tallqvist scale. The differential count showed polynuclears, 59 per cent.; lymphocytes, 41 per cent. The red cells showed very marked achromia, moderate deformities in shape, no abnormal staining reactions, no blasts. The urine was altogether negative. A small amount of brownish material which gave a positive guaiac reaction was found in the fasting stomach. The organ held 52 ounces, and after a test-meal showed no free HCl.
Discussion. — Here we have the s\anptoms of ])crnicious anemia but the blood-picture does not correspond. It is a familiar puzzle and an important one. As a result of a fairly extensi\e experience in dealing with this particular problem I think it may be stated that it is the part of wisdom to follow the indications of the blood-examination in such cases. Primary anemia does not produce a l3lood-])icture like that here described in patients of this age. The most distinctive features are the achromia and the low color index.
Assuming, then, that we are dealing with secondary anemia, what is its cause? In men of this age severe secondary anemia is produced usuallv by cancer, syjjhilis, or hemorrhage. The anemia of nephritis or of cirrhosis usually occurs in younger persons. Since we have no evidence whatever either of syj)hilis or hemorrhage, cancer is the most ])robable diagnosis. But what is the seat of the tumor? Such slight indications as we possess seem to ])oint to the stomach. The recovery of a material reacting positively to the guaiac test, the absence of hydrochloric acid, the slight enlargement of the stomach, the nausea and flatulence tend to conllrm this indication.
The case is of sj)ecial interest because of the al)sence of pain and vomiting. It tends to substantiate the old rule, which bids us sus|)ect gastric cancer whenc^-er a patient, |)re\iously free from digestive disturbances ])cgins in later life to have any gastric sym])toms, however slight.
Outcome. — Tjie patient was given forced feeding and oxygen by rectum in the hope of inhibiting the growth of anaerobic bacteria, Init on the fourteenth of X()\enil)er he was so weak that he could not walk alone. The blood examination then showed: Red cells, 1,820,000;
An Italian housewife, fifty years old, entered the hospital June 17, 1907. She began to complain four weeks ago of weakness and fatigue. It was also noticed that she passed ver}- little urine.
For three weeks she has been in bed, complaining mostly of weakness, accompanied by anorexia, insomnia, and constipation. Her mouth is dry and she is very thirsty. There is a dull, constant epigastric pain. Last week she vomited twice small quantities of green fluid. She has no headache; her eye-sight is good. The urine continues scanty.
On examination the patient is found to be somewhat emaciated. Her chest shows nothing abnormal except a few crackles and squeaks in the lower part of each lung.
The abdomen is protuberant, the umbilicus pushed out, and there is shifting dulness in the flanks. The condition of the epigastrium is shown in the accompanying diagram, and the temperature in the accompanying chart (Fig. 140).
the navel is 80 cm.
Discussion. — Cirrhosis of the liver was the "snap diagnosis" in this case, suggested, of course, by the insidious onset of extensive ascites. Although this disease cannot be excluded from consideration, there are a number of points against it. The most important is the patient's pain, a symptom of which we hear practically nothing in cirrhosis. Further, Italian wine, which is all that this patient has taken, does not often produce cirrhosis. Finally, the surface of the liver, which is stated to be rough on palpation, is not characteristic of cirrhosis from the clinical point of view. The hob-nails of the hob-nail liver are almost never to be felt through the abdominal wall. I have known many cases where they were felt, but not one of these cases turned out to be
abdominal wall or irregularities due to cancer or syphilis.
The course of the disease seems very short and rapid for syphilis. The transition from perfect health to great prostration, with ascites, anorexia, and vomiting is rarely brought about by syphilis within four weeks. Of course, it may well be that the history is inaccurate, especially as it was obtained through an interpreter. If we disregard the history, the chief evidence against syphilis is the absence of any luetic lesions in other parts of the body. Without the therapeutic test, however, it is impossible positively to exclude syphilis in this case.
Tuberculous peritonitis is not common at this age, rarely produces so much prostration, and would not explain the enlargement of the liver and spleen, or what we take to be such. Cancer of the liver would explain most of the symptoms, and would account for the rapid march of the malady. It is surprising, however, that no more marked gastric symptoms are complained of. Hepatic cancer usually shows itself as a later development in an illness characterized by months of severe digestive disturbance. Possibly the cancer may have originated in some ''silent," deep-seated organ, w^hence it was extended by metastasis to the liver.
Banti's disease is always to be suspected when an Italian is found to be sulTering from enlargement of the liver and spleen with ascites. It must be admitted, however, that the clinical picture of Banti's disease has seldom been clearly recognized except by Italian writers. It is essential, at all events, that we should be able to demonstrate an enlargement of the spleen preceding by a consideral^lc period the onset of ascites and hepatic hyf)ertro])hy. Nothing of the kind can be shown in the |)resent case.
liver, origin unknown.
Outcome. — June i8th it was learned that she had rcceiNcd large doses of mercury and potassium iodid before entrance, hence this clue was not followed up any furtluT. The ])atient died on the twentysecond. Auto})sy showed primarv cancer of the li\er with nietastascb in the mesenteric glands, spleen, pancreas, lungs and thyroid.
She has had three children, the youngest five years old.
For eighteen months she has felt weak, and in that time she has lost about 30 pounds. Her ai)petite has been poor throughout this period. At times she has been feverish. She often has a bitter taste in her mouth after eating. Four weeks ago she had a severe left-sided headache; since then she has heard roaring noises in her head, and has felt still weaker than before.
Two weeks ago she had two similar attacks within a week, and the headache has been continuous for the last five days. With each of these attacks of headache she has vomited, but there has been no other ])ain. When her eyes were examined recently at the Eye and Ear Infirmary they were found to be normal. Throughout the eighteen months of her illness she has had diarrhea alternating with constipation.
The patient was poorly nourished, the skin brightly colored. Visceral examination was wholly negative, as was the blood examination. The urine was free from albumin and casts; twenty-four-hour amount normal.
Discussion. — Weakness and loss of weight with headache and digestive symptoms are complained of by innumerable Jewesses of this age without our being able to discover any more definite cause than their self-starvation and a psychoneurotic constitution. If Ihe physical examination is wholly negative and no drug habits can be discovered, the case will have to be treated on this basis.
We must first make sure, however, that nothing of any importance has been omitted from our physical examination. Are we quite certain that no hints of larval hyperth}Toidism are to 1)e found? No tremor, tachycardia, profuse sweating without cause or slight thyroid enlargement? All these signs were searched for in the present case, with negative results.
One all-essential point, however, is omitted in the account of the case printed above, because it was absent from the record presented to me when I saw the case in consultation. There is no record of the test for sugar nor of the s])ecific gravity of the urine, which turned out to be T040.
Outcome. — Fi\e and a half per cent, of glucose was found in the urine. Jn the course of a month, howcA'cr, this disappeared under a diet of increased fats and diminished carbohydrates. The headache, which had been throughout her chief complaint, disappeared as soon as the urine became sugar-free. In the course of the month under my observation she gained six pounds.
A school-boy of fifteen was first seen on November 28, 1907. His family history is good, and he has always been well until three weeks ago, when he began to complain of weakness, headache, vertigo, and sHght nausea.
Physical examination shows emaciation and mental dulness.
The edge of the liver is felt on inspiration. Physical examination, including the blood, is otherwise negative. The urine is pale, its quantity from 3500 to 5000 c.c. in twenty-four hours, the specific gravity never far from 1030; amount of sugar, 5.5 per cent., gradually rising to 7.5 per cent, during the five weeks of his stay in the hospital.
Discussion. — This case is introduced merely as a further exemplification of the fact that diabetes may occur without any of the cardinal symptoms on which we often rely for diagnosis. This boy complained of no thirst, had no increase of appetite, and, so far as he knew, no polyuria. The diagnosis was simple enough as the result of a routine examination, including, as all such examinations should, a test for sugar.
Of some interest, 1 think, is the outcome of the treatment, which, though it sufficed merely to prolong the boy's life for a month, undoubtedly did accompHsh as much as this. Such a res])ite is sometimes of very great importance when a relative wishes to come from a distance or when a financial matter has to be finished up.
T may call attention also to the convulsions which occurred as a j)art of the terminal acidosis. Diabetes is not often mentioned among the ])Ossible causes of convulsions, because there is so rarely any difiiculty in recognizing sj)asms of this type, occurring as they do at tlie end of a prostrating illness, the nature of whicii is not likely to ha\-e been in doubt. When a convulsion occurs "out of a clear sky'' in a ])atient not known j^reviously to be ill, it practically never turns out to be due to diabetes.
Outcome. As he showed every sign of imj)ending coma at entrance. he was saturated as rapidly as possibk' with sodium bicarbonate, giwn both by mouth and intravenously. Sodium bicarbonate. 250 c.c. ot a 2.^, per cent, solution, was given, and next day 350 c.c. ot a 5 per cent, solution of glucose was administered intra\enously. This was followed by a very marked imj)rovement.
On account of the very marked acidosis the patient was given an unmodified diet, the bowels kept open by enemata, and his appetite stimulated- by bitter tonics. He was kept out-of-doors daily, well wrapped up, in bed.
December loth the diet was slightly restricted, omitting starchy soups, though cereals, bread, milk and potatoes were given without restriction. Chewing-gum was allowed on his request, and gave much relief to the dryness of the mouth.
drowsy.
On the thirtieth numerous purpuric spots appeared on the trunk, arms and legs, and he began to have drowsiness, which rapidly increased to complete coma, after which he had a series of general clonic convulsions lasting from thirty to sixty seconds each. At midnight he died.
An Irish painter of thirty entered the hospital November 25, 1907. His mother died of cancer, and he has lost one sister of consumption. He is a hard drinker every Saturday, rarely drinking during the week. He had gonorrhea three times, but denies syphilis.
For six weeks he has complained of weakness in his legs and back — he says his legs won't hold him up. His joints are lifeless and he cannot go upstairs. There is no swelling of his joints, and he has no pain except on stretching the muscles. He has lost no weight. His appetite is good, and he feels well except for the above complaint. He quit work two weeks ago, but has not been in bed.
out any other abnormality there. There is no lead line.
Tlie heart is slow — 60 to the minute, with a prolonged diastolic pause. The artery walls are firm, but not nodular; lungs normal, abdomen rather s])astic, not otherwise remarkable. There is wellmarked left varicocele.
The knee-jerks are absent even on reenforcement. Kernig's sign present on the right; well-marked Romberg sign; superficial reflexes lively; no Babinski; temperature, pulse, respiration; and urine are normal.
Discussion. — Most patients who come to us complaining of wealcness in the legs have some disease of the nervous system. Occasionally a case of diabetes or of cardiac trouble brings this symptom into the foreground, but, as a rule, all general diseases outside the central ner\ous system have some chief complaint or complaints other than weakness.
Among diseases of the nervous system some type of neuritis is suggested because the pupils are normal, the reflexes diminished, and the symptoms bilateral. The occupation of the patient naturally ])rejudices us in favor of lead-poisoning, but as there is no lead line, no colic, no special in\olvement of the extensor muscles (toe-drop), we are inclined to canvas the other possible causes of neuritis first.
As an alcoholic he has a perfect right to alcoholic neuritis, though we see no special reason why it should come on now rather than sooner. Most, if not all, cases of alcoholic neuritis, however, present some sensory symptoms. This patient has none.
Tabes dorsalis is ver\' unlikely on account of the normal reaction of the pupils and the entire absence of sensor}^ symptoms such as usually occupy the foreground in tabes.
One possibly decisive test has been omitted — blood examination. Alcoholic neuritis rarely if exei produces any marked basophilic stippling of the red cells; saturnine neuritis practically always does. To this question, therefore, it is reasonable next to turn our attention.
Outcome. — Blood examination showed hemoglobin, 70 per cent.; leukocvtes, 5500. In the stained smear the red cells exhibited marked achromia and a great deal of stippling, but no other abnormalities.
Under })otassium iodid — 10 grains thrice daily — the patient began to impro\e at once, and by the thirteenth of December could walk fairly well, though a slight exertion put him out of breath.
A married woman, forty-three years old, with an excellent family history, past history, and good habits, entered the hos])ital October 13, 1006. She had always been well until a }ear ago, when she noticed that she was gradually growing weak. She had no ])ain anywhere; her a])])etite remained good and her bowels regular; but some montlis later she noticed that tlie abdomen was increasing in size and that she was short of breath on exertion. At this time she was much annoyed by noises in her left ear and by attacks of vertigo. Throughout the past year her weakness has steadily increased and is her only complaint at the present time.
Four years ago she weighed i6o pounds, now she weighs 117. On examination the patient is somewhat pale, but the hemoglobin shows 70 per cent. She is well nourished.
The heart is negative, save for a soft systolic murmur, best heard in the third left interspace, and not transmitted. The vessels of the neck pulsate rather strongly. The lungs are entirely negative. The abdomen shows a marked prominence on the left side, and dulness as shown in the accompanying diagram (Fig. 142).
Discussion. — One could hardly make a mistake in the diagnosis of this case unless one were in the habit of relying on symptoms rather than on the results of physical examination. No one could fail to notice the abdominal tumor if he had palpated the abdomen with any care. No one with any knowledge of physical examination could have any doubt that that tumor was due to splenic enlargement.
Splenic enlargement associated with such evidences of anemia as this patient presents is characteristic of three diseases seen in temperate cUmates, and among those who have never visited the tropics. The huge "ague-cake" of chronic estivo-autumnal malarial or kala-azar need not be considered in any patient who has never been out of New England. Leukemia, splenic anemia, and syphilis are the only diseases which we need to consider. Leukemia can be instantly recognized by the blood examination. Splenic anemia and visceral syphilis may be almost indistinguishable unless other evidence of syphilis can be obtained from the history or in the physical examination.
Outcome. — Examination of the blood showed: red cells, 2,656,000; white cells, 652,000. Differential count showed polynuclears, 54 per cent.; myelocytes, 38 per cent.; eosinophiles, 3.5 per cent.; mast cells, 2.5 per cent.; lymphocytes, 2 per cent.
The red cells wTre well stained and showed no special abnormalities. This blood-picture did not change appreciably during the month in which the patient was under observation.
dominal support which held up the enlarged spleen.
Under .v-ray treatment she seemed to be getting steadily better until the ninth of No\ember, when she had a slight pain in the left back, wliich later in the evening became severe; morphin, | grain by mouth, was vomited.
Respiration was slightly quickened. At 2 o'clock in the morning of November loth the i)atient had a chill and vomited. The pulse rose to 130; res])iration was very rapid; temperature, 99.4° F. ^Morphin, I grain subcutaneously, gave some relief; but at 4.50 the respiration
A married woman of forty-four was first seen on July lo, 1907. Her family history is entirely uneventful. She was said to have had cerebrospinal meningitis when a child, and has ever since been subject to headaches and nose-bleeds. The menopause occurred five years ago. She has had no children and no miscarriages.
drinks the Boston city water through a lead pipe.
Two weeks ago she became so weak that she fell to the floor, striking the back of her head. She was unconscious for about an hour, and woke up in bed, where she had been put by her husband. Since then she has been unable to stand unless supported, although she can move her legs readily in bed.
During the past four days her arms and fingers have become numb and Hfeless. She can hold a knife and fork, but she cannot lift a glass of water. Her speech has not been affected, and sphincteric control is perfect. She has no headache and sleeps well. The bowels are constipated; her appetite is poor.
On examination the patient shows loss of weight; the arteries are palpable and tortuous above the elbow; the heart, lungs, and abdomen are negative, except for a sharp edge felt underneath the right ribs. The knee-jerks are not obtained. There is general tenderness over the nerve-trunks of the legs. The grip of both hands is weak, and the extensors of the wrist are likewise weak.
is normal and contains no arsenic.
Discussion. — Evidently this is a different type of weakness from that of the cases we ha\'e been ])reviously studying. It is referred more 'definitely to legs, and a])pears suddenly. Especially when we take account of the condition of the nervous system, as re\caled bv physical examination, we are clear that the case does not belong with those in which weakness is due to cardiac or toxemic conditions.
The ])ossible connection of lead with the trouble is naturallv our first thought, since the history mentions a lead pipe. It must be remembered, howcNcr, that in the \ast majority of cases, water eoniing through lead ])ipe between the street main and the facet within the house does
not become impregnated with lead and does no harm to any one. More over, in this patient the tissues most sensitive to lead and most apt to show its influence as soon as poisoning begins, are here evidently untouched. There are no changes in the gums or in the blood, no coUc, no arthritis, no encephalopathy.
Arsenical poisoning has now gone out of fashion, partly, I believe, because the neurologists have grown tired of it and are fonder of the term ''neurasthenia"' or ''psychoneurosis," partly because our wallpapers are now freer from arsenical dyes. The absence of arsenic from the urine in the present case would probably be accepted as conclusive evidence against the presence of arsenical poisoning. On the other hand, it must be remembered that a considerable proportion of the community often passes arsenical urine from time to time while in perfect health, so that the demonstration of the mineral is by no means proof of arsenical poisoning. Negative evidence is here better than positive.
Epidemic poliomyelitis is apt to occur in the hot summer months, in one of which this patient was attacked. It is, however, very rare at her age, does not often attack both legs or produce such incomplete paralysis of the muscles involved. Tenderness over the nerve-trunks is not common.
The tenderness just referred to enables us to rule out other types of myelitis which would in any case be unlikely to produce so mild a disturbance of motion, without increase of reflexes or involvement of the sphincters. Alcoholic neuritis would produce practically all the symptoms here complained of, but the amount of alcohol which she admits ha\'ing consumed seems insufficient to ]:)roduce so severe a trouble. If no other cause can be discovered, however, we may have to disbelieve her story.
Beyond any reasonable doubt she has a multiple neuritis; as she has had no fever, we cannot call it an infectious type of neuritis, and all other varieties, except that referred to in the last paragraph, appear to have been excluded. On the whole, alcoholic neuritis seems the most reasonaljle diagnosis.
Outcome. — Upon cross-questioning the j)atient later admitted that she had been taking four bottles of ale daily for a number of months. As a result of continued abstinence, with good hygiene, she recovered entirely in the course of three months.
A freight-handler of twenty-six entered the hospital August 14, 1907. He had always been previously well except for an attack of fever five years ago. He began to lose his appetite and his strength two weeks ago. A week ago he was so weak that he gave up work.
In the last ten days he has vomited almost everj'thing he has eaten and has had very little appetite. He has also had a cold in his head, with a little cough and pain in the right side of the chest. His bowels are regular, but he sleeps poorly.
Physical examination shows good nutrition; the heart's apex is in the fifth space in the nipple-line, but the heart-sounds are also distinctly heard to the right of the sternum.
There is dulness at the base of the right lung below the angle of the scapula, accompanied by diminished vocal and tactile fremitus, diminished breath-sounds, and crackling rales.
Discussion. — Without the physical examination we have no clue. Even with it there seems to be but little to account for so much prostration, for it will be noted that the breath-sounds are audible, though diminished over the whole of the affected side. We must be dealing either with a very small accumulation of fluid or with a plastic pleurisy resulting in thickening. Is this enough to explain so much weakness and fever?
Yes, it certainly is enough, as experience has repeatedly shown us, because it implies with reasonaUe certainty other tul^erculous lesions in the lung itself, in the internal lym])hatic glands, or elsewhere. \'ery probably that attiick of fe\er fne years pre\iously was also due to tuberculosis, possibly also pleural in situation, though nothing of the kind was recognized at that time.
Of course, we must run o\er in our minds and exclude by our questions or ])hysical tests the other familiar causes of weakness, such as anemia, . ])S}choneurotic conditions, dialjctes, concealed se])sis, and other infections. But this I think we can do with tlie aid of the data here presented. Doul)tless we are right in ])eing influenced to faxor the diagnosis of tifl)erculosis in this case 1)y our knowledge that many other cases demonstrated Ijy the lapse of time to be tul)erculous ha\e begun just in this way.
A shipper of thirty-eight was first seen April 9, 1908. He has been in the habit of taking 20 glasses of beer a day, but his past history, as well as his family history, is otherwise negative. He has had pneumonia three times, the last time four years ago. A week ago he had the grip, from which he is now convalescing. He now feels pretty well, but weak.
Five days ago some albumin was found in his urine and he was put upon a milk diet. Lately he has vomited his milk. There has been no swelling of the legs or face. A year ago he weighed 190 pounds, now he weighs 170. He has had a good deal of cough and sputa during the past week, but he thinks not previously.
The liver dulness extended from the sixth rib to the costal margin. The edge of the organ was palpable. The sputa showed large numbers of pneumococci; no tubercle bacilH on repeated examination. The ocular tuberculin reaction was negative.
Discussion. — This man is said to have had the "grip." Can his weakness be accounted for merely as a result of that disease? In the epidemic of influenza occurring in 1889 and 1890 the convalescence was notoriously slow and painful, but \\ithin the past few years I do not believe that we have had any cases of that type, so that I should doubt \-cry much, even before scrutinizing the results of physical examination, any explanation of this patient's weakness as the result of such a type of influenza as could have been acquired in 1908.
Such an albuminuria as is recorded above is quite often seen after mild attacks of tonsillitis or nasopharyngitis — i. e., a common cold. The urinary findings, therefore, do not imply that the previous infection has been anything more serious than a cold. But the physical signs in the lungs certainly do imply something more, and can be explained only as the result of some type of ])neumonia or as the results of tuberculosis.
Delayed resolution in jmeumonia is so rare that one should never make the diagnosis with confidence unless em])yema, especially in the interlobar form, ])ulmonary aljsccss, and tuberculosis can be excluded. The negative tuberculin reaction is here of very c()nsideral)le value. The negative results of sputum examination arc also of some importance, especially as their num])er is considerable.
These two facts, together with the a])sencc of fe\"cr and the presence of a transient albuminuria, should incline us to decide against tul)erculosis, and in fa\'or of some acute infection of the luiigs, now prol);il)ly in the stage of convalescence.
He was in bed four months ago for a few days on account of a sUght cough and expectoration, which was never bloody. After a week he returned to work, but then he had pain in his legs, relieved by flat-foot plates. He still felt very weak and run down, and through the aid of the Social Service Department was sent to a farm, whence he returned after two weeks unimproved; indeed, since his return has been getting
of breath on exertion.
He says he has pains all over, a very poor appetite, cannot sleep, and is feverish and chilly at times. (See Fig. 146.)
The patient was found to be poorly nourished. Physical examination was otherwise entirely negative, save for sharp lateral curvature of the spine to the right in the midscapular region. Tuberculin (o.i, I, 5, and 10 miUigrams) was injected subcutaneously, but was not followed by any rise of temperature or any constitutional symptoms. The blood and urine were entirely normal. In^•estigation of the gastric functions with a stomach-tube showed no fasting contents, a capacity of 40 ounces, and after a test-meal: free HCl, 0.18; total acidity, 0.44. Discussion. — The onset of this illness is very characteristic of tuberculosis. Cough, fever, anorexia, weakness, shortness of breath, chilliness, insomnia — all ]3oint in that direction. It will need the strongest kind of e\idence to convince us that this boy is free from the tuberculous taint.
By continued obser\'ation, however, by repeated examinations of the lungs, and especially by the negative results of tuberculin injections, it was possible, in my judgment, to exclude tuberculosis.
The gastric functions were then carefully studied, but nothing of any importance as evidence of disease was discovered. By the study of the blood and urine we were able further to narrow the field of possibilities.
results.
After all these tests had turned out negative, it seemed justifiable to return to that most obvious and yet most perilous diagnosis, a functional nervous derangement. The age of the patient and his race doubtless helped to justify such a diagnosis. The more one sees of adolescence, the more one is astonished at the apparent gravity but eventual transiency of the physical and mental symptoms exhibited by some healthy people at that period. Boys and girls who turn out quite healthy, sensible, and reliable in adult life, may be almost inconceivably weak, vacillating, hypochondriacal, and turbulent at that period. All their vital forces seem to be slowing down or hobbling along as if about to stop altogether. This applies to all races, but more especially to the Jews.
Outcome. — By the twelfth of July he was eating better and behanng as if he had some strength. He had received up to that time no drugs except an occasional dose of veronal, 10 grains, for insomnia. His blood-pressure on the twenty-second was 115 mm. Hg. At this time he looked and felt much better, but did not gain in weight. Potassium iodid was tried in large doses, but produced no impro\cmcnt.
After eight weeks of observation, with careful study of the case, we were convinced that the patient's mental attitude had a great deal to do with his condition. After some reeducation he was discharged much relieved.
A married woman of forty-three, of good family history, entered the hospital May 22, 1908. She had "inllammation of the bowels" twelve years ago and was sick for two months. Before and since that time she has been well until two weeks ago, when she began to feel tired and weak all over. She has had no pain anywhere, but her a])])etite has been poor. For a week she has noticed chilly sensations, with a scantv, liighcolored urine. Two days ago she had a sore throat and took to her bed. Now the sore throat has disappeared. She has not Ix'cn exposed to ty])lK)id fever, so far as she knows. She has no cough.
The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 147). A systolic murmur is heard all over the heart's area, loudest in the pulmonary area. The aortic second is louder than the pulmonic second sound. 'Hie heart's apex is in the midchnicular line. ]'. inches to the left of midsternum.
The arteries and lungs show nothing abnormal. There is some dulness in the flanks, but this does not shift with change of position. The abdomen is otherwise negative. Blood cultures and Widal reaction were persistently negative. The white cells at entrance were 10,700, the urine normal. The urine was 25 to 30 ounces in twenty-four hours, specific gravity loio, no albumin, no casts or cells.
should be grouped together as the result of a common cause.
Though there is a systolic murmur over the precordia, it is not so situated or so supported by other physical signs as to be in itself satisfactory evidence of endocarditis or of any other cardiac lesion.
Tuberculous peritonitis would account for many of the symptoms, but we have no physical signs sufficient to justify any such hypothesis. In an abdomen which is otherwise negative, dulness in the flanks means nothing of importance unless it shifts with change of position.
We tried our best to make this case fit the diagnosis of typhoid fever, but could never obtain any positive evidence of it.
Urinary infection seemed very improbable, as the sediment of the urine showed nothing pathologic. Xo culture, howe^■er, was made from it, and if another cause for fever and weakness had not been discovered, bacteriologic investigation of the urine would ha\'e been in order. The reader will, I ho])e, have noted that one method of physical examination, essential as ])art of a thorough study in any obscure case, is here omitted. Doubtless it was this mistake which postponed our making the correct diagnosis. I refer, of course, to the pehic examination. Outcome. — The cause of the weakness and fe\'er remained quite unexplained until May 30th, when the leukocyte count was discovered to have risen to 30,000. This at last suggested a vaginal examination, which showed that the uterus \\'as considerably enlarged. To its left a mass, the size of an orange, a])parently attached to the fundus, extended upward. Another rounded mass seemed to be attached to the anterior uterine wall.
An uncomplicated fibroid tumor would not have produced so much weakness and fever. Were it strangulated, degenerated, suppurating, or in process of producing a localized peritonitis, there should have been pain. Fibroid must, therefore, be ruled out or recognized as a subordinate part of the diagnosis. Cyst of the ovary or the broad ligament should produce more acute symptoms if its pedicle were twisted, and less fever if it were in a normal condition.
Operation June 2d revealed a large pelvic aljscess to the left of the uterus and a pus-tube on the right. There were also two small fibroid tumors attached to the fundus uteri. These were shelled out, the pus was drained, and the patient made a good recovery.
An Italian laborer of forty-eight, of good family history and past history, was first seen October 11, 1907. He had a nose-bleed ten days ago, and has since then suffered from general malaise and weakness, with moderate headache, ill-defined abdominal ])ain, and slight cough.
Physical examination showed a swarthy, well-developed man, breathing rapidly but easily. (See accompanying chart, Fig. 148.) He wa.s almost without complaint when seen, though his face was flushed, his breath very offensi\e. The cardioN'ascular system was negative. Breathing throughout the right back seemed more feel)le than in the left, otherwise the lungs were entirely negative, as was the al)domen.
breath to be due to atrophic rhinitis.
On the fifteenth the patient began to raise mouthfuls of thick, reddishgray, odorless pus, looking like that from gangrene of the lung, but without the characteristic odors. It contained a variety of organisms, but no tubercle bacilli. On the seventeenth the lungs were so full of coarse, bubbling rales that the heart-sounds were inaudible.
The right axilla was duller than the left.
On the eighteenth the abdomen began to be distended, the neck to be slightly stiff. The face expressed extreme anxiety and dread. On the eighteenth the sputum began to have a foul odor, and the right thigh became generally tender on motion and somewhat swollen.
On the nineteenth the white cells had risen to 14,900. On the twentieth an abscess appeared on the top of the left shoulder, and a similar one, painful, indurated, and red, appeared in the right groin below Poupart's ligament.
diarrhea developed.
Discussion. — This case begins just hke a typhoid, and at first there seemed to be nothing else that we could call it, although there was no Widal reaction, no rose spots or splenic enlargement, no bacilli by blood culture, and nothing characteristic about the temperature-curve. But as we could find no signs of tuberculosis, septicemia, synhilis, or any other type of obscure fever, our best guess was typhoid during the first four days of the illness.
When the pus began to come up and was found to be free from tubercle bacilli, we began to search for further cN'idence of pulmonary abscess. Nothing localizing could be found, but this, as experience has shown, is often the case in abscess of the lung. Our present methods of physical examination — even when supplemented by radiography — are not sufficiently accurate to reveal the presence of pulmonar}- abscess in all cases. We may have a little patch of dulness and diminished breathing, or rales may be heard over a circumscribed area; but nothing characteristic is often found, cspeciallv when the abscess is multiple and small. It is quite possible that the pus came entirely from the bronchi in this case.
When the peripheral abscesses began to appear, our attention was no longer concentrated on the lungs, and it began to be clear that we were dealing with a general mfection. When the pericarditis de\'eloped, there was no Ioniser any reasonal)le douljt of the diagnosis.
showed the staphylococcus aureus without any admixture of other organisms. The same coccus w^as obtained from the external abscesses. On the twenty-fourth the patient died, no benefit having been obtained from an autogenous vaccine.
An unmarried stenographer of twenty-nine had lost her mother of typhoid fever and one sister of acute tuberculosis two and one-half years ago. She was first seen by me March 12, 1908.
The patient had bronchitis for a whole year when twelve years old, but has since been well until the previous fall, when she became run down, lost appetite, and had some pain in the left upper chest. Her chief complaint at this time was of weakness. She went to the country and remained there two months, with some impro\ement, so that she was able to go to work again on Januar)' 13, 1908; but as soon as she took up her work again she began to lose appetite, and felt very tired and often chilly at night after her work. She had no cough and no pain, and continued to work until two days ago, when she noticed fever and headache and began to cough and raise yellow sputa.
Yesterday evening her temperature was said to ha\e been 104° F. For the last two days slie has had no sputa. She has now no pain anywhere. (For the course of the temperature see the accompan}ing chart. Fig. 149.)
The patient is well-nourished, ruddy; the heart and vessels show nothing aljnormal. 0\cr the right clavicle in front, and abo^e the s])ine of tlic sca])ula behind, there is slight dulness, increased whisper, increased vocal and tactile fremitus, broncliovesicular breathing, and a few fine crackling rales. Kernig's isthmus and the excursion of the lung are equal on tlie two sides.
The latter diagnosis is difficult positively to exclude. A few cases are on record which prove that an influenzal bronchopneumonia may be so localized at the apex of a lung as to simulate tuberculosis. Such cases, however, are very rare, and for practical purposes may be disregarded.
The physical signs of this case, though strongly suggestive of tuberculosis, are not in themselves, and in the absence of any longer pyrexia, conclusive. The so-called bronchitis, which lasted a whole year during the patient's childhood, doubtless inclines us to interpret any dubious pulmonary signs as e\idence of tuberculosis. But it must be remembered that such signs may be the harmless residual effects of an old burnt-out process which do not necessarily signify anything of importance at the present time. One of the most difficult tasks that I know of in connection with pulmonary diagnosis is to distinguish, by physical signs alone, the scars of an old healed process from the e\idences of a new and threatening one. In many cases the differentiation of the two is impossible until the progress of the symptoms supplements our physical examination.
Despite several negative examinations of the sputa, our pro\isional diagnosis was phthisis, the most decisive point in our minds being the sharp, crackling quality of the rales, although they were elicited only by cough.
Outcome. — After repeated negative examinations of the sputa, tubercle bacilli were finally found March 19th. On the twenty-seventh she went to a sanatorium for the tuberculous.
A housemaid of twenty-four entered the hospital July 15, 1908. Her family history and past history are good. She has one child eight months old. Ever since this baby was bom she has complained of weakness. Though the labor was normal and not difficult, she has been able to walk since the baby was born but a few steps, owing to muscular weakness and edema of the legs. These troubles have been notable for t\\o months, and have been accompanied by dyspnea on exertion. Pallor has also been noticed ever since the baby was bom. For the past month she has also had some pain in the chest on taking a deep breath. She has no other ])ain. Her appetite is good, her bowels are regular, her sleep is fair. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 150).
The patient is emaciated, pale, has one large submental gland, and several small postcervical glands. The heart shows no enlargement and no murmurs. The sounds are regular, clear, rapid. The bloodpressure is 100 mm. Hg. The lungs are negative except for one or two squeaking rales above the right clavicle and at the right base behind, with slight dulness, and diminished breathing.
not shift to any extent with change of position.
There is a right lateral curvature of the spine, projecting somewhat backward, and involving the twelfth dorsal and the first, second, and third lumbar vertebrae. A pelvic examination is negative. Blood examination shows marked achromia, and some variation in size and shape. Urine is normal. Reflexes normal.
On the eighteenth there was distinct evidence of fluid in the abdomen, and the signs at the apex of the lung were no less evident.
Discussion. — At first sight the cardiac symptoms appear to be in the foreground. The edema, the dyspnea, the ascites, and the low blood-pressure all point in this direction, but the examination of the licart gives no support to the idea that any type of heart disease is {)resent.
There is a good deal to suggest tul)erculosis, especially the rather equivocal pulmonary signs and the association of ascites with fever. On the other hand, if the belly fluid were due to tul)crculous ])eritonitis, we should expect ])ain, tenderness, or spasm, none of which is j)rescnt.
From the blood examination it a])pcars that the patient is anemic, and much of her weakness is doubtless due to this cause, but the details of tlie Ijlood examination are such as to compel us to seek some further cause for the anemia itself.
The si)inal deformil}- might l)e either the result of some old quiescent tr()u])le or of a more recent disease. Since there are reasons to suspect tuberculosis in other parts of the Itody, tlie thought of Pott's disease should cross our minds. This leads straight to an .v-ra}' examination as the next ste]) in the study of the case.
A carriage painter of thirty-seven entered the hospital February 20, 1908. His father died of ulcer of the stomach, his mother of pneumonia, one sister and one cousin of pulmonary tuberculosis. The patient has always been perfectly well. He denies venereal disease and has good habits. Two years ago he overworked, and has since had much to worry him, especially his wife's sickness (heart disease) and the death of one of his children. Apparently, as a result of these troubles, he has been gradually running down, and last October had to quit work on account of general weakness and stomach trouble. He has an excellent appetite, but frequently vomits, especially in the morning before breakfast. His bowels are loose, moving usually two or three times a day. For three months he has been short of breath and has a little cough and expectoration. For two months he has been troubled with numbness in his hands and feet. For three weeks he has had night-sweats. His average weight is 135 pounds. At present he weighs 118 pounds.
Physical examination showed a sallow, somewhat emaciated young man with partial right wrist-drop; the chest entirely negative. The abdomen was ver}' rigid throughout, tympanitic, but not tender. The blood was examined 20 or 30 times at weekly intervals. At entrance the red cells were 1,062,000. From that point they rose by Alarch 24th to 1,880,000, after which they gradually declined, reaching 570,000 on the twenty-second of June. The white cells ranged between 4000 and 7000. The hemoglobin at entrance was 55 per cent., and remained always relatively high.
The differential count showed nothing remarkable. In the stained specimen the red cells showed considerable stippling, some achromia in the smaller cells, and deep staining of the larger ones. Megaloblasts were always present and in excess of the normoblasts.
in tint, though no arsenic was given during his stay in the hospital.
The ocular tuberculin reaction was negative; the urine and stools contained no lead. Throughout his stay in the hospital he complained of nothing but weakness and numbness of tlie extremities.
By the thirteenth of May he had a chill, the temperature rising to 104.6° F. Previous to that time it had ranged between 98° and icx)° F. After that there was a moderate pyrexia — 99° to loi ° F. — for about one-half of the rest of his stay. No cause for the chill was found.
Discussion. — Carriage painters often get lead-poisoning. Because of this patient's occupation, as well as for other reasons presently to be mentioned, plumbism is the first possibility which calls for investigation. Our patient has a wrist-drop, various troubles with his stomach, and stippling of the red blood-corpuscles, all of which signs point toward lead. On the other hand, the blood-picture is distinctly that of primary anemia. His gums show no lead line and his wrist-drop turns out on inquiry to be an affair of very long standing. The degree of anemia, moreover, aside from its t}^pe, is greater than that seen in any but the severest cases of lead-poisoning, such as exhibit extensive paralyses and encephalopathy. Finally, the absence of lead in the stools and urine decisively excludes plumbism.
The brownish pigmentation of the skin, steadily increasing at a time when no arsenic was given, suggests Addison's disease of the suprarenal capsules, rather than the anemia first described by him. The weakness and stomach trouble are quite in harmony with this idea. On the otiier hand, suprarenal disease is never, so far as I am aware, associated witli so severe an anemia except in the acutest and most fulminating cases. In the great majority the anemia is very moderate. The negative ocular tuberculin reaction helps to convince us that we are not dealing with the commonest type of Addison's disease — suprarenal tuberculosis.
Pernicious anemia, then, seems to be the most reasonable diagnosis, although the patient is rather younger than most of those who suffer from this t\'pe of anemia. The chill and sudden rise of temperature on the thirteenth of May puzzled us somewhat. Fever, it is true, is the rule in pernicious anemia, but not so sudden and sharp a rise. Probaljly it is to be explained as the result of some secondary infection fa^•orcd b\the great weakening of general resistance. I haNe seen a good many similar attiicks in the last few years, all of them ])assing off", as in thi> case, without any indication of their source.
A real-estate agent thirty-six years old consulted me February 15, 1909, complaining of weakness and headache. Although he has an excellent appetite and perfect digestion, he has lost 25 pounds in the last two years, 14 pounds of which were lost within the last three months.
His family history is good except that his father died of tuberculosis.
His past history was uneventful until September, 1901, when he had tvphoid fever. In 1904 he had a good deal of pain in his shoulders, which passed off, however, within a few months, though no diagnosis or treatment was given. For the next three years he was quite well, but in December, 1907, he had pains in his left arm, diagnosed as neuritis. By reason of this he was kept out of work in January and February, 1908, and in August and September of the same year,
November 7, 1908, he had an attack of vomiting, accompanied by severe headache, and was kept in bed a week. Ever since that time he has been troubled by headache, which is worse on waking in the morning, and usually clears off at noon. It afTects especially the vertex and the frontal region, but is not changed in any way by the position, by diet, or by the weather. His eyes have been examined by a specialist and i)ronounced entirely normal except for a horizontal nystagmus of almost minute excursion. His nose has also been carefully examined, but nothing found.
He had no fever at any time, but his physician tells him that his pulse is rarely below 100. From time to time he has had slight jaundice. Since November 7th he has felt unable to work, and since December he has passed urine once or twice every night after bed-time.
Physical examination shows rather poor nutrition; the internal viscera are entirely negative, except that the pulse is 1 10 — not an unusual rate during an office consultation in patients of any tendency to nervousness. The knee-jerks are unusuallv livelv; the blood-pressure, 155 mm. Hg.
The urine is of normal color; 40 ounces in twenty- four hours; specific gravity, 1023, no albumin, no sugar. Several subsequent examinations showed essentially the same conditions. Blood normal.
Discussion. — Loss of weight with a good appetite is a rather rare combination of sym])toms. Diabetes is its only quite familiar cause, and that disease can be immediately ruled out of consideration in view of the urinary findings.
emotional strain, in certain stages of arteriosclerosis, and in hyperthyroidism. This patient's headaches never prevented his sleeping. He had no special causes for anxiety, and seemed to be in good spirits: There was no good reason to suspect arteriosclerosis, and no external evidence of that disease.
Hyperthyroidism (Graves' disease) should always be suspected when a patient loses weight despite a good appetite, especially if there is any tendency, as in this case, toward tachycardia. As I examined this patient with special reference to hy]jerthyroidism, I found no trace of goiter or exophthalmos, but quite a definite fine tremor of the fingers when extended.
Outcome. — Under a regime of overfeeding and rest the patient's headaches became much less frequent, his pulse slower, and his weight increased. In October, 1909, he was back at work.
I was consulted, September 4, 1906, by a widow aged sixty-four, whose chief and most distressing complaint was weakness. Her weight had shown no change; her appetite was, she said, "too good," and her sleep excellent. She had no ])ain, cough, or vomiting, but she had been losing strength steadily for years, and for the past tweh'e months had been decidedly short of breath. In 1891 she had been treated by Dr. Arthur T. Cabot for hemorrhoids, wliich never bled at all, as far as she knew, until two years ago, when there began to be some bleeding each month for a ])eriod of three or four days. For the past five months, howe\'er, there has been no Ijleeding whatc\-er.
Her color has been noliccal)Iy abnormal for at least six years. Four years ago, she says, it v/as worse than it is now. Headaches ha\e bothered her some ])art of c\cry da}- for many }-ears. They are aggravated by walking, and affect especially the occipitiil region. She is markedly consti])atcd, and notices a good deal of mucus in the stools. Two years ago she had an iUness wliich slie fears was a "shock," and since that time she talks slowly and with difficulty. All her symptoms are aggravated in winter, and she feels tlie cold very much, thougli not more, she says, than most ladies of her age,
Fxamination showed a A'ellow, waxv pallor of the skiii. The ])aticnt was somewhat obese, but nothing wrong was detected iii the internal viscera or in the urine, l^lood examination showed:
per cent, of lymphocytes, and 2 per cent, of eosinophiles. The red corpuscles showed marked achromia and slight deformities. There were no nucleated forms or abnormal staining reactions.
Discussion. — The- case was sent to me as one of pernicious anemia, and her appearance bore out this diagnosis. The blood examination, however, did not, but was indicative rather of a secondary type of anemia. It did not seem to me that there was enough hemorrhage (assuming the history to be correct) to account for this anemia.
Rectal examination and the study of the stools showed no evidence of a rectal or intestinal cancer, and her good nutrition and freedom from pain or diarrhea made it unnecessary to consider this diagnosis further.
I learned, during a subsequent visit, that she had difficulty in making fine motions with her fingers. Following up this hint I tested the functions of motion, sensation, reflex action, and nutrition without getting any new information except that the skin was very dry and the nutrition of the finger-nails notably poor. The association of this condition of the skin with slowness of speech naturally suggested myxedema.
On questioning her I then learned that her hair had been coming out very fast, though she had thought and said nothing of it, supposing that her age accounted for the loss. It appeared, further, that she never perspired unless the thermometer was above 90° F., a temperature very grateful to her feelings.
Outcome. — The patient was given thyroid extract, 2 grains three times a day, gradually increased to 5 grains three times a day. January i6th she reported herself as wonderfully better. March 25th she wrote that her hair was growing tremendously, so that it was now thick and dark. Her speech had greatly improved, and her waxy pallor had disappeared. Within a short time she was perfectly well, and has remained so up to the present time (1910) . She still takes thyroid extract regularly.
In the table which ends the chapter and in the diagram which begins it I have grouped causes of paralytic weakness without any attempt to tabulate the cardiac or hemic types of weakness.
diagnostic puzzles, and are, therefore, not suitable for this book. Thus:
(a) "A common cold" or mild infection of the upper air-passages, whether by the influenzal or other bacilli, may produce cough by irritating the pharynx, larynx, trachea, and larger bronchi. Diagnosis is suggested by direct inspection of these parts, and by the absence of signs in the lungs and other viscera. It is clinched by the short, mild course of the affection.
(b) In infants and children diffuse bronchitis often stuffs the lungs with squeaking or crackling rales, with or without considerable constitutional signs. To exclude pneumonia is here the chief diagnostic task. Occasionally this cannot be done. Usually the absence of marked constitutional signs (continued fever, marked leukocytosis, cyanosis, drowsiness) and of the physical evidence of solidification in any part of the lungs excludes pneumonia.
monia have not been included.
(d) The so-called "stomach coughs," ''uterine coughs," "Hver coughs," and other "reflex" irritations from a distance have not yet demonstrated themselves in my experience.
VARIETIES OF COUGH
(o) The distinction between a loose or productive cough, which is associated with sputa [unless the patient is too weak or too young to raise any], and a dry or unproductive cough, is verv familiar.
(b) The brassy or laryngeal cough is a loud, ringing, usually unproductive effort, associated most often with aneurysms or tumors pressing upon the trachea. It is not by any means distinctive, but in conjunction with other and more precise signs it may help us to recognize a source of pressure in the mediastinum. For this reason it is often called a "pressure^' cough.
COUGH 579
(c) Nervous cough is sometimes a life-long habit, showing itself especially when the individual is embarrassed or when he desires to preempt a pause in the conversation. Many patients will undergo a long siege of questioning and physical examination without showing any sign of cough until we ask them whether this symptom is troublesome. With the first words of their answer there comes a cough.
Yet it must be remembered that in some cases of incipient phthisis the cough seems to be of the nervous variety, and is believed to be such by the patient and his family. The matter can be settled only by careful watching and repeated examination.
{d) A barking cough often occurs in children at or before the age of puberty. It has no special significance, though it often gives rise to much alarm. Its explanation is not known, and it may be associated with any of the commoner lesions of the upper respiratory tract.
tasis.
{h) Winter cough recurring each year is usually characteristic of bronchiectasis. The cavities remain comparatively dry and harmless in the summer-time, but are prone to become infected, usually with the infiuenza bacillus, in the winter-time. This is the affection usually known as chronic bronchitis, though a considerable ])ercentage of the cases so diagnosed are really due to pulmonary tuberculosis.
A mule spinner of forty-li\e, of good family history and ])ast liistory, was seen Xovem])er 14, 1907. He took gas as an anesthetic twenty weeks ago and had all his teeth ])ullcd out. He had no trou])le at the time, but a week later he i)egan to have pain in the right side of tlie chest, worse on deep breath. Two weeks after the anesthetic lie liegan to cough, and noticed that a bad odor and bad taste came into liis moulli; next (lay he coughed so as almost to choke him. Four (hns after this he began to raise more foul s])utum of a dark, greenish-I)rown color, with dark red ])ortions in it. Sometimes the s])utum cann> ru>hin^ ii]i in lar<j;e aniounts with \erv little couu;h. The pain in tlie riu'lit >i(le, mean-
excessive sputa.
Eight weeks ago the cough diminished. His sputa became yellow and less foul, and his appetite improved, as did all his other symptoms, until five weeks ago, when, as he stooped to lace his shoe, blood filled his mouth, and he spit up half a cupful of it. Four hours after he raised about the same amount, and this continued for a couple of days in decreasing quantities. Since then he has not raised any more blood, but his appetite has been very poor and his cough frequent.
Two and one-half weeks ago the pain in the right side again became severe, and he had to get up in the night in order to get breath. Since then he has been short of breath on any exercise, and his sputum has again been foul and dark, as at first.
sweats.
He gave u|) work on July 20th on account of weakness, but he has lost very little weight, as he was always thin. The course of the temperature IS seen in the accompanying chart.
The patient is emaciated, the breath rather foul, the heart negative, the right supraclavicular space deeper and more capacious than the left. A friction-rub is felt in the riyht axilla, and there is dulness throucjhout
the right chest. In the right supraclavicular space and axilla the percussion-note is almost flat. Over the area shown in the diagram (Fig, 152) expiration is rough and prolonged, and there is a coarse friction-rub extending through both inspiration and expiration over the whole right axilla, and heard more faintly in front and behind.
During his stay in the hospital the patient raised daily 10 to 30 ounces of mucopurulent, foul sputa, containing no elastic fibers or tubercle bacilli. Its color was as described by the patient.
Empyema and phthisis are improl)ablc l)ecause of the history and the condition of the sputa. The signs are not situated in the parts generally most affected by phthisis, and when that disease produces a cavity large enough to contain so much sputa, it is practically certain to show bacilli in great numbers. Empyema is almost always postpneumonic, and we have nothing to suggest that this patient has ever had pneumonia.
The sudden onset and the localization of the signs s])eak against the ordinary type of bronchiectasis, namely, that associated with a chronic bronchitis and affecting a great many bronchi almost equally. Blood is far less likely to be raised in l)ronc!iicctasis than in al)sccss or tuberculosis.
After discussing these alternatives, pulmonary abscess seems by far the most reasonable diagnosis. Wc have no clear conception of the reason or method of its origin ; it is diflicult to connect it with tlic taking of gas as an anesthetic unless we su|)])Ose that, under the influence of the gas, lie swallowed something ''the wrong way."' The histor}- gi\es no liint of this. Only by surgical interference could one make the diagnosis any more certain, and the results of such interference are not brilliant enough to make us willing to urge it unless other forms of treatment are obviously useless. This has not yet been ])r()\e(l here.
December 27, 1907.
May 18, 1910, he writes: "I have not fully recovered from my sickness. I am able to go around, but the trouble in my lung has not healed yet. I still cough and spit as much as ever. I have had a number of hemorrhages since I left the hospital. My stomach keeps all right, and I can eat most anything that comes along. My doctor says he thinks my lung will heal up m time."
A mill foreman thirty-eight years old was seen May 4, 1908. He had "congestion of the left lung" twelve years ago. His personal history and family history are otherwise excellent.
In December, 1906, he had a "bad cold" with a severe dry cough which has continued in spells ever since. He sometimes coughs so hard that he faints away, and it is very difficult for him to get his breath at these times; yet he may go for a week without any cough whatever. His appetite is good, his bowels regular and he sleeps well, except during the spells of coughing. He has no digestive or urinary symptoms, and has lost no weight.
Physical examination shows a finely developed, strong-looking man, with a hoarse voice and occasional ringing cough. There are numerous dark-red papules scattered over the chest. The pupils are equal, circular, and react normally. Harsh, noisy respiration is heard over the whole of both lungs. There seems to be some slight dulness toward the top of the right axilla. The abdomen is slightly distended and held rather firmly. It is tympanitic throughout. The patient seems entirely comfortable, exce])t for the coughing spells, at times excessively severe. The urine is negative. The white cells are from 12,000 to 15,000. There arc no abnormal areas of dulness or pulsation. The heart is negati\e. The right pulse is distinctly larger than the left; indeed, the left is hardly palpable.
The patient went back to business on March gth.
Discussion, — Intense paroxysmal cough in children usually means pertussis; in adults one would not make such a diagnosis without a very circumstantial history unless we had heard the typical "whoop."
If tuberculosis were at work, there would be more emaciation, fever, and other constitutional symptoms. In tuberculosis, moreover, the cough is not often so violent, paroxysmal, and intermittent.
Obscure and violent cough is often due to pleural irritation, such as occurs at the onset of acute pleurisy or when foreign bodies irritate the surface of the lung. But there seems no evidence of any source of irritation in this case.
Malignant disease of the lung, pleura, or mediastinal glands should always be considered in obscure diseases of the respiratory tracts. Diagnosis, however, is impossible unless there is a pleural effusion, some pulmonary signs corresponding to an inliltration of the lung or pleura, or radiating pressure pains. Except for the slight dulness, made out rather doubtfully toward the top of the right axilla, we have nothing corresponding to any circumscribed pulmonary or ])leural lesions. This questionable dulness is not a sufficient basis for any diagnostic hypothesis.
Most significant in this case, as in any invohing hoarseness and a ringing })aroxysmal cough, is the difference between the two pulses. Indeed, in the presence of these three symptoms we should always sus])ect aneurysm, with malignant tumor as a less prolmblc alternative. It is ])ossible, of course, that the difference of the pulses may represent nothing ])ut a congenital anomaly. Such idiosyncracies are not uncommon, but they are rarely associated with the rest of the symptom grou]) above described. To arri^■c at any greater certainty regarding the diagnosis we need, first of all, an examination of the vocal cords. If one cord is found to be in the cadaveric position, we may conclude that the left recurrent laryngeal nerve is being pressed u])on by an aneurysm or a tumor. Further evidence would be furnished by v-ray examination.
Outcome. — Radioscopy showed a pulsating shadow corres])onding to that ordinarily found in aneurysm of the aortic arch, l^xamination of the vocal ccjrds showed no paralysis of the recurrent laryngeal nerve and no ol)struction of the trachea. March 9th the ])atient went back to business, considerably improved by his rest, ]iossibly also b}- the jtotassium iodid which he took in lo-grain doses throughout the ])eri(Ki of treatment.
for the past two years, but has otherwise been well.
Two weeks ago she caught cold and had a bad cough, but stayed at school until a week ago. Yesterday her cold was worse and she went to bed. To-day she has vomited three times. Her bowels are loose as a result of "Father John's Medicine."
At entrance, November 9, 1907, the breathing was rapid, but not labored; cheeks flushed, lips dry and fissured. There was a crop of herpetic vesicles about one corner of the mouth. The glands in the neck, axillae, and groins were somewhat enlarged. The heart's impulse extended to the nipple-line in the fourth space. Its action was regular, and the sounds were of good quality. The pulmonic second sound was louder than the aortic second. In the right back the breathing was rough from the apex to the angle of the scapula, accompanied by squeaks and increase of voice-sounds. The abdomen was flat, spastic, and very tender throughout, especially in the right lower quadrant. Nothing else could be felt. By rectum, there was general tenderness, nothing more distinctive.
White cells, 30,200; urine, normal. A surgeon ])romptly saw the case and thought that her symptoms were all due to the lung invohemcnt. Next morning the belly was much less tender, and by the eleventh the lung signs were also very slight.
examined, without any jjositive result.
From the fourteenth to the eighteenth the child got steadily worse; she woke frcciuently in the night crying with pain, relie\-ed to some extent by llaxseed ])()ulticcs to the abdomen. There was some dulness, with diminished breathing in the right back and lower axilla. The right thigh was now held Hexed upon tlie abdomen.
Discussion. — We have been warned so often of late that whenever a child seems to have something wrong in his abdomen we should always consider and in\estigate the chest, that we naturally make the
effort to explain in this way all this little girl's symptoms. The thoracic diseases which ordinarily produce abdominal pain in children are pneumonia and pleurisy, but this child shows no evidence of either of these. A moderate degree of bronchitis, such as might be the outcome of an ordinary cold or the begmning of a tuberculosis, is what we find. Neither of these diseases is prone to make the abdomen spastic and tender, but the presence of a herpes makes us wonder whether there may not be some deep-seated pneumonic process which we have overlooked.
As the lungs cleared up, the condition of the abdomen did not. Thereby the focus of attention was shifted, and we began to ask ourselves more seriously what was wrong there. Appendicitis is not common in children of this age, and is not often associated with herpes. Nevertheless, it seems more probable than any other condition. The psoas spasm might be explained in this way, especially as there seems to be no lesion of the hip, spine or urinary tract.
Some discussion arose in this case regarding the significance of the leukocyte count. Since children have naturally a higher leukocyte count and greater diurnal variations than adults, some of those who saw this child were in doubt whether a count of 30,000 was markedly abnormal under the circumstances. It seemed to me clear, however, that such a count should be interpreted as a well-marked leukocytosis, since, in children of this age, the blood has practically always attained to conformity with the adult type.
There is no question that Ijronchitis was also ])rescnt here, and after the study of a good many similar cases — some of which devcloT)cd appendicitis, others endocarditis or multij)le arthritis, while still others remained as an unlocalized pyogenic infection of the blood-stream — it seems to me at least ])ossible that the a])])endicitis which results in a case like that here discussed re])resents the outcome or localizatioii of a general ])y()genic infection.
A Russian picture-frame maker, thirtA-tliree years old. who has l)ccn three years in this country, entered the hospital Septcnibcr J4. iwo;. His habits and family hi>tor}- arcexcellent. He was suddenl)- seized, three Mceks ago, with (•]iill> and fe\cr and ])ain through both sides of his chest. Tlu' next da\- he began to coui:h, and the luiin became confined to tlie let't ehe>t. 'I'he aniictite
When examined, he was breathing jerkily. His lungs were hyperresonant throughout, expiration prolonged, feeble, and accompanied by squeaks and crackles. In the left axilla, from the fifth rib downward, a friction-rub could be felt and heard. It was most marked during expiration. Visceral examination was otherwise negative.
The white cells were 5000; the urine normal; there was no fever during his week in the hospital. The patient was given an ice-bag o\er the painful side; h grain of codein every two hours when needed; fluid extract of grindelia robusta, 20 minims every twenty minutes for four doses; then 30 minims every three hours. His chest pain was relieved by strapping the chest.
Discussion. — When pain is complained of in both chests by one who is suffering from a cough, it usually represents the result of muscular soreness due to the cough itself. Occasionally it is produced, like headache and backache, by the infectious agent which has caused the cough. At first sight it seems that pleurisy would be a simpler explanation, at any rate for the left-sided pain; but as we scrutinize the report more carefully and note that the friction was most marked during expiration, we begin to doubt whether it really was a friction — i. e., whether it was due to a pleurisy. Pleural frictions are almost never exaggerated during expiration. The end of inspiration is the favorite time for their appearance and their usual period of maximum intensity. But there is another phenomenon not infrequently mistaken for pleural friction, and especially apt to occur during expiration — I mean the snoring rale which can often be felt as well as heard, and which is ay)t to occur in chests presenting the group of physical signs here recorded.
The most salient point, however, about this case is the presence of cough without fever. Such a cough, associated with the group of signs just referred to, is especially characteristic of the spasmodic or asthmatic type of bronchitis. Indeed, one would proceed straight way to make this diagnosis, provided he had adequately considered two other possibilities which should always haunt us when we make a diagnosis of asthma or asthmatic bronchitis. I refer to :
Any one who remembers, as I do, the disgrace of being confronted at autopsy with aneurysm or syphilitic stenosis of the bronchus in a case which he has treated durine; life for asthma will never be hastv
again in making the latter diagnosis. The wheezing and coughing produced by one of the varieties of syphilis above referred to may be clinically identical with those of ordinary bronchial asthma. The treatment often relied upon for asthma (large doses of potassium iodid) may still further mislead us through the improvement it produces in syphilitic infections. Indeed, one sometimes is led to wonder whether this is not the explanation for the reputation of potassium iodid in the treatment of asthma.
In a paper by Dr. Cleaveland Floyd * we are warned how frequently cases of asthma and emphysema with chronic bronchitis mask the development of a pulmonary tuberculosis.
Both these possibilities were considered in the present case, and everything was done to discover evidence of their presence. Nothing of the kind came to light, however, and with reasonable certainty these haunting possibilities may be excluded by the outcome.
Outcome. — By the thirtieth of September the physical signs were gone and the patient was allowed to go home. His health has since then remained good, though he has occasional attacks of wheezing.
A hospital nurse, twenty-eight years old, was seen May 4, 1907. She was never sick until three weeks ago, when she had "grip," but kept v)n duty until the right ear began to ache twelve days ago; the drum was tapped ten days ago, with a copious discharge of pus containing strej)tococci. At the right base, below the angle of the scapula, were numerous crackling rales. Tater these rales gradually extended over the rest of both lungs. The white cells ranged between 18,000 and 21,000. Physical examination was otherwise negative. Now she complains of anorexia, Insomnia, cough, fever, and weakness. There is no longer any tenderness about the ear.
On the tenth the ])atient was mildh' delirious, res])iration shallow and almost stertorous, j)ulse falling steadily, but of poor volume and tension. Acute redness and tenderness now devel()])ed over the tendons of l)otli wrists. All this time there had been a continuous discharge from the right ear, l)ut there was a])])arently good drainage and no mastoid tenderness or etlema.
The patient's extreme ncr\ousness suggested cere])ral irritation. Accordingly, on the tenth of March the right mastoid was o])cnc(l and curetted, a good deal of pus l)eing found and remo\c(l. The lateral
was withdrawn. Infection of the sinus was thus excluded.
Discussion.— In this patient we find the signs of bronchitis only, but she is obviously too sick for mere bronchitis of the ordinary type. This particular combination of the signs of bronchitis with constitutional manifestations too grave to be thus explained is very familiar in voung children, and under those conditions is well known to mean bronchopneumonia, provided evidence of disease in other organs is wanting. In adults this particular combination or contradiction is much less common.
It is quite possible that this patient had bronchopneumonia, but we do not need to assume it, for the lesions of the middle ear and of the tendon-sheaths furnish abundant evidence of a generalized pyogenic infection sufficient to explain why this patient is so sick.
It is just within the bounds of possibility for a generalized tuberculosis to begin in this way, but the presence of streptococci in the aural discharges and the absence of tubercle bacilli from the sjjuta give us no ground for following this idea any further.
After the drainage of the mastoids the pulmonary signs did not clear up, and the sputum was repeatedly reexamined for evidence of tuberculosis, always, however, with negative results. In an older person with a bigger heart we should have been probably in considerable doubt whether the pulmonary rales were due to edema or to inflammation, to a transudate, or an exudate. Not infrequently these two states are so mixed up in elderly people that the fine gradations between bronchitis, edema, hypostatic pneumonia, and lobar pneumonia cannot be distinguished. In the present case, however, there is no occasion for any such speculation. The heart was of good strength throughout.
Outcome. — In the course of two weeks the patient's recovery was nearly complete, though some rales remained in the lung, e\en after the mastoids were entirely healed.
A school-boy of sexentcen entered the hospital January 20, 1908. He had liad "pneumonia'' when he was four years old, and again when he was seven. P\)ur years ago lie had "general peritonitis," for which he was operated upon at the Boston City Hospital. He also had measles and mumj)s in infancv.
count of the cough.
Five times in the past year his sputum has been blood-streaked, the last time four days ago, when there were small black clots in it. He has no night-sweats, and, so far as he knows, no fever. (See chart for temperature.)
when disturbed by cough.
Physical examination shows that the boy is distinctly undersized. His present weight is 76 pounds. He has a "chicken breast." The heart is negative. The lungs are tympanitic throughout, with scattered rales of various sizes, especially numerous in the right axilla and at the right base behind. There are two operation scars in the right and in the left lower quadrant of the abdomen. The fingers are markedly clubbed, the nails curved horizontally and laterally; slight clubbing of the toes also. The blood and urine are normal. His sputum is of a very offensi\e odor.
Discussion. — Chronic cough associated with cluljljcd fingers in a young boy with a sound heart means usually one of three things:
ing more definitclv circumscribed physical signs in the affected lung. \\"e should be practically sure, also, to find a history of the discharge of large (juantities of s])utum within a short time when tlie caNity was emptied out.
Returning now to the three alternati\es mentioned abo\e. it seems certain that the ])hysical signs would l)e far more marked and e.\ten>i\e if pulmonary tuberculosis had been at work for three years. ( H cour.-e. the sj)uta must ])e carefully and repeatedly examined. A dozen neL:ati\e examinations in succession would constitute strong e\i(len('e against tuberculosis.
characteristic physical signs than are here reported.
If tubercle bacilli are ])roved to be absent, the only reasonable conclusion will be that this boy is suffering from a bronchiectasis, ])robably with secondary infection of the dilated bronchi by influenza, the usual iniiabitant of such diseased tubes. Between the enlarged bronchi, pulmonary tissue becomes condensed and more and more atro])hic.
Outcome. — Examination of the abundant purulent sputa was performed many times. Pneumococci, streptococci, and influenza bacilli were present always; tubercle Ijacilli never. X-ray examination showed shadows suggestive of a numl:)er of dilated bronchi. The diagnosis of bronchiectasis seemed reasonabh- certain.
A vaccine made from the influenza baciUi isolated from the boy's sputa, was injected a number of times, but had no ob^•ious effect except to increase the amount of sputum, a change which was noted after each injection.
A rag-sorter of fifty-six entered the hospital June 13, 1907. He has always been well except for a slight cough during the last three years. His family history is excellent. He has been much more annoyed than usual during the last four weeks by a cough accompanied by viscid, scanty sputa. He has had pain, first in the right chest, now in the left. There has been no fever, but much weakness. The arteries are palpable and tortuous, his fingers clubbed. Scattered throughout the lungs arc many fine and coarse rales; the lungs are generally hyperresonant. the breathing strongly suggestive of emphysema. The rales arc more numerous at the base of each axilla. Near the vertebral lx)rder of the left scapula there is a patch of pure bronchial breathing about the size of a silver dollar. (Sec Figs. 155 and 1:^6.)
bronchiectasis, but from the nature of the present complaints it would seem that something more acute must be going on, especially as there is a patch of bronchial breathing in the left back. How is this to be explained?
Bronchopneumonia and tuberculosis are the chief possibilities. Of tuberculosis there is as yet no evidence, but we have not yet watched the case long enough to have any right to confidence on this point. Cases beginning ^^•ith signs like these often continue for months and years without any proof of our suspicions of tuberculosis, until finally a sputum examination is positive. Many such cases deserve to be treated as tuberculous long before we can prove them to be so.
It is quite possible, however, that we are dealing in this case with nothing more dangerous than one of those attacks of bronchopneumonia so apt to occur from time to time in the course of a chronic bronchitis with bronchiectasis. Indeed, it is sometimes convenient to divide this disease into three phases:
In summer it may be nothing but a little wheezing induced by exertion or by laughing; in winter we get infection of the bronchiectatic cavities with influenza; profuse ])urulcnt discharge and paroxysms of coughing, diurnal and nocturnal, are the result.
At any time there may l)e acute febrile attacks, with or without definitely localized, demonstral^le foci of solidification, such as are here dcscri])ed. The vast majority of such attacks run a favorable course within a few weeks. They are associated with a good deal more wheezing and a more a])undant nummular s])utum than is usual in lol)ar pneumonia.
Outcome. — By June 21st the signs liad practically disappeared from tlie left chest, and the patient, though not well, was in api)roximatcly the same condition as ])ef()rc his acute attack. He \vas accordingly allowed to go home.
A nurse of twenty-four entered the hospitid "May 5, tqo;. She lias always previously been well, and has an excellent family history. I'or a week slie has had a bad cold, with headache, loss of a])petitc\ cough, and frothy while sputum.
The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart. The breathing above the third rib, in the right front, is much-diminished, occasionally of cog-wheel type, and accompanied by crackles and squeaks. There is a friction-rub in the right axilla. Visceral examination is otherwise negati^•e, as is the blood, the urine and the sputum. Gradually an area of dulness developed in the right axilla and spread over the whole right chest by the thirteenth of May, with flatness below midscapula and intense bronchial breathing. Many crackles and
vesicular or vesicular.
On the twenty-ninth dulness persisted in the right axilla and a little in front, but there was none in the back, and the breath-sounds were there normal, while in front they were still bronchovesicular, with an occasional crackle.
Discussion. — -The case looks alarmingly like one of consumption, in spite of its acute onset. The physical signs are by no means distinctive, but through the earlier part of the disease are perfectly consistent with tuberculosis. One could only attain greater certainty at this period of the disease l^y repeated sputum examinations and by the cutaneous tuberculin tests (valuable, if negative).
never occurs in true pneumonia, and in the great majority of cases indicates free fluid. I am alluding here to flatness used in the strict sense, and in contradistinction from dulness. It was for this reason that the exploratory puncture was done despite the presence of bronchial breathing and r^es. It is of great importance to remember that fluid has again and again been obtained through a needle inserted at a point where bronchial breathing, rales, or both were clearly audible.
The result of tapping excluded fluid at that date, though it seems to me quite possible that an effusion had previously been present. The tapping seems to me entirely justified, for there was a good deal in the aspects of the case on the nineteenth, which suggested a postpneumonic empyema and only tapping could rule this out.
Once this result was obtained, the balance of probabilities was again in favor of pneumonia. One further possibility, however, remained, \iz., interlobar empyema, a complication always difficult of recognition, though not uncommon.
How is the low white count to be explained? The patient was ne\er in that condition of desperate illness which we associate with most cases of pneumonia without leukocytosis. Indeed, she was never in any condition calling for anxiety. In all probability the disease was due to some organism other than the pneumococcus. Clinically, the course was distinctly atypical. Both the physical signs and the leukocyte count were distinctly "queer," but not enough is known as yet regarding the pneumonias due to organisms other than the pneumococcus to enable us to recognize the definite types, such as streptococcous pneumonia or influenzal pneumonia.
A clerk of eighteen entered the hos])ital June 24, IQ07. His family history was excellent. He had ne\er been sick until the prc-ent time. He had then no j)ain. \"()n'iiting. or fe\-er. From this time on he continued to ha\e cough and l)egan to be short of breath. He has been weak and has ke])t his bed. (See chart for teini)erature. and diagram for condition of the kings.)
but nothing found. The patient had a good appetite, and did not seem especially sick. During his stay in the hospital he raised no more blood, but the signs extended untU most of the left lung was involved. Later the base cleared very much, but at the left apex, both front and back, there remained bronchial breathing, cracklmg rales, and increased fremitus. Near the anterior fold of the right axilla amphoric breathing and "cracked-pot sound" were obtained.
Discussion. — The onset is not typical of any of the commoner respiratory diseases, and pneumonia should have fever and leukocytosis from the beginning, even when cough and sputa are absent. On the other hand, the signs remind us more of pneumonia than of anything else,
and as the condition persists it is natural to ask whether we may not be dealing with a failure of resolution. I have already said, however, in the discussion of pre\ious cases, that unresolved pneumonia usually turns out, in my experience, to be a mistake in diagnosis, the actual condition being postj)neumonic empyema.
One would hardly make a diagnosis of this latter condition, however, unless one had better reason to believe in the original pneumonia. But there is no such difficulty with the diagnosis of pulmonary abscess which may be next considered. This disease may begin acutely and without any hint of a cause. Blood may be raised, as in the present case, and as there are no typical signs of abscess, we cannot quarrel
combination of signs and without any signs at all.
Nevertheless, abscess of the lungs, arising in this way without any known cause and without lesions in other organs, is distinctly rare and the character of the sputa is not at all typical. One expects a larger amount of pus and a foul odor.
Acute tuberculosis cannot be excluded. We very rarely observe so rapid a progress in tuberculous disease, and the negati\e examinations of sputa are of considerable though not of decisi\e importance. Most cases of tuberculosis beginning with hemoptysis present no physical signs at all within the first two or three weeks. Accordingly, the ordinary course of affairs is as follows: The patient is much alarmed by the hemoptysis, and soon calls upon a physician for examination of the lungs. This examination reveals nothing whatever. The temperature is normal, the blood-spitting already beginning to seem ancient history as the patient now feels perfectly well. The doctor allows his wish to be the father of his hope, and, humoring the patient's urgent desire to be told that he is not tuberculous, gi\es a clean bill of health and surmises that the l)lood came from the throat.
months later.
in the present case there is nothing that we can do but persist in the sputum examinations. P>ither tubercle bacilli will appear or the s])utum will become foul and take on the other characteristics of abscess.
worse.
T take this opportunity of enumerating and discussing brietly the causes of hemoplysls. Leaving on one side the cases in which only slight streaks or fragments of blood a])i)ear, mixed with mu(()])urulent sputa, and also* the cases in which blood, obviously deri\ed from the nasal cavities, is ex])ectorated, we may group practically all the cases of hemoptysis occurring in tem])erate climates under the following three headings:
tically all the cases of hemoptysis which we puzzle over are later explained as tuberculosis or else remain wholly unexplained. In the unexplained group should ])e placed those traditionally charged up to vicarious menstruation, to hysteria, and other mythical causes.
In hemorrhagic diseases, such as purpura, scurvy, hemophilia, leukemia, and in the hemorrhagic forms of the exanthemata, we may have blood-spitting, but diagnostic puzzles rarely arise in these diseases. Occasionally a case of uremia obeys the mandate of nature to lower blood -pressure by any and all methods, so that pulmonary hemorrhage, instead of the ordinary uremic nose-bleed, occurs. There could be no difficulty in recognizing the source of such a hemorrhage unless we omitted to study the heart and kidneys.
In many cases a patient is alarmed by the expectoration of blood which the physician sees, at his first examination, to come from a spong}' gum. In various forms of stomatitis the patient may awake in the morning to find a blood-stain on the pillow. This often excites great alarm, but the most casual examination of the mouth should make clear the source of the bleeding. Nocturnal epilepsy, however, should also be remembered in such a case, as the patient may be himself quite unaware of the fit.
Summing up this discussion, I wish to emphasize the point that there is hit one important cause of obscure hemoptysis, viz., tuberculosis. If the source c^f a ijulmonary hemorrhage is not made clear b}- the examination of the heart, lungs, gums, and nasophar}'nx, and if it is not obviously the expression of some infectious or constitutional malady, it is in all probability the first sign of phthisis. I do not deny that the causes of hemoptysis are numerous, but I assert that the causes of genuinely obscure hemoptysis in temperate climates may be reduced to one — pulmonary tuberculosis. I may refer in this connection to the careful study of F. T. Lord,^ in which it is demonstrated that in the great majority of cases in which a young person has a pulmonary hemorrhage, recovers at once, and remains well for the rest of his life, postmortem examination ])ro\es tlie bleeding to have ])cen due to tuberculosis which healed without ever ])roducing further symptoms.
A Canadian ])rakeman, twenty-seven years old, was jammed Octo])cr 31, 1907, between two freight-cars and sustained severe contusions o\er the sacrum and left thigh. The day after tlie injury he had a se\ere
dyspnea at any time.
When seen November 9th the white cells were 18,600. The ])atient's a])pearance distinctly suggested phthisis, but repeated examinations of the sputa showed no tubercle bacilli, and by the seventeenth of Novem-
a few rales were still heard in the upper left lung.
(^n the t\ycntieth, there was dulncss and diminished rcs])irati()n over a small area at tlic right base. A needle was introduced lierc and ])enetrated thick, liard pleura into a])])arcnlly normal lung. Soon after tins all signs (Hsa])pcared. The ])atient was al)le to go home on iVv twenty-second, entirely ^\•ell.
Discussion.- it is natural to ask at llic outset whether this patientV symptoms may be due to trauma; so se\-ere an accident miglit ea>il\' have wounded the lunLT. But the facts seem to be against thi- hypothesis. Ap])arently, his eliest was not injured, and if we take the record on its face \alue, this is conclusixe. At the i)ostmortem tal)le, howex'er,
one sometimes sees strange revelations in cases of this kind. Fractured ribs and fractured pelvis, wholly unsuspected during life, I have seen demonstrated postmortem to the great chagrin of all concerned.
It is difficult to suggest in the prLated record the strongly tuberculous appearance of this patient. Any one in the habit of judging by facies and the general look of the patient could hardly have doubted that he was phthisical. If one adopted this hypothesis, one would ha\e to say that the tuberculous process was "lighted up" by the accident. We have good reason to believe that a patient's general power of resistance may be notably diminished by such an accident as this, so that he becomes much more subject to infectious disease of any kind.
Doubtless this idea has been overworked in the innumerable suits for damages brought against steam and electric-car roads by persons who have been injured. The lawyer for the plaintiff can always succeed in finding some doctor who will swear that the pulmonary tuberculosis from which the patient now suffers in an ad^•anced form did not exist before the accident and must have been produced by it. But without believing that anything of this kind often happens, one must admit its possibility.
In the present case we must confess that the signs are quite compatible with tuberculosis, though by no means typical of it. Further light can be ol^tained only by the results of repeated sputum examination and by the cutaneous tuberculin test.
Pleural effusion was seriously considered here, as is indicated by the fact that the chest was punctured. The question, "Have we fluid or solid in this chest?" is much more frequently a difficult one than textbooks would lead us to suppose. A small effusion at the base of the limg may so compress and condense the pulmonary tissue abo\-e it that all the signs of solidification are present. This is equally true in dropsical efi"usions due to heart disease and associated with edema of the lung itself. I ha\e known many such cases mistaken for pneumonia.
In view of the outcome of the case, it seems more than probable that the whole affair represented that type of pneumonia known as "traumatic" or "surgical," and, due to that very lowering of resistance by traumatism which T have hinted above, is often falsely lugged in to explain a long-standing phthisis. Doubtless it is because we are so familiar with the fact that trauma can cause pneumonia by favoring infection that we in\oke the same theor}- quite unjustifiably in tuberculosis.
and sometimes without fever. The latter is especially apt to occur in elderly jjersons and remains wholly undiscovered unless routine jjhvsical examination, perjormed as a sort of daily house-cleaning, brings the disease to light.
A granite-cutter of sixty-fi\e entered the hospital February 17, 1908. His family history and past history were excellent. He has had a winter cough for twenty-years, to which he has grown so used that he thinks little of it; but for six weeks his accustomed ''bronchitis'' has been somewhat worse than usual, and for the last three weeks he has done but little work. He has distress after each meal, and abdominal pain when he coughs hard. During the night he has to pass water every hour, and it burns him. For many years he has had cramps in his legs. He says they are most troublesome at the time of the new moon, and last through the first quarter. When young, he weighed 175 pounds; now he weighs 123, but he Sciys he has lost no weight of late years.
The })atient's face is pitted with small-i)ox; eyes show complete arcus senilis on both sides. His pupils are small and irregular, the right larger than the left. Both react to light and distance.
tion of the organ shows nothing else of importance.
The blood-pressure is 135 mm. Hg. The arteries are palpable and tortuous. The condition of his lungs is shown in the accompanying diagram. Temperature, blood, and urine are normal. Underneath the right rib margin there is a dull, resistant, firm mass, whicli shifts little, if at all, with respiration. When examined in a warm bath, this tumor disa])pears, but there is still more resistance in the muscles of that region than elsewhere. The s])utum is \cry profuse and purulent. The ])atient seems weak and sleej)s much of the time.
Discussion. — Cough without fc\cr is usually of no great im])ortance, especially in a person who has had it e\ery winter for twenty years. I'nder these conditions it is natural to assume it an old man's bnmchiectasis with a more recent (possibly inlluenzal) infection of the ca\itics. I'he physical signs are by no means typical of this condition l-.err. but they will do in case the si)uta pro\-es negatixc and no other good reason for the cough can l)e adduced.
/;/ men of this age it is often di/fuult to (]istiiio;nisli '' </ hcort toui^Ji " from •' ii luiii^ coui:;!!.'^ (^irdiac- weakness favors stasi> in the lung>, witli malnutrition and increased susceiitibilitv to infection. ( >n the other
hand, any infection of the bronchial tract leads to increased work for the heart and thus perhaps to cardiac stasis. This patient apparently has arteriosclerosis (palpable and tortuous arteries), and his heartsounds are said to be feeble. But, on the whole, this does not seem to me enough to make us consider the heart seriously as a cause for his cough.
It is of the greatest importance to remember that tuberculosis may at any time become ingrafted upon the lungs of a patient who has suffered for many years from nothing more serious than a winter cough. The only safe plan is to assume each time that one sees such a patient that he may ha^^e contracted tuberculosis recently, and to test this possibility by repeated examinations of the sputa as well as by a temperature chart and a study of the pulmonary signs. In the statistics of Dr. Cleaveland Floyd, already referred to, this point is well illustrated.
A widow of thirty-five entered the hospital July 30, 1907. Her husband died of hemorrhage from the lungs. Her family history is excellent. She had pneumonia six years ago, in the Portland, Maine, Hospital. Since the birth of her last child, three years ago, she has had no menstruation. For a year she has been coughing and raising much phlegm, but never any blood. Three weeks ago she began to cough less, but has been much "choked up" and has felt very weak. She has a splendid appetite and rarely vomits. Her bowels are usually regular, ])ut she passes water very frequently, both day and night. She siiys she once weighed 200; at entrance she weighed 86. She says she has not an ache or a pain, and complains at present only of great general weakness.
On examination the patient is found to be emaciated, the skin dry and rough, the ])U])ils irregular, neither reacting to light, the right larger than the left. The heart and lungs show nothing abnormal. The abdomen is full, resistant in the u])per half, soft and tympanitic below. The H\cr dulness extends from the sixth rib to the uml)ilicus, and the edge of the organ is easily felt there. The white cells arc 4200; hemoglobin, 70 per cent. The urine contains no albumin and no casts; si)ecihc gravity, 1025; it contains considerable sugar. On the fourth of August there was a posit i\e Widal reaction, a])solute loss of motility, and agglutination in one hour in dilutions of i : 10 and i : 50. On this
COUGH 6oi
date there were many fine, moist rales at the base of each lung; a small abscess formed at the top of the right little finger. It was opened and a pure culture of staphylococcus obtained. The sputum was repeatedly examined, with negative results.
On August 8th there was sudden severe pain in the hypogastrium, with a falling temperature, a rising pulse, and increasing abdominal distention. All symptoms disappeared after two hours.
By the thirteenth she was much worse, very toxic, noisy and slightly delirious, with muscular tremor, veins bloated, rales growing more numerous, and abdomen more distended. The diacetic acid which was ])resent in the urine at entrance had now disappeared, and the sugar had fallen to 2 per cent.
On the fourteenth of September a patch of bronchovesicular rcs])iration with cre])itant rales was heard in the right axilla, and there was slight external strabismus. She died on the fifteenth, the diagnosis being typhoid fever, diabetes mellitus, bronchopneumonia.
At autopsy there was found miliary tuberculosis of the lungs, spleen, and kidneys, fatty liver — no evidence whatever of typhoid. The patient had stated positi\-ely that she had ne\er had typhoid fever.
Discussion. — I did not see this case during life, and I have no reason to belie\e that my diagnosis would have been any nearer correct than tliat which was made. Everybody was "bowled over" by the W'idal reaction, and assumed that the case was one of ty]>hoid fever. Looking back now from the standpoint of the autopsy, it is worth while to consider by what signs we might have been warned against the mistake which we made.
01)\iously, we were dealing with a case of diabetes and not merely with a sym])tomatic glycosuria. The long-standing weakness and emaciation, despite a splendid appetite, |)oint to this conclusion. But dial)ctes is ver\' seldom associated with typhoid infection. I have not been ai)le to find any such case in the records of the jMassachusetts General Hospital, though Ourschmann has observed such.
It is notorious that tlicre is another infectious disease wliicli diabetics are especially ])rone to catch — \i/., tuberculosis. Of this, there is little evidence in the present case, yet it should l)e noted that the patient ha< l)een coughing and expectorating for a }ear, and that tlie ])ulnK)nary signs, although not at present characteristic, are conipatil)le witli tuber culosis. When the strabismus appeared in the last days of tlu' patit-nt'< life, the suggestion of tul)ercul<^sis became inevital)le. befort' that the repeated negati\e examinations of the sputa tlirew us off the track, and the lung signs were inter])rete(l as a t}])l-i()id bronchitis.
As I review the results of autopsy experience in diabetes and recall the number of mistakes, more or less similar to that made in the present case, I feel inclined to formulate the rule that any pulmonary signs (obviously not those of pneumonia) occurring in a diabetic should be assumed to be due to tuberculosis, especially if the patient is in an advanced stage of this disease.
The Widal reaction remains a mystery, and furnishes an example of the dangers attendant upon our modern habit of placing almost exclusive reliance on signs of this kind in diagnosis. If this case had occurred prior to 1896, it is probable that the mistake would not have been made. We should have turned more attention upon the past history and the present signs, as seen in the light of our general knowledge of the complications usually occurring in diabetes.
A married woman of thirty-eight was first seen April i, 1907. She was never sick until seven years ago, when she had a sore on the genitals and in her throat. At that time her hair came out.
Two years ago she had an operation upon her breast-bone at the Carney Hospital. For two years she has had severe headaches, with "fits and faint spells." These last sometimes seem to be brought on by anger or excitement.
For the past three months she has had a painful cough, with nightsweats and thick yellow sputum. She is weak, dyspneic, constipated, eats and sleeps poorly, has many headaches, and faints when she gets angry.
On examination the patient is obese and shows enlarged glands in the neck, axillae, and groins. The inner third of the right clavicle is missing. An old operation scar occupies its site. On cough, the lung projects through the hole thus left. The heart and peripheral blood-vessels show nothing abnormal. Over an area extending from the right apex to the third rib in front and to the scapula behind, expiration and inspiration are very noisy and strident. There are occasional crackling rales in this area. Elsewhere the lungs are negative. The sputum shows many intracellular intlucnza bacilli, a few pncumococci, no tubercle bacilli.
A letter to the Carney Hospital showed that the lump excised from the clavicle, which before operation had been taken to be tuberculosis, showed gumma when examined histologically.
The patient was given mercur)'; also iodid of potash in doses increased from 10 to 100 grains three times a day. By this treatment, symptoms and signs very markedly improved, so that by the eighteenth of April she was able to leave the hospital.
The physical signs at this time consisted of bronchovesicular breathing and a few medium rales at the right apex.
"Apices. — ^Both present hazy appearance. Left more marked than right. At base of the right lung there was a dense shadow^ observed which started about i inch from median line at level of sixth space. Shadow was deep seated.
side normal. Could not see diaphragm on right side. When patient coughed the shadow at its base moved u})ward about i inch and receded immediately."
Discussion. — It was clear enough that this patient was suffering mainly from syphilis, l)ut what of the pulmonar}- conditions? Tuberculosis, as is well known, often complicates syphilis, owing to the diminution of resisting [)ower brought about by the syphilis. Ordinar}- t}])es of bronchitis, due to the inlluenza bacillus or other organism, arc also of frcfjuent occurrence in sy{)hilitics. There are no ])insical signs or clinical features characteristic of ])ulmonary syphilis, so that the diagnosis can never ])e made with any confidence.
Fx])cricnce seems to me to show that it is safe to assume ]Hilmonary complications of this kind tol^edueto svphih's, pro\i(led, of cour>e. lliat we are con\M'nce(l by sputum examination or otherwise that tlie case is not one of tu])crculosis. It was shown some vears ago by Dr. K. d. janeway that ])atients who ha\-e fe\er. night-sweats, and pulmonar}- >ign> like those ordinarily seen in ])luhisis mav prom])th- reeo\er under antisvphilitic treatment, after residence in a sanatorium for tulxrculosis hiis
failed to benefit them at all. It seems, therefore, the wiser course to give every syphilitic the benefit of the doubt, and treat him with mercury and potassium iodid while we continue to search his sputum for tubercle bacilli. If marked and rapid improvement takes place under this treatment, we may conjecture that we ha\e been dealing with a case of pulmonary syphilis, but as the pathologic anatomy of that disease is practically unknown, it is difficult to make any positive statement on the matter.
A point of great interest in this case is the patient's habit of fainting when she gets angry. Ordinarily, one would call attention to such a symptom as indicating a hysteric basis for any other complaints which the patient might express. In this case we have reason to believe that organic brain disease of syphilitic origin is present. Yet the patient faints when she gets angry. It may be that a closer psychologic study of the case would show that the fit of anger — like the fits of running which immediately precede some epileptic attacks — is the first symptom, not the cause, of the subsequent loss of consciousness. In anger we are only partly ourselves; in fainting we cease to be ourselves at all.
A gardener sixty-one years old, with an excellent family history, entered the hospital June 24, 1908. He states that he had dropsy three years ago, while at the Boston City Hospital.
Five months ago he caught a bad cold, and has had a troublesome cough, with profuse sputa, dyspnea, and j^oor appetite ever since. For three months he has had orthopnea. The cough often keei)s him awake.
On examination he was found to be emaciated, orthopneic, markedly cyanotic, and brcatliing with much difficulty; the rate was from 40 to 50 a minute. The lungs showed many coarse bubljling rales on both sides. There was very slight dulncss and harsh breathing alcove and below the riglit cla\icle in front, also slight dulness and ])roIonged low-])itclied respiration at the right apex Ijehind. There \\-as slight general abdominal tenderness, and the edge of the liver could be felt i.\ inches below the ribs. On percussion, the upper border v;as at the sixth rib. (For temperature, see the accompan}-ing chart. Fig. 163.)
The white cells at entrance were 2().qoo; the urine, sp, gr. looq to 10 14, 30 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a slight trace of albumin, many hyaline and coarse granular casts. The heart's impulse and dulness were felt in the fiftli sjjace, inside the nipple-line. A systolic mumiur
was audible at the apex, and the pulmonic second sound was accentuated. The first apex sound was very loud and sharp. The arteries were palpable and tortuous, with a lateral excursion in the brachials.
Discussion. — At this patient's age, with the evidences of cardiac and vascular disease furnished by the physical examination, and in xiew of the history of dropsy three years previously, it would be natural to assume at the outset that the pulmonary signs are due to stasis and insufficient heart action.
Against this idea, however, is the presence of fever and leukocytosis, neither of which should be produced by the degenerative, non-infectious type of heart trouble which we expect in people of this age. The acute vegetative types of endocarditis and the myocardial infections which might produce fever and leukocytosis along with pulmonary stasis in a younger patient, are rarely seen at sixty-one unless as terminal infections. The present illness, however, has been going on for five months, and cannot be called terminal.
We arc apt to forget the possibility of tuberculosis in people who have managed to worry through sixty years of life without acquiring it, but recent statistics give us no excuse for this form of absentmindedness, and warn us to search the sputum of every- patient who has any cough, whatever his age, especially when the pulmonary signs seem to be most marked at the apex of the lung involved.
Outcome. — The sputa showed a few tubercle bacilli, though it had in other respects the characteristics of ])ulmonary abscess and was at times excessively foul. The patient lost ground rapidly after entering the hospital, and died on June 30th.
Autopsy showed tuljcrculosis of the lungs, chronic interstitial nephritis, hy])ertro])hy and dilatation of the heart, tubercular ulcers of the intestine, and hy])crnepliroma.
.'\ weaver of twenty-four was seen August 20, 1Q07. He bad "stomach tr()ul)lc" three or four years ago. He has otherwise l)een well. A week ago lie l^egan to have cough, headache, and, after two days.
respiration and a few fine rales. The lungs are otherwise negative.
Palpation of the abdomen causes severe paroxysms of cough. The blood and urine are negative. (The temperature is as seen in the accompanying chart.)
The next morning an erythematous eruption appeared in the right half of the trunk, arms, and legs. This disappeared after calomel ^ grain every half-hour for six doses, but soon broke out again, the wheals being, however, less numerous the second time.
On the twenty-fifth of August the upper lip suddenly became much swollen. The patient was given calcium chlorid, i gram three times a day, Carlsbad salts, i dram three times a day. On the twenty-sixth he was practically well.
Discussion. — This case is introduced merely to exemplify one of the unusual manifestations of urticaria. I have previously illustrated the manifestations of urticarial lesions in the intestinal tract. (See p. 73.) In the present case we have good reason to believe that the
VOMITING
The act of vomiting must be distinguished, in the first place, from the easy and more or less habitual regurgitation of the normal stomachcontents. In young infants this presents itself as the familiar phenomenon of "spilling over"; in older persons it is often a matter of habit, quite controllable when explained, for, curiously enough, there are those who act as though they believed that the stomach-contents have a divine right to be ejected whenever it reaches the mouth. A little wholesome advice is here of value.
trick of emptying their stomachs on slight provocation, with or without
"the aid of a finger in the throat. To such people the slightest gastric discomfort, the faintest retrosternal or esophageal irritation, is the signal for a voluntary emptying of the stomach.
(b) At the other extreme, temperamentally or physiologically, are those who may have gone through thirty or forty years of life without ever tasting the experience of emesis. In a person of this type we may be led to underestimate the importance of certain symptoms merely because he does not vomit.
The first of these temperamental extremes is especiallv prominent in the gastric neuroses, and when the existence of such a condition is satisfactorily established, it may be our chief duty to make the patient control the act. This can be accomplished sometimes by a simple explanation,, sometimes by scolding, sometimes by a sort of mental counterirritation, the result of getting the patient busy, sometimes by subpectoral infusions of saline solution, which the patient is distinctly warned must continue until the vomiting stops. To break a habit is the main object, whatever method is adopted. I have known an apparently sensible working-man of thirty-fi\-e who vomited continuously until four months had elapsed, and 55 pounds of his weight had vanished, all from habit a]one— a habit which was broken without much difficulty in the course of a week's hospital treatment with subpectoral Infusions as above described.
Most of the so-called "reflex" causes of vomiting may be arranged without much violence under the first of these headings. The vomiting due to intense pain, that induced by fright and other strong emotions or by fatigue, can probably be accounted for in this way. The majority of toxic varieties of vomiting belong in the same group — e. g., the vomiting of pregnancy, cyclic or paroxysmal vomiting, and that accompanying migraine and hyperthyroidism.
The pharyngeal factor is especially important in the morning vomiting which accompanies many cases of alcoholism, but which is very often due to the accompanying pharyngitis caused by smoking. The patient has a smoker's throat, which he rasps and scrapes in the clearing-out process when he wakes in the morning. The pharyngeal irritation finally produces emesis.
Together with the ordinary gastric causes of vomiting, we must remember the cases in w^hich chronic or acute intestinal obstruction, with or without peritonitis, causes the stomach to empty itself. With many of the intestinal neoplasms we may have symptoms very closely simulating those of cancer of the stomach, and the examination of the gastric contents and functions may still further confuse us, since gastrcctasis, hypomotility, and achlorhydria may be found. The vomiting due to acute appendicitis or to strangulated hernia is probably of the same type.
An Trish bartender of forty entered the hospital January i6, igoS. He had catarrhal jaundice three times several years ago. His father (\m\ of pleurisy. The ])aticnt has l)c'cn a very hard drinker, consuming a quart of whisky and 17 large beers daily. He denies venereal disease.
I'or many years he lias liad stomacli tToul)le. He vomits early in tlic morning, and often after eating anv ordinary food, so tliat at ])resent he practically ]i\es on li((uor. He cannot renienil)er to Ikiac been intoxi-
He is very shortwinded, and for two weeks has noticed scantiness of his urine, enlargement of his belly, and some swelling of the feet, "face, legs, and hands. A week ago he noticed that his conjunctivae were getting yellow.
Physical examination showed a satin-like skin; no jaundice; feeble heart-sounds; soft and apparently normal arteries; blood-pressure, no. There was nothing abnormal in the lungs. He had an enormous dome-shaped abdomen, with slight dulness in the flanks, showing perhaps a little shift with change of position. The edge of the liver not felt, though there is dulness for 2h inches below the right costal margin. There was slight edema of both legs.
Discussion. — -This seems at first sight an obvious case of alcoholism, but on closer study we notice that the heart-sounds are feeble, that he has dyspnea, that the face and extremities are edematous, and that, despite persistent vomiting, there has been a marked gain in body weight. All these facts — and especially the last one — point toward cardiac disease, which, as we know, is frequently a cause of persistent vomiting.
But what cardiac disease can it be? There is no evidence of a valvular lesion or of a weakened heart due to kidney trouble. Chronic fibrous myocarditis was, in earlier years, a favorite diagnosis in cases of this kind, but the autopsy so seldom confirmed it that many of us are growing more cautious. Personally, I am unwilling to make a diagnosis of chronic myocarditis unless there is convincing evidence of arteriosclerosis, and unless all other causes of cardiac weakness can be satisfactorily excluded. But there is no evidence here of arteriosclerosis, and no good reason for the heart to be weak merely as a result of alcohol.
In any such patient cirrhosis must be considered, especially as it might help to explain the persistent vomiting. Cirrhosis is always a difficult disease to exclude, since we know that it usually exists for years before it produces any symptoms. All we can say in a case like this is that we have no positive evidence of it, such as ascites, enlargement or shrinkage of the liver, hematemesis.
Of course, the gastric functions must be more thoroughly investigated if the patient does not ]jrom])tly yield to treatment based on some other hypothesis. But after this survey of the case we have obtained, as it seems to me, so little ])ositive evidence of any disease other than alcoholism
that the first experiment to be tried — all treatment is an experiment — is an anti-alcoholic regime. If that fails, the next step should be to pass a stomach-tube and examine the physical and chemical functions of the stomach; next, if that proves negative, to try the effect of cardiac stimulation preceded by depletion.
Outcome. — Alcohol was withdrawn entirely at entrance. The patient was given a diet of liquids and soft solids, with 10 minims of the tincture of capsicum before each meal, an ounce of magnesium sulphate early each morning, and 2 drams of ])araldehyd every afternoon. In four days he was able to eat without vomiting and sleep without medicine. In a week he felt perfectly well, but was much surprised to disco\er that he could exist without rum.
A housemaid of twenty-four entered the hospital October 11, 1906. She had always been well except for habitual constipation, the bowels moving once in from t\vo to six days. She has taken no breakfast for some weeks and has occasionally vomited. A week ago the f)atient was married. Her last menstruation was August 14th.
At 3 o'clock this afternoon she began to vomit, and soon after had a sudden sharp abdominal pain, with faintness, and in the course of the day six loose movements of the bowels.
Examination was negati\'e save for slight dulness in the right flank, slight tenderness of the epigastrium and along the right side. .At McBurney's point tenderness was very marked on dec]) |)ressurc, and there was spasm o\'er this area.
and respiration normal. The breasts were somewhat large.
Discussion. — The vomiting here might well be due to ])rcgnancy, but no one could make any such statement without any further evidence than is furnished by the ])hysical signs here reported. If the histor}- is taken as correct. — that is, if her last menstruation was August 14th, — there is hardly time enough for the (le\elopment of an ecto[)ic gestation, which should, moreo\er. show more definite signs on \aginal examination or more characteristic e\idence of hemorrhage.
Patients of this type not infrec|uently take large (lo^es of irritating cathartic medicine in the atteni])! to i)r(Kluce a miscarriage. The loose moxements of the bowels and the xomitinu niiuht be tluis accc)untc(i
seemed to be telling the truth.
The patient's habitual consti])ation might account for a good deal of vomiting, but hardly for such an acute attack or for tenderness and spasm in the right iliac fossa.
One always hesitates to make a diagnosis of appendicitis when the temperature and pulse are normal and when there has been no pre\ious attack. Nevertheless, in the presence of very marked tenderness, with spasm at McBurney's point and leukocytosis, appendicitis seems the most reasonable diagnosis. A pyosalpinx might produce very much the same physical signs, but would probably show a mass or induration by vagina, and would not, in all j^robability, come on so acutely without any other or ]:)revious symptoms.
A married woman of fifty-three with an excellent family history entered the hospital September 28, 1907. She has been strong and healthy all her life, with the exception of a double inguinal hernia, for which she was successfully operated upon in May, 1907. Since childhood she has been in the habit of passing water once at night after bedtime.
About a year ago she began to have attacks of vomiting, in which she was unable to retain any kind of food, the vomitus consisting at first of the food ];re\'iously eaten, unmixed with mucus or Ijlood. Last fall the vomiting ceased altogether, and she was in the IMassachusetts General Hospital for a Colles' fracture. During her stay here nothing abnormal was noted in the digestive functions, but after her return home vomiting began again, and has gradually grown more frequent up to the present time. She has vomited every day through the past summer — sometimes three times a day. At no time has there been any j)ain except after eating a large amount, and then only slight distress. I'here have Ijecn no eructations of gas and no swelling of any })art of the abdomen, though tlie e])igastrium lias been somewhat tender on jjressure for two montlis.
Fifteen months ago she weighed 124 ])0unds; four months ago, 116: now she weighs 100 pounds. Her bowels have gradually become consti])ated. She has noticed no jaundice. She has never considered herself ner\T)us.
The temperature and pulse were as seen in the accompanying chart. The patient was poorly nourished and pale, though her hemoglobin was 75 per cent, and the white cells were 7300. The heart and lungs showed nothing abnormal. In the upper abdomen was a hard, tender mass, descending with respiration. (See Figs. 165 and 166.)
Physical examination, including the urine, was otherwise negati\e. The stools showed no occult blood. Vaginal and rectal examinations were negative. Through the stomach-tube only 13 ounces of water could be introduced without extreme pain, retch ing, and struggling. There was no food in the fasting stomach. After an Ewald test-meal the gastric contents showed no free acid of any kind. The benzidin test for blood was positive; the wash-water used for lavage returned slightly blood-stained.
Discussion. — The early part of this history reminds us of a gastric neurosis, because one isolated symptom — vomiting — seems to make up the whole clinical picture. When any single symptom, such as vomiting, gaseous eructation, diarrhea, or constipation persists over a considerable period of time with little or no background of other interconnected symptoms, it usually turns out that we are dealing with a neurosis — that is, with a morbid habit. We can make such a statement, however, only when we have exhausted all the resources of physical diagnosis without finding any evidence of organic disease.
We cannot attribute the vomiting to constipation or to the exhaustion produced by any constitutional or infectious disease, since we have no evidence of these conditions. A consultant suggested the ])ossibility of cerebral tumor, and the fundus oculi was examined with this possibility in \iew. Neither there nor elsewhere, ho\\eN'er, could we find any support for the assum])tion of Ijrain disease.
As soon as the epigastric mass was clearly made out and tlie ])Ossibility of its being due to a fecal accumulation was excluded l)y free catharsis, it began to be ])reUy e\"idenl that the ^•omiting was due either to ulcer or cancer of the stomach. This ])ecame still more cerUiin when it was recognized that the ca])acit}- of the stomach \\as diminished and its secretion of hydrochloric acid al)()lished. Tt remained to deride the question: cancer or ulcer? Such a tumor is often produced l)y
a perigastric exudate around an old ulcer. But the histor}- is distinctly against ulcer and in favor of cancer. Ulcers seldom begin in persons who have lived to fifty-two years without gastric disturbances. They are hardly ever characterized by vomiting without pain, and in the earlier stages of their course there are usually long periods of freedom from symptoms and marked relief (even during the acute stages of the disease) immediately after the taking of food.
One of the things that made it rather difficult to realize that cancer was really the most reasonable diagnosis in this case was the entire absence of pain. This, however, is by no means unprecedented. A number of similar cases have been recorded.
against operation of any kind.
Under liquid and soft solid diet, with small doses of calomel and magnesium sulphate, hydrochloric acid, 20 minims after food, the patient ceased vomiting on October 4th and felt a great deal better.
A married woman of thirty-fi\'e entered the hospital ]March 24, 1908. She lost one brother by phthisis in the previous December. She has had two children and no miscarriages. Her youngest child is seven years of age.
Five years ago she weighed 144 pounds. A week ago she weighed 1 10.
During these past five years she has been having attacks of vomiting, at first only before each menstrual period, later at other times. Her vomitus was watery and contained undigested food, but never any food eaten twenty-four hours before. She has not been free from vomiting for more than two weeks since 1903. The vomiting relieves sharjj epigastric pain, which is usually worse after eating. In 1905 she vomited two cupfuls of dark blood. On a milk diet this ceased, but returned eleven weeks later. In November, 1907, she again vomited blood and had e])igastric pain and tenderness. She was confined to bed a week at that time; she has not vomited since, but still has epigastric pain and tenderness, worse after food. Her appetite is poor; the bowels move only with enema ta. She has no headache. Her eye-sight is good.
Physical examination is negative save for a blowing systolic murmur limited to a small area near the apex of the heart. There is slight epigastric tenderness, but no spasm. The right kidney is easilv felt, its lower pole being on the level of the navel.
The patient returned to the hospital August 3, 1908, stating that, two weeks after leaving the hospital before, she had an attack of vomiting with the menstrual period, and this vomiting had continued for the two subsequent periods, though she was perfectly well between them. The vomiting seemed to be entirely inde}:»endent of the taking of food. The vomitus contained no blood. At the time of these attacks she had a good deal of epigastric ])ain, and has a little pain all the time, slightly relieved by food and accompanied by gaseous and sour eructations. She sleeps poorly, on account of nervousness, she believes.
Physical examination shows marked pallor, the red cells, 3,050.000; hemoglobin, 45 percent. Two normoblasts, also considerable achromia and deformities, were seen while making the differential count of 200 white cells. The polynuclear cells were 82 per cent. The urine was negative.
The stools showed a slight but constant reaction to guaiac.
Stomach-tube examination showed essentially the same condition a? in the ])rcvious s[)ring. There were no fasting contents. The patient did excellently well on a diet of crackers and milk.
Discussion. — In marked contrast to the ])revious case, the stomach trouble is here of long duration — live years or more — and occurs in a young woman. Tn the early stages of the disease, and to a certain extent throughout, the ])ain seems to be connected with menstruation, as if it were a ''reflex" nervous distur])ance associated with the ner\"()us tension of that ])eriod. The relief of ])ain by \omiting and the attack of hematemesis in Tgo5 still further support the diagnosis of peptic ulcer or hy])Ochlorhy(lria, which had l)ccn alreadv suggested b} the previous history.
In August, jQoS, her symptoms still suggest c'liiet]y pe]ilii' ulcer, but we ha\e now one sym])tom not easily accounted for on tliat h} ]ioihesis, \iz., the \erv marked anemia. There ha> been no e\idence of
unless there is sharp bleeding.
It is not likely to produce anemia by oozing or discharging blood in small quantities. The marrow readily makes up these losses. Neither is it likely that a large amount of blood might have been poured out at one time and discharged wholly by rectum without the patient being aware of it. Such rectal hemorrhages produce so much weakness and thirst that the patient is usually made aware that something has happened.
Nevertheless, it must be admitted that everything else in the case save this one fact — an unexplained anemia — points to chronic ulcer, and perhaps the anemia alone is not of sufficient diagnostic significance to outbalance the other indications which favor ulcer. But since the trouble has gone on so long and recurs so frequently under dietetic treatment it seems as if the patient should be given the benefit of an exploratory laparotomy, especially as there is at least a possibilit}^ that the anemia may be due to something more serious — L e., to gastric cancer.
Outcome. — August 14th the abdomen was opened. A cancerous mass was found on the posterior wall of the stomach, with metastases in the omentum. Gastro-enterostomy was done. A month later the patient was reported as eating well, sleeping well, and gaining in weight.
A widow of forty-five entered the hospital August 14, 1906. She lost her husband of consumption twelve years ago. Sixteen years ago she had an attack similar to the present one, which was cured in two weeks. A year ago she had another attack, and was in the hospital for three weeks on rectal feeding, during w^hich her weight fell from 137 to 117 pounds. Since then she has been dieting carefully, has felt pretty well, and has not been troubled by indigestion.
Nine days ago she was suddenly seized with sharp abdominal pain and vomiting. This pain has recurred frequently since that time. It is relieved by vomiting, 1jut shows no other relation to food. Occasionall}- it requires morj)hin. In her attack of sixteen years ago she vomited blood, but there has been none since. For the past three months she has liad occasional attacks of diarrhea, the movements being preceded by pain and often containing blood.
On examination the patient is very well nourished, but rather neurasthenic. There is a soft systolic murmur at the apex of the heart. The pulmonic second .sound is larger than the aortic second. The heart shows no enlargement. The lungs are negati\e. The right side of the abdomen is held rather rigid, owing to marked tenderness, greatest in the middle quadrant.
The patient in the early days of her treatment seemed markedly neurasthenic, but this ceased after the cessation of the menstrual flow, and she was able to take solid food in moderate amounts for three days.
After this the patient began to vomit a great deal. Nutrient enemata caused much distress and seemed to aggravate the vomiting. On the fourth day she was able to take some champagne and some albumin^\■ater flavored with sherry, without any vomiting. The \omitus was found to be strongly acid, and consisted mostly of clear mucus.
after a short time. Only morphin gave relief.
After a test-meal the stomach-contents showed an abundance of free hydrochloric acid and a positive guaiac reaction. The stools were foul smelling, dark, and bloody.
On the twentieth the patient comi)lained a great deal of abdominal cramps. The stool at this time was found to contain much fresh blood and a considerable amount of pus and mucus. The blood showed: Red cells, 3,676,000; white cells, 10,000; hemoglobin, 65 })er cent.
matter.
The sul^scquent examination of the abdomen showed on the right side, low down, something which felt like hard lumps, which, however, disaj)pearcd with the rumbling of gas. The ca])acity of the lower Ijowel was measured with warm water, and only a ]nnt could Ijc introduced. There seemed to be no distention of the transverse colon, l)ut the region of the ascending colon \\as ])ersistently distended. The attempt to introduce more than a pint of water In- rectum was repeatedly unsuccessful.
Discussion. — \\'e see occasionally in adults those unexphiined attacks of summer diarrhea and vomiting which are so common in \'ounL: children; but we do not expect them to persist for nint> (ia\>. True, this |)atient is ncurastlienic, so the record states, and that might account for a great deal, especially as the attack has hapj)ened to occur at the
menstrual period. During the earlier days of her treatment we accounted for her symptoms in this way. Among the other possibilities considered was hypochlorhydria, which will next be discussed.
The previous attack of hematemesis was described by the patient as similar to the present trouble. The illness of 1905 also suggests hypochlorhydria or ulcer. The stomach-contents now show a positive guaiac reaction and a large amount of free hydrochloric acid. There is also blood in the stools. When all these facts came to light, we were inclined to switch over from the idea of gastric neurosis to that of peptic ulcer, all the more so when it turned out that sodium bicarbonate relieved her pain.
It was not until the second week of treatment that the intestinal symptoms began to seem more important, especially as we could find no good cause for the well-marked secondary anemia. There had been no recent hemorrhage to account for it, and it did not appear that the diarrhea had lasted long enough in any of her previous attacks or in the present one to produce so much anemia. It was, however, the condition of the stools, especially the presence of pus, and the remarkably small amount of fecal matter which led us further to investigate the possibility of intestinal neoplasm. When we found that, on two separate occasions, not more than a pint of water could be introduced into the rectum, even when slowly and carefully given, the suspicion of intestinal neoplasm low down in the colon became such that operation was advised.
August, revealing a cancer of the sigmoid.
This case and several others which I saw about the same time were \ery instructive to me because I had never been warned of the possibility and the danger of getting our attention so focused on the gastric manifestations of what turns out to be intestinal obstruction that the ]jossibility of the latter does not occur to us. If once we get a false start, we may find a good deal to confirm us in our mistake. For example, in a recent case, which turned out, like the present one, to be due to a cancer of the sigmoid, everything seemed at first to point to the stomach. A stomach-tuljc was passed, and proved the presence of gastric enlargement and the absence of free hydrochloric acid. The patient was fifty years of age, and had never had any gastric symptoms before the present year. All these facts seemed to point so strongly to gastric cancer that we neglected to make a sufficiently careful examination of the abdomen or to put well-directed questions concerning bowel movements, the exact location of pain, and intestinal noise.
"Gastric neurosis" is the diagnosis on the record of another case of causeless vomiting and diarrhea in an elderly woman, who was promptly relieved in the hospital by a few days of diet and quiet (1908). Dr. E. A. Codman insisted that intestinal cancer was present, though no tumor was felt. The patient remained perfectly well for several months, but Dr. Codman's diagnosis was ultimately ^■erified.
A waitress of nineteen, born in Maryland, entered the hospital January 14, 1907. She has a good family history and past history ujj to eighteen months ago, when she began to lose strength and to have dizzy spells, especially after breakfast. Her appetite continued good, and she felt in other rcs])ects well until alx)ut two months ago, when she began to liave nausea, coming on about live minutes after eating, and relieved at the end of about an hour by vomiting the food just taken, together with considerable phlegm. She ne\er vomits except after breakfast, although she has considerable distress after the other meals.
She has worked until a week ago, and still feels well enough when her stomach is empty. She gets up once each night to pass water. She has noticed a somewhat tender spot in the epigastrium. P'or three months she has ])een somewhat pale and short of breath on exertion.
On examination the j)atient was found to be pale. There was a faint systolic murmur in tlie pulmonar}- area; otherwise the chest is negative; likewise the abdomen and urine.
changes.
Discussion. — We may rule out without further consideration the long list of organic diseases, such as cancer, tuberculosis, and brain tumor, of which \omiting is a symptom. The first point to ])e noticed on the ])ositi\"e side is that nausea of this tyj)e, Ihougli not of this duration, is often seen in the early months of ])regnancy — a ])()ssil)ilit\- which should never be forgotten when we arc dealing with obstinate digestixe disturbances. I once siiw a ])atient who had been for some weeks under the care of a distinguished s])eeialist in gastric troubles, whose treatment made it evident that he had never considered the lu^sibilit}' of i)regnanc\', though the ])atient had, during the period of hi> tn-atnient, an amenorrhea and all the other usual e\idences of earl\ preunancy. When I saw lier the condition was (luite ob\ious.
Nothing is said about menstruation in this case, but inquir)- showed that it had been absent for the past three months. This fact, together with the stomach trouble and a certain degree of bad conscience, had considerably alarmed the patient. It was found on examination, however, that there was no uterine enlargement and none of the other evidences of early pregnancy.
Many cases like this turn out on careful study to be the result of the disturbances ])roduced by constipation. There was nothing in the histor}', however, to indicate that she was constipated. The testimony of a patient is not always reliable on this px)int. Fecal movements mav occur daily, and yet be so insufficient in amount that a considerable accumulation takes place. One has no right to assume this unless physical examination or the inspection of the stools demonstrates it.
Some eager surgeons would consider the evidence here presented as sufficient for a diagnosis of peptic ulcer or chronic appendicitis, but there is not the relief by food so characteristic of the earlier stages of peptic ulcer, while the symptoms are too continuous and include too little suffering from pain to gi\e us any genuine indication of chronic appendicitis.
But for the abnormalities of the blood-picture one would here be forced to say that physical examination is negative, a conclusion which lies very near to the decision: gastric neurosis. Is that slight anomaly in the hemoglobin percentage and in the stained smear sufficient to account for so much gastric disturbance? Yes, it certainly is, if we take it as the outward and visible sign of a more extensi\'e and less comprehended malady, to which we give the superficial and unsatisfactory name of chlorosis. Experience has often shown that chlorosis may produce vomiting as severe as that complained of by this girl, and in the absence of any other obvious cause one should plan treatment upon this hypothesis.
Outcome. — The patient was put to bed and given f grain calomel e\ery fifteen minutes for eight doses, followed the next morning by i ounce of magnesium sulphate. Liquid and soft solid diet, with nux and gentian before meals, was perfectly well borne. The patient had no vomiting, no gastric symptoms of any kind, and ])y the twentythird was up and had an excellent appetite, although her blood showed no gain whate\"er.
An unoccupied Irish girl of nineteen, of good family and past history, entered the hospital June 7, 1908. Five weeks ago she began to have abdominal pain and frequent vomiting. The pain was colickv and not localized. It seemed to have no relation to food, and had onl\occurred three or four times in the past five weeks, lasting an hour or two. Yet since the pain ceased she has continued to vomit almost daily whether she eats or not. Yesterday she vomited live times, though she took only milk. The vomitus sometimes consists of undigested food, sometimes of a yellowish or blackish sour fluid. It has never been red or brown. The vomiting seems to have no relation to the time or the character of food. The catamenia are regular.
day or two by enemata only.
On examination the patient is obese, ruddy. There is slight general tenderness over the lower abdomen, with some ^■oluntary spasm, ]^reventing satisfactory palpation.
Physical examination, including the temperature, pulse, respiration, blood, urine, and stools, was not otherwise remarkable, though the stools were found to contain many bismuth crystals.
Discussion. — A diagnosis seems to me impossible here without a therapeutic test. We should first get the bowels started and watch to see if that does not check all the other symptoms. Suppose, then, that the vomiting still continues, and we are still unable to find any physical cause for it despite our most jminstaking examination of tlie internal viscera and despite the absence of an}' discoverable cause, such as morphin, malaria, or starvation, what course should be pursued?
It is almost inevitable to assume that the case must represent some ty])e of neurosis and to ])lan treatment accordingly, yet this is never a satisfactory Ixisis of action unless we can o])tain other evidence of neurotic constitution besides the vomiting itself. 1 was greath" impressed, a few months ago, by the outcome of a case in which, owing to the negative results of repeated and searching examinations. \\c made the diagnosis of gastric neurosis and used a great deal of moral suasion. Yet the man ])roceeded to die, and tlie autopsy (No. 2^14. iMassachusetls General Hosjjital auto])sy records) showed al)solutch no cause for death. 1 do not believe for a moment that our cliagno>i^ was right here, yet it would be ditTicult to a\-oi(l niakinu: the >ame mistake again.
by the outcome.
Outcome. — As soon as the bowels were thoroughly evacuated by cascara, olive oil, i ounce twice a day, and enema ta, vomiting ceased; and within a week the patient was eating ravenously without any distress or nausea. The bowels continued to be very sluggish. She was advised to eat a great deal of green vegetables and as much fat as she could tolerate.
A housewife of thirty-eight, of good family history, was first seen April 21, 1908. She had pleurisy six years ago and a still-born child a year ago, since when she has been nervous and troubled with indigestion. For three weeks she has had a great deal of indigestion, accompanied by "smothering feelings around the heart." For ten days she has vomited everything taken into the stomach, averaging ten attacks in twenty-four hours. E\-en water is rejected. She has sometimes vomited as much as a quart of undigested food and once about a teaspoonful of bright blood which her physician said came from her throat. Her indigestion and smothering feelings are worse after eating and are relieved by vomiting. She is \-er}' constipated and belches much gas. During these three weeks there has been palpitation of the heart. At the beginning of this spell, ten days ago, she also had numbness of the right leg and left arm for two days.
Discussion. — An essential element in diagnosis is here omitted: we have no account of the urine or of the blood- pressure, although there is apparently a slight cardiac enlargement which mjght suggest a chronic nephritis as the cause of the vomiting. This hypothesis, however, was at once upset by the negative result of urinalysis.
Gastro-intestinal troubles of the type here recorded are not infrequently the first and most obscure manifestations of a tuberculous infection. It is vcT}' probable that she suffered from a cervical adenitis, tuberculous in origin, when she was sixteen. The history of a discharge from swollen neck glands and especially the duration of the discharge, together with the present evidence of scars in the neck, leaves no considerable reason for doubt upon this point. If she is correct in supposing that she had pleurisy eight years ago, the probability of tuberculosis still lingering somewhere in the system is still further increased.
I do not think it is possible absolutely to exclude tuberculosis as the cause of sym])toms in this case, and I am aware that some persons would consider the variations in temperature shown in the accompanying chart as sufficient to constitute additional evidence favoring tuberculosis. On the whole, however, it seems to me that the evidence is insufficient. A very large number of ])aticnts, demonstrably not tuberculous, have as much tcm])erature as this chart shows o\\ing to any of a variety of causes. Repeated examinations of the lungs and other viscera revealed absolutely nothing. The patient's nutrition was excellent. I ver}- much doubt whether she had any more tuberculosis than the rest of us — /. c, whether it was {present in any active form or was responsible for any of her syni])toms.
The still-ljorn cl.ild cind the irregular ])upils compel us to consider for a moriK-nt the (lucstion of s}])l.ilis, but neither on questicming nor by examining the sites at which syphilis most often leaves e\idences of itself could we find any rciison furtlu-r to entertain this susjncion.
followed by a suds enema. Her gastric distress was relieved by h dram of essence of peppermint. She was given fluid extract of cascara and the enemata continued daily. Under this treatment the patient was able to take liquid and soft solid diet and by the twenty-fifth could eat anything with relish.
A Canadian bolt-maker twenty-seven years old entered the hospital October 14, 1907. He lost one sister of consumption some years ago. His mother now suffers from "asthma"; otherwise his family history is good, and he himself has always been well, save that for the past five years he has hawked up a good deal of yellow material from his throat. He smokes and chews five cents' worth of tobacco a day. His habits are otherwise good.
Eight days ago, while at work and in his usual health, he became nauseated and vomited, the vomitus consisting of the food last eaten. He kept at work that day but felt wxak and has not tried to work since then. The first night he felt feverish, but he has not noticed this since that time. The nausea and vomiting, however, have continued and have been especially troublesome in the morning. He has no severe pain, but a slight soreness in the epigastrium, rather more to the right than to the left, ascribed by him to retching. There has been no chill and no cough. His bowels have been rather loose for the last two days. He has not been jaundiced.
On examination the temperature, pulse, respiration, and blood are all normal. The urine shows a very slight trace of bile, and on careful examination of the eyes a slight yellowing of the conjunctivas over the peripheral portion of the eyeball is discerned. Near the iris there is no yellowness.
The tonsils are slightly enlarged and reddened. The heart and lungs show nothing abnormal. The abdomen is slightly rigid just below the right costal margin and there is some tenderness at that point. No soreness or spasm is felt elsewhere. The liver dulness extends one or two fingerbreadths below the costal margin, but no liver-edge can be felt.
Discussion.— The presenting symptoms are vomiting and bile m the urine. Whether we shall call the condition jaundice depends upon our definition of this word. In all the more marked cases in
which the conjunctiva is stained by bile-pigment, the discoloration extends not only over the deeper and less easily visible portions of the sclera, but up to the outer border of the iris. In milder cases there is a ring of white or bluish-white, unstained sclera around the iris. But if the yellow coloration outside this ring is well marked, we do not ordinarily hesitate to call it jaundice. The doubtful cases arc those in which it is only by drawing back the eyelids and by getting the patient to turn the eye as far as possible to one side that any yellow coloration can be seen. In most of these cases the tint is, moreover, a very pale one. Our hesitation is further increased because we find so many cases of this type, if once our curiosity is aroused to look for them. Nevertheless, it seems to me that the only defensible course is to use the word jaundice whenever any degree of yellow discoloration is \isible in the sclera.
Proceeding on this basis we may say that the case under consideration is characterized by vomiting and jaundice occurring without other notable s}Tnptoms in a workingman of twent\--seven. Gall-stones are unusual at this age, and we ha^■e no tenderness or palpable mass in the region of the gall-bladder, no e%idence of hepatic enlargement, and no characteristic biliary colic. Nothing, indeed, suggests any local trouble except the slight rigidity below the right costal margin, and we have no fever or other constitutional manifestiition of infection in the biliary tract.
Under these conditions — i. c, when jaundice occurs without any ob^"ious cause, without any marked toxemia or other e^"idence of infection, without any change in the shape or the size of the lixcr, and without any evidence of gall-stones— it has long been customary to make a diagnosis of catarrhal jaundice. That the condition so named often gi\cs rise to vcr}- persistent nausea with or without vomiting is a familiar fact. I'hcrcforc, although we do not know wluit we mean by the term "catarrlial jaundice" in the sense of understanding its pathology, it is reasonable to use the term in a case of this kind, at any rate as long as nothing more serious ai)i)cars in sight. If the jaundice docs not go off within six weeks, we begin to fear that something more im]iortant is behind it — viz., gall-stones or cancer. During those six weeks, therefore, our diagnosis always rests on shaky foundations; indeed, it is never confirmed until the j^atient is well.
Since examination has revealed no sufiicient reason to fear that the vomiting in this case results from any deeper and more olxcure le>i<>n of the gastro-intcstinal tract, kidnev. heart, or brain, catarrlial jaundice seems to be our best working-and-talking hypotliesis.
Outcome. — The patient was given a diet in which carbohydrates and fat were considerably restricted; calomel, ^ grain every fifteen minutes until ten doses were taken, followed in half an hour by | ounce artificial Carlsbad salts, and each morning thereafter by 30 grains of sodium phosphate and an enema of plain water made 5 degrees cooler each day up to the limit of tolerance. On the second day he was given dilute muriatic acid 5 minims, with i dram of fluid extract of taraxacum after each meal.
A sewing woman of thirty-six entered the hospital January 6, 1908. She had lost one sister of consumption seven years ago. Her family history is otherwise good. The patient has always been strong and well and was in comfortable circumstances until the time of the San Francisco earthquake in April, 1907, when she lost everything. In the past year, though working very hard at sewing, she has been unable to earn enough to give herself proper food and lodging. Her menstruation has always been regular until recently, but its last appearance was two months ago.
For the past four months she has been very much run down and so nervous that she has not been able to work, though she has not been constantly in bed for any length of time. She was in a hospital during the whole of July and August, and was somewhat better after her stay there, but not able to work.
Up to two weeks ago she had no symptoms except weakness and an occasional headache. Two weeks ago she began to vomit and has continued to do so very frequently every day since, rejecting all that she eats and considerable yellow and whitish material besides. She has seen no blood in the vomitus at anv time. Her abdomen is sore all over, but there is no pain anywhere. Since the vomiting began the bowels have moved once in two or three days. She has no headache. Her eye-sight is good. She has taken only cereals, milk, and water for the past two weeks.
There is a faint tremor of the lips and hands; well-marked arterial pulsation in the neck. The aortic second sound is accentuated. There is consideral)le pigmentation of the abdominal wall al)out the navel. The urine shows a strong reaction for acetone and diacetic acid; the amount averages 30 ounces in twenty-four hours; specific gravit}-,
The blood shows nothing abnormal.
Discussion. — As we review the results of physical examination, the first point worthy of note is the tremor of the lips and hands and the violent arterial pulsation in the neck. In women of this age such hints should always lead us to examine the eyes for slight degrees of exophthalmos, to scrutinize the neck for unobserved goiter, and to count the pulse under various conditions — all with reference to a possible Graves' disease (hyperthyroidism) in larval form. Such a search was here imdertaken, but was fruitless.
The urine contains sugar and acetone bodies. Is it possible that we are dealing with a diabetes, and that the vomiting is due to that disease? Against it we may range the following e\idence:
has not been in any way restricted.
(c) Severe constitutional manifestations — such as vomiting and headache— appear in diabetes late in the course of the disease, after the cardinal symptoms have been manifested for a considerable period.
There seems, therefore, no sufficient reason to treat this jjatient as a diabetic. But if we are to disregard the acetonuria, the glycosuria, and the tremor and fmd no reason for supposing them to ])oint to any organic disease which might account for the vomiting, there seems to be nothing left but that old and much-overworked hy])othesis — neurosis. This is made a little more jjlausible than ordinary in the j)rcsent case because the j)atient's circumstances, the nature of her work, and the tragedy through which she passed nine months before are sucli as to fa\or the development of a nervous breakdown. There >ecms, on the whole, to be no l)ettcr l)asis for work and talk.
Outcome. — The ])atient was given a diet of milk, one third limewater, 4 ounces every two hours. The bowels were moxcd by cnrmala. Witlu'n twenty-four hours she was so much im])r()\e(l that she could take an ordinarv mixed diet. Tremblinir and nerxou.-nes^ markedlv
lessened; acetone, diacetic acid, and sugar disappeared within three days on full diet. She was somewhat sleepless, but was helped by 15 grains of trional for two nights, after which she slept fairly well without any hypnotic.
On the eleventh the patient was allowed to sit up in bed. On the fifteenth she tried to walk, but was very dizzy and weak. On the twentieth she was able to walk, and thereafter gained rapidly.
A week ago, without known cause, he was suddenly seized with colicky epigastric pain, nausea, and vomiting. Since that time he has vomited everything that he has eaten. There has been soreness, but no marked abdominal pain, and no blood in the vomitus.
He gave up work five days ago. This morning he began to hiccup and has continued for the past two hours. He has never had a similar attack. His general health has been good. During the first four days of this attack he had diarrhea.
On examination the patient is thin and wiry. His pupils are slightly irregular and react sluggishly. There is no lead-line. The glands in the neck, axillas, and groins are palpable, but not enlarged.
The chest and abdomen show nothing abnormal, although there is some tenderness in the lower portion of the abdomen and the sharp edge of the liver is palpable on deep inspiration.
The knee-jerks are lively, the fundus oculi negative, likewise the blood and urine. Within a couple of days the pain was gone, the patient ^■ery hungry, yet he \omited when solid food was given to him.
Discussion. — At this man's age the sudden occurrence of vomiting makes us think first of all of cerebral or cardiorenal disease, but we find no confirmation of this idea in the results of objective investigation.
Gall-stones is a possibility to be reckoned with, but on that hypothesis it is hard to explain why the vomiting should ha^■e continued for a week after the pain has ceased. The same difficulty confronts us if we try to reason that chronic appendicitis or nephrolithiasis may have produced the pain. For pej)tic ulcer in the stage of perforation the local manifestations are not sufficiently acute and definite; for any other stage in the course of this disease the s}'mptoms are too violent and the vomiting too continuous.
I mention the phrase ''ptomain poisoning" because I have so frequently heard it used in cases of this kind, as well as in perforative appendicitis, intestinal obstruction, and other acute abdominal emergencies. The phrase seems to be a favorite "blind" behind which our ignorance or error may be concealed. I have never yet known a single case in which the diagnosis was justified by any sufficient chemical examination either of the food supposed to be responsible for the trouble or of the contents of the gastro-intestinal tract.
The patient has not been constipated, exhausted, or neurotic; he is not at all of the type that vomits for lack of any other occupation. We may be forced to make the unsatisfactory diagnosis of gastroneurosis, but not until all other possibilities are exhausted.
Tabes dorsalis with gastric crisis was at first seriously considered, but our seriousness was disturbed by the liveliness of the knee-jerks. This symptom being out of agreement with our diagnpsis, there appeared to be nothing but the sluggish light reaction of the pupils on which to base the diagnosis of tabes. There were no lightning pains, anomalies of sensation, or sphincteric disturbances. Several confirmatory points had, however, been o^•erlooked, as was shown by the outcome.
Outcome. — It was subsequently discovered that the Achilles jerk was absent. The Wassermann reaction was positive, and the spinal fluid showed an excess of lymphocytes.
I'he vomiting persisted, though less frequently, until the fifth of Sejitember. After that it ceased and convalescence was rapid. Repeated examinations of the urine were negative. No treatment that was given seemed to help him.
An Irish laborer of forty-three, of good family liistory, entered the hos])ital November 15, 1907. He has had no disease of importance, though he has been in sc\eral dynamite ex])losions and sustained various wounds and burns. \\'ithin the last eight years he has taken no alcohol, and before that nc\er drank to excess. He denies venereal disease.
Since the last explosion in which he was in\"()l\ed ten months ai^o he has vomited once or twice almost every day, generally in the niornini^ before breakfast. The \omitus consists of greenish mucu>; it .-sometimes contains food eaten many hours l)efore. He has seen no l(h>od. His bowels are rather loose, mo\ing three to se\en times a day. He has no pain, a fair ap])etite, and he has kej)t at work until Mwenteen
the old explosion.
Examination of the nervous system and internal viscera is throughout negative. No contents could be obtained by the stomach-tube from the fasting stomach, which held only 26 ounces without distress. After a test-meal the gastric contents showed free HCl, 0.128 per cent.
Discussion. — Is it wise to believe the patient's story on the subject of alcoholic indulgence? Is it not more probable that the patient's vomiting is due to the cause usually discoverable in such cases? However this may be, it should be noted that vomiting continued in the hospital after the alcohol had been withdrawn. Moreover, his family and friends confirmed his account of his habits.
I have never known concealed morphinism in a man of this type. Nevertheless, it is always a possibility to be reckoned with in case of unexplained vomiting, especially if there are wide-spread pains, insomnia, and great restlessness associated with it.
A point of special importance is the patient's obesity, which proves pretty conclusively either that his vomiting has occurred on an empty stomach independent of food, or that he has not ejected the whole of many meals. Many a patient fails to take account of the difference between emptying the stomach and merely spilling over, as a baby does, the excess of what has been eaten. This explains the astonishing discrepancy often confronting us between the patient's account — "I have vomited every meal I have taken for weeks" — and the excellent strength and nutrition of his tissues, and spares us the necessity of assuming that he is lying or consciously exaggerating.
As we go OA-er the case afresh after a fruitless search for organic lesions, we note that his vomiting followed immediately upon a d\Tiamite explosion. Further inquiry may ])erha])s show that deep impressions made at that time may be connected with the habit and practice of vomiting — that, in other words, we may be dealing with a traumatic neurosis. This must not be assumed without a careful study of the patient's mental attitude, as It Is apt to be revealed on close questioning about the accident and what has hayjpened since. It would seem strange that a man who has been through several explosions should lose his nerve for the first time In the last one. Only further Inquiry and experi-
form, was undertaken.
Outcome. — After some preliminary questioning, the house officer gave the patient a long explanation of the theory and practice of traumatic neuroses, explaining the supposedly nervous origin, structure, and development of the trouble. The patient accepted everything that was told him as absolute truth, and began at once to eat and to smoke without any discomfort or vomiting. After four days of entire freedom from symptoms he was discharged well.
A married woman of fifty-one entered the hospital July 15, 1908. Her family history is good, and she has always been well, although she has been subject to belching and nausea for many years. "The amount of gas that forms in
diet and stiiyed in bed. Seven weeks ago she was put on rectal fewiing, and this was continued in the Hale Hospital at Haverhill for the last four weeks. She has gradually \omiled more and frequently, no matter what she eats or drinks, e\en in the absence of all food by mouth. She has always ])een allowed to take water l)y mouth. At the ])resent time her vomitus is green and letter. About three weeks ago slie noticed about a teas])oonful of l)right blood in the vomitus. l'".\en niorphin, which has !)een gi\en in considerable (|uantities for tlie la>t \\eek, has
in the epigastrium, running up the sternum to the throat.
On examination, the temperature is 101° F., the pulse 88, respiration 24. The patient is obese ; the pupils small, but reacting normally. Her lungs and other internal viscera show nothing abnormal. The blood is negative, likewise the urine, except for the presence of a small amount of acetone and diacetic acid. The guaiac test in the stool and vomitus is negative.
Discussion. — In a patient who vomits with a temperature of loi ° F., infectious disease is the first possibility to be investigated. I have repeatedly seen a case which turned out to be pneumonia, but in which constant nausea and vomiting were the only complaints for three days, cough and signs of solidification being wholly absent. Less frequently one sees the same prolonged nausea at the outset of typhoid or malaria, and in children in almost any infection. Even if physical examination is at first wholly negative, we should suspend judgment as long as the temperature remains elevated, and continue to watch for the development of some distinctive symptom betraying infection. \'omiting itself does not produce fever.
Some type of organic gastric disease or some of the extragastric lesions simulating it should next be looked for, although at present there seems nothing definite enough on which to base a conjecture.
us to suppose.
Since morphin may check pain or vomiting, many physicians are slow to realize that when continued more than a few days it has a tendency to produce in many persons both pain and \-omiting.
The first move, therefore, should be to stop the morphin and study the condition of the ])atient when free from its influence. The size and functions of the stomach, the temperament and habits of the patient, must be learned. Thus the diagnosis may be more definitely outlined. But as a working hypothesis I think we have already evidence enough to justify us in following the clue gi\-en by her account of her own flatulence. A history of this kind usually points to a habit neurosis dependent upon cribbing.
Outcome. — The patient was found to be swallowing air constantly. She was given at once a liberal diet of liquids and soft solids, with a bitter tonic before meals, fluid extract of cascara for her bowels, and Hoflfmann's anodyne, a dram at night, if needed, for gas and distress.
vomited only once.
Examination with the tube showed no fasting contents, no enlargement of the stomach, and after a test-meal, free HCl, 0.12. The patient was kept for some time in the hospital on account of the slight fever, which continued for something over two weeks, but in every other way she seemed entirely well, and regained her confidence before the twentyfifth of July, when she was allowed to go home. The cause of fever was not found.
A single woman of thirty, formerly a buyer for a dry-goods house, entered the hospital March i, 1907. Four years ago she weighed 125 pounds and was strong and vigorous. She then began to have frequent stomachaches and much doctoring, both of which have continued and got worse each year. She had an osteopath for two years, with considerable relief to her stomach symptoms.
For the last year vomiting has been her chief symptom. It has no relation to the quality, quantity, or time of food. Some days she can eat and retain her meals. Other days even a mouthful makes her vomit.
Three weeks ago she was operated on for a floating kidney. Since then she has vomited everything. She is convinced that the operation was unnecessary and harmed her stomach. She is hungry and slcc])s well, liut is very weak and weighs only 67 pounds.
On examination the ])atient is much emaciated and nervous, but not des])ondent. The glands in the neck, axilla-, and groins are slightly enlarged; the heart-sounds weak and Milvular; a systolic wliilT i> closely confined to the apex region; no enlargement; the ])ulni()nciry second sound is slightly louder than the aortic second sound.
The aorta and the iliac arteries are easily i)al])al)lc, but the abdomen shows nothing abnomial. Hemoglobin. 75 per cent., wliite cells, 5200. Temperature, jmlse, respiration, and urine, nomial.
The stomach-tube showed the gastric capacity to be 46 ounces. The outlines of the inflated stomach were as shown in the accompanying diagram (Fig. 171). There was food in the fasting stomach. HCl was absent both in the fasting contents and after a test-meal. There was no reaction to guaiac in the stools or gastric contents.
Discussion. — Though there is nothing in the physical signs to suggest tuberculosis, one must always search with extra care for evidences of this disease when a patient is so emaciated and presents such marked gastric symptoms at the age of thirty. The low blood-pressure also points in the same direction, but in the entire absence of fever, and without more definite physical signs in the lungs, abdomen, bones, or glands, we cannot take another step.
Cancer of the stomach is very rare at this age, yet the emaciation, the evidences of gastric stasis, and the absence of hydrochloric acid compel us to give it consideration. As bearing on this question it is of importance to note that the symptoms are of long duration and gradual onset — very unusually so for gastric cancer. The good appetite is another point against cancer, likewise the absence of blood in the stomach-contents and in the stools. The patient is so thin that we should expect to feel a tumor if any were present, especially as the disease has lasted so long. On the whole, it seems well to adopt some other working hypothesis.
The position of the upper gastric border of the stomach proves that we are dealing with gastroptosis as well as gastrectasis, and makes it quite possible that the enlargement may be due wholly to the dropping. Whether any " benign " form of stenosis is present at the pylorus can be determined only by palpation, and by the results of our efforts at inducing the stomach to empty itself more thoroughly. E\en in a warm bath and with the most j)erfect relaxation of the abdominal walls, no induration could be felt in the region of the pylorus, which was unusually accessible to the hand, owing to the low position of the whole organ ("afterward demonstrated by bismuth and .r-ray picture).
As a result of these investigations and of a good many studies of the patient's mental state it seemed clear that we were dealing with a vicious circle. The ])atient's fruitless regrets and fulminations about the a]jparently useless operation doubtless helped to aggravate, and were
in turn aggravated by, the stasis in her prolapsed stomach. We break it by striking at that point, ascertained by experiment or as a result of previous knowledge of similar cases. In the present case it seemed well to attack first the gastric stasis, and, by conquering that, to improve the general nutrition, thereby mitigating the mental fermentation. Other cases may be best attacked from the mental side.
It may be well to say a word in passing of the dangers of undertaking any operation in such a patient except in genuine emergencies. I may here refer to the interesting and suggestive article of Dr. Stuart McGuire on "Latent and Active Neurasthenia in its Relation to Surgery," Jour. Amer. Med. Assoc, March 26, 1910. As the result of a slight ortho})edic or cosmetic operation done at an unfavorable time in a neurasthenic patient, I have seen acute and intractable exacerbation of all the patient's previous troubles reinforced by a host of new ones which tortured the patient and his friends for a year thereafter. The present case was a comparatively mild one of this type, but I have no doubt that the operation made her far worse than she was before, whether the kidney remained in place or not.
Outcome. — Under daily gastric lavage, liquid and soft solid diet for the first two days, and then six meals with dry diet, 15 drops of dilute hydrochloric acid after each meal, and the same amount of tincture of nux vomica before meals, the patient steadily improved.
The food residue in the fasting stomach had diminished by March 19th from 10 ounces to 3 ounces. The patient was much less nervous, up and about the ward daily. On the twenty-third she weighed 79 pounds and was very markedly improved.
An Irish teamster of forty-six, of good family history, entered the hospital February 21, 1908. He has had attacks of stomach trouble like the present one on and off for ten years; nevertheless he has kept at work ])ractically all the time, has smoked 35 cents' wortli of tobacco a week, and axeraged one whisky a day. He denies \enereal disease.
All thnnigh the sumnier and autumn his stomach wa> in bad rendition, but for the past four weeks he has l)een ha\ing an increasing amount oi" distress. He vomits almost daily, often four f)r fwc time- a day, and usually in large amounts — two or three ])ints at a time. Hi- \-omiluconsists of food, at times mi.xed with bro\vni>li material. Sometinii- hr
has been no blood recognized as such.
He has also epigastric pain, which radiates to the back and abdomen, severe, but always relieved by vomiting. Neither pain nor vomiting bears any relation to meals, so far as he knows. His appetite is excellent. He eats everything, as he finds that he vomits as much on a milk diet as when eating solid food. He insists especially that he is all right if he " keeps quiet," but that he finds it hard to get along if he tries to work. Nevertheless, he has worked up to February 20th. His average
He has no symptoms except those above mentioned. On examination the patient is emaciated, with a dry, somewhat pale skin; the cervical, axillary, and inguinal glands are slightly enlarged. The pupils are normal in all respects. The tongue is clean. The arteries are palpable and tortuous. The brachials show a lateral excursion.
Examination by means of the stomach-tube showed that the stomach held 60 ounces, though its lower border reached only to the level of the na\'el after inflation, and no fasting contents were obtained. After an Ewald test-meal the contents showed free HCl, 0.266 per cent.; total acidity, 0.348; no reaction to guaiac. On examination in a warm bath a hard, irregular mass the size of a plum was felt in the right upper quadrant of the abdomen. It was ^'ery movable, but not tender. It could l)c grasped in the fingers and mo\-ed freely from a point beloA\the umbilicus until it disappeared behind the ribs. It was not obliterated by inflation of the stomach.
Discussion. — We are dealing here with a case of long-standing stomach trouble which leads, in the patient's forty-skth year, to that type of persistent vomiting which jjoints to gastric stasis and dilatation. It is to be noted that vomiting relie\es pain and is associated with a good aj)petite, a clean tongue, and a high gastric acidity. The presence cf a
importance.
. Tumors of extreme mobility, as to whose nature any doubt is entertained, almost always turn out to be connected with the pylorus. Floating kidney is usually recognized with ease if its mobility is extreme, and there are no other tumors of this type. Those connected with the gallbladder may have considerable mobility, but their other characteristics usually ser\e to distinguish them.
Tumors at the pylorus result either from cancer or ulcer. Against cancer in this case is the long duration of symptoms, the retention of appetite, the high acidity, and especially the marked relation to exertion; but as we know that cancer may become ingrafted upon ulcer, it does not seem possible to be any surer of our diagnosis without la])arotomy. On the whole, though, the evidence points very strongly toward ulcer.
Pylorcctomy and gastro-cnterostomy was done, about 10 cm. of the lower end of the stomach being removed. In this operation there were two ulcers, one about 4 cm. above the pylorus, 1.5 cm. in diameter, with shar])ly ])unched-out edges and deep excavations. Its base was firm and gristly, but consisted only of chronic inllammatory tissue. Another ulcer about 2 cm. in diameter, with a similar gristly wall, is just above the pyloric ring.
On the fifth of .\])ril, 1909, the patient rc])orted that he was in good liealth and working regularly. He has no gastric distress, but has to eat fne times a day in small amounts. He has gained markedly in weight and strength.
A bar])er, thirty-seven years old, whose father died of Bright's disease, was first seen June 19, 1907, com])laining of vomiting >]k'11s wliich ];egan when he was sixteen years old and liave continued about twice a year e\er since, though less fre(|uent in the last ten years. He feels a "luni]) like lead" in the epigastrium all the time at jiroent. and cannot remember wlien he did not feel it. All food distresses him about ecjually. His a])])etile is good, and he eats slowly and at
laxatives.
Ten days ago he began to vomit without known cause, and has since then rejected everything except malted milk. The vomitus is chiefly phlegm in small amounts. During these ten days he has perspired during the earlier part of the night, and felt very cold the rest of the night. His sleep has been dull and heavy. He thinks he has lost weight. He has been able to do no work for this same period.
The patient is well nourished, slightly pale, shows some concretions of blood in the nose. Heart and lungs are negative, likewise the abdomen and the urine. The blood shows 4000 white cells and 60 per cent, of hemoglobin.
Discussion. — Our first impression of this case would be that it is one of chronic indigestion of unknown cause (gastric neurosis, chronic ulcer, chronic appendicitis), with an acute exacerbation perhaps due to constipation or some temporary nervous disturbance. But for the negative examination of the urine and the absence of headache, one might suspect chronic Bright's disease or cerebral tumor, both of which I have known to show themselves in this way in a patient with a similar history, reaching back indefinitely into boyhood.
One feature, however, arrests attention: In the present vomiting spell, which seems to be a good deal worse than the rest, he has had night-sweats. Although the daily chart (the temperature being taken morning and evening) shows no iever, it does not cover the period during which he \\'as complaining of night-sweats, and as it was only taken in the day-time, there may well have been a febrile rise at night since his entrance to the hos|)ital, as well as before. This indication sliould lead us to search for evidences of tuberculosis or other infectious disease, more especially as there is a considerable degree of anemia manifested ])y the lowered hemoglol)in percentage.
Such a lowering of the liemoglobin should always lead us to the study of a stained specimen. To one well trained in routine blood work the stained specimen would h-dve made clear the diagnosis in this case, yet as a matter of fact the blood has already ])een examined and nothing
Outcome. — A large number of tertian parasites — especially the young, unpigmented ring forms — were found in the stained blood-smear, together with some large atypical lymphocytes exhibiting phagocytosis of red cells. Had the blood been examined unstained, as is often done in cases of suspected malaria, these parasites would probably not have been recognized.
The patient was given 10 grains of quinin and the dose was repeated an hour later. After this he received 5 grains every four hours until his ears began to ring, then enough to keep them ringing for three days. In two days his blood was free from parasites and his vomiting had ceased.
I may add a word here concerning other atyjjical forms of malaria — i. e., those which do not begin with the familiar tertian chill. Among the malarial fevers of temperate climates, almost all of which are due to the tertian organism, I have noted the following unusual clinical types:
curred every day or every other day at the same hour.
In estivo-autumnal malaria persistent diarrhea may be the only striking symptom. A very large num1)cr of cases occurring in children are mostly or altogether latent.^
In all these atypical cases diagnosis is comparatively simple, pro^ vided we are led to make a careful examination of the stained blood-film; without this, diagnosis may be impossible.
A sewing woman of fifty-nine, always previously in good health, entered the hospital June 7, 1906. She felt perfectly well in the morning, four days ago, and went to call upon a friend. While there she was suddenly seized with nausea and vomited several times. She was taken home, went to bed, but felt mean and nauseated all the next day. She has not been able to work, and has been in bed practically all the time since, vomiting a little each day. She feels " all gone " and weak, is very drowsy and sleepy, and has had rather a severe headache since the onset. The bowels are moved with medicine. She gets up once or twice at night to urinate; she has a very slight dry cough.
The patient is obese; the pupils are ecjual and react normally. The tongue is clean, the heart and arteries normal. There are a few crackling rales in both backs, especially at the bases.
The abdomen and reflexes are normal. The urine a\'erages 40 ounces in twentyfour hours, 102 1 in specific gravity; no albumin; many hyaline and fine granular casts.
Discussion. — The very acute onset and the association with headache and drowsiness suggest some implication of the brain. Meningitis or brain tumor sometimes show themselves for the first time in this way, but when we follow out the tests indicated by these hints, there seems to be nothing to confirm them. Nephritis also might indirectly produce cerebral S}Tnptoms like these, and the habit of nocturnal urination, together with the abundance of tube-casts, gives some warrant to this idea. The other characteristics of the urine, however, do not bear it out. and as there is fever in the case, the presence of casts can be thus accounted for. The evidence would ])e more complete upon this point if we had an accurate measurement of the systolic blood-pressure.
Other diseases which often begin in this way are pneumonia and the gastric crises of tiibes dorsal is. Occasionally a i)aroxysm of vomiting is the only manifestation of an attack of nephrolithiasis. None of these clues, however, turned out fruitful when followed u]) in this case.
The correct diagnosis was actually suggested for the first time by the temperature chart, which shows, as will be at once obvious, a tertian fever. Such fever is by no means pathognomonic of malaria; I have known it to occur in tuberculosis and in various types of sepsis. Nevertheless, it could hardly fail to remind us that malaria may begin with nausea and vomiting and thus lead us to a careful blood examination.
Outcome. — The day after entrance the patient had a chill, and parasites were looked for, but in vain. It was not until the third day that the malarial parasites were discovered.
On the fourteenth the patient had a rise of temperature and vomited, though she had been taking quinin, 5 grain every six hours, since the eleventh. After that day, however, she had no more fever or vomiting.
A school-boy of sixteen was first seen August 24, 1907. His family history and past history are excellent. Last winter he entered high school and worked very hard. This spring he seemed tired out, and had headaches, supposedly due to eye-strain.
Two weeks ago he began to vomit. For four days he could retain no food, and for a week more vomited each morning. The bowels, meantime, were constipated, but the appetite was good throughout. During these two weeks he has frequently been chilly or feverish, his hands and feet being cold. He has complained of headache and pains in his back and legs, with slight cough. Throughout he has been very weak. For the ])ast three days there has Ijeen delirium.
^\'hen seen, the ])aticnt was in a muttering delirium, with twitching of the face. He was poorly nouri>hed. The course of the temperature is seen in the accom])anying chart. The chest showed nothing ;i1)nonnal. The abdomen was Hat, rather tense, tymi)anitic throughout,
irritation.
Discussion. — When a boy of sixteen is suddenly attacked by fever and vomiting in the middle of summer, no exanthem or other obvious cause being visible, malaria is one of the first diseases to be considered. It was easily excluded, however, hi this boy's case by blood examuiation.
Brain tumor, especially solitary tubercle of the cerebellum, sometimes begins in this way, and without an examination of the fundus one can hardly exclude it with certainty. It would be unusual, however, to find no hint tending to localize the trouble in any particular part of the brain (vertigo, staggering gait, strabismus).
Typhoid fever was the diagnosis actually made in the early days of this illness. The negative Widal reaction seemed to be of no great significance, since this reaction is so often absent in the earlier stages of typhoid. The early onset of delirium and the relaxation of the sphincters were accounted for by meningeal irritation (meningismus) , In all such cases, however, experience has taught me that it is wise to do lumbar puncture. Several times I have known typhoid mistaken for tuber'^ulous meningitis and a hopeless prognosis given in consequence. When the child got well and the diagnosis of typhoid became obvious, the family were not pleased with the prognosis previously given by the medical attendant. In the present case the opposite mistake was made, and a falsely hopeful prognosis was given.
Outcome. — On the twenty-seventh his neck was found to be stiff. Lumbar puncture showed 10 c.c. of clear, colorless fluid, the sediment of which showed 95 per cent, lymphocytes. A culture of blood-serum remained sterile.
quieter.
A second lumbar puncture, September ist, gave essentially the same results as before. Some of this fluid was injected into a guinea-pig. The patient became unconscious on the second of December and died on the fourth.
Throughout the first week of his stay in the hospital he was treated for typhoid; later he was fed by stomach-tube, milk, beef-juice, and eggs being introduced in this way.
A married woman of thirty-four, of good family history and past history, entered the hospital March 9, 1908. She had a miscarriage five weeks ago, in the fourth month of pregnancy, following a hard day's work of washing. There was considerable hemorrhage both before and after the miscarriage. She was curetted at the time, but has been very weak and confined to bed ever since. During the first three or four days after the miscarriage she had two chills, but there has been no fever, so far as she knows.
advice.
On examination, the pulse, temperature, and respiration are normal. The })atient is well nourished, slightly pale, pupils equal and reacting normally, the tongue thickly coated white, the left tonsil slightly enlarged, about half of the teeth missing. The heart's impulse is not seen or felt. The sounds are best heard, and the left border of dulncss found, in the fourth sj)ace, five inches to the left of the midsternal line, one inch outside the midclavicular line. The sounds arc regular and of good quality, the pulse of low tension.
The lungs are normal, the abdomen considerably tender above the symphysis and at McBurney's point. The patient has many varicose veins in the right lower leg, and two white scars said to be due to ])revious ulcers.
Discussion. — The salient facts a])pcar to ])c as follows: Obstinate ^■om^ting following miscarriage and associated with slight enlargement of the heart and a])dominal tenderness es])ecially marked in the ap])cndix region.
This group of s}Tiiptoms does not easily cohere into any of the traditional groui)S which we call diseases. The cardiac signs arc slight — o1)\iously too slight to account for the vomiting as a result of ]Kissive congestion. There is no kidney change to account for tlie cardiac enlargement, or to suggest uremia as a reason for tlie \oniiting. There are no brain s)Tn])toms, and though a fimdus examination would be a satisfactory com])letion of our record, it is not urgcntl} called for by
are ruled out by the entire absence of fever.
The abdomen deserves, of course, our special attention. Is it possible that the general tenderness may be the result of some type of peritonitis, a low-grade septic infection, or tuberculosis? The evidence is, on the whole, insufficient to justify any such belief. There are no muscular spasm, no free fluid or masses — nothing more, in fact, than one finds after a miscarriage in a great many uncomplicated cases. In the absence of fever, leukocytosis, elevated pulse, or more distmctive local evidences appendicitis seems unlikely.
A more thorough investigation of the pelvis is indicated. Although we know very little about the connections between the vomiting center and the genital tract, connections whereby so-called reflex vomiting of pelvic disease is supposed to arise, it is a very familiar fact that a ^•ariety of low-grade inflammatory changes in the puerperal uterus, complicated no doubt to a greater or lesser extent by absorption from incompletely organized thrombi, may lead to well-marked constitutional disturbances, of which vomiting is one. Whether this comes about through the nervous system, by the aid of the vomiting center, and favored by psychic disturbances, or whether it is in some way a more direct result of infection, I know no way of determining at the present time. But, however this may be, it seems clear that, when we have finished our task of excluding the other possibilities mentioned above, the best remaining hypothesis on which we may base treatment is that which assumes that the vomiting is in some way connected with the residual effects of the miscarriage.
Outcome. — The patient was put to bed and given 30 minims of fluidextract of ergot at once, and 15 minims three times a day after meals. There was some reddish vaginal discharge without odor. The uterus was moderately enlarged, freely movable, and somewhat tender. By the twenty-second the uterus was much smaller and less tender. The vomiting ceased after the third day. The treatment consisted of laxatives and a daily suds enema.
A stationary engineer of fifty-seven was first seen January' 21, 1907. Two of his brothers and one sister died of consumption. His wife is said to have died of tuberculosis of the bowels. He has himself been well except for so-called rheumatic ])ains referred to the muscles of the back and extremities. These he has had for many vears.
Eight years ago he was poisoned by steaming oxalic acid, and was sick a w'eek, with vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal pain. Since that time he has had occasional attacks of a similar nature about twice a year, lasting three or four days.
for a number of years.
Seven months ago he began to have frequent attacks of vomiting, coming on quite suddenly during a meal, or soon after it, and without any pain, nausea, or distress. He has Nomited every day for some months — often two or three times a day. There has never been any large amount of vomitus, nor any indication of food eaten the previous day. The appetite has been poor, his bowels very loose. He has lost color, weight, and strength very rapidly. Six months ago he was obliged to take to bed, where he remained two months, and got somewhat better. Diarrhea and vomiting improved decidedly, and he gained in weight, but at the end of another month he relapsed and had to take to bed again for most of the succeeding months. His complaints are now the same as they were seven months ago. He has never vomited blood. The character of the food has ap])arently no efTect on the vomiting. Seven months ago he weighed 184 pounds; four months ago, 142; three months ago, 153; now he weighs 125 pounds.
On examination the patient is pale. The heart's a])ex is in the fifth space, inside the nipple-line; there are no murmurs, no accentuations of any sound. The pulses are of high tension, the artery wall apparently somewhat thickened. The abdomen shows distinct resistance in the epigastric region and beneath the right costal border. Otherwise it is negative.
The blood showed: Red cells, 2,796,000; white cells, 9400. of which 84 per cent, are polynuclcar, the rest h-mphocytes. There is no achromia and no other change except slight deformities in the red cells.
Discussion. — The family history of tul)erculosis is so threatening: in this case that one would naturally begin diagnostic in\estigation> with a search for ex'idencc of ]>hthisis or some other fonn of tul)ercuh)sis. This was done, l)ut without result.
Since his occu|)ation does not inx'ohe any constant exno^ure to tlic oxalic acid by which he was poisoned eiglit years ago, tlurc appears to be no reason to connect his svm])toms with this poison.
The loss of weight, the anemia, the age of the patient, and the method of onset suggest ulcer or cancer of the stomach. The symptoms have lasted so long, however, that stasis would probably have manifested itself before this time. It is remarkable also that the food he takes has apparently no relation to the vomiting.
Gastritis and enteritis, without some obvious cause, such as alcohol, uncompensated cardiac lesions, tropical dysentery, or chronic nephritis, are distinctly rare diseases in a man of this age. There is nothing in the study of the stools or of the vomitus to justify any such belief; neither of these diseases is apt to be accompanied by severe anemia unless a great deal of blood has been discharged.
It is often profitable, in the discussion of such a case, to begin with the well-established fact of secondary anemia and study the rest of the disease from the point of view of the possible cause of such an anemia. I have previously referred to a case (see p. 539) in which severe anemia was produced by long-standing hemorrhoids with bleeding, altogether unknown to the patient. Such a cause was sought for in the present case, but not found.
Obscure anemia in a patient of this age very often turns out to be of cancerous origin. It did not seem to me, at the time that the case came under my observation, that the possibility of gastric cancer had been sufficiently investigated, and, accordingly, I adAised further study of the gastric contents and functions. Nothing of importance was elicited, however. The capacity of the stomach was within normal limits, there was no stasis, and although the amount of free hydrochloric acid was very small, this fact could not be interpreted as of any importance in relation to the possibility of cancer, since it could be explained in so many other ways. The guaiac test was negathe in the gastric contents.
Chronic nephritis was next considered, since it is a familiar fact that long-standing irritation of the stomach and intestines, with or without a catarrhal inllammatlon, often complicates, and is the main cause of, distress in this disease. Little could be found to support this idea. There was no demonstrable enlargement of the heart. Unfortunately, the blood-i)ressure was not measured, so that we could not be certain that our digital Impressions really corresponded to hypertension, as they were supposed to do. The urine was not Incompatible with nephritis, but not characteristic of It— a very familiar and baffling state of things.
Although the patient's habits were supposedly excellent, the resistance beneath the right costal border, the unexplained anemia and persistent vomiting, made us speculate concerning the possibility of a cir-
rhosis, but we found no means of advancing beyond the region of speculation upon this point. In the end the diagnosis was very uncertain. Fewer objections were raised against the diagnosis of chronic nephritis with uremic vomiting than against any other, but none of us felt satisfied.
A barber of thirty-five with an excellent family history and past history, entered the hospital January 11, 1908. He has been having business reverses for the past four weeks, during which he has slept poorly and become very nervous.
On the night of December 27 he fell down eight or nine stairs and bruised his right hip, which has improved somewhat under poulticing, but is still lame and stiff and has confined him to bed.
The night after this fall he began to vomit, and has continued to do so three or four times a day, and once at night ever since. The vomitus at first consisted of food in considerable amounts; later, of a frothy liquid and mucus. Once or twice there has been a small streak of blood. His bowels meantime have mo^•ed from two to six times a day, with considerable griping pain and gas. Throughout there has been a dull, steady pain in the epigastrium, with a sense of dragging when he sUmds or sits u]), but no especial pain. His food has been milk, eggs, oysters, and cool drinks.
On examination, the temperature, pulse, respiration, blood, urine, and internal viscera are all negative, except that the abdomen is held rather rigidly and that there is some tlattening of the right lower chest in front. aj)])arcntly connected with a funnel-breast deformity.
Discussion. — Gastro-cntcritis is the usual diagnosis in such a case, but while it is impossible positively to exclude such an ufi"ection. I think it is unwarrantable to assume it^ jjresence when the stools and the gastric contents furnish no better evidence of intlamnviticm. The presence of mucus in the \omitus and the occasional small streak of blood are in no way distincti\e. Almost any case characterized by persistent vomiting shows such jjroclucts now and then.
The abdominal rigidity leads us to think, at least for a moment, of .some type of peritonitis, but there is not a single other fact to support this idea. Surely there would be some change in the temperature, pulse or blood, were peritonitis present. Moreover, any patient who has recently vomited a good deal is apt to hold his abdomen rather rigidly when the palpating hand explores it.
It is worth noticing that the vomiting came on immediately after the patient had been confined to bed by the injury to his hip. The isolation, the inactivity and the deprivation of all occupation or interest produced by putting a patient to bed will give him a splendid opportunity to dwell upon the worried and depressing events which had previously made hun nervous and sleepless. One is justified in laying stress upon these factors in a case of this kind when careful physical examination furnishes no explanation of the symptoms. Treatment should be planned in accordance with the possibility that the symptoms may be psychic in origin, though greatly aggravated, no doubt, by physical exhaustion and starvation.
Outcome. — The patient was given a liquid and soft-solid diet, gentian and nux before meals, and trional, 15 grains, at night for two nights. In the three days following the beginning of this treatment he had no vomiting whatever, and declared that he felt perfectly well. Doubtless the reassurance given him as the result of a negative physical examination contributed to his reco\'ery.
A motorman of forty-four entered the hospital May 8, 1908. His family history and past history are rather uneventful, but he admits that he has lost much weight. Four years ago he weighed 210 pounds; now he weighs 159. He has not worked since October, 1907, because of stomach trouble. For the first two weeks of his illness he vomited everything that he had eaten, the sour vomitus consisting of undigested food, but never containing blood.
Soon after recovering from this he had " the grip," and was in bed for several weeks. Since then he has had wandering pains, " like rheumatism," in the shoulders, hips, and abdomen. He has not been confined to bed, and he was able to walk to the hospital, though he complains of considerable weakness. He has had a cough all winter until last week — since then, none. His appetite is poor, likewise his sleep. The bowels are moved daily. (For tem])erature, see the accompanying chart.)
The patient is emaciated, the heart's apex in the fourth interspace, inside the nipple-line, the sounds of good quality. The pulmonic second sound is slightly accentuated.
At the apex of the right lung there are a few fine crackles after cough and a slight prolongation of expiration. In the left back there is a triangular area of dulness, with its apex at the spinal column, ih inches above the lower angle of the scapula ; thence it slopes out into the midscapula. Over this area tactile and vocal fremitus are absent, breathing distant and bronchovesicular. Just above this area the voice has a nasal quality. The abdomen, blood, and urine are normal.
bacilli, with negative results.
Discussion. — The onset of well-marked gastric symptoms in a man of fort\-four whose stomach has never troubled him previously, should always compel us to consider gastric cancer, but more especially so when the physical examination of the rest of the body reveals nothing which might be a cause for the gastric disturbances. This can hardly be said to be the case here, so that our attention is properly concentrated first upon the extragastric causes which might lead to his present gastric symptoms.
Nothing is said regarding the reflexes in this record. Without a knowledge of their condition it would be impossible for us to exclude tabes dorsalis with gastric crises. Further investigation, however, showed that all the reflexes were normal.
The most important abnormalities discoverable on physical examination are in the lungs, and though these signs are not extensive, they lead us to ask whether so much emaciation and stomach trouble could be produced by any well-known disease affecting the lungs. This question must be answered in the aflirmativc. Nothing is more familiar than the ])roduction of such a clinical ])icture as a result of pulmonary tuberculosis. But have we evidence of enough pulmonary disease to explain such severe constitutional manifestations? This point ] have discussed in previous cases. Ex])eriencc has made us very familiar with the discrepancy often existing between the extent of the discoverable physical signs and the severitv of the constitutional manifestations,
It is quite possible that some degree of secondary gastritis may arise as a result of lowered powers of resistance produced by tuberculosis, but postmortem evidence does not compel us to make any such assumption.
many times repeated.
Outcome. — X-ray showed a deep shadow over the lower part of the left chest. The upper margin of this shadow had an irregular outline, and did not suggest the existence of any considerable pleural efiusion. There was also a slighter shadow corresponding to the left apex. The patient was discharged to a sanatorium for tuberculosis
A woman of fifty-six, a post-office clerk, of good family history and past history, entered the hospital January 9, 1908. She passed the menopause six years ago without trouble. Throughout the past summer she has been bothered by sour stomach and flatulence.
Five days ago she ate canned salmon for supper, and that night, after going to bed, she felt very chilly, headachy, vomited and sweated profusely. The next two days she also vomited a good deal, and during the last two days has been extremely nauseated. Throughout these five days she has had aching all over her body, has slept very little, and has felt feverish. The matter vomited has been either food or a greenishcolored material. The bowels have moved twice in five days. She has eaten practically nothing.
For the last three days she has had a constant, irritating, dry cough.
Physical examination was negative, save that in the left upper chest and in the right axilla, at the extreme base, were a few transient, fine moist r^Ies. Temperature, 102° F.; pulse, 100; respiration, 20; white cells, 19,500; hemoglobin, 90 per cent.; Widal reaction, negative; urine, negative.
Discussion.— The acute onset of symptoms in this case naturally and properly turns our attention for the time being away from the longstanding causes of vomiting, such as have been discussed in previous cases. It is true that some of these chronic diseases — such as brain tumor, nephritis, gastric cancer, or neurosis — may suddenly be "lighted up'' or roused to unusual activity after having remained latent for a long
fever, leukocytosis, and general constitutional signs pointing to infection.
It is reasonable, therefore, to consider whether any well-known infection is prone to begin in this way. Infections of the gas tro- intestinal tract are uncommon and still more uncommonly recognizable. Typhoid sometimes starts out with prolonged gastro-intestinal disturbances, but the high leukocyte count is sufficient to exclude any uncomplicated type of this disease. The same is true of acute or incipient tuberculosis, except in the meningeal form. The unknown infections, usually termed "grip" or "ptomain-poisoning," are much less likely to produce such leukocytosis and such continued vomiting than is one possibility — next to be mentioned.
Of all the severe infections which are apt to attack elderly people in or near the month of January, pneumonia is the one most often beginning with gastro-intestinal sym])toms alone. The leukocytosis, the cough, and the trifling chest signs are all quite consistent with this idea. Yet no one could make a positive diagnosis of pneumonia from the facts here ])resented. A blood-culture might enable him to do so, since the pneumococcus is not infrequently to be found in the circulating blood before any evidence of solidification has become manifest in the lungs. Without culture one can only suspect pneumonia, the ])ractical s^nificance of which act consists in what it leads us to say to the family, together with the focusing of our attention on the results otf rejx^ated exiiminations of the lungs. In many cases with exactly such signs as are here recorded, the stethoscope reveals nothing characteristic, but with the free ear against the chest-wall we may be able to detect a distant but quite distinctive tubular breathing.
Outcome.— Twenty-four hours after the above record was taken there a])])carcd in the left u]>pcr lobe, below the clavicle in front, dulness, diminished breathing, diminished \oice sounds, and many fine and medium moist rales. Although the Ijreathing was of diminished intensity, the expiration and the whis])ercd voice were high-j)itchcd and relatively intense. The patient had no dysjmea and no pain.
they were gone.
The patient com])lained \ery much of al)domina] (H<tres^ and numbness. She vomited occasionally on the following day-, and it was suggested that she ouglit to have a s])ecial nur>e and Ix,- U'd l>y the boud.
February ist she announced that she would like to sit up, and her appetite began to return; this was not until her temperature, pulse, and respiration had been normal for seventeen days.
On the third of February she complained of being paralyzed all over. On questioning, "paralysis" turned out to mean numbness, and there was not the slightest sign of impaired motion nor of impaired sensation anywhere.
An unmarried Canadian woman of twenty-seven, of good family history and past history, was first seen November 21, 1906. She has had occasional indigestion for the past two or three years, and of late has been run down and anemic. Catamenia have been absent for the past two and one-half months. For eight weeks she has had nausea and vomiting almost every day, sometimes several times a day. Vomiting may follow food, but at times she retches when the stomach is empty. Loss of weight and strength has been such that ten days ago she was obliged to go to bed, in spite of which vomiting has continued. Five days ago she began to have dull pain in the lower left chest, increased by deep breathing or cough. At the same time she began to be short of breath. For two weeks she has had cough, occasionally raising thick, yellow, l^lood-streaked sputum. (See accompanying chart for the temperature.)
No tubercle bacilli could be demonstrated from the digested clots.
After the tapping the patient ceased vomiting and felt finely. By December ist there was no vomiting at all; then it returned in occasional attacks, and by the twelfth it was causing a great deal of trouble. Free fluid had reaccumulated in the chest to a slight extent only, but the patient seemed to be losing ground.
Discussion. — The pleurisy which was so easily demonstrable in this patient's chest seemed at first a sufl&cient reason for her vomiting. We were, therefore, surprised that the vomiting continued after the effusion had been tapped. Neither the temperature chart nor any of the other signs in the case seemed to indicate that the tuberculosis, presumably in the background of this pleural effusion, was the cause of the vomiting.
There appeared to be no reason to suspect organic disease of the stomach, brain, heart, or kidney. There was no constipation or toxemia apparent. We might have been tempted to settle down on the unsatisfactory diagnosis of "gastric neurosis." One fact, however, still remained unexplained — namely, the amenorrhea. This was not to be accounted for by anemia or by any obvious psychic cause. Clearly, it was our duty to investigate the possibility of pregnancy.
Outcome. — Tuberculous salpingitis was suspected. Vaginal examination showed a mass in the pelvis, distinguishable from the uterus, softer and more fluctuant on the right than on the left. A great number of remedies for vomiting were tried, among them sodium bicarbonate, i dram in half a glass of hot water, sipped, Hofi"mann's anodyne, i dram in hot water, ginger-ale with sodium bicarbonate in sips, mustard leaf to the epigastrium, bismuth and beta-naphthol, cerium oxalate, 2 grains every two hours, and various diets. Finally, on the fourteenth of December she was put on nutrient enemata and all food by mouth omitted. As the {)atient continued to \omit and retch at times, though the nutrient enemata were well retained and did not cause discomfort, it seemed best again to explore the ])elvis, with a view to freeing the adhesions and perhaps stoj)ping the vomiting in this way. Accordingly, on the twenty-first the abdomen was opened and showed nothing but a large, ])resumably ])regnant uterus, with nomial tubes and ovaries. Within live days after this ex])l oratory operation vomiting ceased altogether.
A Russian tailor of thirty-seven entered the hospital April 28, 1908. He has found himself unable to work for several months, because whenever he tries to move about at all he vomits. This vomiting is accompanied by shortness of breath and palpitation. He has also a slight cough, anorexia, constipation, and insomnia. He has noticed no edema.
On examination, the right pupil is slightly larger than the left. The heart's apex is in the fifth space, one inch outside the left nipple. At the apex there is a murmur which lasts through the whole of diastole with a crescendo toward its end. The first apex sound is very sharp, and preceded by a palpable thrill. The pulmonic second sound is not accentuated. There are crackles and squeaks scattered throughout both lungs, especially at the base behind, where there are slight dulness and diminished fremitus.
Discussion. — Attention should be arrested by an unusual combination of symptoms present in this case — viz., vomiting, excited, apparently, by exertion. This is a very significant grouping of facts, and may be interpreted to mean either that vomiting is dependent upon some circulatory disturbance which exertion increases, or upon the shifting of the position of some viscus when he assumes the upright position.
vSince the vomiting is associated with other symptoms suggesting disturbance of the circulation and the physical examination reveals a cause for this disturbance, we must ask whether mitral stenosis, which is a])parently the lesion present, is capable of producing such persistent vomiting, even when compensation is not xery seriously disturbed. Experience shows that we may answer this question in the affirmative, although, as a rule, troublesome gastro-intestinal symptoms do not occur until rather later in the course of an uncompensated cardiac lesion.
Since physical examination gives us no hint of any other cause for the vomiting, it is proper to treat the patient with reference purely to his circulatory disturbance, and to anticipate that he will stop vomiting when his compensation is improved.
sium sulphate each morning, and a bitter tonic before meals. Occasionally he needed 10 grains of trional to induce sleep, but no cardiac stimulation seemed called for. After a week's rest he was in good condition and had no symptoms as long as he did not exert himself violently.
entered the hospital June 12, 1907.
About February i, 1907, he began to have abdominal pain and vomiting. At first his pain was relieved by belching sour gas, but it gradually became more severe, especially after eating meat or heavy food, less after milk or crackers.
For the past two months the pain comes three or four hours after eating, and is very severe and grinding, passing from right to left across the epigastrium, and relieved by vomiting, which is apt to occur once or twice every two or three days, usually after a siege of pain. He has often seen in the vomitus food eaten a day or two before. Usually the vomitus contains the unchanged food and bile-stained mucus, never more than a ])int at a time, never dark or bloody.
He has constantly lost weight, strength, and color. In February he weighed 152 pounds, now he weighs 131. He is constipated; sleeps well. He gets up two or three times at night to pass water. His appetite is excellent. He worked until two days ago.
Examination showed emaciation, pallor, negative chest and abdomen.
White cells, 5000; hemoglobin, 75 per cent.; urine, normal. The stomach held 70 ounces of water; after a test-meal, free HCl was absent on two occasions. Total acidity, 0.12 and 0.2. Stools altogether nomial. The fasting stomach contained considerable food remnants.
After a few days in the hos])ital on a dry diet divided into six meals daily, HCl, 20 minims after meals, and 2 drams of Carlsbad stilts each morning, the symptoms disapiicarcd.
On July 24th, 1Q07, he reentered the hos])ital. complainiriL^ tliat he had had since his last entry five or six attacks similar to that just described, ])eginning with severe abdominal pain followed by vi^niitinix and diarrhea. Most of these attacks ha\c followed some inrlixretion in diet. As in tiie j^revious illness, he lias noticed in \\ hat he \omit>
fallen to 50 per cent.
Discussion. — Gastric cancer is strongly suggested by this history. Here is a man who has lived on peaceful terms with his stomach for forty-nine years and then, without any discoverable cause, begins to have trouble with it. The regular recurrence of pain three or four hours after eating is, however, less characteristic of cancer than of ulcer and some other diseases. Quite obviously we have stasis, emaciation, and anemia, presumably of the secondary type. These facts, together with the absence of hydrorhloric acid, still further support the hypothesis of cancer, especially as no hemorrhage or other cause for the anemia is manifest.
Though we were much inclined toward the diagnosis of gastric cancer, the disappearance of symptoms after a few days' stay in the hospital made us more doubtful. Marked improvement does, however, occur in cases of undoubted gastric cancer, and I have often known a false conclusion based upon such improvement. Doubtless the secondary irritation of the gastric mucous membrane resulting from the stasis is itself the cause of many of the symptoms in gastric cancer. When this stasis is relieved by diet and lavage, the symptoms improve, though the cancer does not.
By the time of his second entrance to the hospital we had begun to notice certain anomalies in the clinical picture, which made it difficult to identify it with that of gastric cancer. First of all, it was notable that the pain passed across the epigastrium from right to left — i. e., against the current of the gastric contents. This is unusual in pyloric obstruction. Next, we were forced to observe that the pain had not the steady, grinding character usually seen in the more painful types of gastric cancer, nor was it confined to that indefinite distress and sense of weight which characterizes the less painful types of the disease. This man's pain came in distinct paroxysms of great severity, separated by intervals of com])lete freedom. This is more suggestive of intestinal than of gastric cancer. Hie profuse diarrhea following his last stay in the hos|)ital, and the consti])ation which has been a feature of his case throughout, fall in Aery well with this idea.
If we are dealing with chronic intestinal obstruction, as this last interpretation of the sym])toms seems to indicate, there is reason to believe that cancer is its cause, both because the great majority of
A married woman of fifty years was first seen in September, 1903, for major hysteria. After this she passed out of my ken and I did not see her again until December 8, 1908. During this time she had gol into the habit of taking brandy at the rate of about a quart a week at irregular intervals; also a s])ray of cocain, which she used two or three times a day for most of the time. Besides this, she had a prescri})tion for amylene hydrate, originally given her by Brown-Sequard, and continued by her at intervals ever since.
She has been more or less hors de combat, owing to the influence of hysteria and drugs, for a considerable ]X)rtion of the time. Two and a half weeks ago she got overtired with shopping and the theater. Within a day or two she began to have persistent vomiting, headache, and great irritability, which at times amounted almost to delirium, and was accomy)anied by suicidal impulses, This continued until within the present week, when she Ijecame very quiet and drowsy most of the time, but continued to vomit. As far as can be estimated, she has consumed about a quart of brandy in the last three days.
For the ])ast four days it has been noticed that the amount of urine has considera])ly diminished. Yesterday afternoon it was examined flnd found to contain 0.5 per cent, of albumin. Il was smoky in color. and in the sediment were a great manv casts, chiefly flne granular and brown granular, with a smaller number of the hyaline and cellular types. It was su1)se(|uently learned that she liad had albumin in the urine four years ])reviou>ly, but its other characteristics were not known.
I'or the ])ast twehe hours slie had been semieons(•iou^-. and as we went upstairs the attending phvsician said to me that the ca^e ^einied to him \ery grax'e; he doubted somewhat w hetlur she u'uld be roused.
We stepped to the bedside. "Mrs. D.," said he, "here is Dr. Cabot. Do you remember seeing him some years ago?'' "Yes," said she, "and a bigger fool I never knew." All of which seemed to argue that she was not so badly off after all; yet she soon slipped off again into a semiunconscious condition, in which the pupils reacted very sluggishly.
On physical examination there was decided muscular negativism. The heart and lungs showed nothing abnormal ; the blood-pressure was not high ; the abdomen was negative. There was no muscular paralysis, but the knee-jerks could not be obtained, and there was an extraordinary degree of fia1)biness in the calf muscles — almost no muscle left. Elsewhere nutrition was fair. Blood examination showed nothing wrong in that direction.
anticipate delirium tremens.
Uremia was seriously considered, and could not be excluded. The points against it were the low blood-pressure and the muscular relaxation, also the emphatic statement by the husband that she had often " been as bad as this before," but had always come out of it all right when alcohol and drugs were taken away.
On the other hand, it seemed difficult to account for the bad condition of the urine as a result simply of alcoholism and cocain. On the whole, I was inclined to think her uremic and to give a bad prognosis.
Outcome. — Alcohol and drugs were stopped, and she was kept on a diet of milk and water for twenty-four hours, after which she rebelled and nibbled a considerable quantity of various objects. Within a week the urine had cleared up and the jmtient was decidedly active and bad tempered, but insisted on running her automobile, which she dro\e herself. So far as could be ascertained, the attack had passed off without leaving her any worse than before, and without producing any permanent damage in her internal viscera.
The case taught me a lesson not unfamiliar to those who deal with acute alcoliolism and drug-poisoning, viz., that there is almost no limit to the amount of albumin and casts which may be excreted in the urine of patients during an acute attack of narcotic poisoning, without leaving any evidence of ])ermanent damage to the kidneys after the attack ])asses olf. One should attem]jt no judgment about the condition of the kidneys until we ha\e been alMc to eliminate the present effect of alcohol and other narcotics.
AnneK., a laundress of forty-eight, entered the hospital March 14, 1909. She has always been well and has an excellent family history. She passed the menopause a year ago. On the morning of Christmas, 1908, after a hard day's work preceding, she vomited "half a washbowl of phlegm" when she first got up. She noticed no food or blood in the vomitus. She breakfasted and worked as usual that day. Through January and February, 1909, she considered herself perfectly well, though her bowels had been more than usually constipated, and when once started by catharsis there had often been a slight diarrhea for several days.
Three weeks ago she took a dose of salts one morning for one of her usual spells of consti])ation and immediately began to vomit bile-stained phlegm. Her vomiting continued all day, though she kept at work. She s])ent the next three days in bed and continued to vomit after eating. She then went to a friend's house for a rest. There the vomiting soon ceased, and in five days she was able to resume work.
A week later, March 8, 1909, vomiting recurred for the third time. Nevertheless she ke])t at work until March 12th, the day pre\ious to her entering the hospital. The vomitus has always been small in amount and apparently free from blood or food residue. She says she has had no j)ain at any time except a "griping" after taking a cathartic.
Her mistress says that she has always been reticent and uncomplaining.
On examination her weight was found to be 151 ])ounds, and she seemed distinctly ol)csc, though it was also noted by one of the consultants that "her flesh hung on her body with wrinkles and folds." suggesting that she had previously been heavier.
Physical examination, including the blood and urine, was wholly negati\"e, sa\e for a very slight degree of abdominal distention. After the bowels had Ijeen started by a glycerin enema of 4 ounces on March 13th and a high oil enema of 6 ounces March 15th. they continued to move normally. The stools were not remarkable either in number or appear ance, and showed a negative guaiac reaction March i()th, 17th. and 20th. After the i8th she was al)le to take milk and crackers without any xomiting or distress. March 2()th slie was taking a full diet w ithout an\symittoms, and April ist she was discharged well.
Discussion. The diagnosis of i^astrir neurosis and (Oiislifxil.'on w amade in this case. The ])asis for this was chielly the neiratiNc iih\'r-i(al examination, and the pr()mi)t recovery of gastric and inle-tinal tunction under rest and diet, with enemata.
We were, therefore, (juite astonished and somewhat amused when Dr. E. A. Codman, who saw her March i8th, made a diagnosis of chronic intestinal oljstruction, probably due to cancer. Yet the outcome showed that Dr. Codman was in all probability right. The facts which guided him (and should have guided us) to this diagnosis were {a) the presence of slight abdominal distention on March i8th after five days of partial starvation and free catharsis; (b) the occurrence of vomiting in a middleaged woman who had been ])re\iously well and had no special cause for a nervous breakdown; (c) the history of periods of constipation alternating with diarrhea; (d) the griping pain which, though attributed by the patient to the action of cathartics, did not seem to Dr. Codman explainable thereby.
Outcome. — After leaving the hospital April ist, she stayed at a friend's house for three weeks; she then returned to her work as a laundress and seemed })erfectly well through May and June. I inquired after her this time and noted, with great satisfaction, her continued good health, confirming, as I thought, my diagnosis of gastric neurosis. In July she had her fourth attack, which came on this time with great suddenness. She was seen at once by a physician who found distention and vomiting, but under his treatment she seemed well again within a few days and resumed work. A few weeks later her mistress happened to go into the laundry and found that Anne had a fifth recurrence of her old trouble — vomiting. Another \-acation was advised, but after three weeks' rest at a friend's house her symptoms returned in great force. In this, the sixth attack, the vomiting finally became fecal and there was intense abdominal pain and rapid emaciation. Dr. John T. Bottomley saw her in consultation. In answer to my inquiry he writes as follows:
"She presented a picture of the terminal stage of an intestinal obstruction; distended abdomen, anxious face, fecal vomiting, empty rectum, etc. A mass was indistinctly felt in the upper abdomen and was believed to be malignant."
Called at noon February lo, igio, to see a Syrian housewife of twenty-nine (childless) whose groans and cries reached me in the street as I came to the house. I found her writhing in intense pain, referred to the epigastrium, and accompanied by so much retching that I could hardly get her history between the sj^asms.
Six days previously she had begun to vomit without obvious cause — the act being immediately preceded by epigastric pain and relieved by emesis. The early morning was her worst time in this respect.
Until this morning she had slept well and had suffered no pain between the vomiting spells, but at 5 a. m. to-day, after a sleepless night, the pain began again and her vomiting no longer relieves it.
Her bowels moved after an enema yesterday, and again this morning.
I examined her as well as I could between her spasms of writhing and vomiting. She was a stout, flushed, powerful woman. No percussion dulness, no tenderness or muscular spasm, no palpable mass could be felt through the belly-walls by rectum or by vagina. The temperature was 97.6° F., the pulse 100, the respiration 30. The vomitus consisted of mucus and bile-stained, watery fluid. The urine contained no albumin or sugar. The blood w-as negative.
The woman's sufferings seemed as intense as those of acute perforative peritonitis, yet I could find no objecti\c evidence of that disease. The pain was such as I have seen in gall-stone disease, yet until this morning it had been merely an accompaniment of the vomiting — and relieved by it.
yet I could find none on physical examination.
Discussion. — I felt very much puzzled by the case. The loudness and vigor of her cries and her healthy appearance inclined me to belie\e that she w-as free from any serious disease. On the other hand, the attending physician had evidently felt much alarmed about her. When he had previously telephoned me and found that it would be an hour before I could get there, he said he was not sure she would Vixe so long. In the hullabaloo going on in the room it was very difficult to think, but as I made the effort, my eye roved about the room and fell upon the center talkie, which contained a huge Turkish hookah, two boxes of cigarettes, and a hypodermic syringe. The last was the clue that I wanted,
Tncjuiry showed that it belonged to the doctor, and that he had given morphin once or twice daily for the last fwc days. As soon as I came to look at the patient with this in mind I saw that her outcries, tossing, and thrashing about the bed, and her vehement, thougii inchoate desire for something, she knew not what, were \"ery characteristic of wliat I had so often seen in morphin habitues deprived of their drug. ln(|uiry showed that she was not a hal)itue, l)ut had acquired a strong need for the drug in fi\-e days.
was brought on by overeating and constipation. It had been intensified and prolonged by the unwise use of morphin in a neurasthenic. After the evacuation of a large fecal accumulation, the withdrawal of the morphin, and a sensible diet, she recovered completely, though with a good many relapses.
' The special limitation-; of my material make it impossible for me to estimate accurately the proportion of cases in which hematuria is a feature of acute nephritis, but I believe it to he the commonest type of bleeding from the urinary tract.
HEMATURIA
The term is applied only when blood is visible in the urine by the unaided eye. It does not apply to cases in which the microscope alone enables us to detect red corpuscles in the urine. It is also distinguished from hemoglobinuria, a rather rare condition, in which the urine contains free hemoglobin, but no corpuscles.
CAUSES AND TYPES OF HEMATURIA
Since a very large proportion of the varieties of hematuria are not such as lend themsehes to the method of differential diagnosis by case analysis which I have used throughout this book, I shall not be able to exemplify them all by discussable cases presenting diagnostic difficulties. I shall, therefore, mention them in more than usual detail in this introductory section.
7. General infections.
Traumatic hematuria is most frequently seen as the result of sexere crushing accidents, as, for exam])le, when the body has been run o\er by a heavy wagon. It also occurs as the result of injuries in the perineal region and after instrumentation. It rarely j)resents any diagnc)>tie difficulties.
In nephritis, hematuria freciuentiy occurs as j)art of an acute jirocess w ilhout leading to any j)u//.les in its inter])retation. In chronic nephritis it may appear out of a clear sky when the underl}"ing di-ea-e is fjuite latent, and under tliese conditions mistakes of diagnosis often occur.
tion with some of the cases presented in the latter portion of this chapter.
Excluding nei)hritis, we have left a group of diseases of the kidney ordinarily termed "surgical," and including — (a) The irritations produced by oxaluria, with or without gravel, or by stone; (b) renal tuberculosis; (c) renal neoplasm; (d) cystic kidney; (e) unknown cause. All these will be exemplified later, and, accordingly, are not further discussed here.
Vesical hematuria may be due to — (a) Cystitis of unknown origin; (b) stone in the Ijladder; (r) tumors, benign or malignant; (d) acute prostatitis and prostatic hypertrophy; {e) tuberculosis of the bladder; (f) the sudden and complete emptying of an overdistended bladder, as in cases of acute retention; (g) bilharzia disease, w^hich is seen only in tropical climates or in patients recently returned from such a climate. Most of these will be discussed later on in this chapter. Bilharzia disease is recognizable by finding the eggs of the parasites in the urine. When once seen, they are easily remembered.
The vesical Jorms of hematuria are generally distinguishable from the other types above mentioned because other vesical symptoms, such as urinary frequency, tenesmus, or pain, are associated with the hematuria. This rule, however. Is by no means invariable, since renal tuberculosis may produce marked vesical symptoms, while, on the other hand, bladder tumors may remain \Aholly latent save for the occasional presence of blood In the urine.
In the hemorrhagic diseases, such as hemophilia, scur\-y, and the various types of purpura, blood may appear in the urine as well as elsewhere. The diagnosis of the underlying condition is usually obvious, and gives us a clue to the explanation of the hematuria. The same is true of the hematurias occasionally seen In connection with leukemia or ])ernIcious anemia.
A large number of poisons occasionally produce bloody urine, but among the drugs which are often used at the present time there are very few that lead to this accident. Cantharides, turpentine, and phos]jhorus are not often used to-day In such doses as are capable of producing hematuria. In factories where coloring-matters, especially fuchsin, are manufactured, gases are evolved which not Infrcrjucntly produce a severe hematuria, but o1)vIously not many of us are likely to encounter cases of this origin.
In the hemorrhagic forms of various infeclious diseases such as typhoid, typlius, small-pox, yellow fever, and septicemia, blood Is occasionally discharged with the urine, but its origin Is usually clear enough.
A housemaid of twenty-five, whose mother and one uncle died of consumption, entered the hospital December 23, 1907. She has had bladder trouble for eight weeks. She was in the Boston City Hosjjital three years ago. Three months after this time she passed a tumbler of clotted blood, but was well in a few days. The same thing occurred again in three months. Nine months ago she again passed liquid and clotted blood for three days, but recovered without treatment. Her last attack was about four weeks ago, and, like the others, was over in three days. The attacks have no relation to the time of menstruation. After that her urine \vas normal for t\\'enty-four hours. Yesterday afternoon hemorrhage was again profuse. In these attacks she occasionally has a little })ain during or at the end of micturition. There is no frequency of micturition, ])ut she passes urine twice in the course of each night. In all other res])ects she feels perfectly well.
Her physical examination is negative except for some tenderness in the lower jmrt of the a])domen, especially on the left side. The leukocytes are 8000; hemoglol)in, 75 ]jer cent. The urine is not remarkable, exce])t for the presence of a large amount of blood. An .v-ray of the bladder and kidneys showed no evidence of the ])resence of stone. Cystoscopy showed that the Ijlood was coming from the right kidney. Catheterization of the ureters gave clear urine from the left, nothing from the right. There was evidence of ulceration here and there in the left upi)er portion of the Ijladder. Rectal examination sliowed tenderness in the region of the right ureter and in the region of the ulceration on the left side of the bladder.
Discussion. — The essential feature of thi> case is the intermittent hematuria ])ersisting for three years in a woman of twenly-tne with long intervals between the attacks and perfect health in the interval>.
By the study of the urine we ol^tained no evidence of nephriti,-, gcnito-urinary tuberculosis, or litliiasis. There are no Ijladder sym])toms ]K)inting toward tumor, 1)enign or malignant, nor toward any type of cystitis. The .v-ray evidence supports us in excluding stone.
Under these conditions cystoscopy is ol)\iously indicated. ]'>y the coml)ination of cystoscopy and rectal exiuuination we obiainid the following additional infonnation: that the blood comes from the right kidney, that the bladder is ulcerated, that thi' ureter i- imdtr. and l^robably stenosed. These facts, together with the family hi-tory, j)oint di>tinctly to tul)ercu]osis of thi' kidney and 1>ladder. There is
In A'iew of this evidence it is not necessary to delay the beginning of treatment until a guinea-pig can be inoculated with the urinary sediment and allowed to ''rijjen" six weeks. This procedure should, nevertheless, be carried out at once.
Malignant disease of the kidney, especially hypernephroma, has been known to produce hematuria lasting over a period of three years. But with hypernephroma we should not expect ulceration of the bladder or tenderness of the ureter, and after the lapse of three years we should expect local tumor, metastases, and constitutional disturbance.
It should be noted how very good this patient's general condition appears to be, despite the apparently long duration of the disease. In this connection we may remember that in the kidney, as in the lung, tuberculosis may pursue an entirely "silent" and symptomless course. I have recently seen the results of such a tuberculosis at autopsy, although the j)atient had never had any symptoms remotely suggesting any malady of the genito-urinary tract.
Outcome. — December 28th the right kidney was cut down upon, found to be enlarged and cystic, the ureter full, enlarged, and in |)laces constricted. It was removed together with the kidney.
Before the operation a specimen of urine removed by catheter (December i8th) was injected into a guinea-pig. Autopsy, January 17th, showed tuberculosis of the animal, and tubercle bacilli were recovered in cover-glass examination.
An Irish shop-clerk of twenty-eight entered the hospital March 28, igo8. One brother and one sister died of phthisis. For two years he has noticed frequent micturition. There was some ])ain during micturition. Ten days ago this was repeated twice. There have l)een no other symptoms. He feels perfectly well.
The urine drawn by catheter showed the following characteristics: Amount in twenty-four hours, 26 ounces; color, bloody; specific gra\ity, 1023; albumin, very slight trace; sediment, considerable blood, normal and abnormal. Some pus, no casts. Few acid-fast bacilli.
a single small, shallow ulcer surrounded by a reddened area.
Discussion. — The age of the patient and the duration of the case are against malignant disease of the kidney or bladder. The x-ray evidence tends to exclude stone. Single circumscribed ulcers of the bladder are not infrequently due to tuberculosis, and the family history supports this idea. Further certainty cannot be obtained without a further study of the urinary sediment for confirmation of the finding of acid-fast bacilli. A guinea-pig inoculated subcutaneously with 35 c.c. of urine on the second of April was killed May nth, and showed tuberculosis of the lymph-glands, spleen, and liver, from which tubercle bacilli were recovered. There was no evidence of renal disease.
Outcome. — In May, 1908, an ulcer of the bladder-wall, apparently tubercular, was excised. May 11, 1910, the patient's physician writes: "I am more than pleased to let you know that Mr. F. has been feeling very well since his operation. He works every day."
A child of four years was first seen June 29, 1908. In the ])re\ious July he fell off a ladder, after which he was ])oorly and was thought to have malaria. Six weeks ago he fell ofi" an ex])ress wagon, striking on his left side in the lumbar region. Soon after this he began to i)ass bloody urine, and within the last six weeks he has had three such attacks. lasting each a cou])le of days; and soon after his fall, >ix weeks ago, a lump was noticed on the left side of the abdomen. It has rapidly increased in size since that time. The ])resence of this luni]i. together with the fact that he has fever every other day, has led to a dia.L'no-iof malaria. He comes from a \ery malarious \illage. IK' has lieen ra])idly losing weight for the i)ast six weeks.
parasites, but is poorly nourished. Examination of the head, neck, and chest reveals nothing abnormal. The left upper portion of the abdomen is prominent, and contains a large, firm, irregular mass, distending on inspiration. (See Fig. 180.) The air-distended colon passes in front of the tumor. The edge of the liver is felt two inches below the costal margin, in the nipple-line.
Discussion. — The time of year at which this illness occurs, the fever, the age of the child, and the presence of the tumor which may represent enlargement of the spleen, naturally suggest malaria, which was, indeed, the diagnosis at the time when the case was first seen. Malaria of the se\erer type may be associated with something resembling hematuria,^/, f., with hemoglobinuria, — but there is no blood and no true hematuria, only free hemoglobin discoloring the urine. We must have some other explanation, therefore, for the bloody urine in this case, especially as no malarial jmrasites were found, despite careful search.
Leukemia might give us a similar clinical picture, and is not infrequently complicated by hematuria. That disease, however, could be excluded in the present case because the stained blood-smear was quite free from any suggestion of leukemia. It is true that leukemia may for a short time exist without a typical blood-picture; under treatment with arsenic or .v-ray the blood may return altogether to normal, and the same change has been known to occur as the result of a complicating infection (pneumonia, erysipelas, etc.), or even without known cause. All these possibilities, howe\'er, are extraordinarily rare, and we have no good reason to consider them here.
Large abdominal tumors occurring in young children are not common. If bilateral, they are usually due to congenital cystic kidneys; if unilateral, some form of renal neoplasm is usually the diagnosis. The other possibilities are very few. In this child there is no reasonable doubt that we are dealing with a new-growth of the left kidney. The hematuria, the tumor, the poor nutrition, and the fever are the usual features of such a disease. Renal tuberculosis is almost unknown in a child so young, and would not have produced a tumor of this size without manifesting itself in the urine by the presence of pus and probably by vesical irritation.
Malignant disease of the kidney may be difRcult or im])ossible of diagnosis in its earlier stages, before the tumor is large enough to be palpable. A metastasis in some distant organ, usually in some bone, may be tlie first hint of the renal neo])lasm. In other cases we ha\-e long-standing, intermittent hematuria, such as we have already exemplified in genito- urinary tuberculosis. Hiis is unfortunate, because earlv
A married woman of fifty-two, a shoe stitcher by profession, was first in the hospital in 1905 for acute nephritis, recovering at the end of a month. Although there were still a very slight trace of albumin and a few fine granular casts in the urine at the end of her treatment, she felt perfectly well and showed no cardiac enlargement.
She was next seen November 18, 1907, complaining of hematuria. She has worked without a vacation since her last illness, though last spring she fainted several times while working. Since last May she has had much dyspnea on exertion, and has felt very tired most of the time, but has not again fainted. A week ago the sight of her left eye began to blur. She says that she had similar trouble with her right eye twelve years ago. She has noticed a slight swelling of her ankles ofif and on during the last three months. Her aj)petite has been poor, and her weight has fallen from 187 pounds last May to 119 pounds at the ])resent time.
On examination the temperature, ]julse, and res])iration were normal. The a])ex of the heart was in the fifth interspace, anterior axillary line, the action slightly irregular, with a tendency to gallop rhythm. There was a soft svstolic murmur at the aj^ex, transmitted to the axilla, and the pulmonic second sound was accentuated.
negative. The blood was negative.
There were many coarse and medium crackling rales scattered oxer both chests. Otherwise they were negati\e. There was no edema. The al)domen and extremities were a])])arently normal. The urine wasmoky, rorr to 1014 in specific gravity; the twenty-four-hour amount, from 40 to 50 ounces, with albumin from o.i ])er cent, to o.() ])er nnt. In the sediment were enormous numbers of fresh red cells. At iir>i tlu iv were no casts. Later on, moderate numbers of hyaline, tmr and coar-e granular (■a>ts appeared, some with cells adherent. The hematuria ceased in ten days. .\t no time was there any edema, heachuhe. \omiting, or oliguria.
Discussion. — By reason of the symptoms alone a diagnosis Oi pulmonary tuberculosis had previously been made in this case. The cough, the chest pain, and the emaciation led to this mistake, which was easily rectified when the chart and chest were examined. At no time was there any fever or anything suggesting the usual signs of pulmonary tuberculosis in the lungs.
We had no evidence of the ordinary causes of hematuria, such as stone, tuberculosis, or tumor. There was nothing to call attention to the bladder or to any disease, primary or secondary, in its walls.
The high blood-pressure, the urine, and the condition of the heart are such as we expect to find in chronic nephritis of the glomerulonephritic or interstitial type, especially the former. But we do not ordinarily associate hematuria with chronic nephritis. It is in the acute cases that we expect blood. Nevertheless, it has been repeatedly pointed out, as a result of surgical experience within the past ten years, that the kidneys in chronic nephritis may bleed profusely without any e^■idence of an exacerbation of the renal disease itself. Why this occurs we have no idea, but a number of surgeons ha^-e proved the fact when searching the kidney for evidence of stone or other cause for the hematuria. Doubtless many of the cases of apparently causeless hematuria belong to this group.
Outcome. — -The patient was fatigued on the slightest exertion, and was very slow in regaining her strength. Considerable impro\'ement took place, however, in the course of her two months' stay in the hos|)ital. Treatment consisted of diet, with an occasional bitter tonic.
A lady of seventy, of excellent family history and past history, entered the hospital June 25, 1907. She has had nocturia (i to 2) for ten years. For about a year she has had to pass water frequently — /'. e., about every two or three hours in the daytime, and seven or eight times at night. During most of this period she has frequently noticed the presence of fresh blood in her urine, together with small, blackish clots. The urine has never been foul, and there has been no pain or burning on micturition. There ha\e been periods of a month or two during the past year when she was free from her ])rescnt trouble, but for the last three months it has been constant. She has been graduallv losing weight for a number of years, but for the ];ast year her appetite has been very poor and emaciation has been rajid.
sounds were best heard in the normal situation. There were no murmurs or other abnormalities. The tension of the pulse was apparently increased, but the blood-pressure was only 125. There were slight general abdominal tenderness and a small umbilical hernia.
Several examinations of the urine showed essentially the same conditions: Amount in twenty-four hours, 30 ounces; color, very dark brown; specific gravity, 1016; albumin, 0.3 per cent.; bile and sugar absent; sediment, large amount of fresh blood with numerous round, mononuclear cells, somewhat larger than the erythrocytes. Occasional small macroscopic blood-clots.
Vaginal examination was entirely negative, as likewise was the .\"-ray of the kidneys and bladder. Cystoscoj^ic examination showed ulcerated nodules in the wall of the bladder.
Discussion. — Without a cystoscopic examination no diagnosis is i)Ossible in a case of this kind. From her age, the urinary data, and the bladder symptoms, one might suspect bladder stone or malignant disease, but nephritis, genito-urinary tuberculosis, and renal tumor would also be {possible.
Genito-urinary tuberculosis is very rare at this patient's age. The urine would probably contain more pus and less blood. Renal tumor ^^•ould probably be palpable after a course as long as that indicated by this patient's history. The condition of the heart and arteries is not such as we expect in chronic nephritis. Acute nephritis is almost unknown at the age of seventy, especially in the absence of any infection or ])oisoning.
K^•en without a cystoscope, then, the diagnosis of some bladder trouble was rendered probable by the exclusion of renal disease. Bladder stone would probably produce more discomfort than this ])atient suffered. Cystitis is not likely to produce such long-continued bleeding. Tumor, tlierefore, seems most ])ro]jable.
A l)lameless cook of fifty years entered the hos])ital January 1 1 . kjo;. Slie had previously l)een tliere in i8(;6 for "chronic cystitis. "" but ot late years she has been \ery well. A year ago she fell down >tair-, and although she kept about and on her feet after it, she became xcry nnuh exhausted, had pain in her back, and had to be sent to tlu' i)0>1on Cit} llosi)ital. Two day- after arri\ing there she ]ia--e(l Mood} urine.
very well.
Last Sunday (five days ago) she walked two miles to see Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy's home. When she got back her urine was bloody, and she had much pain on micturition, with tenderness over the bladder and in the left lumbar region. She has been passing blood ever since. She is very nervous, and says that her heart turns somersaults. She has been steadily at work since November ist the previous year. For the past three years she has persevered in the habit of reading in bed until 2 o'clock in the morning.
Physical examination shows an obviously cyanotic woman, with slight tenderness in the lower abdomen, but without any other evidences of disease except in the urine, which is bloody and shows in the sediment much fresh blood and triple phosphate crystals. Xo casts or pus. During her stay in the hospital the urine was approximately 45 ounces in every twenty-four hours, specific gravity from loio to 1013, alkaline in reaction, with a \'ery slight trace of albumin. The colon bacillus was recovered in pure culture from the urine. A''-ray of the kidney and bladder was negative.
The patient had numerous chills, not accompanied by any rise of temperature. The bladder was carefully sounded for stone, but none was found. She was gi\'en urotropin 10 grains three times a day, abundance of water, and by the twenty-first of January the symptoms were rapidly clearing up.
Discussion. — Such bladder symptoms in a woman of this age are often due to renal tuberculosis, but the alkaline urine, without any considerable amount of pus, without fever or renal tumor, incline us to look elsewhere for the cause of the symptoms.
The low gravity urine and the trace of albumin, together with the age of the jmtient, lead us to consider chronic nephritis with one of the periodic hemorrhages already referred to as an occasional complication of that disease. Against this idea, however, is the absence of any cardiac enlargement and the fact that we can account for the small amount of albumin present as a result of the hematuria itself.
The increase of symptoms following a walk, even though It was a walk to the residence of the founder of Christian Science, suggests bladder stone and led to the careful investigation of the bladder by means of the sound. Since no stone was thus discovered, it did not seem necessary to use a cystoscope.
It seemed reasonable to try next the therapeutic test, based on the idea that we were dealing with a cystitis of unknown origin, and pending the results of animal inoculation with the urinary sediment.
Outcome. — The sediment of the urine was injected into a guineapig January 23d. When the animal was killed six weeks later no evidence of the tuberculosis was found. By this time the j)atient was convalescent, the urine almost normal. On the thirtieth of January she went home apparently well.
A stationary fireman forty-nine years old was first seen on Julv 22, 1909. One sister died of cancer of the stomach; his family history and past history are otherwise good.
At this time there was also pain at the end of micturition on various occasions. He had acute retention nine years ago, and was operated on at the Boston City Hospital by Dr. Watson through a suprapubic incision. He believes that he had spasm of the neck of the bladder. After seven weeks in the hospital he was able to ])c at work, but his urine has e^■er since then been passed frc([uently and in small amounts.
At the present time there is no ])ain. He passes water about c\-cry two hours, and now and then there is blood in it. For the past six months he has had a j^oor appetite, and has frequently vomited during the day after drinking water. He has also had a great deal of sour stomach and belching. Within the past year he has lost 28 })ounds, but he still weighs 187.
There was a systolic murmur at the a))cx of the heart, transmitted to the axilla, and associated with accentuation of the ])ulmonic second sound, ])ut without cardiac enlargement. The abdomen sliowcd nothing a])norma]. The urine was very turl)id, 1)ut not at this time bloody. The kidneys were not pal|)aljle. The cutaneous and >ul)cutaneous tul)erculin reaction was negati\c.
Cvstoscopy showed a normal l)ladder. Thick jms was seen coming from the left ureter, while normal urine came from the riglit ureter. A'-ray of the kidneys and bladder was negative.
Discussion. — The case looks like one of tuberculous ki<h"iey. and this disease cannot l)c ])ositively exchicU'd. In a ca^e which ha> lasted so long we should expect a palpaMe kidney, but a- we do not know with any accuracy the duration of the di>ea>e, tlii- point i> not of great
importance. More significant is the absence of fever, and especially the absence of tuberculin reaction. The evidence against tuberculosis could be strengthened by repeated search for tubercle bacilli in the urinary sediment and by animal inoculation.
Hematogenous infections of the kidney would explain almost everything in the case exccjjt the hematuria, but so far as I am aware hematuria has not yet been reported in connection with this type of disease.
Stones in the kidney may be divided into the "silent" and the "obstreperous"; the largest branching stones are often entirely latent and symptomless, discovered first at autopsy or by the x-ray. Their size makes it very unlikely that they will be overlooked in an x'-ray plate, such as was taken in the present case. On the other hand, the small stones, such as might be missed in :x;-ray examination, are very much more likely to cause pain. In this case w^e have no pain and no rc-ray shadows. Stone may be, therefore, in all probability excluded.
Renal suppuration with a normal bladder and without tuberculosis is not common except as a result of hematogenous infection, which I have already discussed and excluded. Pyonephrosis of unknown origin is usually intermittent, like hydronephrosis, the material accumulating for a considerable period while a tumor gradually forms, then emptying with a gush into the bladder, with disappearance of the tumor. There is no history of anything of this kind in the present case.
Renal neoplasms are not prone to suppurate. Nevertheless, we do find pus in varying amounts accompanying the hematuria or alternating with it. It is impossible, therefore, to exclude neoplasm in this case.
Outcome. — Operation August 3d showed that the left kidney was converted into a pus-sac, which at the time was thought to be the result of tuberculosis. Under the microscope, however, the wall of the sac showed the structure of papillary cystadenoma. The kidney and ureter were removed. The reco\-ery from operation was satisfactory, but the patient soon passed out of observation.
One month ago he noticed that his urine was dark in color, and excei)t for one day, it has been of this same tint ever since. There has been no pain at any time, and no other symptoms. Xo clots or gravel have been noticed. The color of the urine \aries a good deal, but is never normal. Cystoscopic examination Ijy Dr. Lincoln Davis showed considerable intravesical enlargement of the prostate. The bladder was normal. From the right ureter came a jet of ]:)Iood tinged fluid, from the left, normal urine.
Except for a mild secondary anemia, physical examination was otherwise entirely negative. The blood, ])ulse, and tem])erature were normal. The urine averaged 35 ounces in twenty-four hours, with a specific gravity of 1027 to 1031, a large trace of alljumin, but no sugar. The sediment was made u\) of normal blood and a few leukocytes. Newgrowth of the kidney was thought to be the most likely diagnosis.
hours, with abundant water.
Discussion. — As a result of the cystoscopic examination we know that the blood comes from the right kidney, not from the bladder. We ha\e no evidence of stone or of tuberculosis in the kidney. The urine and the condition of the heart do not suggest nephritis. We find no calcium oxalate crystals or other source of local irritation. Xo drug or ])oison capable of inducing hematuria had ])een ingested. Tlie ])atient has no form of hemorrhagic or infectious disease, no aneniia or leukemia, no cachectic condition, such as might be complicated by renal bleeding.
When all these ])Ossibililies are excluded, as i> often the case in the differential diagnosis of hematuria, two alternatixes remain. We may be dealing with hematuria due to:
It has already been stated, in the (]i-cii>>i()n of a pre\ i(ni< ca-e. that diagnosis of renal new-growth> i> often impos>ible until the luuiur has reached a considerable size or has j)roduce(I nieta-ui>e>. There may be months or e\'en years of latency with nothing bm an (Hea>i()nal attack of hematuria, ])erha])s without e\en thi>. A- im tumor ran be felt in this case, we ha\e no delinile rea~~on for t!u' diauno-i- oi" new-
result of exploratory incision.
A very large number of hematurias — perhaps the majority of them all — are due to causes altogether unknown to us at the present time. After we have distinguished and excluded chronic nephritis as a cause of otherwise inexplicable hematuria, we have left the bleedings due to minute varices or vessels in the renal pelvis. In many cases not even these slight lesions can be found when the kidney is opened at operation or at autopsy. \'ague guesses like "vicarious menstruation," smart phrases like "renal epistaxis," do not help us, and for the present we are altogether in the dark regarding the cause of a large group of hematurias.
Outcome. — The kidney was cut down upon April i8th, and found to be entirely healthy both within and without. A month later the patient wrote that he had remained perfectly well since leaving the hospital.
A physician of forty, always previously well, was first seen August 26, igo8. About eleven that morning he noticed that his urine was bloody. The urine passed the night before was normal. He has been having a cold, with some cough and hoarseness for six days, and at the onset of this illness much headache and chilliness. At the present time the cold is practically gone and his urine is exceedingly clear.
Physical examination of the internal viscera was wholly negative.
A'-ray of the kidneys and bladder showed no stones. The urinary sediment consisted of blood with many large calcium oxalate crystals. On the morning of the twenty-seventh the urine was normal in color. Later in the day it was again bloody, the amount of calcium oxalate \arying directly with the amount of blood.
Discussion. — In the absence of fever. ])yuria, and local bladder symptoms, tuberculosis seems here unlikely. A careful study of the urine and of the kidneys l)y v-ray showed no evidence of stone, nephritis, or vesical ])arasitcs (bilharzia disease). Cystoscopy was considered, ])ut since there were no bladder symptoms or other definite indications to guide the search, it was postponed. Malignant disease of the kidney and tuberculosis were considered, but no concrete evidence could be found to supix)rt either idea.
We were much impressed with the close parallelism between the degree of hematuria and the amount of calcium oxalate present in the urine from hour to hour and from day to day. So close was this ])arallelism that it seemed wise to base treatment u]X)n the idea that the
calcium oxalate might be causing sufficient irritation to produce the hematuria by some means or other. Nevertheless, we felt by no means convinced that this hypothesis was correct, and looked forward with much interest to its confirmation or refutation through the outcome.
Outcome. — The patient was given a diet from which tomatoes, spinach, berries, cocoa, tea, and pepper were excluded. The carbohydrates of the diet w^ere also moderately limited. Water was gi\en in abundance; also 30 grains of sodium phosphate before each meal. By the twenty-ninth of August the bleeding had wholly ceased. Eighteen months later there had been no return of the sjTnptoms.
Eight years ago he had an attack of jjain in the region of the right kidney and thinks he passed a small calculus. Two years ago he began to notice blood in his urine, and this was almost constant for six months. When it stop])ed for a day or two, he usually had jjain o\"er the right lumbar region, relieved when blood reajjpcarcd in the urine.
In the next six months hematuria came for about twenty four hours every week or two. Between these attacks he had dull ])ain in the right renal region, relieved, as before, by bleeding. When bleeding occurred, he also noted pain at the end of the penis. He was now losing strength and had to give up work. Hematuria continued off and on until two months before he entered the hosjntal, when it ceased altogether. He has lost 50 ])Ounds.
Physical examination showed emaciation, anemia (hemoglobin, 60 per cent.). Temperature, gg° to 101.2'^ F. ; chest and extremities normal; in the right hypochondrium a nodular, insensiti\e mass, extending q cm. below the ribs, descending with dee]) inspiration. Urine bloody, otherwise normal; leukocytes, 6500.
Discussion. — The renal pain makes it altogether proljaljle that the kidney, rather than the bkidder, is the source of the hemorrhage. Tb.e ] ire-ence of a palpable tumor in the renal region ])oints strongly in the -amc direction. Tuberculosis, stone, and neo])lasm are tiie cliief ])o--il'ilitirs.
Stone never ])roduces a tumor ha\ing these charac"teri>tic>: it may lead to a small accumulation of |)us and cheesy material in ilie rtiiai ])el\is, 1)ut not to anything like the mass here describrd.
animal inoculation.
The occurrence of pain relieved by bleeding is distinctly suggestive of renal tumor, also the long duration of the bleeding without any check. Indeed, the most prolonged attacks of hematuria which we recognize clinically usually turn out to be due to renal neoplasm. In nephrolithiasis the bleeding is usually brief, and accompanies the pain, instead of relieving it.
Outcome. — Operation showed a hypernephroma which weighed 1500 grams, and measured 16x14x12 cm. This was successfully removed. Nine months later the patient wrote that he was steadily at work and had gained 40 pounds.
1906. His family history and past history are negative.
Two months ago he noticed that his urine was bloody. A considerable portion of the time since then, he has had pain in the epigastrium, increased by food, and has vomited frequently.
Physical examination of the chest and abdomen is negative. In the right back, just below the angle of the scapula, was a tumor the size of a small English walnut, freely movable beneath the skin, not tender, and was said by the patient to be due to a bullet which entered just below the right nipple in the front and lodged in his back. The patient showed evidence of marked anemia, the red cells being 3,300,000, hemoglobin, 40 per cent., white cells, 9000. The stained specimen showed nothing remarkable except achromia. The urine contained a large amount of normal blood, but no casts. It was sufiEicient in amount, and not abnormal in any other respect. Tuberculin reaction (cutaneous) negative.
in the bladder.
Discussion. — Left renal hematuria associated with well-marked secondary anemia occurring in a young man who complains of no bladder symptoms presents a clinical ])icture distinctly puzzling at the outset. We have done what we could to rule out stone, nephritis, calcium oxalate, and other toxic infectious and constitutional sources of hematuria.
Tuberculosis rarely produces so marked an anemia except in advanced cases widi well-marked pyuria, fever, or tumor. Against tuberculosis we have the absence of the abo\e signs and the absence of a tuberculin reaction.
Renal new-growth is always a danger threatening such patients — i. c, ])aticnts with unexplained hematuria. The nodule in the right posterior thorax is not so situated as to corres}K)nd with any of the ordinary sites for metastasis from a renal or su])rarenal tumor. There seems no good reason to doubt that the patient's idea about the origin of this nodule is correct. If the case be not one of renal tumor, we ha\e no other plausible alternative to suggest. Very jjossibly it may be one of those cases of "idiopathic" bleeding discussed on p. 680. Further certainty can be obtained only by ojjeration. As the ])atient does not seem to be improving and has a very considerable degree of anemia, exploratory incision seems justified.
Outcome. — In the pelvis of the left kidney there was found at operation one or two clots of blood. A section of the kidney was remo\ed for examination and showed absolutely normal kidney tissue.
Se})tember 2d: The patient, who had made a good recovery from the o])eration, though he still continued to ])ass considerable amounts of fresh blood, began to com])lain of stiffness in his neck and jaw muscles, with pain, and was unable to open his mouth more than an inch. Later in the day he began to have convulsions, and died at 9 p. m.
The results of the autopsy indicate that the anemia was in all ]^robability due, in ])art at least, to the gastric ulcer. Our attention had been com])letely diverted from this side of the case by the more s])ectacular sym])toms, especially the hematuria. In the retros])ect we say to oursches for the hundredth time that a major operation should ne\cr be lightly undertaken.
A Jewish schoolboy ten years old was seen October 15, k^oS. Ikhad measles when he was thirteen months old. Six \\eek> latrr lie began to have incontinence of urine, which he has had f\er >incr. Vhv trouble is mostly nocturnal. This morning his mother saw in hi> hrd some bl()(Kl. which she thinks was passed during tlir night. The l'i>y (lid not know it, but since that time ha> continued to ]ia-- exi eetlingly bloodv urine, with clots.
Physical examination was entirely negative; the urine contained only blood with pus and large mononuclear cells. Catheter specimen remained sterile on culture-media. No tubercle bacilli found. Cystoscopic examination showed general reddening with areas of ulceration. No stone. The stream from each ureter was clear.
Discussion. — Sudden hematuria occurring in a boy of ten without previous evidence of cystitis is distinctly rare. Stone in the bladder was my first thought after going o\er the case. The renal causes of hematuria, such as have been discussed in the previous pages, are all of them, very infrequent in children, with the single exception of renal new-growth, of which we had no evidence in this case.
The results of cystoscopy showed that we had no reason to suspect the kidney as the source of bleeding, and indicated that we were dealing with a cystitis of unknown origin. What may have been the duration of this cystitis we have no means of judging; it gave no signs of its presence until the day on which he was seen, unless, indeed, we reckon the eight years of nocturnal enuresis as such a sign. I see no good reason for considering the enuresis in this light.
Outcome. — The patient was given urotropin, 5 grains three times a day. October 25th the urine was free from blood and the incontinence had almost ceased. By the first of November he seemed perfectly well and entirely able to control the flow of urine. This improvement was subsequently maintained, A guinea-pig inoculated with the urinary sediment was killed seven weeks later and showed no evidence of tuberculosis.
A point of considerable interest in this case is the sudden stojjpage of a long-standing and obstinate enuresis. Can we suppose that the cystitis was of a chronic type and represented the cause of the incontinence? It does not seem probable, for at no time had the boy's symptoms differed from those of any other case of enuresis. He can hardly have had the cystitis since his thirteenth month.
Another possible explanation presents itself: ^lay it not be that the instrumentation itself — the cystoscopy— cured the enuresis? It is a well-known fact that enuresis is prone to cease after an o])eration of any kind, presumably because the oi)eration makes a strong impression upon the child's gray matter, both cerebral and s]jinal. In the present case the boy had no reason to sui)])ose that the c}stosco])y was done for the relief of enuresis. He knew that he was being treated for the hematuria, and that nothing was said about curing the other and older habit. Nevertheless, he may have drawn his own conclusions in his own way — we cannot tell.
DYSPNEA
It is, on the whole, best to maintain the usual distinction between dyspnea and polypnea, and to use polypnea for a quickening of respiration without any evidence of effort or distress, objective or subjective. Such a polypnea is seen most often in infectious fevers, such as typhoid or septicemia, less often in the terminal coma of diabetes. In its extreme form it is to be witnessed in hysteria, which produces the most rapid l)reathing to be met with clinically.
Nevertheless, the distinction above exjjlained is neither so sharp nor so logical as we might desire. When a healthy man begins to run, his breathing is first cjuickened, — polypnea. — then, at the end of a variable period, it begins to be slightly difficult, until at last true dysjmea is reached. So it is in cases of failing cardiac compensation, and occasionally in general infections such as those above mentioned. In the early stages of the disease the breathing is quickened; later it becomes difficult as well. We might agree to say that dyspnea begins when the accessory muscles of respiration are called into play. But this is rather an arbitrary distinction. The movement of the ala nasi begins in some patients before the breathing has become even distinctly quickened, yet this movement must, I suppose, be reckoned among those involving accessory muscles of respiration.
approximate sense.
Dyspnea and short breath are not always used as equivalents. Some patients ])uzzle us very much by complaining of short breath desi)ite our inability to find any sign of disease on ])hysical examination. ]More careful (juestioning sometimes Ijrings out the fact that by short breath the patient means a feeling of inability to get as much breath as he thinks is owing him. His Ijreathing may not be quickened or difficult, but he has the sense that he cannot fully fill or distend his lungs. This is complained of most often by those who are oxerworked, underfed, and <hort of sleep, or who. for some other reason, have allowed them>clves to get run down. Ikyond this I ha\e no idea of its explanation. «8(;
The last is by far the most common, and is seen in the great majority of uncompensated cardiac cases, in pneumonia, pulmonary tuberculosis, and other cardiac and respiratory affections.
Inspiratory dyspnea is comparatively infrequent, and occurs especially as the result of some obstruction in the upper air-passages, for example, in laryngeal diphtheria, edema of the glottis, "croup," tumors of the larynx, foreign bodies in the larynx, trachea, or primary bronchi, postpharyngeal suppurations, Ludwig's angina, and similar conditions. If the obstruction is below the primary bronchi, we do not see dyspnea of this type.
Expiratory dyspnea, usually accompanied by wheezing noises, occurs chiefly in emphysema and asthma, occasionally in pulmonary edema. It is apt to be more or less paroxysmal, whatever its cause.
CAUSES OF DYSPNEA
Heart disease, phthisis, and pneumonia are doubtless the commonest sources of dysj^nea, but one sees the slighter degrees of the condition in a great many anemic or debilitated patients, perhaps as the result of a slight cardiac insufficiency not recognizable by other means.
Very acute and alarming dyspnea is seen at the onset of pneumothorax, although both the frecjuency and the distress disappear altogether within the course of a few days or weeks after the thoracic cavities and their contents have adjusted themselves.
Occasionally in miliary tuberculosis one sees a dyspnea so extreme and a rate so rapid that hysteria is sometimes falsely diagnosed. A careful liistory and a thorough ])hysical examination should set us right.
Increased intrathoracic pressure due to mediastinal tumors, to aneurysm, and occasionally to ])ericar(iial effusion may ])roduce dys])nea. sometimes of a ])aroxysmal ty])e, which is difllcult to understand, since the cause ])ersists unclianged.
A high diaphragm ])us!ied up by ])ressure from an accumulation of fluid or gas or by some solid tumor causes a certain amoimt ot polypnea, and occasionally dyspnea, by reducing the amount of space a\aihible for res])iration.
THE EFFECT OF POSITION AND OF THE TIME OF DAY Probably for the reason referred to in the last paragraph (high diaphragm) dyspnea is always increased by the recumbent position and eased by sitting up. In extreme cases the patient leans forward over his knees and much prefers to sit in a chair, owing to the cramped position of his legs in bed. Mountain-climbers at extreme elevations instinctively assume a similar position when endeavoring to rest.
All types of dyspnea are apt to be worse at night. This is not wholly due to the fact that at night the patient is usually trying to assume a recumbent position. Even with bed-ridden patients, whose position varies scarcely at all in the twenty-four hours, dyspnea is much more annoying after dark. This has been explained by Hoover and others as due to the fact that the respiratory center goes to sleep and allows the respiratory act to become almost suspended. The patient then wakes with a horrible gasp. It is in accord with this theory that the most troublesome dyspnea of most cardiac patients is in the earlier hours of the night, when sleep is deepest. Later in the night they can often lie down and get some rest.
Regularly recurrent or periodic variation in the depth and frequency of respiration, with intervals of apnea alternating with dyspnea, receives the name of Cheyne-Stokes breathing. If there is no pause or apneic period, but merely a rhythmic quickening and slowing of respiration, the name of Biot's breathing is applied.
Either of these types of breathing may occur in healthy infants during sleep. In adults they usually complicate severe disease of the heart or kidney, less often of the brain, but also occur in the more critical stages of acute infectious diseases, such as pneumonia, and under these conditions may not be the harbinger of death. In cardiac and renal troubles such l^reathing is a bad prognostic sign, though I ha\e known it to occur during sleep for many months before the fatal termination.
• A German messenger^boy of twenty- two was first seen February 18, 1908. His family history was negati\e. Seven years ago he was thrown from a horse and tram|)led on; his left thigh and many of the ribs on the left side were broken. He was in the hospital for eighteen months, and states that he was unconscious for the first six months of this time. In December, 1907, he was in the Boston City Hospital for three days on account of a cough of four days' duration, accompanied by blood-
streaked sputum and pain in the left axilla. Physical examination was negative, and he was discharged in three days. He again entered the same hospital on the ninth of January, 1908, complaining of chest pain, sore throat, and a slight cough. Careful physical examination and x-ray examination showed nothing. Since that time he has felt weak and run down, but has worked steadily up to this morning. For a week he has noticed that his left ear was not as good as is the right, and for the same period he has had sensations of pinching on both sides of the chest near the left nipple, and in the neck a feeling as if it were being scraped.
He thinks he may have raised as much as half a pint of blood in the whole four days. During this time his breathing has been very rapid. He has been restless and wakeful at night, and has vomited everything that he has taken. When on his feet, he is dizzy and faint. He has had frequent chilly sensations, but, so far as he knows, no fever. This morning while at work he fainted away, but walked .to the hospital without assistance.
patient showed a rcmarka]:)ly rapid respiration, — 80 to the minute, — though his pulse was only 72, later slowing down to 50. Temperature was 99.4° F. He lay flat u])on the
accident room table, and seemed to be half asleep, except when spoken to; then he was nota]:)ly alert, answering all questions in a strong, clear voice. There was an occasional slight, dry cough. The throat was somewhat reddened, the pu])ils equal and reacting normally, the heart absolutely negative, the lungs slightly less resonant in the right front than in the left. In the same region the voice-sounds are \ery slightly increased. Inconstant bubbling rSles arc heard in the right front and back. Physical examination, including the nervous system, blood, and urine, was otherwise entirely negative.
During the first week of his stay in the hospital the patient's respiration continued at from 80 to 95 a minute, while his pulse was from 50 to 60. His hands, arms, and lower legs were cyanotic, congested, mottled, showing marked sluggishness of the capillary circulation. The face was flushed, but not cyanotic. He was as comfortable when lying down as in any other position. The fundus oculi was negative.
Discussion. — Summing up the past history of this boy, we find two sets of events, one or both of which may bear upon his present disturbance of breathing. The first of these, however, — the accident of seven years ago, — seems rather too much in the past to be of any importance in relation to his present trouble. The pulmonary injuries arising from broken ribs are matters of immediate importance within a few days or weeks after their occurrence, not after the lapse of seven years. Questions of this kind are raised in connection with suits for damages supposedly due to accidental injuries, and it is often claimed that an injury of this kind might be the source of long-standing pulmonary disease. I do not believe that there is any sufficient ground for this idea.
The two attacks of axillary pain with cough are very much more recent, and are probably connected in some way with the present trouble. Tuberculosis is strongly suggested by the hemoptysis, as well as by the nature and position of the pain (pleuritic?). I have known polypnea similar in many respects to that here described, and due, as it afterward turned out, to miliary tuberculosis. This, indeed, was my first thought in the case here under discussion. The absence of cyanosis, the remarkably slow pulse, and the perfect comfort in the reclining position first aroused our skepticism, which was further increased by the nearly negative results of physical examination.
No blood was expectorated during his stay in the hospital, and we had no independent account of the fact of blood-spitting — only the patient's own statement. The other symptoms complained of — the fainting and dizziness, the sensory disturbances in the chest and neck, the curious mental state, and the mottling of the skin — all pointed toward a functional ner\ous disturl^ance as at least a part of the cause of these symptoms. It will be recalled also that he is stated to have been unconscious for six months after his accident of seven years ago — a condition strongly suggest! \e of hysteria. This hypothesis accordingly was followed up and led to the additional observations recorded in the outcome.
surprise would slow his respirations for a few seconds. During the night he got but little sleep, but when he dozed off, it was noted that his respiration fell to 21. The patient's friends say that he has been very peculiar and untruthful for a long time.
The patient's bed was screened off and he amused himself by reading. When thus occupied, his breathing would at times fall to normal. At times his pulse was as slow as 45 and his respiration as rapid as 100. The patient's headache was entirely removed by an ethyl chlorid spray. Areas of absolute anesthesia, as shown in the accompanying diagram, were demonstrated by Dr. Fitz at a clinic. Half an hour later the\ were not present.
It was later learned that he had worked for a long time in the hospital at Baden, Germany, and was interested in medical subjects; also that seven weeks ago he received news of the death of his father, the last of his immediate relatives. Since then he says he feels that he has no one to live for. On the twenty-fourth of February it was noticed that he had no palatal reflex. On the third of March he said that he had swallowed a safety-pin. He did not say whether it was o])en or closed. X-ray showed a doubtful shadow in his stomach. The patient said he could feel the pin in his throat.
At this time the respiration became more normal and remained so, but the next day he said he could feel the pin in the region of the left sacro-iliac joint. The patient was dry-cupped at this point, and reassured. His respiration still remained normal, and he was allowed to go home.
In \iew of all these facts we had no hesitation in making the diagnosis of hysteric polypnea. Of the four cases of this disease which have come under my observation, three have occurred in male ])atients. In all, the rajjidity of the breathing was greater than in any but the terminal stages of organic pulmonary or cardiac disease. From these it may be distinguished by the following criteria:
(//) The ra[)i(l respiration does not continue throughout the twentyfour hours; it may often ])v interrupted, as in the present case, \\lHne\er the patient can be led to talk with interest, and fre(|uentlv cease> during sleej).
{() Other exidences of hysteria are usuallv (iinion-tralilc - for exam])le, the susceptibility to suggestion, areas of anothe-^ia, and wide deviations from the truth which seem like ordinary lying, l)ut are morr ])robal)ly due to the ])eculiar mental state.
(d) The distress, cyanosis, orthopnea, and other evidences that breathing is difficult (true dyspnea) are absent. The breathing is rapid but not labored, and its rapidity is usually much greater than that associated with any organic disease of the heart or lung.
A collector, sixty-four years old, was first seen March 10, 1908. He has had dyspnea for eighteen months. For the past four or five weeks it has become worse, and he has slept every night in a chair. For two or three weeks he has had a cough with yellowish sputa.
Physical examination shows obvious loss of weight. The left pupil is larger than the right, and slightly irregular. The heart's impulse is in the fifth space, f inch outside the nipple. There is no obvious enlargement to the right. The action is irregular and the sounds are indistinct. The second aortic sound cannot be heard. A coarse, discordant, squeaking murmur is heard with systole at the apex, and is transmitted to the axilla. At the base there is a rough systolic murmur, and along the left border of the sternum a low-pitched diastolic murmur. In the third right interspace near the sternum is a systolic thrill. The arteries are palpable, tortuous, and show a lateral excursion. The pulses are of small volume, low tension. There is no capillary pulse. Coarse bubbling rales are scattered throughout both lungs, and there is dulness, diminished respiration, and fremitus at both bases behind. The abdomen shows dulness in the flanks, shifting with change of position.
Discussion. — A long-standing dyspnea in a man of sixty-four associated with a cough which is of A'ery recent origin is almost invariably due to cardiac disease. Since there are well-marked cardiac lesions shown on physical examination, and nothing in the lungs except what is easily explained by passive congestion, it is proper to assume that the heart disease is the cause of the dyspnea, unless evidence is presented suggesting another cause.
A to-and-fro murmur in the upper half of the precordial region, associated with absence of the aortic second sound, a systolic thrill, a pulse of small volume, and moderate cardiac enlargement is strong evidence of aortic disease with stenosis and regurgitation. The diagnosis of aortic stenosis is one of those most often made erroneously. In my opinion it should never ])e made unless there is also evidence of aortic regurgitation — in other words, so-called pure aortic stenosis probably does not exist. At any rate, I know of no convincing evidence of its
given.
(b) In any long-standing rheumatic case showing an aortic regurgitation in a person under twenty-five, whether there are physical signs of stenosis or not. This latter conclusion is the result of postmortem observations. I have never known a case of long-standing heart disease in a young person in which pure aortic regurgitation was discovered at autopsy. Stenosis always accompanies it, because the rheumatic type of endocarditis does not stay long upon the aortic vahe without producing stenosis. In older persons aortic regurgitation without stenosis is very common, and the presence of a systolic murmur without the other signs recorded in this case should never be considered as sufficient evidence for the diagnosis of stenosis. In the present case we have all the cardinal signs.
Outcome. — Under rest in bed, with digitalis and purgation, he improved very much within three days. Blood and urine were normal, temperature constantly subnormal; pulse and respiration not remarkable. Under 15 minims of digitalis tincture three times a day the patient was able to be up and about by the twenty-first. On the twenty-fifth digitalis was omitted, and the patient was able to walk about without distress. A half-ounce magnesium sulphate was still given every morning. On the twenty-ninth he was allowed to go home.
A school-girl eight years old was first seen November 19, 1907. The mother now has consumption. Two sisters have died of })ncumonia. The child had the measles and chicken-jwx five years ago. Four years ago she visited the Boston Dispensary and was told that her heart was enlarged. Three years ago she was kc])t out of school for the whole winter, and seemed about as she is at present. ])ut ])icked u]) in the sj)ring. For three weeks she has been short of breath on exertion, and has complained that her feet were sore. In the same period she has been growing })ale and thin, and has l)een heard to moan in her sleep. T\\<t or three times in the last four days she lias coughed up a teaspoonful of blood.
The course of the lem])erature, ])ulse. and respiration are >een in the chart (Fig. 182). The child is very i)ale, thou'^h her hemoglobin is 75 ))er cent. The ape.x impulse is difiiculi to plaee, but seems
to be in the sixth space, ^ inch inside the nipple-line. At the apex there is a palpable presystolic and systolic thrill. When the child is lying down, a systolic impulse can be traced as far out as the seventh space, and nearly to the posterior axillary line. No left border of dulness can be marked out. (See Fig. 184.) Cardiac pulsation can be felt over the dull area to the right of the sternum. A loud to-and-fro friction rub is heard in the exposed space. (See Fig. 183.) In this area the heartsounds cannot be clearly made out. In the anterior axillary line systolic and diastolic murmurs are heard. Posterior to this point the first sound is very sharp. The right lung seems normal. The left lung is hyperresonant at the apex, but below that dull, gradually increasing to flatness
at the base behind, where the breath-sounds are bronchial, though feeble. Above this many fine and medium crackles are heard. The edge of the liver can be felt across the upper abdomen, as seen in the diagram.
Discussion. — As I have definitely stated that a to-and-fro friction rub is audible in the ex[)osed s])ace, there can be no reasonable doubt that we are dealing here with pericarditis. If the friction were pleuro]>ericardial in origin, one would not descrilje it by the words here used, and there would be some note regarding its change or disappearance when the breath was held.
the amount of effusion is large. We see postmortem many a shaggy heart {cor villosum) which has developed as a terminal complication in chronic nephritis without producing any dyspnea whatever. In the present case, therefore, the important question is: What else have we besides such a pericarditis?
It is to be noticed, in the first place, that the child's heart has been known to be enlarged for at least four years; in the second place, that there is apparently decided enlargement now, although it is impossible to say just where the left border is. There is a double apical murmur and thrill which, in itself, aside from the other conditions present, would lead us to suppose that the mitral valve was narrowed and incompetent. But to any one who has had a considerable opportunity to verify his cardiac diagnoses postmortem it will be an old story that, in markedly enlarged hearts, systolic and presystolic murmurs at the apex have no diagnostic value. They may be present with or without valvular lesions.
The observations of the last ten years, especially in England, have made it clear that in the heart troubles of childhood the whole heart — endocardium, myocardium, and pericardium — is usually invohed. In the inflammatory process attacking the heart, the part borne by the valve is usually far less important than that borne by the myocardium and the pericardium. In other words, j)ericarditis is much more common than endocarditis in the heart troubles which occur in childhood, with or without joint infection (rheumatism) and chorea. But in all cases the affection of the myocardium is the all -important element, though we have no direct auscultatory evidence of its changes, such as we often have when the endocardium or the ])ericardium is attacked.
A ])oint of ])ractical im])ortance in these cases is this: No matter what murmurs arc ])rescnt we are not l)ound to assure ourselves or the family that an incurable cardiac malady is ])resent. If only the myocardium has been severely inflamed, we may see an almost complete restoration of the cardiac functions with the disappearance of the murmurs and a return of the heart almost or quite to its normal size. This result, however, comes only after months of rest and careful watching. In the great majority of cases digitalis docs harm.
Outcome. — Under rest in l)e(l, with tincture of digitalis 5 minims every four hours, the tem])eralure and the friction rub gradually >ul)sided. After the ist of December she was carried out ofdoors each day and gradually improved. By the fifteenth of December the friction rul) had disappeared and the sounds in the left lung were reduced to very slight dulness at the extreme left base, with coi/^vheel re^-iiiration. but no
rMes. On the twenty-first of December the cardiac apex was in the sixth space, 3^ inches from the median line. There was a palpable thrill and a rough presystolic murmur, followed by a loud systolic murmur at the apex. The child could walk about without dyspnea and seemed nearly well.
A married American woman, forty-one years old, was seen March 13, 1908. Her family history and past history are excellent. For six months she has noticed that she has been short of breath. There has been no cough, no edema, no orthopnea. For four months she has been getting weaker, but has kept at work until four weeks ago, when she fell over at her work. She was not unconscious, but, she says, ''I had no pulse and no heart-beat and they worked over me for two hours before I was better." She has been in bed since that time, and while quiet, feels well enough except for a little pain around her heart. There has been some bloody vaginal discharge for a considerable portion of the time in the last five years; there are few days in the month without bleeding, though the amount is small.
Under gas and ether on the nineteenth of March a Jet of hot steam was introduced into the uterus, the vagina being protected by a continuous stream of cold salt solution passing around the uterine tube during the process. The steam was continued for forty seconds, and after a few minutes' intermission, for thirty-five seconds. Following this the uterine discharge ceased.
Discussion. — The hyperplastic endometritis which doubtless was present in this case must ha\-e produced an undesirable and in some ways debilitating drain upon the system, though it cannot have been of very great physical importance, since no anemia was produced. But psychically such a drain has a very great effect on most women, especially when the knowledge of its presence is given a solemn and ominous
Nothing in the physical examination gives us any definite knowledge of an organic disease to which this dyspnea may be made secondary, but it is a fact very familiar to clinicians that "short breath" is complained of by a great many patients in a variety of debilitated conditions. In some of these patients cross-questioning showed that no true dyspnea is present, for by "short breath" they mean not a rapid and difficult respiration, but a certain sensation as if they were unable to draw as full a breath as they desired. It is thus a sensory, not a motor, phenomenon, and as such should be distinguished from true dyspnea. Just what is the significance of this sensation I have no idea. One meets it in a great many neurasthenic persons and sees it pass off' under reassurance and work-cure without any change in the condition of the circulatory or respiratory organs.
One also sees a great many cases of true dyspnea which are ne\er fully explained. The symptom is indeed much more common than is often realized, because we often forget to ask for it, and unless questioned, patients often do not mention it. It may be surmised that these unexplained ty])es of dyspnea are due to mild forms of myocardial insufficiency which recover without our being able to be sure that they exist or to recognize their cause. It seems altogether probable a priori that such types of insufficiency occur and that they will assume greater importance in the future.
One often hears from patients the history of an attack like that suffered by this woman four weeks ago — an attack in which a doctor is called "and works over the patient for hours before she is better." From a considerable ex])erience of the outcome of such cases I have come to believe that this very process of "working over ])coj)le for hours," together with the alarm reflected from the medical attendant to the patient via sympathetic relati\es, is itself the cause of most of the symptoms; in other words, I beHe\e that these attacks are largely hysteric in nature, and are much aggra\ated by the treatment which they receive. If neglected or made light of, such an attack will often pass off in a few minutes, but if inhalations of amyl nitrite, alcoholic stimulants by mouth, subcutaneous injections of strychnin, and heat over tiic precordia arc given, the ])aticnt takes the hint, laces tlie worst with courage, and proceeds to suffer accordingly.
A canvasser seventy years old was first seen April ii, 1908. His family history is excellent. Since his twentieth year he has had epileptic attacks, once in two or three weeks at first, for the past thirty-five years much less frequently. He is unconscious for a few minutes, but never falls, as he knows when his attack is coming. He never bites his tongue, and has no incontinence. Since his twentieth year he has also had involuntary twitching of the muscles of the left hand, for which he wears a glove, with relief. He denies venereal disease. For the past month he has had much dyspnea, increasing within the last few days to orthopnea, and associated with a cough and profuse sputum — ^ of a cupful of thick, greenish sputum in twenty-four hours.
On j)hysical examination the blood-pressure is found to be 160 mm. Hg; the nocturnal urine is more than the diurnal. Respiration is rapid and wheezing; there is a frequent loose cough, with mucopurulent sputum. The heart shows nothing except unusual faintness of the sounds and accentuation of the pulmonic second. The chest is hyperresonant on percussion throughout, obscuring the cardiac dulness. Expiration everywhere is prolonged and accompanied by coarse squeaks and groans. The sputum contained many eosinophiles, many mixed bacteria, no tubercle bacilli.
Discussion. — We have no reason to doubt that this patient has epilei)sy, though there are some symptoms which lead us to conjecture that it may be of the secondary type, and that some source of cortical irritation may be present. In all probability, however, this longstanding malady has no special connection with the symptoms from which he now is suffering.
Dyspnea combined with high blood-pressure, nocturia, and innumerable pulmonary rales may be associated with chronic myocardial weakness, with acute pulmonary edema, or with some pulmonary infection (bronchitis and bronchiectasis) . Presumably the heart is enlarged in this case since we find blood-pressure high. If the symptoms had appeared with great suddenness in a patient previously in good condition, and if the sputum had Ik-cu very profuse, watery, and pinkish, acute edema of the lungs would be the most ])robable diagnosis. But as the onset has been a gradual one, we have no reason to consider that mysterious and dangerous disease.
It remains to distinguish between — (a) Dys])nea due to chronic pulmonary stasis with edema, the result of myocardial weakness, and (b) res])iratory infection. The ])ulmonary hyperresonance makes it
impossible for us to estimate the size of the heart; accurate auscultation is rarely possible when all the sounds are obscured by noisy r^les. In cases of this kind, which are very frequent in general practice, our chief reliance must be upon the pulse. In the present case the pulse was regular, not rapid, or in any other respect remarkable. The cervical veins showed no distention or unusual pulsation. The distribution of the rales in the lungs was not that usually seen in chronic edema due to stasis, and the number of bubbling and crackling sounds was less than that usually heard in edema. The examination of the sputum further inclined us to believe that the dyspnea was due to the condition of the lungs rather than to any form of cardiac insufficiency.
Putting together all these facts, therefore, it appears that the dyspnea is due to emphysema and bronchitis, with very possibly some bronchiectasis as well. One recognizes, however, that the occurrence of such infections is greatly favored in case any weakening of the circulation supervenes, as it is always prone to do in men of this age.
Outcome. — He was given potassium iodid, 10 grains three times a day, atropin sulphate rJ-g- grain three times a day, mor])hin | grain occasionally for dyspnea and sleeplessness. By the twentieth his bronchitis was nearly gone and he was having good nights. He was then given a cough mixture in the following recipe for cough :
A housewife, aged twenty-six years, of good family history, was first seen January i6, 1907. She had never been sick in bed until se\'cntecn months ago, when she had "typhoid fever"; at this time she was in ])ed five weeks. Eleven months ago she had "bronchitis" and was in bed a week. Eight months ago she had ])leurisy with effusion, and was tapped, l)ut only about a tcasy)oonful of clear lluid was drawn for diagnosis. During the past summer she has been somewhat short ot ])reath on exertion, with considerable wheezing cough and tlic raising of thick, greenish phlegm in the morning. For the ])ast montli the wheezing and rattling in her chest has been almost constant and not affected by cough. Dyspnea has grown worse, and she gets out of breutli very easily. The wheezing comes in paroxysms lasting an hour
about twice a day. They are usually brought on by exertion and are relieved by rest or by coughing. She has had no fever, no chills or sweats. Six months ago she weighed 112; now she weighs 115 pounds. She feels well and strong, and has not been confined to bed, but complains that any exertion brings on shortness of breath and wheezing. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart.
The patient is well nourished, rather nervous, and fidgety. Coarse rales can be heard at some distance from the chest, and the nostrils move with each inspiration. The heart's apex is seen and felt in the fourth space, 5 inches to the left of midsternum, 2 inches outside the nipple. The dulness extends also as low as the sixth rib. The sounds are regular, of good quality, and there are no murmurs. The condition of the lungs is shown in the diagrams (Figs. 186 and 187). The liver dulness extends three fingers' breadths below the costal margin. Its edge is not felt. The blood showed a continuous leukocytosis varying betsveen 16,000 and 28,000, with 84 per cent, of polynuclear cells. The urine is not remarkable. The head, abdomen, and extremities are negative. The sputum shows an abundance of various bacteria but no tubercle bacilli.
On the seventeenth the right chest was tapped, and 40 ounces of fluid removed, with great relief to the patient. This fluid was turbid and deposited a considerable whitish sediment. It was odorless, 1023
cells, very few mononuclears.
Discussion. — This case is characterized by the occurrence of paroxysmal dyspnea and wheezing, brought on by exertion in a patient who otherwise feels well. The physical examination indicates at once that the heart has something to do with it. But when we have such marked signs in the right chest, we must always question whether the displacement of the cardiac impulse is due to hypertrophy and dilatation or to the pressure of an effusion in the right chest. Doubtless the heart's action is embarrassed when it is made to beat in this unusual position, even though no cardiac disease is present. But until we know what is the position of the cardiac apex after we have tapped the pleural effusion, we have no way of being sure of any lesion in the heart itself.
What is the malady in the chest? The leukocytosis indicates that it is not due to hydrothorax or serous pleurisy. The specific gravity of the fluid obtained by tapping and the character of the sediment point to an infection which will soon result in frank pus (empyema).
(a) In a considerable portion of the postpneumonic cases the pneumonia is so mild and rapid that it is altogether unrecognized, and the empyema is supposed to be "primary." The study of the fluid, however, almost always reveals pneumococci more or less degenerated, and on careful questioning we can usually elicit a history that strongly suggests the original pneumonia. Latent cases are especially common in children. Practically all the postpneumonic empyemas get \xe\\ and stay well. Their prognosis is far better than that of serous pleurisy, as I proved some years ago by following up the end-results of a large number of cases of both diseases.
(b) Tuberculous empyema has usually a gradual and insidious onset like that described in this case. The fluid is often at first serous, and the doctor may blame himself (quite unjustly) when it becomes purulent after tap])ing. In a minority of cases there is obvious tul^erculosis of the lung or |)ncumothorax, ])receding the a])])carance of ihc em])yema. Often there is evidence of tuberculosis in other organs. In perhaps the majority of cases, however, it is the failure of the empyema to clear u]) after drainage which first makes us suspect tuberculosis. I ha\e never known a tuberculous case to get well.
Outcome. — In the sediment of the chest fluid a few small clumps of tubercle bacilli were demonstrated, though none could be found on repeated examination of the sputa.
Though the patient felt very well through the later days of January, and was out-of-doors daily in a chair, her temperature ranged higher and higher, and on the sixth of January a friction-rub was heard all over the precordia. On the seventh the right chest was again tapped and a thicker and yellower fluid was withdrawn. The patient was then transferred to the surgical ward and several pints of thick, odorless, creamy pus liberated; specific gravity was 1030, the sediment as before, but containing no tubercle bacilli, while pneiunococci were easily cultivated from it. For twelve weeks after this the patient continued to run a high, irregular temperature, but finally recovered, and when heard from eighteen months later, was in excellent general health, though with a small discharging sinus. A guinea-pig inoculated with 30 cm. of the chest fluid withdrawn January 17th was killed six weeks later, and showed marked glandular tuberculous lesions, from which tubercle bacilli were recovered.
A young woman of twenty -two, a typesetter by profession, was seen April 3, 1907. Her menstruation has always been irregular, occurring about every six weeks. Two years ago she almost choked to death while eating tea and cake. Ever since that time she has been very short of breath on walking, and suffers a gnawing pain in the left chest and shoulder on any exertion. Cold weather always makes her worse, and some days she can scarcely walk for shortness of breath. This, howe\er, never interferes with her regular occupation. She has no other s}nmptoms. Her appetite, bowels, and sleep are normal.
The heart's impulse and dulness reached to the sixth space, midaxillary line, 8 cm. outside the nip])le. The right border of cardiac dulness seemed to be at the right sternal margin. Cardiac action was regular, rapid, 112, the first sound short and valvular, the pulmonic second very much accentuated. There were no murmurs and no venous pulsation in the neck. The pulse was of small volume, moderate tension. Blood-])ressure, 115. The lungs were normal, save for an occasional ])ubl)ling rale at the left base. There was a trilling edema of the hands and feet, together with marked coldness. Blood and urine showed nothing abnormal, and there was no indication of stippling in the red cells.
Discussion. — This patient's right ventricle seems to have given way; at any rate, the heart is enlarged, and the cause for such an enlargement does not appear to lie either in valvular disease, in syphilis, or in any renal affection. Our problem is to find some other etiology.
In .', woman of this age we can hardly suppose that we are dealing with a hypertrophy and dilatation due to a chronic fibrous myocarditis. It is true, however, that myocardial weakening, with or without demonstrable fibroid changes, does occur in young people as a result of an acute infectious disease of the same type which we call rheumatism when the joints are invohed. When a heart is thus weakened, dyspnea may result either from the gradual and progressive dilatation, cr acutely, as the result of some strain, such as mountain climbing.
Chronic adhesive pericarditis, which may occur without the patient's having been aware of its earlier stages, often produces hypertrophy and dilatation of the heart, with resulting dyspnea. We cannot exclude this disease in the present patient, but there is no definite evidence of it, no retraction of Interspaces in any part of the chest during systole, no restriction of the normal cardiac moljillty when the patient lies on the left side, no history of acute pericarditis in the ])ast.
We must beware of an incipient Graves' disease (hyperthyroidism) in any case presenting the symptoms here under discussion. The cardinal symptoms (tachycardia, thyroid tumor, exophthalmos, tremor) may be so slight as to be easily o\crlooked, and the cardiac weakness and enlargement may thus occupy the foreground of the clinical ])icture. Some evidence of the cardinal sym])toms must, however, be detected before we can go beyond a sus])icion of Graves' disease. In this case we could find no such e\idcncc.
Acute dilatation of a ])reviously healthy hr>art I have never known to occur except during acute infectious diseases, such as i)neum()nia, })ronchitis, articular rheumatism, or Intlucnza; yet I have seen a number of cases like that now under discussion in which we had no dellnlte evidence of any disease sucii as would weaken the myocardium, and were confronted, therefore, with an a])])arently "primary" dilatation, acute or subacute. So far I have never followed such a case to ]K)stmortcm examination without finding e\i(lence of a ])re\iou> myocarditis. When, therefore, we find no causes such as an acute infectious disease, hy])erthyr()idism, or adherent j^erlcardium, and when \al\ular disease and nephritis can be excluded, 1 think we should conclude, as I do in the present case, that we are dealing with a chronic ir.xocarditis of unknown origin (syphilitic ?j, with a complicating acute dilatation.
is temporary or permanent.
Outcome. — Under rest, purgation, magnesium sulphate, and 5 grains of veronal at night, the [)aticnt was remarkably improved within four days. On the seventeenth the heart showed no enlargement and no murmur, and the patient was able to walk about without symptoms.
A widow of fifty-two who had lost two sisters of cancer and had previously suffered from typhoid fever, several attacks of pneumonia, and from one severe attack of diphtheria many years ago, was first seen January 10, 1908. She had several uterine operations four years ago, the last of which was a partial hysterectomy. Three years ago the left
For three weeks she has had a
cold in the head, with sore throat. A week ago she became dizzy and almost lost consciousness while on the street, but managed to get
home, when she had chilliness,
sweating, and i)ains all o\'er her body. Since that time she has had fever, dry cough, nausea, and shortness of breath. The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart. Her throat is reddened and swollen. There is herpes on the nose and upper lip. The
are faint at tlie apex, but show nothing else abnormal. The heart is not enlarged. The pulse tension appears to be slightly increased. There is slight edema of the lower legs. The abdomen and the urine arc negati\'e.
Discussion. — In all the cases discussed so far in this section the dyspnea has been of the ordinary type seen in the vast majority of cases due to pulmonary or cardiac disease. It has been ''mixed" — i. e., it has affected both inspiration and expiration alike.
Expiratory dyspnea is seen especially in emphysema, in asthma, and in the cases of bronchitis or bronchiectasis complicated by asthmatic attacks. The breath seems to go in easily enough, but comes out with a prolonged wheeze and so imperfectly that the chest does not return to normal expiratory shape but remains in the position of full inspiration.
Inspiratory dyspnea, such as was present in the case now under discussion, is due always, so far as I am aware, to an obstruction of the u])per air-passages — /. c, the pharynx, lar^Tix, trachea, or primary l)ronchi. The laryngeal ty]jes of obstruction arc Ijy far the commonest. Among these we may distinguish:
Next in fre(|ucncy come the causes which exert pressure upon the trachea or ])rimary bronchi from without. Such causes arc found in tumors of the mediastinum and aortic aneurysm. Postpharyngeal al)sccss, acute or chronic, produces a ])eculiar ty])e of ins])irat()ry dyspnea, with a "\vlio()]v' like that of ])ertussis. and a curious cough which reminds one of the bark of a small ])U])])y or the cry of some bird (" rri (h' cananr''). I ha\e heard such a sound again and again echoing through the lialls of an ()ut-])atient department, and seldom found myself wrong in the "sna]) diagnosis" of ])ostpharyngeal abscess.
In tlie i)resent case we ha\e reason to susjiect, in adxance of an accurate diagnosis by means of tiie laryngosco])e, that acute hiryngitis will l)f found l)ecause the ])atient has exidently bem iinadcd 1)\' an acute infection in\()l\ing tlie up])er air i)as>age>. Siuh an infection verv conmionlv reaclie-- the 'arvnx. Xotliin;/ more can he ^aid until
any of the other causes listed above.
Outcome. — Tracheotomy instruments were kept at hand, and inhalations of steam, with a laryngeal spray of Dobell's solution, used at frequent intervals. Wine of ipecac, i dram, was given several times with relief when laryngeal dyspnea became extreme. It was later noticed that the palatal reflex was entirely absent. Subsequent examination of the throat and larynx showed a very marked atrophic rhinitis, with acute laryngitis and tracheitis. The patient continued very hoarse until the twenty-eighth of January, though the lungs were nearly clear by the nineteenth. By February 5th the patient was able to go home.
A school-girl of six was first seen November 29, 1907. About an hour before her entrance she was seized with cough, frontal headache, vomiting, and rapid breathing. Previous to that time she had been perfectly well, as far as her mother knows. The child looked healthy, but breathed very rapidly and with a pronounced inspiratory wheeze. The tonsils were large and injected. On account of gagging further examination was impracticable. There was frequent brassy cough. The breathing was everywhere normal. White cells were 15,500; urine, negative. Physical examination was otherwise entirely negative. After a teaspoonful of wine of ipecac the dyspnea promptly ceased. Next day the child was well.
Discussion.— This case is included merely to show what I mean, and what I think most physicians mean, by "croup." Since we have come clearly to distinguish the cases of laryngeal diphtheria which were formerly mistaken for "croup," some clinicians have been inclined to assume that the familiar clinical entity which for generations has passed under that name was abolished. The reason for retaining the name is that in children acute laryngitis is apt to appear at night suddenly, and, as it were, out of a clear sky, and to terminate abruptly before morning, while in adults the clinical picture is quite different because the laryngitis aj)pears and disappears so much more slowly.
A barrel-maker of twenty-three, whose family history, past history, and habits are good, was seized two weeks ago with headache, vertigo, and vomiting. Despite these symptoms he managed to work until a week ago, when he began to be markedly short of breath. In the past two days he has had considerable cough and scanty yellow sputa. The patient mentions no other complaints.
On physical examination the cardiac apex is in the fifth space, i| inches outside the nipple-line. The right border corresponds with the right sternal margin. The aortic second sound is accentuated. Bloodpressure is 175 mm. Hg. The arteries show no sclerosis. The chest is everywhere hypcrresonant, expiration prolonged and difficult, accompanied by innumerable squeaks and bubbling sounds. The abdomen is distended and shows shifting dulness in the flanks.
The temperature, pulse, and respiration were normal for ten days. The white cells on the twenty-sixth were 16,000; after two days of treatment they had fallen to 5000; hemoglobin, 60 per cent. The urine averaged 20 ounces in twenty-four hours, ici6 in sj)ecific gravity. A large trace of all^umin was found, and very many hyaline and granular casts, with much fat adherent.
Discussion. — As the dyspnea is here associated with cardiac enlargement, it is proper, first of all, to inquire whether cardiac disease is its cause. We find no evidence of valve trouble. Fibrous myocarditis is not common at this age. Acute dilatation is a diagnosis which we make only as a last resort when no trace of any cause can be found. Adherent ])ericardium cannot be ruled out, but has no definite facts in its favor. We ha\e no evidence of inci])ient hyj)erthyroidism.
The high blood-pressure makes us sus])cct the kidney, and as soon as we turn our attention to the condition of the urine, we percei\e that its characteristics arc not those ordinarily associated with heart disease and renal congestion. I have known l)ut two cases of ])assi\e renal congestion with a urine of low gravity. The opj)osite is the almost in\arial)le rule.
Nephritis, then, is in all ])robability the cause of the dyspnea and the other sym])toms, Init what type of nephritis is it? Certainly not acute ne])hritis. since the heart is hypertro])hied. Probably not chronic interstitial ne])hritis, since this disease is rare at t^\■enty-three and is not often associated with any considerable degree of anemia. In all y)robability we are dealing with the chronic glonu'riilonej>hritis of Councilman and \\'riuht, the secondarv contracted ki(lnr\ of tlu' (lermans.
Outcome. — The patient was gi\en magnesium sulphate, 2 ounces, at the time of entrance, and ih ounces every morning thereafter; also hot-air bath every second day. His liquids were limited to two pints daily, and his diet was restricted as for acute nephritis. Under this treatment his tormenting headache, his nervousness, and edema disappeared in four days. His dyspnea persisted three days longer, but was not marked after four days. The dimensions of the heart, however, showed no change. He was allowed to finish his convalescence at home after the fifth of October, the diet no longer restricted.
An electrician of sixty-two, with an excellent family history, past history and habits, entered the hospital November 12, 1907. He had been perfectly well until he began, nine months ago, to suffer from shortness of breath. Two months ago the dyspnea compelled him to quit work for two weeks, and a month ago he had to give up for good. At times he has been unable to lie down at night. There has been a slight cough, with a little grayish sputum. He has slept very poorly, and has sweated much at night during the past week. Two years ago he suffered for five or six weeks from quite marked edema of the legs at night-time, entirely without any other symptoms. For years he has risen once at night to pass water.
The patient was orthopneic at entrance. The heart's apex was in the fifth interspace, one inch outside the nipple, the right border i\ inches to the right of the sternal margin. The heart's action was slightly irregular' with a slightly accentuated pulmonic second sound. There were no murmurs. Blood and urine showed nothing abnormal. There was no edema or hydrothorax. The edge of the liver was felt almost on the level of the navel. There was dulness and diminished breathing, voice, and fremitus, with coarse bubbling rales below the angle of each scapula. Temperature, pulse, and respiration were normal throughout his stay. The sputa, twice examined, showed a variety of bacteria, but no tubercle bacilli.
Discussion. — This case exemplifies a type extremely common in general practice. Since the urine is normal and the blood-pressure apparendy not elevated, we ha\e no good reason to suspect that commonest cause of dyspnea and edema in elderly men — chronic interstitial nephritis. The examination of the heart gives us no reason to ])clicve that the trouble originates in disease of the valves or of the pericardium. We have no chronic pulmonary disease which might weaken the heart,
capillaries decimated by emphysema and chronic pneumonitis.
Only one alternative remains so long as our present conceptions of circulatory disease are adhered to. The myocardium must be insufficient. What the nature of this insufficiency is seems to me wholly problematic. We can no longer assume, as of yore, that a demonstrable fibrous myocarditis underlies the insufficiency of the heart muscle. It has been abundantly proved that we may have fatal myocardial insufficiency without fibrous myocarditis; also that we may ha\'e extensive myocarditis without any cardiac weakness. The same thing is true of the microscopic forms of myocardial change: they are \ery common both with and without the clinical evidences of myocardial weakness, but we have no reason to assume that they are its cause.
The modem studies of defecti\e conduction in cardiac impulses may in time give us the key to our difficulty, but for the present we must state our diagnoses in functional or physiologic terms. When confronted with a case like that above narrated, our diagnosis should be myocardial weakness or myocardial insufficiency, not myocarditis.
Outcome. — Under rest in bed, with J grain of morphin at the time of entrance, magnesium sulphate, i ounce, every morning, -^V grain strychnin three times a day, the heart became more regular, stronger, and a well-marked systolic murmur ajjpeared at the a])ex. By the seventeenth the edema had gone from the lungs, and the patient was well as long as he avoided any exertion.
A Russian carpenter of thirty-four, ne\er pre\"iously sick, was first seen December 22, 1906. While lifting a hea\"y ])iece of timl^er four months ago he felt something "give way in his chest." He was carried home and has not worked since, owing to dysjmea on the slightest exertion, pal])itation, and dry cough. He needs three or four ])illo\\ > at night, and slee])s poorly. His a])pctitc and ])owels are normal. He has no urinary symptoms. Des])ite treatment his symptoms increased four days ago and he has had com])letc ortho])nca and steady pain under the right costal margin. There has ])ecn no edema of the feel at any lime. Dyspnea, cyanosis, engorgement of the eer\ical \eins, were the striking features at entrance. The heart's ini])ulse was seen and felt two inches outside the ni])ple in the sixth inters] lace. There was delirium cordis. .\ systolic murmur was heard at the apex and in the axilla. The first sound was \erv sharp, and oeca-ionallv. perhai^^ one
beat in every four or five, was preceded by a short presystolic roll. The pulmonic second sound was accentuated and double. There were many more beats audible at the apex than palpable at the wrist. (See chart.) There were many fine bubbling rales at the base of both lungs, and slight dulness at the right base. The tender edge of the liver was felt two inches below the costal margin in the nipple-line. The upper
normal. No ascites.
In the chart (Fig. 189) the line below that representing the temperature stands for the number of heart-beats. Just below this is the radial pulse curve.
Discussion. — The kidney seems to be all right; the heart is obviously diseased. It is there that we should look first for the cause of the dyspnea. Apparently it is the right ventricle which is laboring hardest. There are no evidences of stasis in the peripheral circulation, but the lungs are evidently congested, w^hile both in the superior and in the inferior vena cava stasis is obvious. The cyanosis and engorgement of the cervical veins betray back pressure in the domain of the superior cava. The pain under the right costal margin, the tenderness, and the enlargement of the liver give evidence that the inferior cava cannot empty properly. All this points to insufficiency of the right ventricle.
When the right ventricle is insufficient, the cause is usually to be found in disease of the mitral valve, much less often in chronic emphysema or other long-standing pulmonary disease. The clinical picture of acute tricuspid regurgitation due to dilatation of the right \entricle without previous mitral disease has been insisted on, especially by Gibson and other writers in Great Britain, but as yet I ha^•e not been able to verify their accounts in my own experience.
What form of mitral disease is present in this patient? Besides mitral regurgitation, of which we have all the ordinary classic signs, we have a very sharp first sound, such as rarely accompanies an uncomplicated mitral regurgitation. Even without the occasional occurrence
of a short presystolic roll we should be right in assuming the presence of mitral stenosis because of the great irregularity of the heart and the sharpness of the first sound at the apex. The doubling of the second sound in the pulmonary area still further justifies this assumption.
Outcome. — The patient was given a dry diet in six meals, tincture of digitalis, 10 minims, every six hours, | grain morphin subcutaneously, repeated later in the night and on two subsequent nights; magnesium sulphate, ij ounces every morning. Under this treatment the heart was much steadier by the twenty-fourth, though still irregular. The area of dulness was smaller, and the left border had retreated almost to the nipple-line. By the twenty-seventh he was able to sleep well without morphin. The presystolic murmur was then much louder, the heart still rapid and irregular. By the third of January the cardiac apex was inside the nipple-line, the patient was able to mo^•e about without dyspnea, all the edema had disappeared, and the li\er had retreated behind the costal margin. By the seventh he \\as able to go home.
Since the heart diminished so markedly in size as the result of treatment, we may assume that we are dealing at the start with a case of acute cardiac dilatation supervening upon a long-standing disease which had narrowed the mitral valve and prevented it from closing tightly.
JAUNDICE
There is no authoritative statement or logical rule which settles the minimum amount of discoloration which shall receive the name "jaundice," but the general consensus of usage applies the term to all cases in which there is distinct yellowing of the conjunctiva, whether the skin and urine show any demonstrable change or not. This conjunctiva yellowing must be distinguished from the yellowish patches of subconjunctival fat to be seen in many eyes.
In the milder cases of jaundice we can see around the iris a ring of bluish-white sclera over which there is no discoloration. In the more intense types the yellow color meets the iris.
Like all judgments depending upon a color test alone, the decision whether or not jaundice is present is by no means an infallible one. Careful inspection of the deeper portions of the conjunctiva in many healthy persons shows a faint shade of yellow from time to time, and it is always more or less arbitrary where we draw the line between this su])j:)Osedly physiologic condition and true jaundice. If the skin and urine are not discolored, and if none of the symptoms of gastroduodenal catarrh, gall-stones, or cancer are ])resent, it is customary to overlook and disregard many a faint shade of yellow upon the eyeball, Init I am not sure that this j^ractice is wise.
TYPES AND CAUSES OF JAUNDICE
The distinction Ijetween a hematogenous and a hepatogenous jaundice has gone, never to return. Its immortal soul survi\es in the division between — (a) Jaundice which owes its origin in the first in>tance to an infectious disease, such as |)ucrj)cral sepsis or malaria, and ib) jaundice due to mechanical obstruction, such as gall-stone or cancer. All jaundice is he])atogenous in its production, but the original cause may be infectious or mechanical.
Doubtless the most common cause of jaundice is the unknown one, which ])roduces it in so large a percentage of all newborn children, and usually occasions no diagnostic difficulties. In clinical work we
All these are of the obstructive type, and are therefore distinguished from the infectious varieties mentioned above. Rare and obscure causes for jaundice are exemplified in :
The so-called catarrhal jaundice is probably the commonest of all the forms just mentioned. It is also the least understood. The old idea of a catarrh spreading up into the common bile-duct from the duodenum has very little support either in postmortem demonstration or in the clinical course of the disease. Many of the cases bear all the external evidences of a mild general infection and are indistinguishable, when they occur sporadically, from Weil's disease, which is a name given to epidemics of jaundice associated with a fever lasting from four to nine days, a sudden onset with muscular pains and sometimes with a palpable spleen.
Both catarrhal jaundice and Weil's disease are distinguished from acute yellow atrophy of the liver only by their course, and, for aught we know, may be, in fact, mild forms of the same infection. The liver is notoriously strong in its power of regeneration after injury, and it may well be that the cases which we now term acute yellow atrophy represent merely its occasional failures, while catarrhal jaundice and Weil's disease exemplify its much more frequent victories over some of the poisons that lead to necrosis.
ASSOCIATED SYMPTOMS
A slow pulse, a tendency to mental depression and to uncontrollable oozing from any wounded surface, are usually associated with the severer types of jaundice. ]\Iore troublesome and more interesting is the itching, which is frequently but by no means always a concomitant of jaundice. A patient of mine suffered two attacks of severe jaundice
within six months. Both were due to gall-stones and ran approximately the same course, but in one he was tormented with itching, in the other he was wholly free from it. About half the cases itch and half do not. This proves to my satisfaction that the itching is not due merely to the presence of bile in the skin and subcutaneous tissues. Some other and less constant factor must be present when itching occurs.
INTENSITY OF JAUNDICE
As a rule, the deepest discoloration occurs in complete and permanent occlusion of the bile-ducts by cancer. In gall-stones the depth of the yellow staining is apt to \ary from week to week. In the so-called catarrhal forms the color is usually paler, but there are striking exceptions to this rule. The jaundice of infectious disease, of hepatic cirrhosis, and syphilis is generally moderate in degree.
A laboratory worker, forty-seven years of age, entered the ward July 30, 1906, with the following history. Two weeks ago, while on his vacation, he felt some discomfort after eating and lost his ap])etite. A day or two later his skin turned yellow, his urine dark. Five days after this his stools became clay-colored. He has vomited only twice, yesterday and the day before. He has no j)ain. His bowels mo\"e daily. He feels very mean and seedy and is troubled with itching. Two weeks ago he weighed 161 ])ounds, now he weighs 142. He has never had an attack similar to this.
On examination, the edge of the liver is easily felt below the costal margin. The jaundice is fairly well marked. In other respects the physical examination, including Ijlood and urine, is negati\e. The y)atient seemed unaccountably weak and continued so e\'cn up to the twelfth of August. At that time his color began to fade.
He has had no pain, no chill, fc\"cr, or ])alpal)k' gall-l)hukier in this attack. He has had no previous seizures. So far as liiis e\i(lencc goes, it is against the diagnosis of stone, thougli it is ])erfectly ])ossil)lo that slonc may exist.
Malignant disease was mucli feared by the patient, who could not understand why he was so weak and thin unless there was some ^■ery >erious disease underlying his --vniptonis. F)Ut of maliL^nant disea-t'.
as of stone, we have no positive evidence. After four weeks of complete jaundice one exj^ects to find ascites, enlarged gall-bladder, or nodular liver if the jaundice be due to malignant disease. The absence of any history of pre\ious stomach trouble is also a comforting consideration, since malignant disease involving the li\er is usually preceded by cancer of the stomach. In particular, howe^'er, it should be said that emaciation during an attack of jaundice is no evidence whatever regarding its cause and is just as likely to occur in a gall-stone attack as in malignant disease.
Under these conditions, when we have exhausted our efforts in the attempt to find evidence of stone, cancer, and the other less common causes of jaundice, we fall back upon the old term "catarrhal jaundice," one of the most insecurely founded of all the diagnoses that are in good standing at the present time. If the facts were known, it would probably turn out that a considerable number of the cases called "catarrhal jaundice" are really due to stone and that the remainder are, like pur])ura, the expression of various unnamed infectious processes. Jaundice is almost as general and indistincti\'e a manifestation as fever.
Outcome. — By the sixteenth of August the patient's appetite had returned, and after a short vacation in the country he came back to work apparendy in perfect health. Up to the present time (May, 1910) he has remained entirely well.
(a) The vague opportunism of our diagnoses of catarrhal jaundice, which must be changed at any moment if more distincti\'e symptoms pointing to gross organic disease make their appearance. At best such a diagnosis is justified only by the outcome of the case, and at any time we may ha\'e to eat our words if colic, ascites, or a palpable mass appears.
(b) The frequency of emaciation in jaundice of any type. I have known a physician to be seriously alarmed about his own condition during the course of an attack of jaundice, obviously due to gall-stone, because, as he said, "How can a little stone stuck in a duct make me lose 40 pounds in two months?"' Nothing but the removal of the stone and his rapid return to his former weight and health convinced him. Whether the emaciation in cases of this kind is wholly the result of anorexia and insufficient food, or whether there is some more obscure reason connected with the functions of the liver, I do not know.
A stableman of forty- two entered the hospital June 16, 1908. Within three years the patient has had three attacks of rather persistent indigestion, characterized by sharp, colicky pain localized about the umbilicus and sometimes needing morphin. He says he has never been jaundiced. Two years ago he weighed 180 pounds; two months ago, 170, now he weighs 134. He averages two glasses of beer a day and twenty cents' worth of tobacco a week.
was 145 mm. Hg.
Discussion. — In the discussion of a previous case I referred to the humiliating fact that in many cases of jaundice we have to wait for time to show whether our conjectures arc right or not. Experience has shown that most cases of so-called "catarrhal'' jaundice clear up within six weeks, and that most of those which run over this limit turn out to l)c due to gall-stones or malignant disease. The period referred to is, of course, a ])erfectly arbitrary one, based upon averages, and with very little anatomic evidence to sup])ort it. The j)resent case ran its course within this traditional limit without the devel()])ment of any ])ain, ascites, nodular mass, or toxemic state.
due to gall-stones, especially as he has had three previous seizures which remind us very distinctly of that disease. If, at any time within the next few years, the patient has a typical gall-stone attack, it will seem more than likely that the present attack, as we view it in retrospect, was also due to gall-stones.
Although the relation of alcohol to cirrhotic liver (a possible cause of jaundice) is not clear, wc certainly know enough to say that this patient has not taken enough beer to put him in peril of chronic interstitial hepatitis. Of the nature and development of that disease we know so little from a clinical standpoint that we are unal^le to make positive statements about its earlier stages and their relation to symptoms like those here described. Certainly, however, no one would be justified in giving more than passing consideration to cirrhosis in the present case.
Outcome. — On the twenty-seventh the jaundice was much less marked and the patient was hungry. On the eighteenth of July the jaundice had completely disappeared, the patient had gained six pounds since entrance, and felt entirely well.
On the first of September he reported that he had been perfectly well and had worked ever since leaving the hospital. His weight was 151 pounds. There was no evidence of jaundice.
A schoolboy of thirteen, always previously well, consulted a physician with the statement that for two months he had been jaundiced and had intermittent dull ])ains across the upper abdomen. At the onset of his illness he had a chill and considerable vomiting for three days, but these symptoms have not recurred. He was first seen September 4, 1907.
Examination showed deep jaundice. The spleen and li\er easily felt. (See accompanying diagram. Fig. 191.) The edge of the spleen was hard, the whole organ freely mo^■al)Ie. The white cells numbered 3800; hemoglobin, 100 per cent.; stained specimen normal, as was the urine. The feces were not bleached. Later it was ascertained that a year ago he had had chills and fever e\'ery other day for a considerable period.
The boy was given lif}uid and soft solid diet, sodium phosphate, -i dram every morning, and under this treatment rapidly improved. He was able to take full diet l)y the seventh, was much less jaundiced by the ninth, and by the fourtccntli had no visible discoloration of the skin or conjunctivae. Tn view of the history it seemed best to give him i^ grains of quinin three times a day for ten days.
Discussion. — ^This patient had absolutely no complaints at the time when this history was written. His parents wanted to know why his eyes were yellow, but he himself did not feel sick at all.
The presence of an enlarged hard spleen and the history of a chill at the onset remind us that malaria is a not infrequent cause of jaundice. Yet certainly at the present time he has no active malarial infection. Is it possible that the icterus may be a relic of a past malaria? Certainly in the more severe types of the disease jaundice often persists when no parasites are discoverable in the peripheral circulation and when the temperature is steadily normal. In the milder tertian infections of New England one does not often see this, especially when the attack has not destroyed enough corpuscles to lower the hemoglobin, which was 100 j)cr cent, in this case. On the whole, therefore, this hypothesis seems unlikely.
Gall-stones are rarely found in boys of this age. The pains which previously troubled him were ne\er such as to suggest biliary colic, and the fact that the stools were never decolorized makes it seem improbable that the stone has never blocked the ducts.
Catarrhal jaundice may occur at this age, though it is not common. If we use the term to include any brief icterus of unknown origin and sporadic occurrence, it \vill doubtless cover such cases as this, e^■en though no digesti\-e symptoms, such as should accompany a gastroduodenal catarrh, were complained of. In all probability the jaundice rej)resent.s one manifestation of an acute infectious disease. Had it occurred in an epidemic form, it might have passed as Weil's disease.
Outcome. — On October i6th the boy returned to the physician to rc])ort that two days previously he had had a chill and fever. The boy had gained considerably in flesh, and looked entirely well. The S[)leen was still palpable, the liver no longer so. Malarial parasites were now demonstrated in the blood. In ^iew of this fact it seems, on the whole, probable that his jaundice was due after all to malaria.
A housewife of thirty-eight, of good family history and past liistory, entered the hos])ital September 3, igoy. She began six months ago to have what she calls "a ball '' in the stomach, starting at thccpiga-trium and m()\ing toward the left hypochondriuni. A|)partntly >hc lias steady, dull epigastric ])ain, not radiating, accompanied by licart-l)urn. anf)rcxia, a bad taste in the mouth, distress and flatulence after eating, constipation, and occasional \oniiting of the food la>t taken. Through-
out this six months she has had jaundice, varying in intensity. She has had also occasional chills, followed by profuse sweating, and always by an increase in the jaundice and in the color of the urine. At no time has she had any sudden or sharp pain anywhere. She has lost 30 pounds in the last six months. She sleeps poorly on account of flatulence.
Examination shows an obese, jaundiced woman, with an indefinite resistance under the costal margin and in the median line. Physical examination, including the temperature, pulse, respiration, blood, and urine, is otherwise negative, save for the presence of bile in the urine.
Discussion. — If this jaundice had not already lasted for six months, it would very probably deserve to be called "catarrhal," as no doubt it was called in the earlier weeks of its occurrence. No one maintains, however, that the term "catarrhal" should be extended to cover cases of six months' duration.
The variations in the intensity of the jaundice and the occurrence of chills without malarial parasites in the blood lead us to favor the diagnosis of gall-stones. But can one have gall-stones without any colic ; indeed, without any pain except such as might be attributed to flatulence? Thanks to the surgeon we may now answer this question with an unqualified affirmative. Colic is a common but by no means an in^•ariable accompaniment of cholelithiasis.
The loss of weight which occurs in all forms of jaundice has been discussed in the previous cases and shown to have in itself no diagnostic significance. The age, the sex, and the obesity all favor the diagnosis of gall-stones.
Outcome.— Operation September 6th revealed a stone in the lower end of the common duct. The bile-passages were otherwise free, the liver and pancreas not abnormal. The patient's convalescence was une\entful, and after October 6th she seemed and remained entirely well.
An Irish housekeeper of thirty-eight, whose husband now is consumptive, entered the hospital August 29, 1907. She has always been well, and has a good family history. For nine years she has had frequent sick headaches, accompanied by vomiting. For two years she has had gradual loss of weight and strength, her weight declining from 159 pounds two years ago, to 119. at the present time.
For three months she has had jaundice, varying in intensity. She has had no pain at any time. Two hours after eating she not infrequently vomits, the vomitus consisting only of food. Her appetite is good. The bowels move with the aid of sodium phosphate. She sleeps well. Her present complaint is of weakness and jaundice.
Physical examination shows the jaundice to be heavy. The chest is negative. The condition of the abdomen is shown in the accompanying diagram, Fig. 192. Blood and urine are normal. The coagulation time of the blood is one minute five seconds with the Brodie-Russell instrument.
Discussion. — A gradual decline in weight and strength during a period of two years, leading up to a jaundice of three months' duration and of variable degree, and accompanied by occasional attacks of vomiting, is rather an unusual clinical picture in a woman of thirtyeight. Why should the loss of weight have preceded the jaundice unless some form of malignant disease is present? Yet if any such disease were ])rcsent it should, ]\v this time, show more olnious evidence of itself. Without ascites, marked gastric symptoms, or palpable tumor we certainly cannot make a diagnosis of such terrible significance to the patient. Yet from our own minds it is difficult to exclude the thought of cancer.
signs of their presence after an illness of this length.
Under such conditions, when a jaundice has lasted rather too long to be called "catarrhal," yet has not produced any of the more ominous evidences of cancer, cirrhosis, or sy])hilis, the outcome usually shows that we arc dealing with gull-stones. We have to be governed largely by statistical evidence in such cases; direct examination yields \ery little of value. Indeed, there is no class of diseases in which we depend so largely upon the history and upon general statistical ex])erience as we do in diseases of the liver. Physical examination ])lays here a smaller ])art than in the diseases of any other organ with which we deal on terms of any confidence.
Outcome. — At operation. Septeml)er 6th, scNcral larze stones were found in the gall-bladder and one in the cystic duct. No obxious reason for the jaundice was found; there was no swelling extending down from the blocked cystic duct to the hepatic or to the chok'dochus — an explanation which is often inxoked to ex])lain jaundice when the stone is in the cystic duct. No other reason could be found.
An Italian widow of sixty, of negative family history and past history, was first seen March 9, 1908. She had noticed a year ago that she was jaundiced and had a swelling in the region of her liver. After two weeks she was cured of her jaundice, but the swelling continued and increased. Seven months ago the jaundice returned and has been present most of the time since. She has not lost much weight, though her appetite is poor. She has much nausea, no pain, and no vomiting. For two weeks she has had edema of the feet.
Physical examination showed a deeply jaundiced patient. Both pupils were irregular, the left larger than the right. Both reacted normally. The heart's action was at times irregular in force and rhythm, and a blowing systolic murmur was audible all over the precordia. The pulmonic second sound was louder than the aortic second, the apex beat in the fifth space just outside the nipple-line. The pulse was of low tension. The lungs showed nothing abnormal. The abdomen was enormously distended, dull in the epigastrium and in the flanks, otherwise tympanitic. The circumference was 40 inches. The umbilicus protruded. The edge of the liver was easily felt 5 inches below the costal margin. Its surface was smooth, hard, not tender, somewhat irregular. The spleen ^^•as not felt. There was considerable soft edema of the legs and of the anterior abdominal wall. The shape of the abdomen suggested encysted rather than free fluid. Blood and urine were normal.
On the eleventh 233 ounces of fluid were withdrawn by tapping the abdomen. It was bile-stained, 1009 in specific gra\'ity. The sediment showed 60 per cent, of lymphocytes to 40 per cent, endothelial cells. After tapj)ing, the surface of the liver \^•as a})parently smooth, and extending down from its edge in the region of the gall-bladder was a dense, fluctuant, rounded mass the size of an apple, not tender. (See Fig. 193.) After tapping, the fluid rapidly reaccumulated. The ])atient seemed entirely comfortable, complaining of nothing at all. She was again tapped on the third of ATjril and 164 ounces removed, the characteristics of the fluid being essentially the same as before. About this time she ran a moderate, irregular fexer, reaching as high as 101° F. at niglit, and 1)eing normal in the morning. This subsided after about ten days.
Discussion. — With jaundice of seven months' duration, a li^•er markedly enlarged, ascites, and swelled legs, we should have no consideral)le doubt that malignant disease is present were it not for the
fact that the patient has also an enlarged and irregular heart, whose action is presumably insufficient to maintain satisfactory circulation. The ascites and edema may be due to cardiac weakness rather than to malignant disease.
On the other hand, the irregularity of the liver surface, if it be a fact, is of decisive importance in this connection; for such irregularity, if gross enough to be palpal jle through the abdominal wall, means one of two things in practically all cases, viz., hepatic cancer or hepatic syphilis. If the first physical examination be correct, then, the cardiac condition is probably not responsible for the dropsy.
As between cancer and syphilis, we should be influenced, in the first place, by statistical considerations; cancer is by far the commoner of the two as the cause of jaundice and ascites. The absence of splenic enlargement is also against syphilis. Less important is the absence of any history of syphilis and of any evidence of its ravages in other parts of the body.
If we are dealing with cancer, what is its site? Probably not the substance of the liver, since hepatic cancer is usually secondary to similar disease at the pylorus. This patient has been free from gastric symptoms. If not in the liver itself, the cancerous obstruction which has produced the jaundice is probably at one of three points :
cannot go.
Outcome. — April 12th, after more than a month in a hospital, she showed aljsolutcly no loss of weight and we were rather shaken in our confidence that cancer was the correct diagnosis. Xcvcrtheless, o])eration was performed April 14th, as the ])alicnt showed no signs of im])rovement after a thorough course of antisyphilitic treatment. A cancer of the head of the pancreas was found.
An American timekeeper of twenty began, in 1Q03, to have epigastric pain, after eating, in intermittent spells lasting a month or two. In Januarv, 1907, this ])ain became 2iiuch worse, and lie vomited fresh l)lood. In March, 1907, he entered the hos])ital and was found to liave a marked hyperchlorhydria, which, taken in connection with the above s\'m])toms, led to an o])eration, whicli showed adhesions about the pylorus and considerable thickening of the ])ylorus, witliout cNidcnce
seventh of April, 1907.
He returned a year later (April 24, 1908) with the following history: A month ago became suddenly jaundiced immediately after taking some sulphur and molasses. He has remained so ever since, though his color has l^ccn becoming lighter. At the same time he has complained of rather dull pain, felt from time to time in the lower abdomen. For a week this has been absent. For two weeks he has not worked, and has been on a milk diet. During this time he has had a slif^ht cough , with yellowish or greenish sputum. He has a great deal of itching, and has noticed that his urine is dark. Yesterday at half-past four he ate a very hearty dinner. Later in the day he vomited and gradually became unconscious, possibly from the effects of morphin which was given in the evening. There is no headache, no fever, no loss of weight.
Examination shows normal temperature, pulse, and respiration. There is marked jaundice. The patient is semicomatose, with dilated pupils which do not react. The chest is negative. The abdomen is level, rather rigid, tympanitic; nothing else is made out. The liver flatness reaches from the fifth rib to the seventh space, measuring 2^ inches in vertical diameter in the nipple-line. The urine is high in color, specific gravity 1020, with a very slight trace of allmmin in the sediment, no casts, a large amount of leucin and tyrosin. The white cells are 9200; hemoglobin, 75 per cent.
In the earlier weeks of his jaundice the brittle and unsatisfactory term "catarrhal" was as usual a]j])lied, and one could hardly have done otherwise until the appearance of one very distinctive and ominous symptom, stupor. None of the milder and more curable causes of jaundice })roduce this sym])tom. We never meet it in the catarrhal forms, in gall-stones, or in malignant disease [previous to the terminal stages. In the infectious forms of jaundice, stupor appears only near a fatal issue.
Only in two forms of liver disease which are accom])anied by jaundice does stupor ai)])ear — in cirrhosis and in acute yellow atro])hy. Either of these diseases might be present here, although we have no history of alcoholism such as usually appears to enter into the causation of cirrhosis, at any rate, as one factor. Another jjoint against cirrhosis and in favor of acute yellow atrophy, is the ra])idity of the shrinkage a})parently demonstrable by percussion of the liver outlines. Shrinkage of the
liver can very seldom be demonstrated during life. When the area of liver dulness appears to be less than normal it usually turns out to be obscured by a distention of the colon which pushes the liver backward out of reach of the percussing linger.
In the present case, however, the area of dulness was again and again measured, and showed apparently a progressive shrinkage. This fact, taken in connection with the deep jaundice, the increasing coma and the presence of leucin and tyrosin in the urine, made us tolerably confident that a rapid atrophy of the liver was in progress. No hint of its etiology was oljtaincd; the patient had not inhaled chloroform or ingested phosphorus in any form.
Outcome. — On the morning of the twenty-sixth the liver dulness was only if inches in vertical diameter; the jaundice had considerably decreased. The patient continued semicomatose. On the afternoon of the twenty-sixth he developed edema of the lungs and died.
NERVOUSNESS
The uses of this word are so vague and various that one may be seriously misled unless one cross-questions the patient as to just what he means when he calls himself "nervous." Thus, for example, nervousness may be —
(a) Motor, wholly or largely. The patient may have what is called ''the fidgets," and be unable to keep still or to control the motions of some part of his body, as in Sydenham's chorea, or in the habit choreas and muscular twitchings so common in neurotic people. The tremors of general paralysis or hyperthyroidism are sometimes referred to by the patient as "nervousness."
(b) Sensory. When people start at any slight noise or jar, when they are abnormally sensitive to light, to odors and tastes, they often speak of themselves as "nervous."
(c) Psychic. Perhaps the commonest usage of the word "nervousness" is in connection with a variety of predominantly psychic manifestations, such as lack of self-control, emotionalism, fearfulness, causeless and transient depression, irritability, and the sense of unreality in things.
(d) Visceral and secretory neuroses often occur in connection with one or another of the types above mentioned, and may constitute the most prominent part of the clinical picture, but they are not apt to be referred to by the patient as "nervousness." The patient is more apt to believe them due to some more or less serious organic disease.
Interpretation of Nervousness. — The most important point is that identical nervous symptoms may occur with or without organic disease behind them. A patient whose underlying malady is arteriosclerosis or chronic glomerulonephritis may yet present t}-pical symptoms of hysteria or neurasthenia, and the latter are so insistent and so irritating that we are apt to neglect a thorough search for something else in the background.
Mistakes are especially apt to occur in persons o^'er forty years of age. When ner\'ousness of any type has appeared for the first time after the fortieth year in a patient who has never previously shown
prognosis and to misdirect our treatment.
In younger persons nervousness is often falsely treated as the complete diagnosis when, in fact, it is merely an expression of an underlying pulmonary tuberculosis. A great many of the cases of nervous dyspepsia and of pallor miscalled "anemia" turn out to be the earliest manifestations of tuberculosis.
A Russian housemaid of twenty-four, with a good family history, was first seen April 27, 1907. She has never been strong. She has suffered from headaches and dysmenorrhea for the past seven years. These pains just now are not so troublesome as formerly. Of late she has been weak, faint, and worn out. Two weeks ago she was operated upon for hemorrhoids at the Boston City Hospital. Since that time she has had a great deal of nervousness with pain scattered throughout various parts of her body ("Schmerzen Uberall"), pressure about the heart, eructations of gas, dryness of the mouth, and the frequent discharge of pale urine. Her appetite is rather poor, the bowels regular. The patient has a cyanotic look. At entrance to the hospital her "cribbing," nervous vomiting, convulsive chills, and moans disturbed tlie whole ward. \'isceral examination was negative. The course of the tem])eraturc is seen in the accompanying chart.
Discussion. — Oljviously, we are dealing with a ])sychoniur()>is, but are wc sure that there is nothing l)ehind il? \\'c are told that visceral examination is ncgati\c, l)ut \isccral examination i-- not alw ays takt-n to include a study of the Ijlood and urine. Among the ]to>^ili!litic'> which could l)c eliminated only by such a study are the following:
excluded by the blood examination.
Trichiniasis, suggested by the wide-spread pain, was not positively to be excluded, as no search was made either in muscle or venous blood for the embryo trichinella. The blood showed no eosinophilia and we were diverted from following this hypothesis any further because another and commoner disease soon appeared as a cause for the symptoms.
The urine showed nothing to justify any suspicion of genito-urinary tuberculosis. Pulmonary tuberculosis may certainly exist for a considerable period in the lungs without our having any definite evidence of it. In the present case we could find no such evidence, though we could by no means exclude the earlier "silent" stages of the disease.
Outcome.— The urine was 40 ounces in twenty-four hours at the time of entrance; specific gravity, 1028; 4.1 per cent, of sugar; 0.2 albumin; in the sediment much pus, no casts. She was given paraldehyd, '> dram, twice a day, sodium bromid, 20 grains three times a day, and Ijy May 2d was much quieter and said she felt better than for months, though she still cribbed. Under an antidiabetic diet the urine was freed from sugar in eight days; the weight increased from 112 to 121, and the reactions for acetone and diacetic acid were present for the first week of treatment and as long as any carbohydrates remained in the diet, disappeared. Her speech and nervous control greatly im]3roved, and by the nineteenth of May she seemed like a different person, sleeping soundly without any hypnotic, and perfectly content with her diet. She was allowed to go home on the twenty-second of ]\Iay, the urine ])eing free from albumin and sugar, though remaining distinctly increased in amount— 80 to no ounces on the average. The gain in weight was 8 pounds in sixteen days.
The question might be asked: "Are we dealing here with diabetes or merely with glycosuria?" Since the distinction is wholly one of time, only the outcome can furnish us with the answer to this question. Acetone and diacetic acid appear much more frequently in the long-
standing glycosurias, which we call diabetes, than in the transient form. There is no doubt that neurotic, high-strung people are more often the subject of temporary glycosurias than are the more phlegmatic members of the community. On the other hand, the nervousness may well be symptomatic, the result rather than the cause.
It will be noted that much pus was found in the urinary sediment. Such a datum should always be followed up, and the first thing to do is to make sure that the pus comes from the urine and not from the vaginal secretions. In the present case a specimen of urine drawn by catheter was found to be free from pus on the same day when the specimen spontaneously passed had contained it. Accordingly, no further investigation was made, and as the glycosuria improved, the pus disappeared.
A married Irish woman, forty years old, with an excellent family history, entered the hospital September 17, 1907. She is very easily worried or frightened, and has many weak spells. Last winter she felt underneath her right breast and in the right l:)ack a pain, which was sharp on deep breath. This lasted a month. W^hen nervous, she cries very easily. She has been married twenty-three years and has had nine children. Her last period was nine months ago. She takes about six cups of tea a day, but no alcohol. Since her husband was admitted to the Massachusetts Hospital last January she has been much overworked, taking boarders and caring for her children. For the past two months she has been especially nervous, and felt more tired in the morning than at night. She has slept very little, and her food has seemed to stop at the bottom of her breastbone and to lie there as a heavy load. For the past week she has vomited everything that she has taken, though her diet has been reduced to milk and weak tea. Of late, she has had no pain anywhere exce])t a tired ache between her shoulderl)lades. Her a])])etite is fair; the l)owcls move once or twice a day. When nervous, she passes urine very frccjuently. For the past two months she has had a slight cough with a little wliite sputum.
On ])hysical examination the ])upils are somewhat irregular, but react normally. The tongue comes out straight, but has a marked coarse tremor. The throat is reddened and atro])hic; the heart is negative, except for a sliglit accentuation of the aortic second sound. The lungs are negative, sa\e for slightly higher-])ilc-he(l respiration at the left apex and occasional scattered rales througliout. The abdomen
is held rather stiffly, but is otherwise negative, save for a swelling extending from the left anterior-superior spine to the neighborhood of the symphysis, and giving a marked impulse on cough. It is easily reducible by pressure.
Discussion. — As this woman has had no menstruation for nine months and is obviously not i)regnant, our first thought is that the symptoms may be due to the menopause, that very convenient but dangerous explanation for such a multitude of heterogenous symptoms. Such a diagnosis should never be made until every other reasonable alternative has been excluded. Moreover, the vasomotor symptoms usually present as a part of any disturbance dependent upon the menopause are not at all marked in this case. Only the nervous frequency of urine suggests them.
It was the fashion, a few years ago, to explain a great number of debilitated conditions as the result of the abuse of tea, especially when the physician was able triumphantly to point out that the patient kept the tea-pot on the stove continuously and took a "nip" every now and then throughout the day, thus getting the full benefit of a strong decoction ot tannin. In the eleven years of out-patient service involving four years of female medical clinic I have seen less than half a dozen cases in which the symptoms appeared to me due to the abuse of tea. Doubtless it often does harm by taking the place of food, and in the present case this is distinctly suggested. Overwork may likewise have been a factor in her breakdown.
The hypotheses suggested in the last paragraph cannot be definitely refuted, but against them the following consideration may be urged. The overwork and the tea-drinking have lasted for many years, the symptoms for less than one year. Why should the breakdown have come just at this time, after the patient had borne lier overwork and faulty habits for so many years without apparent detriment? Some new and determining factor must have come into the case — the same factor, I believe, which accounts for most of the seemingly causeless dyspepsias and run-down conditions which we are a])t to attribute to this or that food, overstrain, or a surgical lesion. In a large number of these cases tuberculosis later makes itself obvious; in many others, I believe, it is contjucrcd by the patient's own vitality, while we think we are curing his dyspepsia or his "del)ility" with one or another remedy.
The pulmonary signs in this case are, indeed, very slight. If ]^recisely tlie same signs were present at the right apex, one could not, witli confidence, attribute any meaning to them; but at the left apex even the slightest abnormalities are of importance if unaccounted for by any
pathologic condition of the heart or abdominal organs. Even signs so slight as this should make us follow the patient very carefully and examine the lungs, the sputa, and the temperature chart for confirmatory evidence. If, after we have done our best by such an examination, the condition of the lungs seems still doubtful, and no other diagnosis has in the mean time suggested itself, we should always treat the case as tuberculosis.
Outcome. — For some days no sputum could be obtained, but in the first satisfactory specimen tubercle bacilli were demonstrated. The inguinal hernia, present on the left side, was fairly well held up by a truss.
A telephone girl of eighteen entered the hospital September 21. 1907. One brother of fifteen is said to have consumption. Two grandfathers and one grandmother died of consumption, the last one ten years ago. The patient has always been strong and healthy. She had tyj)hoid fe\'er eight years ago, measles four years ago, followed by a mastoid oj)eration. Her hearing is excellent. Her menstruation has l)cen irregular for the j)ast two or three years, and painful, so that she has to be in bed two or three days each month. She has recently been in the surgical wards, and has been curetted.
or the time of taking it.
Eight weeks ago she fainted when she got up in the morning, and did not work that day. After working the next day she took to bed, where she has remained since, vomiting almost every fifteen minutes, day and night (?). Rectal feeding has l)een carried out. She b.as no definite ])ain, but her vomiting is ])receded by a burning sensation at the epigastrium. For the last three days there has l)een partial loss of vision. She cannot recognize ])ersons or see more than their outlines. There has also been gradual loss of ambition and slowness of s])eech.
On examination the ])atient is fairly nourished, the skin dry and harsli, tlie ])upils widely dilated, but reacting normally. The clust and abdomen show nothing abnormal. An attempt \\'as made to ])a--s a stomach-tube, but the patient struggled ^■i()lentlv and ])ulle(l it out. It was finally re])lace(l, and fasting contents, consisting of nuuu> and white froth, o1)tained; no food. After a test-meal there was no free \IC\ l)y any test, no lactic acid, and no l)l()od. Infiation >howed that the stomach was not in anv wav enlartrfd.
Examination of the fundus showed an optic neuritis in the right eye, numerous small hemorrhages about the disc, and one large one near the nerve in the left eye. The urine was entirely negative, likewise the blood.
During the first two days after admission the patient vomited four or five times, after that very rarely, the vomitus consisting of colorless mucus. Salt solution, 8 ounces every six hours, was well retained by rectum, and the skin soon began to be less dry. After this the patient took milk and lime-water in small amounts for the first few days, after that cereals and gruels. By October ist eggs were added, and by the tenth she was taking plenty of all sorts of food and the enemata were omitted.
On October ist the patient complained of numbness below the waist, later of numbness over the whole body, but there was no diminution of the pain sense. She had one hysteric attack, with tremor of the muscles, following rigidity and slight opisthotonos. The patient seemed irrational and fretful, at times spoke very slowly. Her vision was restored by the sixth, and her appetite was then excellent. She seemed in a very pleasant state of mind, constantly expressing her gratitude to the nurses.
On the ninth of October a tumor was noticed, rising above the pubes almost to the umbilicus. A catheter was introduced, and 85 ounces of high-colored urine with a heavy sediment was withdrawn. Eleven hours later 59 ounces of urine were withdrawn. At this time she said that she was unable to move her legs, and had to be turned in bed. Soon after she had involuntary defecation. On the thirteenth she was somewhat improved, but said she could not speak above a whisper. About that time a rectovaginal fistula developed. Vomiting began again on the seventeenth of October, and was accompanied by cyanosis and difficult respiration. The same day tracheal rales were audible. She seemed too weak to clear them.
Under strychnin, ^ grain, and atropin, yuo grain, this attack passed off and she breathed normally, though she continued to vomit in small amounts and the pulse was not of good quality.
diagnosis was hysteria plus some toxic process.
Discussion. — The advent of marked slowness of speech is an unusual symptom, which should always attract our attention. It occurs in myxedema, in many depressed and melancholic states, in multiple sclerosis, and occasionally in hysteric states. In multiple sclerosis it is apt to be associated with nystagmus, increased reflexeS;
symptoms of myxedema.
The stomach symptoms were very marked and had led to a diagnosis of gastric ulcer before she entered the hospital. The quick clearing up of the gastric symjjtoms under treatment, howe^•er, and the absence of any gastric or rectal hemorrhage and of any e\'idcnce of stasis, makes it obvious that, at all events at the present time, her chief sufferings are not due to that cause.
Hysteria naturally occurs to our minds in a patient who has muscular tremor and opisthotonos, is fretful and irritable, and has a great deal of unaccountable vomiting. But the condition of the fundus oculi cannot be thus explained, despite the dictum of the neurologic consultant. What, then, is the cause of the optic neuritis and retinal hemorrhages?
Brain tumor might account for her vomiting and for the psychic disturbances. We should expect, however, to find headache, vertigo, and focal disturbances of some kind (localized paralysis, spasm, anesthesia, a])hasia of some type, astereognosis) .
in the case definitely to suggest syphilis.
Nephritis is the only other common cause of retinal hemorrhage, with or without optic neuritis, Ijut of this neither the heart nor the urine gave us at the outset any hint. Later the urine was so constantly involuntary that none was collected for examination. In the light of the outcome it would ap])ear that sucli an examination might ha\c l^ccn of the greatest im])ortance.
Outcome. — A few days after this she began to haAe fever ranging from 99° to ioi° P., and continuing until the day of her death, October 27th. Autopsy showed a clironic nejjhritis with su])})uration, an extensive br()nch()])ncum()nia, and an obsolete tuberculosis of the mesenteric l)'mj)h-glands. Tlie stomach, brain, and cord were normal.
This case is one of those which have most strongly im])ressed upon me the dangers lurking in the diagnosis of "hysteria." It is the fourth case that 1 liave known to die \\ith this diagnosis. In two of these absolutely nothing was found ])ostmortem, and in these we might, if we were so inclined, consider the diagnosis ^•eri^lccl. Ikit when we say "hysteria," we ordinarily Jiiean a disease which cannot in itself, and a])art from starvation (as in anorexia nervosa), ])r()\e fatal. To niy mind these cases simply indicate some of the blind s{)ots in our diagnostic retina.
A widow of sixty, first seen October 9, 1907, has been treated in the out-patient department of the hospital for some time under the diagnosis of neurasthenia. She has always been a healthy woman, except that she has had eight miscarriages, attributed by her to horseback riding during pregnancy. She has five living children, all healthy. Last autumn she had an attack of diarrhea and vomiting, and was in the Chelsea Hospital for a week. Since that time she has been more or less run down. In IMarch, 1907, she fell into a hole in the floor, bruising her foot and right side, and since that time has had occasional pains in the right side of the chest, sometimes severe enough to make her leave off her corsets. For the past seven weeks she has had a great deal of nausea and has been extremely nervous. Five weeks ago she was examined in the out-patient department and told that she was " simply nervous^ A week later her right chest was tapped, and 2h quarts of bloody fluid withdrawn. An equal amount of the same character was removed six days later.
On examination the patient was excellently nourished, slightly obese, the face flushed, the mucous membranes of good color; the lips and finger-tips somewhat cyanotic. The heart's impulse was in the eighth interspace, behind the anterior axillary line, 6J inches to the left of midsternum. The right border could not be determined. The sounds were normal. The whole right chest was dull, with flatness in the lower half, and rapid and shallow respiration. Breath-sounds were very indistinct, vocal and tactile fremitus absent, except at the apex. The left lung seemed to be normal. Physical examination was otherwise negative, including blood and urine. The chest was at once aspirated, and no ounces of bloody fluid, with a specific gravity of 1019, was removed. Differential count of the sediment showed hmphocytes, 97 per cent., endothelial cells, 3 per cent. No tubercle bacilli could be found in the sediment of the digested clot. Under ordinary culture-media the fluid remained sterile, and in a guinea-pig 10 minims of the sediment produced no disease in six weeks. In four days the fluid had reaccumulated, and tapping had to be repeated about every four days until November 9th.
Discussion. — But for this patient's age, it would be natural to assume, after reading the history and previous to the physical examination, that we are dealing with a traumatic neurosis which originated in the accident of March, 1907. In my judgment, however, it is always unwise to make a diagnosis of any type of neurosis when the symptoms
arise first after the fiftieth year. I have never known such a diagnosis confirmed. The mental characteristics of this patient were, indeed, very much those which we associate with the neuroses, but diagnoses based upon mental characteristics alone are always most vulnerable, even within the field of the alienist, still more markedly so outside it.
After the chest was tapped we assumed that the patient was sulTering from a pleural effusion of the ordinary (i. e., tuberculous) type. Even in advance of our own physical examination, however, we ought to have suspected that something more serious was in the background. Ordinary tuberculous effusions (/. e., 99 per cent, of all the serous effusions which we meet with) are rarely bloody, and very rarely reaccumulate within six days. One tapping suffices, in the vast majority of cases, and bloody fluid does not suggest tuberculosis, despite the oft-copied statement of many text-books.
The age of the patient and the rapid reaccumulation of the bloody fluid should have suggested to us at once the diagnosis of malignant disease involving the pleura, lungs, or mediastinal glands.
Doubtless there was a period (before any fluid had accumulated) when diagnosis was difficult or impossible, and when the psychic peculiarities were sufficient to exi)lain, though not to excuse, the diagnosis of neurosis. At this ])criod our i)roi)er attitude would have been expressed by saying, "We do not know."
Outcome. — The .Y-ray showed a diffuse shadow over the whole right side, and an unexplained mass near the hilum of the left lung. The patient had frequent dyspnea, more or less relieved by morphin, amyl nitrite, and oxygen.
Autopsy showed endothelioma of the ]:)lcura, with extension into the lungs, pericardium, diaphragm, right thoracic wall, bronchi, and retroperitoneal lym])hatics, liver, stomach, and left adrenal; acute serofibrinous ])ericarditis and general arteriosclerosis.
A housewife of lliirty-three was llrst seen Xoveml)er 4. 1Q07. She lias lost one sister of consumption. Her family history was otherwise excellent, and she had never been ill except that four years ago she had l)lo()d-poisoning after childbirth, but reco\ered entirely in three months. I'ifteen months ago she ga\"e birth to a child after a nomial hilxir. Slie felt unusually well during the pregnancy. Immediately after >he became \ery nervous, with spells of trembling and restlessness la-^linL: an hour, once or twice a day. These symntonis persi>le(l until four months
later; the child, who had been doing excellently well at the breast, had to be weaned. During this period she also had severe burning micturition, but since the weaning of the child this has not troubled her. Four months ago she ate a considerable quantity of green corn, and was ai once attacked with diarrhea, four or five green watery movements a day and five or six at night. This diarrhea persisted until two weeks ago, when it was diminished by medicine, and for the past two days her bowels have not moved. She has been in bed for the past five weeks,
complaining chiefly of dizziness, weakness, rumbling in her head, and dryness of the mouth. For two weeks she has had a cough and raised considerable greenish sputa.
The course of the temperature is seen in the accompanying chart (Fig. 195). The patient is pale and emaciated, the tongue moist and slightly excoriated along the anterior edge, the mouth and throat otherwise normal. A systolic murmur is heard over all the precordia, loudest in the pulmonary area, otherwise the heart shows nothing abnormal. The lungs, abdomen, and reflexes are normal. There is slight spinal curvature in the dorsal region, with a concavity toward the left. Examination of the sputa shows nothing abnormal. The same is true of the urine. Discussion. — The family history, the spinal curvature, the fever, greenish sputa, and painful micturition might be taken as hints of a tuberculous infection, though its localization is not clear, and nothing in the further study of the case gives sup])ort to any such hypothesis.
Acute endocarditis might produce a murmur with the characteristics here described, although it is much more common to find it in the mitral or aortic area. Especially when fever, without known cause, is present, any cardiac murmur must be thought of in the light of a possible endocarditis. Yet in this case we cannot ad\ance beyond the stage of conjecture with such a diagnosis, as we ha\"e nothing but the facts just mentioned by which to support it. Leukocytosis, evidences of peripheral cml)olism, tender fingcr-pcids (Osier), marked urinary abnormalities, chills, and sweats are all absent.
would have been much earlier suspected. Her recent labor, and the rather indefinite ill health which we are accustomed to tolerate in many women at such a time without feeling obliged to make a diagnosis, probably prevented her physician from thinking earlier of the importance of a blood examination, the tell-tale indications of which are revealed in the outcome.
Outcome. — The blood showed red cells, 640,000; white cells, 6500; hemoglobin, 13 per cent. A differential count of 200 white cells showed polynuclears, 57 per cent.; lymphocytes, 43 per cent.; two megaloblasts and one normoblast were seen during this count. The red cells were markedly oversized, deformed, abnormally stained, and stippled. The fundus oculi showed numerous retinal hemorrhages. The ])atient steadily failed, and died on the sixteenth of November, without any marked change in the symptoms.
An optician of fifty-six was first seen May 28, 1907. He has lost one brother of consumption, and his wife died of the same disease. The patient had pleurisy seven years ago, and was sick with it for three or four days. Seven years ago he began to have nervous de])ression. and he has never been quite free from it since. He has had ])eriods of de])ression and despondency, and has been confined to bed many times for from one to eight weeks. His habits are good. He denies venereal disease.
Ten days ago he began to feel "all smashed u])" — consideral)le headache, nausea but no vomiting, stiffness of the legs and neck, shortness of breath, insomnia (apparently due to nervousness), and moderate constiT)ation. His appetite has been good, and he has been very anxious to make a business trij) to Ohio, but has been prevented by this present illness. Of late his hands and arms have begun to tremble, and his left foot drags a little when he walks.
On examination, the patient is well develoj)ed and nourished. His right ])upil is slightly irregular and larger than the left; both react normally. The heart's a})ex is in the fifth s])acc, just outside the nijiiileline. I'here is no enlargement to the right. The heart- sounds are irregular in force and rhythm; no munnur or accentuation. F)lo(>(i normal. Hlood ])ressure is 120 mm. Hg. The lungs and alxlomen are negatixe. In the left axilla there is a gland the si/e of a \\alnut. The left leg i> moxed with <i;reat difficultv. Sensation is exerw.liere uood. There i>
fibrillary twitching over the arms and body, and a coarse twitching of the hands and face. The patient is very sleepy, but when aroused, speaks without difficulty. A neurologic consultant said, "probably psychoneurosis," but advised us to continue observation before concluding that there is nothing further.
Discussion. — From the family history, from the previous attack of pleurisy, and from the presence of an enlarged gland in the left axilla, tuberculosis is naturally the first cause for this man's nervousness which we are led to consider. Such a consideration, however, proves fruitless, as nothing in the physical examination bears it out.
Some cerebral lesion was the next thing that occurred to me in studying the case, especially in view of the headache, the nausea, the irregular and unequal pupils, and the paresis of the left leg. The mental state, moreover, was very abnormal, especially considering the age at which it first appeared, and the muscular tremor seems likewise significant of a lesion of the central nervous system. Had the blood-pressure been high, we should doubtless have thought of chronic nephritis as soon as the slight cardiac enlargement was discovered, but the normal pulse tension threw us at first off the track.
We remained in the dark regarding the diagnosis, trying to figure out some type of thrombosis, softening, or slight hemorrhage in the brain which could account for the condition of the left leg. Dementia paralytica was considered, but the mental state, the pupils, and reflexes were not at all characteristic of this condition; nor, on the other hand, were they wholly inconsistent with it. At this point most of our difficulties were cleared up by the receipt of a full report upon the condition of the urine, details of which follow.
Outcome. — The urine averaged 60 ounces in twenty-four hours; specific gravity, ion; the slightest possible trace of albumin was found, and a rare, finely granular cast. There was marked soft edema of the feet and lower legs. By rest in bed, 10 minims of digitalis e\ery four hours, I ounce of magnesium sulphate every morning, diuretin, 15 grains four times a day, and limitation of liquids, the patient was greatly improved by the second of June. By the third the edema was gone. By the ninth he was sitting up, feeling well, passing a large amount of urine, his heart's action much stronger and steadier, his leg motions nearly normal. On the eighteenth he was allowed to go home in excellent spirits.
APPENDIX A
As mentioned in the Introduction, certain statistical articles and monographs were used in the preparation of the " gridiron " diagrams. The most important were as follows:
THE CLASSIFICATION OF NEPHRITIS
Throughout this Ixxjk I have adopted the classification used in the autopsy records of the Massachusetts (General Hosjntal, and identical in its main outlines with that used by Senator and l:)y Councilman. The gist of it ai)])ears to be as follows:
Leaving out of account the acute destructive lesions, such as may be produced by mercurial poisoning, suppurative nephritis, etc., the renal lesions distinguishable by a group of clinical and anatomic characteristics are:
The former results from an injury i)rofluced in the glomeruli bv some irritant — usuallv the i)r)is;)n of an acute infectious disease, such as scarlet fever, i)neumc)nia, or acute endocardilis. luiema, anemia, and often uremic manifestations occur. In cases lasting over six weeks there is usually tardiac hypertroj'h)-. If the iniur\- to the glomeruli is relatively slight and limited to a few, n-ioverv takes place after an acute or, rarelv, a subacute course of the disease. If the injury is more scrious, the disease mav go (Ui in a jatriit and well-compensated form for months (jr years, tlnalh' ending with a burst of ■'a(Ute" symptoms (edema, anemia, uremia, cardiac failurei. In the more ihn,nic cases the histology of the kidney and the condition of the heart and urine mav c losehrc'Semble those of the t\!)e next to lie described.
Chronic interstitial nephritis is relativeh- uncommon, es])eciall\ in the- tirst half of life-. The lesi;insclo not apju^ar to originate in the glomeruli, ami the- i'-lnnds of intact glomeruli are relativelv few. The' c hange ri-|)resents a niorc' generalK di'-tributed disease whose cause is obscurc', though in iuan\-, perhajis most, cases ii seiins to be related to arteriosclerosis.
syphilitic, 281
.Vdcnoma, simple, of ihjroid, 49 .Xdherenl jHTicardium, 2i(), 700 Adhesions, i)el\ic, cause of left iliac i)ain, 276 of rigiit iliac pain, 259
chronic, 705
Adolescence cause of headache, 35 Air, bad, cause of headache, t,^ Alcohol cause of headache, t^t, Alcoholic gastritis, 214
neuritis, 373, 555, 557
cause of pain in legs and feet, 351 Alcoholism, 77, 158, 167, 170, 177, 192, 195, 270. 359, 390, 447, 475, 501, 517, 538, 611, 632, 659
insufficiency, 207
regurgitation cause of cough, 577 stenosis and regurgitation, 694 valves, fibrous endocarditis of, 215 Apoplexy, 389, 497, 510
cause of coma, 487
with hemiplegia cause of paralysis, 533 Appendicitis, 89, 93, loi, 131, 133, 136, 138, 179, 192, 260, 262, 263, 267, 268, 356, 419, 445, 613, 646
cause of long fever, 403
of colon, 196, 252, 255, 257. 281, 618, 657 of duodenum cause of jaundice, 717 of gall-bladder cause of jaundice, 717 gastric, 86, 144 156, 159, 161, 163, 166, 175, 184, 189, 194, 223, 252, 536, 548, 614, 616, 636, 648, 651, 658
typhoid, 210, 238
Choledochus, stone in ductus, 224, 232 Cholelithiasis, 86, 113, 164. 165, 169, 170, 174, 17s, 176, 182, 187, 192, 197, 198, 206, 210, 235, 252, 265, 307, 483, 630, 719, 722, 723, 724
hepatic, 195, 318
cause of right hypochondriac pain, 204 Constipation, 133, 152, 159, 161, 162, 166, 170, 173, 175, 177, 195, 198, 280, 614, 623, 624, 661
of unknown origin, 675
Death, sudden, in cardiac cases, 496 Debility, 101, 120, 158, 225, 227, 562, 698 Defective balance cause of lumbar pain,
Diabetes mellitus, 51, 140, 362, 434, 502,
517, 551, 553, 572, 600, 62£, 731 Diagnoses, causes of incorrect, 17 Diagnosis, vulnerability of all differential, 19 Diagrams and charts, explanation of, 22 Diarrhea cause of cijigastric pain, 155
Lead colic, 131
Lead-poisoning, 59, 86, 109, 132, 140, 144, 151, 157, 160, 166, 169, 174, 175, 177, 242, 257, 295, 391, 426, 517, 527, 554,
in New England cause of chills, 460 tertian, 121, 148,294,639,642,722 Malaria! poisoning, chronic, 537 Malignant disease, 42, 59, 340, 342 of chest- wall, 312, 316, 320
intestinal, 51. 151, 152, lOi. loS. 100 lausc of c])igastrii- jjaiii. 155 of gi'ncral al)d()minal jxnn. 1 jo Occupation. clTecl of. its relation to \):un. 27
cause of lumbar pain, 85
Passive congestion of liver, 195, 318 Paul, W. E., and G. L. Walton. 32 Pelvic adhesions cause of left iliac pain, 259 of right iliac pain, 204
pelvic, 173
perforative, 135, 144, 151, 193 tuberculous, 134, 142, 156, 158, 172, 174, 188, 197, 247, 315, 419, 427, 456, 480, 551, 564, 569
Phlegmonous gastritis, 472
Phthisis, 133. 217, 229, 298, 302, 304, 316, 317, 341. 409, 413, 428, 463, 470, 471, 567, 581, 586, 589, 593, 597, 599, 604, 650, 074, 701, 732, 733
general, 435
Pneumonia, 85, 88, 100, 121, 180, 206, 251, 288, 292, 294, 299, 304, 306, 375, 399, 407, 429, 431, 435, 441, 442, 444, 447, 475, 479, 484, 538, 548, 585, 591, 594, 634, 642, 652
Psychoneurotic lumbar pain, 84
" Ptomain poisoning," 301, 443, 631, 653 Puberty, infection of, 445, 469 Pulmonary abscess, 218, 462, 566, 579, 589,
primary, 3S1
Sclerosis, lateral, (ause of paralysis, 533 Sea-sickness cause of vomiting, 600 Season and weather, their relation to pain, 28 Secondary anemia, 151, 530
Subdiaphragmatic abscess, 135, 229, 318,
cause of right hypochondriac pain, Subnitrate of bismuth poisoning, 228 Sudden death in cardiac cases, 496 Suggestibility, hysteric, 507
Syphilis, 43, 45, 54, 73, 75, 77. 118, 134, 139, 154, 179, 188, 213, 214, 216, 234, 246, 338, 355, 370, 382, 386, 389, 385, 407, 413, 419, 422, 447, 453, 471, 497, 504, 529, 549, 551, 625, 737
Terminal infection, 353
Tertian malaria. See Malaria, tertian. Testis, sarcoma of, with metastases, 171 Tests to make in puzzling cases of headache,
Tuberculosis, 42, 48, 76, 269, 335, 355, 376, 382, 383, 385, 390, 412, 410. 421, 431, 453. 457^ 460, 482, 537, 545. 561. 562, 583. 588, 591, 502, 603, 625. 636, 640, 646. ()47, 653, 692, 740, 742
abdominal, 115, 134
cause of general abdominal pain, 120 of bladder cause of hematuria, 666 brain, 55, f)i, 70, 75, 77, 423, 496, 510, 517, 523, 528. C)i5. ()4o. 642, 644, 737
of pain, 26
Typhoid, 48. 52, 56. 57, 65. 72, 75, 77, 85, 91, 95, 107, 122, 135, 137, 294, 301, 303, 359, 402, 409, 411, 413, 423, 427, 429, 431, 435, 442, 467, 478, 482, 538, 542, 564, 566, 601, 634, 644, 653
648, 682, 737
perforated gastric, 89, 177, 277 Ulcerative endocarditis, 92, 420 Unknown cause of hematuria, 678, 682 infection, 54, 95, 293, 443
LITERARY SUPERIORITY
^¥^HE excellent judgment displayed in the publications of the house * at the very beginning of its career, and the success of the modern business methods employed by it, at once attracted the attention of leading men in the profession, and many of the most prominent writers of America offered their books for publication. Thus, there were produced in rapid succession a number of works that immediately placed the house in the front rank of Medical Publishers. One need onl\' cite such instances as Musser and KelK-'s Treatment, Keen's Surger\-, Kelly and Xoble's G\'necology and Abdominal Surgery, Cabot's Differential Diagnosis, Mumford's Surgery. Cotton's Dislocations and Joint Fractures. Crandon's Surgical After-treatment, Sisson's V^eterinaiy Anatomy, Anders and Boston's ^Medical Diagnosis, Bonney's Tuberculosis, Gant's Constipation and Obstruction, Jordan's Bacterif^logy, and Kemp on Stomach and Intestines. These books have made for themselves a place among the best works on their respective subjects.
General Bacteriology
A Text=Book of General Bacteriology. By Edwin O. Jordan, Ph.D., Professor of Bacteriology in the University of Chicago and in Rush Medical College, Octavo of 594 pages, illustrated. Cloth, $3.00 net.
Professor Jordan's work embraces the entire field of bacteriology, the nonpathogenic as well as the pathogenic bacteria being considered, giving greater emphasis, of course, to the latter. There are extensive chapters on methods of studying bacteria, including staining, biochemical tests, cultures, etc. ; on the development and composition of bacteria ; on enzymes and fermentation-products; on the bacterial production of pigment, acid and alkali ; and on ptomains and toxins. Especially complete is the presentation of the serum treatment of gonorrhea, diphtheria, dysentery, and tetanus. The relation of bovine to human tuberculosis and the ocular tuberculin reaction receive extensive consideration.
This work will also appeal to academic and scientific students. It contains chapters on the bacteriology of plants, milk and milk-products, air, agriculture, water, food preservatives, the processes of leather tanning, tobacco curing, and vinegar making ; the relation of bacteriology to household administration and to sanitary engineering, etc.
Veterinary Bacteriology. By Robert E. Buchanan, Ph.D., Professor of Bacteriology in the Iowa State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts. Octavo, 5 16 pages, 214 illustrations. Cloth, $3.00 net. THE BEST PUBLISHED
Professor ]5uchanan discusses thoroughly all bacteria causing diseases of the domestic animals. He goes minutely into the consideration of immunity, opsonic index, reproduction, sterilization, antiseptics, biochemic tests, culture-media, isolation of cultures, the manufacture of the various toxins, antitoxins, tuberculins, and vaccines that have proved of diagnostic or therapeutic value. Then, in addition to bacteria and protozoa proper, he considers molds, mildews, smuts, rusts, toadstools, puff-balls, and the other fungi pathogenic for animals. B. F. Kaupp, D. V. S., State Agricultural College, l-'art Collins.
Atlas and Epitome of General Pathologic Histology. By Pr.
Dr. H. Durck, of Munich. Edited, with additions, by Ludvig HekTOEN, M. D., Professor of Pathology in Rush Medical College, Chicago. 172 colored figures on Jj lithographic plates, 36 text-cuts, many in colors, and 353 pages. Cloth, $^ .00 net. In Saunders' Hand- Atlas Series.
This new Atlas will be found even more valuable than the two preceding volumes on Special Pathologic Histology, to which, in a manner, it is a companion work. The text gives the generally accepted views in regard to the significance of pathologic processes, explained in clear and easily understood language. The lithographs in some cases required as many as twenty-six colors to reproduce the original painting. Dr. Hektoen has made many additions of great value.
HowelFs Physiology
A Text-Book of Physiology. By William H. Howell, Ph.D., M. D., Professor of Physiology in the Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Octavo of 1018 pages, 306 illustrations. Cloth, $4.00 net.
•Dr. Howell has had many years of experience as a teacher of physiology in several of the leading medical schools, and is therefore exceedingly well fitted to write a text-book on this subject. Main emphasis has been laid upon those facts and views which will be directly helpful in the practical branches of medicine. At the same time, however, sufficient consideration has been given to the exjierimental side of the science. The entire literature of physiology has been thorouijhly digested by Dr. Howell, and the important views and conclusions introduced into his work. Illustrations have been most freely used. The Lancet, London
'■ I'liis is oiH' of the best rect-nt text-books on jihysiology, and we warmly commend it to the attention of students who desire to obtain liy readini; 3 general, all-round, yet concise survey of the scope, facts, theories, and speculations tiiat in ike up its subject matter."
A Text-Book of Pathology. By Joseph McFarland, M. D., Professor of Pathology and Bacteriology in the Medico-Chirurgical College of Philadelphia. Octavo of 856 pages, with 437 illustrations, many in colors. Cloth, ^5.00 net; Half Morocco, ^6.50 net.
You cannot successfully treat disease unless you have a practical, clinical knowledge of the pathologic changes produced by disease. For this purpose Dr. McFarland's work is well fitted. It was written with just such an end in view — to furnish a ready means of acquiring a thorough training in the subject, a training such as would be of daily help in your practice. For this edition every page has been gone over most carefully, correcting, omitting the obsolete, and adding the new. Some sections have been entirely rewritten. You will find it a book well worth consulting, for it is the work of an authority.
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This work is both a general and medical biology. The former because it discusses the peculiar nature and reactions of living substance generally; the latter because particular emphasis is laid on those sul:>jects of special interest and value in the study and practice of medicine. The illustrations will be found of great assistance.
A Text-Book Upon the Pathogenic Bacteria. By Joseph McFarLAND, M. D., Professor of Pathology and Bacteriology in the MedicoChirurgical College of Philadelphia, Pathologist to the Medico-Chirurgical Hospital, Philadelphia, etc. Octavo volume of 709 pages, finely illustrated. Cloth, ^3.50 net.
This book gives a concise account of the technical procedures necessary in the study of bacteriology, a brief description of the life-history of the important pathogenic bacteria, and sufficient description of the pathologic lesions accompanying the micro-organismal invasions to give an idea of the origin of symptoms and the causes of death. The illustrations are mainly reproductions of the best the world affords, and are beautifully executed. In this edition the entire work has been practically rewritten, old matter eliminated, and much new matter inserted.
A Manual of Histology and Organography. By Charles Hill, M. D., formerly Assistant Professor of Histology and Embryology, Northwestern University, Chicago. i2mo of 468 pages, 337 illustrations. Flexible leather, $2.00 net.
The American Illustrated Medical Dictionary. A new and complete dictionary of the terms used in Medicine, Surgery, Dentistry, Pharmacy, Chemistry, Veterinary Science, Nursing, and kindred branches ; with over lOO new and elaborate tables and many handsome illustrations. By W. A. Newman Borland, M.D., Editor of " The American Pocket Medical Dictionary." Large octavo, 986 pages, bound in full flexible leather. Price, $4.50 net ; with thumb index, ^5.00 net.
Dorland's Dictionary defines hundreds of the newest terms not defined in any other dictionary — bar none. These new terms are hve, active words, taken right from modern medical literature.
It gives the capitalization and pronunciation of all words. It makes a feature of the derivation or etymology of the words. In some dictionaries the etymology occupies only a secondary place, in many cases no derivation being given at all. In " Borland," practically every word is given its derivation.
A Text-Book of Pathology. By Alfred Stengel, M. D., Professor of Medicine in the University of Pennsylvania. Octavo volume of 979 pages, with 400 text-illustrations, many in colors, and 7 full-page colored plates. Cloth, $5.00 net; Sheep or Half Morocco, $6.z^o net.
In this work the practical application of pathologic facts to clinical medicine is considered more fully than is customary in works on pathology. While the subject of pathology is treated in the broadest way consistent with the size of the book, an effort has been made to present the subject from the point of view of the clinician. In the second part of the work the pathology of individual organs and tissues is treated systematically and quite fully under subheadings that clearly indicate the subject-matter to be found on each page. In this edition the section dealing with C.eneral I'athology'has been must extensively revised, several of the important chapters having been practically rewritten. A very useful addition is an Appendix treating of th' technic of pathologic methods, giving briefly the most important methods at present in use for the study of pathology, including, however, only those methods capable of giving satisfactory results. The book will be found to maintain fully its popularity.
Professor of Patholcgy, Johns Hopkins University. Baltimore, Md.
" I consider the work abreast of motiern patholo,s:^y, and useful to both students and jiractitionors. It presents in a concise and well-eonsidereii form tlie essential facts of [general and special pathologic anatomy, with more than usual emphasis upon pathologic physiology."
The Lancet, London
"'I his vohuTie is intended to present the subject of patliologv in as practical a form as possil)le, and mure especially from the point of view i>f tht' ■rlinic;ii 5\it!i<>:o<,MSt.' Thi'se subjects have been faithftdly carried out, and avair.able t'-xt-book i- the result. We can most fa\orabiy recommend it to our readers as a thoroughly pr.ictical work on clinical p.ithoiogy."
Pathologic Technique. A Practical Manual for Workers in Pathologic Histology, including Directions for the Performance of Autopsies and for Clinical Diagnosis by Laboratory Methods. By Frank B. Mallory, M. D., Associate Professor of Pathology, Harvard University ; and James H. Wright, M. D., Director of the Pathologic Laboratory, Massachusetts General Hospital. Octavo of 500 pages, with 152 illustrations. Cloth, $3.00 net.
In revising the book for the new edition the authors have kept in view the needs of the laboratory worker, whether student, practitioner, or pathologist, for a practical manual of histologic and bacteriolog.ic methods in the study of pathologic material. Many parts have been rewritten, many new methods have been added, and the number of illustrations has been considerably increased. Among the new matter are the following : Smith's staining method for encapsulated bacteria ; the antiformin method for detection and cultivation of tubercle bacilli ; Musgrave's and Clegg's method for the cultivation of amelxe ; Wright's method for staining myelin sheaths in frozen sections ; Ghoreyeb's method for spirochetes ; Alzheimer's method for cytologic examination of cerebrospinal fluid ; Giemsa's new method for protozoa and bacteria in sections, and the Wassermann-Noguchi tests for syphilis.
Third Edition
A Text-Book of Embryology. By John C. Heisler, M.D., Professor of Anatomy in the Medico-Chirurgical College, Philadelphia, Octavo volume of 435 pages, with 212 illustrations, 32 of them in colors. Cloth, ^3.00 net.
WITH 212 ILLUSTRATIONS. 32 IN COLORS
The fact of embryology having acquired in recent years such great interest in connection with the teaching and with the proper comprehension of human anatomy, it is of first importance to the student of medicine that a concise and yet sufficiently full text-book upon the subject be available. This new edition represents all the latest advances recently made in the science of embryology. Many portions have been entirely rewritten, and a great deal of new and important matter added. A number of new illustrations have also been introduced and these will prove very valuable. The previous editions of this work filled a gap most admirably, and this new edition will undoubtedly maintain the reputation already won. Heisler's Embryology has become a standard work.
G. Carl Huber. M.D.,
Frojessor of Kmbry.^lci^y ,:f the Wistar Iintiiiitc, University of Ponnylvania. " I find the second edition of 'A Text-Book of Embryology' by Dr. Heisler .in improvement on the first. The fiLTures adde<l increase greatly the value of the wuik. I am again recotnnuMuling it to our students."
Birmingham Medical Review, England
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Chemical Pathology. — Being a Discussion of General Pathology from the Standpoint of the Chemical Processes Involved. By H. Gideon Wells, Ph. D., M. D., Assistant Professor of Pathology in the University of Chicago. Octavo of 549 pages. Cloth, ^3.25 net.
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Elements of Nutrition
Elements of the Science of Nutrition. By Graham Lusk, Ph. D., Professor of Physiology at Cornell Medical School. Octavo volume of 302 pages. Cloth, ;^3.oo net.
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A Text-Book of Human Histology. Including Microscopic Technic. By Dr. A. A. Bohm and Dr. M. von Davidoff, of Munich, and G. Garl Huber, M.D., Professor of Embryology at the Wistar Institute, University of Pennsylvania. Handsome octavo of 528 pages, with 361 beautiful original illustrations. Flexible cloth, ^3.50 net.
The work of Drs. Ilohm and Davidoff is well known in the German' edition, and has been considered one of the most practically useful books on the subject of Human Histology. This second edition has been in great part rewritten and very much enlarged by Dr. Huber, who has also added over one hundred original illustrations. Dr. Huber' s extensive additions have rendered the work the most complete students' text-book on Histology in existence.
A Laboratory Manual of Invertebrate Zoology. By Oilman A
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A Manual of Pathology. By Guthrie McConnell,M.D., Professor of Bacteriology and Pathology at Temple University, Philadelphia. i2mo of 523 pages, with 170 illustrations. Flexible leather, $2.50 net.
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American Text-Book of Pathology. Edited by Ludvig Hektoen, M.D., Professor of Pathology, Rush Medical College, Chicago; and David Riesman, M.D., Professor of Clinical Medicine, Philadelphia Polyclinic. Octavo of 1245 P^g^s, 443 illustrations, 66 in colors. Cloth, $7.50 net; Half Morocco, ;$9.oo net.
DiJRCK, of Munich. Edited, with additions, by Ludvig Hektoen, M. D., Professor of Pathology, Rush Medical College, Chicago. In two parts. Part I. — Circulatory, Respiratory, and Gastro-intestinal Tracts. 120 colored figures on 62 plates, and 158 pages of text. Part II. — Liver, Urinary and Sexual Organs, Nervous System, Skin, Muscles, and Bones. 123 colored figures on 60 plates, and 192 pages of text. Per part: Cloth, $3.00 net. /// Saunders' Hand-Atlas Scries.
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Atlas and Epitome of Human Histology, l^y Pkivatdocext Dr. J. SoHOTTA, of Wiirzburg. Edited, witli additions, by G. Carl Hl'Ber, M. D., Professor of Histology and Embrj'ology in the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. With 214 colored figures on 80 plates, 68 text-illustrations, and 248 pages of text. Cloth, S4.50 net. /// Saunders' Hatid-Atlas Series.
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Bosanquet on Spirochaetes
Spirochaetes : A Review of Recent Work, with Some Original Observations. By W. Cecil Bosanquet, M.D., Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, London. Octavo of 1 52 pages, illustrated. ;^2.50 net.
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The Elements of Clinical Bacteriology. By Drs. Ernst Levy and Felix Klemperer, of the University of Strasburg. Translated and edited by Augustus A. Eshner, M. D., Professor of Clinical Medicine, Philadelphia Polyclinic. Octavo volume of 440 pages, fully illustrated. Cloth, ^2.50 net.
Atlas and Epitome of Bacteriology : including a Text-Book of Special Bactkriologic Diagnosis. By Prof. Dr. K. B. Lehmann and Dr. R. O. Neumann, of Wurzburg. From the Second Revised and Enlarged German Edition. Edited, with additions, by G. H. Weaver, M. D., Assistant Professor of Pathology and Bacteriology, Rush Medical College, Chicago. In two parts. Part 1.^632 colored figures on 69 lithographic plates. Part II. — 511 pages of text, illustrated. Per part: Cloth, $2.50 net. /;/ Sannders Idaiid-Atlas Series.
The Elements of Bacteriologic Technique. A Laboratory Guide for the Medical, Dental, and Technical Student. By J, W. H. Eyre, M. D., F. R. S. Edin., Lecturer on Bacteriology at the Medical and Dental Schools, London, Octavo of 375 pages, with 170 illustrations. Cloth, $2.50 net.
American Text-Book of Physiology. In two Yolumes. Edited by William H. Howell, Ph. D., M.D., Professor of Physiology in the Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Two royal octavos of about 600 pages each, illustrated. Per volume: Cloth, $3.00 net; Half Morocco, $4.25 net.
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Surgical Pathology and Therapeutics. By John Collins Warren, M. D., LL.D., F. R. C. S. (Hon.), Professor of Surgery, Harvard Medical School. Octavo, 873 pages, 136 relief and lithographic illustrations, 33 in colors. With an Appendix on Scientific Aids to Surgical Diagnosis and a series of articles on Regional Bacteriology. Cloth, $5.00 net; Half Morocco, ^6.50 net.
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Essentials of Bacteriology : being a concise and systematic introduction to the Study of Micro-organisms. By M. "V. Ball, M. D., Late Bacteriologist to St. Agnes' Hospital, Philadelphia. i2mo of 289 pages, with 135 illustrations, some in colors. Cloth, ^i.oo net. In Saunders' Question- Compend Series.
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| 315,181 | common-pile/pre_1929_books_filtered | differentialdiag01caboiala | public_library | public_library_1929_dolma-0012.json.gz:759 | https://archive.org/download/differentialdiag01caboiala/differentialdiag01caboiala_djvu.txt |
xzfJkSaNqHFvFVNa | 11.1D: Spinal Cord White Matter | 11.1D: Spinal Cord White Matter
The white matter of the spinal cord is composed of bundles of myelinated axons.
- Describe the function and compositon of spinal cord white matter
Key Points
- White matter is one of the two components of the central nervous system and consists mostly of glial cells and myelinated axons.
- The white matter is white because of the fatty substance ( myelin ) that surrounds the nerve fibers. Myelin acts as an electrical insulation. It allows the messages to pass quickly from place to place.
- Cerebral and spinal white matter do not contain dendrites, which can only be found in grey matter along with neural cell bodies, and shorter axons.
- White matter modulates the distribution of action potentials, acting as a relay and coordinating communication between different brain regions.
- White matter in the spinal cord functions as the “wiring”; primarily to carry information.
Key Terms
- myelin : A white, fatty, material composed of lipids and lipoproteins, that surrounds the axons of nerves.
- white matter : A region of the central nervous system containing myelinated nerve fibers and no dendrites.
- cerebral ventricles : Interconnected cavities in the brain where the cerebrospinal fluid is produced.
- glial cell : A type of cell, in the nervous system, that provides support for the neurons.
White matter is one of the two components of the central nervous system. It consists mostly of glial cells and myelinated axons and forms the bulk of the deep parts of the brain and the superficial parts of the spinal cord. It is the tissue through which messages pass between different areas of grey matter within the nervous system.
Composition of White Matter
White matter is composed of bundles of myelinated nerve cell processes (or axons). The axons connect various grey matter areas (the locations of nerve cell bodies) of the brain to each other and carry nerve impulses between neurons. The axonal myelin acts as an insulator and increases the speed of transmission of all nerve signals. White matter does not contain dendrites, which are only found in grey matter along with neural cell bodies and shorter axons.
In a freshly cut brain, the tissue of white matter appears pinkish white to the naked eye because myelin is composed largely of lipid tissue that contains capillaries. In nonelderly adults, 1.7-3.6% of the white matter is blood. Myelin is found in almost all long nerve fibers and acts as electrical insulation. This is important because it allows the messages to pass quickly from place to place.
Spinal Cord Columns
The spinal cord white matter is subdivided into columns. The dorsal columns carry sensory information from mechanoreceptors (cells that respond to mechanical pressure or distortion). The axons of the lateral columns ( corticospinal tracts ) travel from the cerebral cortex to contact spinal motor neurons. The ventral columns carry sensory pain and temperature information and some motor information.
Function of White Matter
Long thought to be passive tissue, white matter actively affects how the brain learns and functions. While grey matter is primarily associated with processing and cognition, white matter modulates the distribution of action potentials, acting as a relay and coordinating communication between different brain regions. The brain in general (and especially a child’s brain) can adapt to white-matter damage by finding alternative routes that bypass the damaged white-matter areas; therefore, it can maintain good connections between the various areas of grey matter. Using a computer network as an analogy, the grey matter can be thought of as the actual computers themselves, whereas the white matter represents the network cables connecting the computers together.
Axon Tracts
Within white matter, there are three different kinds of tracts or bundles of axons that connect one part of the brain to another and to the spinal cord:
- Projection tracts extend vertically between higher and lower brain and spinal cord centers. They carry information between the cerebrum and the rest of the body. The corticospinal tracts, for example, carry motor signals from the cerebrum to the brainstem and spinal cord.
- Commissural tracts cross from one cerebral hemisphere to the other through bridges called commissures. Commissural tracts enable the left and right sides of the cerebrum to communicate with each other.
- Association tracts connect different regions within the same hemisphere of the brain. Among their roles, association tracts link perceptual and memory centers of the brain.
White Matter-Grey Matter Interactions
White matter forms the bulk of the deep parts of the brain and the superficial parts of the spinal cord. Aggregates of grey matter, such as the basal ganglia and brain stem nuclei, are spread within the cerebral white matter. The cerebellum is structured in a similar manner as the cerebrum, with a superficial mantle of cerebellar cortex, deep cerebellar white matter (called the “arbor vitae”), and aggregates of grey matter surrounded by deep cerebellar white matter (dentate nucleus, globose nucleus, emboliform nucleus, and fastigial nucleus). The fluid-filled cerebral ventricles (lateral ventricles, third ventricle, cerebral aqueduct, and fourth ventricle) are also located deep within the cerebral white matter.
White matter in spinal cord : The spinal cord diagram showing location of the white matter surrounding grey matter.
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- Anatomy and physiology of animals The spinal cord. Provided by : Wikimedia. Located at : commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anatomy_and_physiology_of_animals_The_spinal_cord.jpg . License : CC BY-SA: Attribution-ShareAlike | 1,917 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Anatomy_and_Physiology_(Boundless)/11%3A_Central_Nervous_System/11.1%3A_The_Spinal_Cord/11.1D%3A_Spinal_Cord_White_Matter | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:45664 | https://med.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Anatomy_and_Physiology/Anatomy_and_Physiology_(Boundless)/11%3A_Central_Nervous_System/11.1%3A_The_Spinal_Cord/11.1D%3A_Spinal_Cord_White_Matter |
QufiQrWu6qX-dUnv | Why Write? A Guide for Students in Canada 2nd Edition | 5.1 Learning Goals
Erin Kelly; Sara Humphreys; Natalie Boldt; and Nancy Ami
LEARNING GOALS
You will understand why it is important to be able to write in what is seen as correct, clear, cohesive, and effective English in certain contexts.
There are many different ways to understand “correctness” and if you’ve read Chapter Three, you know that “correctness” is related to context. That is, sometimes, such as when you text a certain type of grammar is used. When you email your professor or manager (at work) another form of correctness comes into play. In this case, a good deal of academic writing requires a certain type of formality and style. This chapter gives you insight into this function.
You will develop strategies for familiarizing yourself with and following the rules for academic written English.
By “strategies,” we mean you will be given skill sets or tools that will enable you to use Academic English effectively. In this chapter you will learn the basic rules for academic writing, which are not as intimidating as you might think (really!). You will also learn when these rules can be bent and how they are changing (grammar is always evolving).
You will be able to make strategic choices about your writing style while keeping in mind its relevance to purpose and audience.
Once you have a grasp of what grammar is and the basic rules for Academic English, then you can start working on your writing style. By the time you reach this chapter, we hope you have a writing process; you understand the importance of your audience, purpose, and context when writing. Now you are ready to work on style, a key element for any writer. | 367 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://pressbooks.bccampus.ca/whywriteguide2e/chapter/5-1-learning-goals/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:32039 | https://pressbooks.bccampus.ca/whywriteguide2e/chapter/5-1-learning-goals/ |
DdqEuPVASx-VruI7 | 18.2: Relationship Between Solubility and Ksp | 18.2: Relationship Between Solubility and Ksp
- Quantitatively related \(K_{sp}\) to solubility
Considering the relation between solubility and \(K_{sp}\) is important when describing the solubility of slightly ionic compounds. However, this article discusses ionic compounds that are difficult to dissolve; they are considered "slightly soluble" or "almost insoluble." Solubility product constants (\(K_{sq}\)) are given to those solutes, and these constants can be used to find the molar solubility of the compounds that make the solute. This relationship also facilitates finding the \(K_{sq}\) of a slightly soluble solute from its solubility.
Introduction
Recall that the definition of solubility is the maximum possible concentration of a solute in a solution at a given temperature and pressure. We can determine the solubility product of a slightly soluble solid from that measure of its solubility at a given temperature and pressure, provided that the only significant reaction that occurs when the solid dissolves is its dissociation into solvated ions, that is, the only equilibrium involved is:
\[\ce{M}_p\ce{X}_q(s)⇌p\mathrm{M^{m+}}(aq)+q\mathrm{X^{n−}}(aq)\]
In this case, we calculate the solubility product by taking the solid’s solubility expressed in units of moles per liter (mol/L), known as its molar solubility .
We began the chapter with an informal discussion of how the mineral fluorite is formed. Fluorite, \(\ce{CaF2}\), is a slightly soluble solid that dissolves according to the equation:
\[\ce{CaF2}(s)⇌\ce{Ca^2+}(aq)+\ce{2F-}(aq)\nonumber \]
The concentration of Ca 2 + in a saturated solution of CaF 2 is 2.1 × 10 –4 M ; therefore, that of F – is 4.2 × 10 –4 M , that is, twice the concentration of \(\ce{Ca^{2+}}\). What is the solubility product of fluorite?
Solution
First, write out the K sp expression, then substitute in concentrations and solve for K sp :
\[\ce{CaF2(s) <=> Ca^{2+}(aq) + 2F^{-}(aq)} \nonumber\]
A saturated solution is a solution at equilibrium with the solid. Thus:
\[\begin{align*} K_\ce{sp} &= \ce{[Ca^{2+}][F^{-}]^2} \\[4pt] &=(2.1×10^{−4})(4.2×10^{−4})^2 \\[4pt] &=3.7×10^{−11}\end{align*}\]
As with other equilibrium constants, we do not include units with K sp .
In a saturated solution that is in contact with solid Mg(OH) 2 , the concentration of Mg 2 + is 3.7 × 10 –5 M . What is the solubility product for Mg(OH) 2 ?
\[\ce{Mg(OH)2}(s)⇌\ce{Mg^2+}(aq)+\ce{2OH-}(aq)\nonumber\]
- Answer
-
2.0 × 10 –13
The K sp of copper(I) bromide, \(\ce{CuBr}\), is 6.3 × 10 –9 . Calculate the molar solubility of copper bromide.
Solution
The solubility product constant of copper(I) bromide is 6.3 × 10 –9 .
The reaction is:
\[\ce{CuBr}(s)⇌\ce{Cu+}(aq)+\ce{Br-}(aq)\nonumber\]
First, write out the solubility product equilibrium constant expression:
\[K_\ce{sp}=\ce{[Cu+][Br- ]}\nonumber\]
Create an ICE table (as introduced in the chapter on fundamental equilibrium concepts), leaving the \(\ce{CuBr}\) column empty as it is a solid and does not contribute to the K sp :
At equilibrium:
\[ \begin{align*} K_\ce{sp} &=\ce{[Cu+][Br- ]} \\[4pt] 6.3×10^{−9} &=(x)(x)=x^2 \\[4pt] x&=\sqrt{(6.3×10^{−9})}=7.9×10^{−5} \end{align*}\]
Therefore, the molar solubility of \(\ce{CuBr}\) is 7.9 × 10 –5 M .
Finding the Solubility of a Salt: https://youtu.be/98BuldrICXM
Summary
Solubility is defined as the maximum amount of solute that can be dissolved in a solvent at equilibrium. Equilibrium is the state at which the concentrations of products and reactant are constant after the reaction has taken place. The solubility product constant (\(K_{sp}\)) describes the equilibrium between a solid and its constituent ions in a solution. The value of the constant identifies the degree to which the compound can dissociate in water. The higher the \(K_{sp}\), the more soluble the compound is. \(K_{sq}\) is defined in terms of activity rather than concentration because it is a measure of a concentration that depends on certain conditions such as temperature, pressure, and composition. It is influenced by surroundings. \(K_{sp}\) is used to describe the saturated solution of ionic compounds. (A saturated solution is in a state of equilibrium between the dissolved, dissociated, undissolved solid, and the ionic compound.)
Contributors and Attributions
-
Paul Flowers (University of North Carolina - Pembroke), Klaus Theopold (University of Delaware) and Richard Langley (Stephen F. Austin State University) with contributing authors. Textbook content produced by OpenStax College is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution License 4.0 license. Download for free at<EMAIL_ADDRESS>). | 878 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://chem.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/General_Chemistry/Map%3A_General_Chemistry_(Petrucci_et_al.)/18%3A_Solubility_and_Complex-Ion_Equilibria/18.2%3A_Relationship_Between_Solubility_and_Ksp | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:11071 | https://chem.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/General_Chemistry/Map%3A_General_Chemistry_(Petrucci_et_al.)/18%3A_Solubility_and_Complex-Ion_Equilibria/18.2%3A_Relationship_Between_Solubility_and_Ksp |
b65-sRSMFTwaIW5X | 1.6.4: Projects | 1.6.4: Projects
Cardinality of Infinite Sets
In set theory, it has been shown that the set of irrational numbers has a cardinality greater than the set of natural numbers. That is, the set of irrational numbers is so large that it is uncountably infinite.
-
Perform a search with the phrase, “Who first proved that the real numbers are uncountable?”
- Who first proved that the real numbers are uncountable?
- What was the significance of this proof to the development of set theory and by extension other fields of mathematics?
-
Recent discoveries in the field of set theory include the solution to a 70-year-old problem previously thought to be unprovable. To learn more read this article:
- What does it mean for two infinite sets to have the same size?
- The real numbers are sometimes referred to as what?
- Summarize your understanding of the problem known as the “Continuum Hypothesis.”
- Malliaris and Shelah’s proof of this 70-year-old problem is opening up investigation in what two fields of mathematics?
-
Summarize your understanding of infinity.
- Define what it means to be infinite.
- Explain the difference between countable and uncountable sets.
- Research the difference between a discrete set and a continuous set, then summarize your findings.
Set Notation
In arithmetic, the operation of addition is represented by the plus sign, +, but multiplication is represented in multiple ways, including and parentheses, such as 5(3). Several set operations also are written in different forms based on the preferences of the mathematician and often their publisher.
- Search for “Set Complement” on the internet and list at least three ways to represent the complement of a set.
- Both the Set Challenge and Venn Diagram smartphone apps highlighted in the Tech Check sections have an operation for set difference. List at least two ways to represent set difference and provide a verbal description of how to calculate the difference between two sets and .
- When researching possible Venn diagram applications, the Greek letter delta, appeared as a symbol for a set operator. List at least one other symbol used for this same operation.
- Search for “List of possible set operations and their symbols.” Find and select two symbols that were not presented in this chapter.
The Real Number System
The set of real numbers and their properties are studied in elementary school today, but how did the number system evolve? The idea of natural numbers or counting numbers surfaced prior to written words, as evidenced by tally marks in cave writing. Create a timeline for significant contributions to the real number system.
- Use the following phrase to search online for information on the origins of the number zero: “History of the number zero.” Then, record significant dates for the invention and common use of the number zero on your timeline.
- Find out who is credited for discovering that the is irrational and add this information to your timeline. Hint: Search for, “Who was the first to discover irrational numbers?”
- Research Georg Cantor’s contribution to the representation of real numbers as a continuum and add this to your timeline.
- Research Ernst Zermelo’s contribution to the real number system and add this to your timeline. | 705 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Applied_Mathematics/Contemporary_Mathematics_(OpenStax)/01%3A__Sets/1.06%3A_Chapter_Summary/1.6.04%3A_Projects | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:43514 | https://math.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Applied_Mathematics/Contemporary_Mathematics_(OpenStax)/01%3A__Sets/1.06%3A_Chapter_Summary/1.6.04%3A_Projects |
QJl5468yEbc1fR3b | Canada and Speeches from the Throne | 3 Lester B. Pearson’s Quest for Progress and Canada’s Centennial Year: Speech from the Throne and Leaders’ Day Reply, 1967
Joshua Switzer
Introduction
National progress, as political virtue, is an obvious choice for politicians to include in their speechmaking rhetoric. For some Prime Ministers of Canada this stands true in their Speech from the Throne and Leaders’ Day Reply (also simply known as the Reply to the Speech from the Throne). In the same breath, does progress also mean that Prime Ministers merely provide lists of answers to ordinary Canadians in every single speech produced? In the Throne and Throne Reply speeches one can most definitely find examples of progress-driven language on the state of the economy, research and development, social and state relations, resource management, international intentions, party platforms, and other themes typical of any parliamentary speech. Prime Ministers also attempt to envision what Canada means for Canadians – in the present and for the future. The Speech from the Throne and Leaders’ Day Reply from Lester Bowles Pearson, 14th Prime Minister of Canada, casts its light over some unique matters. Both Speeches traditionally emphasize the policy objectives of government. Some commentators and academics see such skillful speeches as being designed to gloss over matters with intrigue and in dressed-up language, however. Clichés pervade these speeches as well.
What is often created, though, is a pleasant and, simultaneously, serious dialogue with Canadians and this, I maintain in this chapter, was Pearson’s intention in his 1967 Speech from the Throne. As much as it was an ode to the Fathers of Confederation, Pearson wanted Canadians to share their pride amongst one another by celebrating the progress of the nation of Canada. There is more to both Speeches than meets the eye, however. The Speech from the Throne in 1967 was read by Governor General Roland Michener and more importantly it conveyed Pearson’s political ideals, values, and visions, evincing rhetorical prowess and sound judgement. Pearson’s Throne Speech and Reply from May of 1967 showcase some rather interesting themes that typify his time in office as Prime Minister; he wrote modestly with no contrived language in these speeches, and seemed to speak directly to Canadians1 and, if not for himself or his party, in honour of the country. But the question still begged is whether or not the Speech from the Throne and Leaders’ Day Reply from Prime Minister Pearson departs as a message to Canadians as only a political promise; national and international matters are reined in by leaders when they solidify and legitimate their position abroad and garner support from the civilians of their country.
This paper’s analysis will be tied together with certain threads that stitch together a larger picture: Pearson’s political ideals in three themes. It must be said that many of the sections from both speeches are outside the scope of this essay; such an approach ensures a more specific, instead of a generalized, thematic direction to understanding Pearson as that moment in Canada’s history. After touching on some of Pearson’s political ‘highlights’, a narrative on the three themes will start to take shape: Pearson and Confederation as it pertained to the centennial year, Pearson and the provinces on questions surrounding the Canadian Constitution, and Pearson’s inherent internationalist leanings while in office. These themes will be given due attention within the appropriate context of each in relation to the larger theme of progress that Pearson promoted.
Brief Secondary Literature Overview
There is not a great deal of scholarly work that has been written analyzing Canadian Prime Ministers and their vision for Canada as outlined in the Throne and Leaders’ Day speeches. As such, this essay offers a new, fresh approach to Canada’s political history; such an approach is an act of continuity that narrates not just on an academic level but also on a public one; finally, it navigates through the vast terrain of Canada’s political traditions. Much of the literature cited in this essay provides a context for each discussed; the Throne Speech from May 8th and Leaders’ Day Reply from May 10th focus in on the primary and secondary literature themes and topics that intersect and overlap. The essay’s secondary literature is supplemented by Canadian political and social history and more specialized articles on Pearson written in the last 20 years, and what he accomplished with a twice-elected minority government for five years. Among the important studies of Pearson in politics include Pearson: The Unlikely Gladiator edited by Norman Hillmer. A good overview of the political climate of Canada in the 1960s is provided by Lara Campbell, Dominique Clement and Gregory S. Kealey’s Debating Dissent: Canada and the Sixties. The ‘political brand’ of Pearson will be supported by work from Michael Bliss’s well-known Right Honourable Men: The Descent of Canadian Politics from Macdonald to Chretien. Other secondary sources appropriated into certain sections of the essay are also important and is mentioned – in-text or footnotes — as the paper progresses.
Approaching Lester Pearson and the Essay’s Parameters
On the home front, Mike Pearson (as he was sometimes called) was a practical and pragmatic politician given to accommodation; globally he strived for mutual understanding with other world leaders.2 From 1963-1968, Lester B. Pearson improved social programs, many of which are still in effect today, such as the Canadian Pension Plan, universal healthcare and national student loans. He became the first Prime Minister to visit France (1964), signed the Auto Pact (1965) with the United States of America, and appointed two Royal Commissions dealing with challenging social and cultural issues: women’s status in Canada and bilingualism and biculturalism. On the international level, today, we remember Pearson for his peacekeeping. Finding a solution to the Suez Crisis was Pearson’s first most important moment on the international stage, and it defined him as he won the 1957 Nobel Peace Prize for his gallant efforts. We can also contribute his international traits to his governing style, a more interesting term: middle-powermanship. Placing Pearson in each of the following boxes — capacity, concentration, creativity, coalition-building, and credibility – establishes a series of interlinking narratives about Pearson’s Canada – a nation between smaller and larger countries within the arena of international activity and taking particular and reasoned positions on foreign conflict.3Pearson was also known as a liberal internationalist and neoliberalist, but only in certain contexts. For the latter we can draw upon Michel Foucault’s gouvernementalite (any matter ‘concerning government’). Within this concept is the notion of classic liberal structures of society and economy turned on its head: refashioned as a relationship that balances social individualism and economic maturity of a nation, and its adherence to the state by supporting the basis of government decisions.4
Pearson’s motives in the 1960s stemmed from his past experiences in the political arena. His political footing as described in this essay is rooted in “retrospective significance” — a rather objective task — which peers into a past within a past.5Historians are constantly recasting historical actors and their stories reflectively. While it may be debatable, a narrative often unfolds in the retelling of history; the past is left in its place and a version of that past is put under the microscope, viewed as a production of significant events and developments which recreates the actors and their mentalities.6 Since this essay is a product of what emerges when one approach primary documents though the lens of empiricism and reads into the connection between political power and persuasion and how they operate within the purview of one democratic leader, there are surely going to be unavoidable overlaps that create inherent silences in the narrative in its attempt to set up a methodology when discussing politics. There are limitations in what I will say about Lester Pearson’s vision of Canada viewed through the rhetoric of speech. Therefore, I have to point out that however useful it is to look at these Throne Speeches with a sense of wonder, looking back in history at how wonderfully versed and terse these Prime Ministers were in reassuring Canadians of their vision for Canada, I ask (and declare, all at once) how important this essay’s analysis unearths historical actors and puts them in their proper place contemporarily – in this case, it is about actors who evaluate and envisage their country. The essay reinforces this idea, and adds to the impressive compendium of topics and chapters in this book on Prime Ministers, as scholarship in this area of history grows. The essays are useful projects for contributing to a snapshot of micro political history. I contend that the argument of this short essay is constructivist in that it values form, content and narrative in lieu of fact and truth-seeking metanarratives.7
The Path from Confederation to 1967
Confederation was the rock on which Canada was first conceived. The truth is, there is not one ounce of doubt Pearson would not have included the importance of Confederation in his Centennial Speeches. What primed the theme of Confederation relevant to 1967’s Canada in his speeches were intertwining themes such as the capacity of the federal system, the pivotal role of establishing provincial relations, “public responsibility”8 and other currents of thought which brought together the idea of a tribute to the “men of many races, creeds, and tongues”.9 Ultimately it was their “wisdom and foresight” in founding a country that was being celebrated.10 Pearson candidly acknowledged Canadians’ view of Confederation from the point of view of “succeeding generations of men and women” had changed and evolved in a positive way, and that our national unity has “preserve[d] the whole”.11 Speaking on behalf of the nation in the Speech from the Throne, Pearson said that “the path of Confederation has been beset with great difficulties – some neutral, some inevitable and some of our own making”.12
Pearson sowed the seeds of a promising future, however, nobly proclaiming the rightfulness of Confederation in the history of Canada that Centennial year – the idea that Canada had made it through some rocky times, but here it was, flourishing 100 years later. He referenced responsibility and opportunity within the context of how Canada had grown from a minor to mature nation. This is not to say that the celebratory aspect of the centennial itself “did much to mask the troubled and uncertain decade”13. The Centennial speeches instead defined notions of nation-building from the time of Confederation. Although his Throne Speech played to the tune of economic nationalism, something Pearson was well-known for while in office, Confederation signaled the progress of Canada from 1867 through to 1967, relative to the political branding of the Pearsonian slogan for signifying nation-building. To Pearson, Confederation was personified as a beacon of progress. The Centennial was, after all, the ultimate example of how far Canada had come as a nation. In his speeches, the topic of Confederation was given ample room to extrapolate and plot out a narrative of national progress. It is as if the historic event of Confederation was a prognosticated “concept” predicated on the Fathers’ efforts for cooperative and “constructive work of a magnitude and in the face of obstacles never before tackled anywhere in the world”.14 This is the D.N.A of Canada – as an ever-growing nation, susceptible to bumps-in-the-road, with a multi-layered and complex history from its inception.
The promise of a bright future for Canada came from its proud past: “As we observe this year the beginning of a new century of Confederation,” he said, “we who find ourselves in positions of authority must always remember that it is our responsibility and our opportunity to serve the needs and aspirations of the Canadian people”.15 Pearson, in both the Speech from the Throne and Leaders’ Day Reply, projects confidence across the board even though the country had been more difficult to run in 1967 “than the unitary centralized government which Sir John A. Macdonald and many others wished for in 1867”.16 We can also observe Pearson’s speeches as inheriting the essence of Canada, something the Leader of the Opposition and previous Prime Minister John Diefenbaker and even Prime Ministers before him could not call their own. The Fathers were undivided in their aspirations to find a definition of Canadian-ness — or a new version of British-ness, back in 1867.
Pearson sought to modernize this theme in evaluating the evolution of the Dominion of Canada for the last 100 years. Even the symbols of national unity Pearson ushered in the mid-1960s were important to the concept of national identity; they spoke volumes of how the country continued on the same path from Confederation. The Maple Leaf Flag (1964) and the creation of the Order of Canada (1965) acted as pre-cursor supports for bolstering national identity. Pearson is respected today, but we cannot put him in the same league as those great Prime Minister’s like Macdonald, Wilfrid Laurier, or even Mackenzie King. Michael Bliss in Right Honourable Men tells us that “by the end of the centennial year, Pearson was largely a lame duck, presiding over a Cabinet that had lost a sense of where it wanted to go”.17 As Bliss opines, Pearson was the type of leader who knew his limits and chose not to surpass them. Pearson was a “transitional figure” who kept a steady hand on the wheel.18 The imprint Pearson left on the Liberal mold was a brand of politics that has somewhat been put to the back of our recent memory’s catalogue of Prime Ministers, but he no longer is underappreciated in Canadian history. Bliss’s metaphor of Pearson’s impact on our country, as a leader, is that of a pitcher in baseball, Pearson’s mainstay sport: although he was a consistent and reliable enough middle-inning, short duration pitcher, Pearson’s only real strength was to “keep his team in the game”, game in and game out, gracefully bowing out when he felt he needed to. No bright spots – he just had to keep it simple.19
Constitutionality and Federal and Provincial Relations
Some see Pearson as either a harbinger of dividing equal attention between cooperative and classic federalism, or as a Prime Minister who brought in a different approach to help iron out issues on provincial-federal unity. 1967 was near the end of Pearson’s tenure in office, so by the time of his Centennial speech and reply the federal government’s promises on provincial matters came out bluntly: “I believe the federal government”, he said, “has a duty to suggest new ways in which it may help the provinces and the municipalities, without interfering with their responsibilities to cope more effectively”.20 Questions loomed over constitutional representation, provincially, and patriation, federally. For Pearson, these issues relentlessly reared their unwanted heads into the political picture. Amongst many agenda issues, the provinces created rifts between them and the central government. Provincial-federal matters in the 1960s were not cookie-cutter problems, nor could they be fixed in a roundabout fashion; each premier had his own platforms to stand on, calling on the federal government by 1964 to amend provincial rights and the British North America Act of 1867. They did not need any explanations, just action — to ensure that things would not stay the same under Pearson. In Pearson’s Throne Speech, pluralism (allowing group diversity and individualism to flourish in society), rural community building, urban initiatives and resource management geared Pearson’s rhetoric towards capitalizing on Canada’s internal relationship with each of the provinces and territories.21 Moreover, noting the constitution’s “structure [which] has endured and served so well” allowed a light to be shone onto the theme of progress and Canada’s preservation of democratic politics and liberal values.22 These, within Pearson’s Liberal theory of P.O.G.G. (peace, order and good government), highlight the importance of federalism and the constitution. The significance of the constitution within the theme of federal-provincial relations comes out in his Leaders’ Day Reply:
Today the constitution remains the most important single element in our government. In some ways, perhaps, it is the most important single element in our achievements. It is the source of the rights and jurisdiction of the provincial as well as the federal governments. It is a protection for all the people, especially minorities. So an obvious and vital factor in our national growth is our constitution.23
He was criticized by Diefenbaker in the reply, and Pearson responded frankly: “Canada has shown by its own record of achievement that a federal system does not mean weakness at any level and that a country can develop under a federal system of government”.24 Cooperation between the provinces and the federal government was, to Pearson, a stronghold built upon federal and national heritage: “[The Fathers] built according to a federal plan because they knew that unity, with cultural and regional diversity, could be harnessed to a positive and enriching role in no other way”.25 This extended into the realms of rights for women, minority groups, and French-Canadians; for example, the appointments of Bilingualism and Biculturalism, and Women’s Royal Commissions overhauled the nationalist agenda in favour of keeping tabs on all geo-political and socio-political matters. Be it cultural or regional differences, gender empowerment or racial equality, solidarity could only come from below, but it started with a common bond. Freedoms for the provinces such as shared policies and joint-programs were discussed openly as programs of nation-building. Enlarged spending power and a fair division of attention between social and political issues were high on the list for Pearson, as the 1960s represented a time where people, more than ever before in twentieth century Canada, “raised questions about the capacity of governments to control their lives and protect society from the excesses of corporate greed.”26
The rhetorical seeds of opportunity and responsibility were sown into the Centennial Sessions. Reconfiguring the constitution was partially secondary in 1967. Pearson desired that Canada’s economic sphere of influence, internal protectionism and foreign affairs took priority. But the following year demonstrated that the provinces could up their anti as they volleyed for more guarantees and protections such as language rights and financial support from the federal government. To make things more complicated, Quebec began to regard itself as having ‘special status’ claims within the constitution framework showing the constraints of the Pearson period.27 Pearson attempted to right the wrongs of past Prime Ministers by showing adversaries like Diefenbaker to see the real picture for what it was: that Canada was still, by 1967, one nation and not two. In his Leaders’ Day Reply to Diefenbaker, who had said that Canada was never in such a state of division before in its history, Pearson spoke about compromise and accommodation: “language and cultural differences introduce politically complicating as well as nationally enriching elements in our society”, setting the stage for 1968’s constitutional talks.28
Pearson’s Rhetoric of Internationalism
Pearson was indeed a person who had a mission for peace and international involvement. Peace was no better exemplified than in Pearson’s views on Vietnam, showing stamina and surety of conviction:
I do not think it would improve our opportunities on working for peace if we took an active position as a government, with the responsibility as a government, on one side or the other in the particularly difficult and dangerous situation in Viet Nam, because it is a dangerous situation and is, I think, causing more anxiety today than it had at any time since I have been trying to follow it.29
Even in praising Paul Martin Sr. in the Leaders’ Day Reply by going so far as to say “there is no person in the western world who has worked harder to bring about negotiations of peace”,30 his political ideals yield to larger forces, in close proximity with international affairs. The issues of foreign investment in Canada was brought about by Walter Gordon who influenced Pearson to adopt a conservative nationalist government by the late 1960s.31 What then, was there to protect Canada’s domestic interests? This was the first serious question for Pearson: there had to be some yielding to the temptation to associate too closely with others, even our southern neighbors. American investment was criticized by the left in Canada, some of whom supported Pearson.32
Thus, Pearson had to find ears elsewhere. In the international arena is where Pearson can be credited for what some call quiet diplomacy. He was not an anti-continentalist but he was a vehement opponent of anti-American sentiment in Canada33 in keeping with the tradition to have bilateral trade relations stay afloat. But he was not about to aide America militarily by sending troops to Vietnam. Nation-building, then, was not an America-Canada nationalist contest to Pearson. The past spoke volumes about his international involvement. Ultimately he was helping to develop “discourses in which Canadian distinction could be remarked upon and celebrated” at the international level.34 To quote Jack Granatstein: “[the] Yanks fought wars, Canadians said…while Johnny Canuck kept the peace…Peacekeeping was so popular…primarily because it was something we could do and the Americans could not.”35 The international stage that Canada shared was with the United Nation, N.A.T.O., and other institutions where countries who were considered partners or allies could come together. Canada’s plans for external aide and international trade were among some of the topics included in his speeches.
His Centennial Speeches remind us, however, of his unshakable confidence in his government’s global vision. Canada’s government to Pearson had to be functional at home and abroad. In his 1967 Throne Speech, peace, disarmament, and all matters of diplomacy-through-settlement were persuasive in that Pearson subtly was calling on other countries’ leaders to realize that a “concerted international endeavour” must be undertaken if progress was to be met with satisfaction.36 But these were mere words on paper, possible worlds of actions. Pearson’s sanguine good nature coupled with a peaceful international image was constructive. Pearson’s interest in international affairs was actually conceived early on in his life; he, like others his age, was influenced by his generation’s experiences from The Great War. Militancy and opposition attitudinized Pearson’s stance on foreign conflict which took precedent over “pre-constitutional” matters.37 It’s not that constitutional matters were less important for Pearson but that “dramatic threats to security that in [his] day dominated the international agenda” 38 affected his political theorizing. In the international community is where Pearson’s humility and stoicism went a long way; a ripple effect throughout his development in politics:
…I do not think that as a responsible government it would be wise or desirable or necessary for us to publicly condemn or publicly proclaim. I think it is better for us to play our part as a member of the international commission and of the international community and work in a quiet, not spectacular but as effective a way as possible…39
Conclusion
Pearson said that “The speech from the throne reflect [sic] in general terms the need for government to improve the opportunities for every Canadian to live a better life.”40 A Leaders’ Day Reply, I might add, shows, on the other hand, the masterful political sparing necessary to defend one’s values. For any Prime Minister, their values are invested in creating the type of Canada they desire. Indeed, their reassurance in these types of speeches, in retrospect, give readers today that especial advantage of looking at the past with hindsight, while contemporarily people sometimes balked at and dismissed their leaders for their judgement or foresight. But Canada is still one nation, held together by the very men and women working from Parliament Hill. Pearson is one of those people who already has a place in the annals of Canadian history, who devoted much of his life to improving the Canadian political system – domestically and internationally. This essay has elucidated on some of Lester B. Pearson’s political values, nation-building projects and his themes on progress, opportunity and achievement. Through an analysis of his Centennial Speeches this essay narrates translucently just how Canada’s history, national fabric and place in the world essentially highlighted Lester Pearson’s vision for Canada on its 100th birthday.
Bibliography
Campbell, Lara. Clement, Dominique. Kealey, Gregory (eds.) Debating Dissent: Canada and the Sixties. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012.
Canada. 1967. Reply to the Speech from the throne, second session of the Twenty-Seventh Parliament of Canada. Ottawa: Govt. of Canada.
Canada. 1967. Speech from the throne, second session of the Twenty-Seventh Parliament of Canada. Ottawa: Govt. of Canada.
Blake, Raymond. Keshen, Jeffrey. Knowles, Norman. Messamore, Barbara. Narrating a Nation: Canadian History Post–Confederation. Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson, 2011.
Bliss, Michael. Right Honourable Men: The Descent of Canadian Politics from Macdonald to Chretien. Toronto: Harper Collins Publishers, 2004.
Boag, Gemma. “The Middle Power Approach: Useful Theory, Unpopular Rhetoric”. Inquiry@Queen’s: An Undergrad Journal. (2008-03-17): 1-7.
Hillmer, Norman (ed.) Pearson: The Unlikely Gladiator. Kingston, Ontario: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1999.
Hynek, Nikola. Thomsen, Robert C. “Keeping the Peace and National Unity: Canada’s National and International Identity Nexus”. International Journal 61, 4 (Autumn 2006): 845-858.
Lemke, Thomas. Foucault’s Analysis of Modern Governmentality: A Critique of Political Reason. London and New York: Verso, 2019.
Trouillot, Michel-Rolph. Silencing the Past: The Power and Production of History. Boston: Beacon Press, 1995. | 5,408 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://opentextbooks.uregina.ca/primeministers2020/chapter/lester-b-pearson/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:24054 | https://opentextbooks.uregina.ca/primeministers2020/chapter/lester-b-pearson/ |
Z9SxGo7aLaqJ5EKD | 9.15: Comets in History | 9.15: Comets in History
Comets have often been written about and portrayed in history. Some of the earliest comet observations were recorded by the Chinese on oracle bones. Oracle bones were pieces of turtle shells and bones used for a form of divination. Aristotle thought and proposed that comets were an atmospheric phenomena, in other words, not in our solar system or in space.
Comets were considered bad omens until the 16th century. These omens would include crop failures, diseases, deaths of royalty, or other such catastrophic events. Pliny the Elder (23-79 AD), a Roman natural philosopher, thought comets were the cause of political issues and death. Halley’s Comet made a passage at the same time during the Battle of Hastings in 1066. | 159 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://phys.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Astronomy__Cosmology/Introduction_to_Astronomy_(Lumen)/09%3A_Minor_Bodies_of_the_Solar_System/9.15%3A_Comets_in_History | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:42791 | https://phys.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Astronomy__Cosmology/Introduction_to_Astronomy_(Lumen)/09%3A_Minor_Bodies_of_the_Solar_System/9.15%3A_Comets_in_History |
Uiun6FmKrxWrOW7l | Introducing Mathematical Biology | 17 Single intravenous bolus dose
What is pharmacokinetics?
Pharmaco-kinetics is concerned with how drugs move around the body (see chapter references). In reality this is a highly complex process, as drugs are absorbed, distributed, metabolised and eliminated through various parts of the body. We will make various assumptions that mean we can simplify these processes. In particular we will assume the body is made up of just one or two compartments through which the drugs move. We will also simplify the processes by which drugs are administered. Our focus will be on how the concentration of a particular drug in the body changes over time. We are therefore continuing with ordinary differential equations as our go-to tool, but it is worth stressing that we have moved slightly away from what we might classically call biology (since nothing is actually living in these models) and more into medicine.
A single dose model
Let’s start with the simplest (yet realistic) model we can think of, and then we will gradually build more complexity in to it. Let us assume that:
- The body can be considered as a single compartment (effectively the bloodstream),
- There is rapid infusion of the drug in to the body as a single dose, called an intravenous bolus,
- Only one dose of the drug is administered,
- The drug is eliminated from the body at a rate proportional to the drug concentration.
Let [latex]C(t)[/latex] be the concentration of the drug in the bloodstream at time [latex]t[/latex]. If the rate of elimination of the drug is [latex]k[/latex], we can write,
[latex]\begin{equation} \frac{dC}{dt} =-kC, \end{equation}[/latex]
with some initial concentration [latex]C(0)=C_0>0[/latex]. Note that we only have a negative term on the right-hand side, indicating the concentration of the drug is always decreasing. This fits with our assumptions above intuitively, since we assume no additional drug is added after [latex]t=0[/latex], and so all that can happen to the drug is it is eliminated by the body.
This is a linear ordinary differential equation that is almost identical to the very first model that we met in this textbook (just with a minus sign). Using the same method of separation of variables we can find that,
[latex]\begin{equation} C(t)=C_0e^{-kt}. \end{equation}[/latex]
We thus predict exponential decay of the drug concentration.
Calculating [latex]k[/latex]
Suppose we wish to find out what the elimination rate is for a particular drug. All we need are two data-points for the concentration at known times. One of these could be the starting concentration ([latex]C_0[/latex] at [latex]t=0[/latex]), and suppose we take a measurement of the concentration, [latex]C_1[/latex] after [latex]t_1[/latex] hours. If we take logs of both sides of our solution we find,
[latex]\begin{align*} \ln(C_1)&=\ln(C_0)-kt_1\\ \implies k&=\frac{\ln(C_0)-\ln(C_1)}{t_1}. \end{align*}[/latex]
In fact, if we were to have multiple data points we simply need to know the gradient of the line of [latex]\ln(C(t))[/latex] vs [latex]t[/latex]. Given that [latex]k[/latex] is a rate it will have units [latex]t^{-1}[/latex]. Hourly elimination rates for real drugs tend to be in the range [latex]k\in[0.02,0.4][/latex].
A note on [latex]C_0[/latex]
We assumed above that we would know the initial concentration, [latex]C_0[/latex]. This seems obvious since we know what the dose was. However, we should note that dose and concentration are not the same thing. The dose is the actual amount of the drug administered, while the concentration is the relative amount of drug in the body as a proportion of the volume of the body. We can convert between the two by noting that [latex]C_0=dose/volume[/latex]. For slightly complex biological reasons, the effective volume is not necessairly as simple as just calculating a patient’s actual body (or blood) volume and varies from drug to drug. For simplicity, however, we will assume it is a fixed value for each drug in every patient.
Drug half-life
Given that we expect exponential decay of drug concentration over time, we cannot give a precise time when the concentration would be exactly zero. However, we can calculate a half-life for the drug based on its elimination rate. Assume we know the concentration is [latex]C_a[/latex] at some time point. Then to find the half-life we need to know the time until the concentration is [latex]C_a/2[/latex]. Using the logged solution from above, we have,
[latex]\begin{align*} \ln(C_a/2)&=\ln(C_a)-kt_{1/2}\\ \implies t_{1/2}&=\frac{\ln(C_a)-\ln(C_a/2)}{k}\\ \implies t_{1/2}&=\frac{\ln(2)}{k}. \end{align*}[/latex]
Exercises
Click for solution
First, we can find the elimination rate, [latex]k[/latex], directly from the half-life, using,
[latex]\begin{align*} & t_{1/2}=\frac{\ln(2)}{k}\\ \implies & k=\frac{\ln(2)}{t_{1/2}}\\ \implies & k=0.231. \end{align*}[/latex]
Next we will find out what the initial concentration must have been. We know that [latex]k=0.231[/latex] and that [latex]C(t=4)=2.5[/latex]. We can therefore use,
[latex]\begin{align*} &C(t)=C_0e^{-kt}\\ \implies &C_0=C(t)e^{kt}\\ \implies & C_0=2.5e^{0.231\times 4}=6.297 \text{mg/L}. \end{align*}[/latex]
The final step is to convert this to the actual dose by multiplying through by the volume to get dose[latex]=6.297\times30\approx 190[/latex]mg. A plot of the resulting dynamics is shown in the figure below.
Key Takeaways
- Pharmacokinetics means modelling drug concentrations in the bloodstream.
- A simple model of drug decay can be derived using a linear ordinary differential equation.
- We can use the half-life of the drug concentration to parameterise the model.
Chapter references
- The content in the Pharmacokinetics section is based on the ebook, Basic Pharmacokinetics by Bourne. | 1,110 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://sheffield.pressbooks.pub/introducingmathematicalbiology/chapter/single-intravenous-bolus-dose/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:25790 | https://sheffield.pressbooks.pub/introducingmathematicalbiology/chapter/single-intravenous-bolus-dose/ |
1K8UCErh8dWL63_v | Open Education Practices | At Central Lakes College, when a faculty receives a stipend to create or adapt OER, they agree to publish their material on the MinnState Repository, Opendora. In order to publish, you’ll need to know what type of license to assign your work.
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Managed by the Washington State Board for Community and Technical Colleges | 1,216 | common-pile/pressbooks_filtered | https://minnstate.pressbooks.pub/openeducationpractices/chapter/sharing-oer/ | pressbooks | pressbooks-0000.json.gz:11656 | https://minnstate.pressbooks.pub/openeducationpractices/chapter/sharing-oer/ |
lPJiMEgzHDLfvb-u | 13.1: The State, Law, and the Prison System | 13.1: The State, Law, and the Prison System
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- Miliann Kang, Donovan Lessard, Laura Heston, and Sonny Nordmarken
- University of Massachusetts Amherst via UMass Amherst Libraries
- Miliann Kang, Donovan Lessard, Laura Heston, and Sonny Nordmarken
- University of Massachusett Amherst
In high school civics and social science classes, students are often taught that the United States is a democratic nation-state because the government is composed of three separate branches—the Executive, the Judicial, and Legislative branches—that work to check and balance each other. Students are told that anyone can run for office and that people’s votes determine the direction of the nation. However, as economist Joseph Stiglitz (2011) points out, the fact that the majority of US senators, representatives in the House of Representatives, and Executive-branch policy makers originate from the wealthiest 1% of the society should give one pause to rethink this conventional narrative.
We take a more critical view of the state than that of high school civics textbooks. We understand the State to be an array of legislation, policies, governmental bodies, and military- and prison-industrial complexes. We also observe that the line between civil society and the state is more fluid than solid—citizens and groups of citizens often take extra-judicial actions that bolster the power of the state, even if they are not officially agents of the state. This definition offers a more expansive understanding of the ways in which government, civil society, and the global economy function together in ways that often reflect the interests of domestic and global elites and international corporations. In the following pages, we highlight ways that the state—in its various dimensions—plays a central role in maintaining and reproducing inequalities.
State power is powerfully illustrated by Neighborhood Watch Groups and the killing of Trayvon Martin. Additionally, lynchings of Black Americans serve as potent examples of citizens exercising racialized violence to bolster racial segregation.
The state plays a significant role in reinforcing gender stratification and racism through legislation and policies that influence numerous institutions, including education, social welfare programming, health and medicine, and the family. A primary example of this is the prison system and the “War on Drugs” begun in the 1980s by the Reagan Administration. According to Bureau of Justice Statistics, there were over 2.1 million people incarcerated in the United States at the end of 2015 (Kaeble and Glaze, 2016). Furthermore, over 6.7 million were either on probation, on parole, or in jail or prison. This means that roughly 2.7% of the adult population of the United States was somehow under surveillance by the US criminal justice system. Indeed, the United States has the highest number of people incarcerated than any other country on the face of the globe. These rates of incarceration are largely the result of the “War on Drugs,” which criminalized drug use and distribution.
A significant aspect of the “War on Drugs” was the establishment of mandatory minimum sentencing laws that send non-violent drug offenders to prison, rather than enrolling them in treatment programs. The “War on Drugs” has disproportionately targeted people of color. Seventy percent of inmates in the United States are non-white—a figure that surpasses the percentage of non-whites in US society, which is approximately 23%, according to the 2015 US census. That means that non-white prisoners are far over-represented in the US criminal justice system. While the incarceration of women, in general, for drug-related offenses has skyrocketed 888% between 1986 and 1999, women of color have been arrested at rates far higher than white women, even though they use drugs at a rate equal to or lower than white women (ACLU 2004). Furthermore, according to Bureau of Justice statistics from 2007, nearly two-thirds of US women prisoners had children under 18 years of age (Glaze and Maruschak, 2010). Before incarceration, disproportionately, these women were the primary caregivers to their children and other family members. Thus, the impact on children, families, and communities is substantial when women are imprisoned. Finally, inmates often engage in prison labor for less than minimum wage. Corporations contract prison labor that produces millions of dollars in profit. Therefore, the incarceration of millions of people artificially deflates the unemployment rate (something politicians benefit from) and creates a cheap labor force that generates millions of dollars in profit for private corporations. How do we make sense of this? What does this say about the state of democracy in the United States?
Feminist activist and academic Angela Davis argues that we can conceptualize the prison system and its linkages to corporate production as the prison-industrial complex. In the book Are Prisons Obsolete?, Davis (2003) argues that more and more prisons were built in the 1980s in order to concentrate and manage those marked as “human surplus” by the capitalist system. She sees a historical connection between the system of slavery, and the enslavement of African Americans until the 19th century, and the creation of a prison-industrial complex that not only attempts to criminalize and manage Black, Latino, Native American, and poor bodies, but also attempts to extract profit from them (through prison labor that creates profit for corporations). Thus, the prison-industrial complex is a largely unseen (quite literally: most prisons are located in isolated areas) mechanism through which people of color are marginalized in US society. Similarly, in The New Jim Crow , Michelle Alexander (2010) argues that mass incarceration has created and maintains a “racial caste system.” She emphasizes how mass incarceration debilitates individuals and communities through stigma, job discrimination, and the loss of ability to vote in many states. Similarly, sociologist Loic Waquant (2010) argues that mass incarceration within the criminal justice system functions as an increasingly powerful system of racial control.
In light of the prison-industrial system and its racialized and gendered effects, how far has the US really come in terms of racial and gender equality? Here, we point to the difference between de jure laws and de facto realities . De jure refer to existing laws and de facto refers to on-the-ground realities. While the Civil Rights Act of 1964 legally required an end to de jure segregation, or segregation enforcible by law, in education, voting, and the workplace, de facto racial inequality still exists. We can see clearly, just looking at incarceration statistics, that even though explicit racial discrimination is illegal, state policies such as the War on Drugs still have the effect of disproportionately imprisoning people of color. | 1,393 | common-pile/libretexts_filtered | https://socialsci.libretexts.org/Courses/Cosumnes_River_College/SOC_341%3A_Sex_and_Gender_(Lugo)/13%3A_Power_Politics_and_Law/13.01%3A_The_State_Law_and_the_Prison_System | libretexts | libretexts-0000.json.gz:38446 | https://socialsci.libretexts.org/Courses/Cosumnes_River_College/SOC_341%3A_Sex_and_Gender_(Lugo)/13%3A_Power_Politics_and_Law/13.01%3A_The_State_Law_and_the_Prison_System |
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